#it feels like people just have impossibly high standards for them

[neproxrezi]

tried the amnesia: the bunker demo and it was very fun! i'm really not good at timed games though so i hope there's an option / mod to make it less harsh

i LOVE the gun animations, checking the revolver barrel and slowly loading your paltry collection of bullets then looking at the empty chambers when you aim it to check how many are left

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Okay, so vampire Eddie is a pretty standard trope at this point, but may I offer...Twilight vampire Eddie who is absolutely pissed off about his sparkly existence?

Eddie actually isn't that old, he was turned in the 80s when he was around 20. He lives with his small and not only vampire family. There's patriarch Wayne, his partner Scott who always becomes a teacher no matter where they move, Claudia Henderson and her son that have been with them ever since Scott noticed Dustin being unusually quiet in his class and soon after, Wayne kicked out his abusive father.

The problem with living with a smart man who loves educating people and a man who never received the education he deserved is - they take school really, really seriously. Whenever they move, Eddie usually has to re-join high school, it's all "just so that you have some socialization! Also we need to be able to blend in, so look around and see what's normal with young people! Also I'm pretty sure some of the stuff we know is now obsolete or disproven, so make sure to tell us!". And Eddie loves Wayne and Scott, he really does, but he had trouble blending in even when he was alive, so now? Impossible. As for gathering information, Eddie has been trying for decades to explain to Wayne that even if becoming a vampire healed the wounds from the lynching mob, it didn't do shit for his ADHD, so there. Wayne finds Eddie banging his head into a desk one day and chanting "WHAT-THE-FUCK-IS-TIK-TOK?!"

So yes, Eddie hates being a forever highschooler, but it also means he can run DnD clubs everywhere he joins and he's not even lynched for it like in the 80s, so hey, progress! He gets mostly content with his existence, except that he's fucking sparkly and can't turn into a bat, so what's the point?!

But then a huge group of people moves from the close town of Hawkins, they had a really fucked up earthquake - Wayne told him all about it, he often volunteered in rescue and high risk works, and he's never seen anything like it - and their little town becomes way more crowded. There are high school freshmen just begging to be introduced to his club, Hellfire, although one of them is scary observant and Eddie is really sure that Jane knows he's a vampire.

And then there's Steve Harrington. A young man with the prettiest hair ever who joined Eddie's class, apparently he needs to repeat the last year too because if your school burns down, you can't take final exams. He's stupidly pretty, snarky, bitchy, and even though he could be partying day and night and spending the rest of his time on dates, he prefers to hang around with the freshmen. Lucas tells him one day that Steve got badly hurt when he was digging through the collapsed middle school, finding and rescuing their whole group, and well...Eddie respects that. Dustin absolutely loves Steve and maybe Eddie feels a bit jealous, but he has to admit - the guy is cool.

The problem with Steve Harrington is this - he's seen so much shit that nothing really fazes him. Eddie loves shocking people. Steve is unshockable. It becomes their little game, they get close, Eddie realizes he has an embarrassing crush, all that jazz. He tries dropping hints, he slurps his bloody lunch from a bottle that has a "THIS IS DEFINITELY TOMATO JUICE AND NOTHING ELSE". He wears a cape. He adopts a horrible Dracula accent. Nothing works. Steve always just laughs and tells him that he's weird and that's why he likes him.

Finally, Eddie has enough. They walk in the woods to get high, Eddie decides to break the ice, he scoops up Steve, does his whole dashing-through-the-woods thing, and he hopes that he can finally share his secret with Steve.

Except Steve just pats his back and says "Wow, that was cool, man! You'd be amazing at track. Great core strength too," and Eddie's head implodes.

"Okay, Steve. Don't you think there's something rotten here?" he tries.

"I mean, it's the woods. Of course there's something rotting all the time."

Eddie tries again. "You've noticed something strange, haven't you. I'm inhumanly fast and strong."

"I sure didn't expect that! You must be secretly training. I didn't know this town had a gym."

Again. "My skin is pale white and ice cold."

Steve is watching a nearby squirrel instead of looking horrified. "Yeah, not all people tan great, Robin is like that too. And I told you, man. Your circulation is shit, you need better socks and some gloves too."

"My eyes change color."

"Yeah, I know, I do envy you that you can wear those cool contact lenses. My eyes are too dry for that."

Eddie is growing desperate, he's gesturing at the trees because Steve doesn't listen. "I speak like I'm from a different time."

"80s slashers will do that to you. You basically live on those. But I gotta admit that they're pretty fun. Oh look, she's got an acorn! Clever girl!"

"Very clever. Also I never eat or drink anything."

"Hey, I'm not judging. Some people prefer one or two meals in a day instead of the whole five meal thing."

Eddie feels like howling and he isn't even a werewolf. "I. DON'T. GO. INTO. THE. SUNLIGHT."

Steve's eyes finally leave the squirrel. "Duh. We've already established you can't tan."

And Eddie's had enough. He tears off his t-shirt, marches directly into the sunlight and throws the biggest tantrum of his life. "STEVEN HARRINGTON. PAY ATTENTION. I am 20. I have been 20 for a while now. You know what I am, right? I am a vampire. So ask me the question, what do we eat? That wasn't a fucking tomato juice Steven!!!"

Steve just watches him with quiet amusement, as if he's waiting for something.

Eddie doesn't notice. His monologue is reaching its most dramatic part. "I've killed people before! I'm the world's most dangerous predator!"

Steve snorts. "I saw you trip over your own feet in the cafeteria."

"Not the point!"

"You told a waitress "you too" when she told you to enjoy your meal."

Eddie actually howls now. "THE POINT IS." He spins in the sunlight and sees the reflections of light off his skin. "I wouldn't have minded becoming a vampire, but let me tell you. Being stuck in high school forever? Sucks. Craving chips and throwing them up whenever you try them? SUCKS. And thinking you've become the legendary creature of the night when you're a glorified glitter mascot?! And you can't even fly?! DOUBLE SUCKS."

He points at his bare glittering chest. "THIS THE SKIN OF A FUCKING DISCO BALL, STEVE!"

Steve just laughs and gets up from the tree stump he was sitting on. "Thanks for sharing. I was kinda hoping you'd finally ask me out since this is the first time we've had some privacy, but this was interesting too."

Eddie's sharing mania suddenly stops. He realizes he's shirtless in the middle of the forest, and his yelling has scared off the squirrel. He promptly grabs his shirt and puts in on. "Um. You...you wanted me to ask you out? Because I totally want to do that. Yep. But I thought it would have been unfair to ask you before I told you-"

"That you're a vampire? Dude, I know."

Eddie blinks once. Then again. "Excusemewhat?"

Steve smiles at him and touches his hand. "Look. After what happened in Hawkins, I know the smell of blood. I knew it wasn't tomato juice. Also I've accompanied the kids to enough monster flicks to know."

"Oh." Eddie licks his lips and doesn't really know what to say. "Um. What...does that mean for us?"

Laughing, Steve grabs his other hand too. "Definitely two things. One - you can and should kiss me. Two - you can stop wearing that cape. I got your point."

"Oh okay. Cool. Will do. Both."

And since Eddie Munson is a vampire of his word, he does.

(Wayne is absolutely delighted that Eddie is dating, he watches sports with Steve and discusses the pros and cons of Steve becoming a paramedic. Scott helps Steve with some of the subjects he's struggling with. In return, Steve works with Robin to find a makeup brand that is fully sparkleproof, giving the vampires a chance to walk in the sunlight again. And sometimes, he helps them answer the questions that have been plaguing the Munson-Clarke-Henderson household for years...such as: what is TikTok?)

(oh and also. Turns out Steve really thought Eddie was wearing creepy contact lenses. That one aspect of vampyrism he found very cool)

[lumiambrose]

✰ house rules

kinktober 24 - day five

featuring: dr ratio x f!reader

summary: veritas ratio, your university professor, is renowned for being the greatest lecturer at your university but also the cruellest, willing to fail any student who doesn't meet his high standard. so you can't help but try your luck for some "extra credit" when you run with said professor on a night out with your girlfriends.

tags: smut, professor x student dynamic, public/semi-public, fingering, oral (fem receiving) petnames (dear)

wc: 1k

the poker table hums with quiet tension, chips clinking and cards sliding across the velvet surface. you’re currently sitting next to dr. veritas ratio, out of all people. as for how you landed a seat next to your professor—the same professor that sneers at mediocre efforts and fails half his students—will forever be a mystery. tonight was supposed to be girls night, where you can relax and party your academic deadlines away. yet instead, you find your heart racing as you watch your professor calculate his odds and size up his opponents like it’s nothing.

albeit terrified, you attempt to catch his attention. “didn’t expect to see you here,” you say, leaning in ever so slightly towards him. the words hang between you, but your pulse is racing. “you don’t strike me as the casino type, professor.”

he doesn’t spare you a glance yet. instead, he places a bet, his fingers tapping the chips. “i could say the same,” he replies, finally turning his gaze on you. his eyes have that familiar coolness in them, but this time, there’s something else—amusement maybe? “though, considering your recent performance, you might need to rely on luck more than most.”

embarrassed, you let out a weak laugh, more to relieve your nerves than anything else. “maybe i’ve just been waiting for a proper chance to test my skills.”

he cocks a brow. “how bold. though i expect your aiming for more than a simple game.”

your heart skips a beat at how easily he sees through you. “maybe,” you start, “depends on how much you're willing to offer.”

before you can react to his words, you feel veritas' hand on your thigh. his grip firm, making your breath hitch. you bite your lip, doing your utmost best to concentrate on the game in play. your professor, unbothered by your reaction, continues to play his hand as his eyes never leave the table in front of him.

“something tells me you’re more interested in winning than you let on,” he whispers, voice laced with velvet, loud enough for your ears only to hear. each word stirring goosebumps on your fragile skin. his fingers dance their way up your inner thigh, caressing your soft skin. touch featherlight as you do your best to stifle a moan.

“now why would i ever back down from a challenge?” you retort, your voice shamelessly laced with need and desire. as the words left your mouth, you feel his thumb hook the edge of your lace panties, cutting you off abruptly and sending your mind into a whirlwind of thoughts. the game in front of you now hidden in the back of your mind.

the game continues with the sound of chips clinking, card shuffling and rare exclamations from other players, but they all went in one ear and out the other. your professor now completely overtaking your thoughts. shrinking your world down to the little space surrounding you and veritas. your only reality being the tantalising touch of his fingers against your clothed core.

“eyes on the game, dear. you’re so far in it would be a pity to lose your cool now,” he says as though it’s nothing. as though his actions aren’t getting bolder by the minute.

his hand, now tucked away beneath your skirt, teases your wet folds through the thin fabric of your panties. focusing on the cards in front of you now seemed impossible as your mind hazed with lust. the heat between your legs is now becoming unbearable. your hips now subtly grinding against his fingers.

a loud clang pierces the air, pulling you back to reality. your heart skips a beat as you feel a cold presence on your lap. you look down to the sight of veritas' drink spilt over the edge of the table, soaking your clothes.

you gasp at the shock of icy liquid against you, seeping through your skirt and leaving a sticky mess on your thighs. veritas immediately stood up, abandoning the game in front of him, offering his hand out to you. “let’s clean you up. it’s a small spill, but we don’t want it to stain,” he says, and you swear you can see a small smirk play on his lips.

initially embarrassed, you nod and take his hand as he guides you through the casino floor. excitement slowly proceeds to replace your initial embarrassment as you draw closer to the bathrooms. all the background noise slowly fading away as the both of you enter the quiet bathroom, veritas locking the door behind you.

without warning, he pushes you against the wall and unzips your skirt, letting the fabric slide down your legs. your panties are coated with arousal, betraying the facade you did your best to keep up. veritas locks eyes with you, his eyes fueled with hunger as he kneels down in front of you.

“keep it quiet. you don’t want to get caught now, do you?” he warns before leaning in to devour you. his skilled tongue quickly finds its way to your clit, sucking and abusing it teasingly while his fingers work wonders inside of you. you arch your back, throwing your head back as the pleasure courses through you, your body begging for release.

with one hand tugging on veritas’ hair, aching for more, the other found its way to your mouth. attempting to cover up the sweet moans getting drawn out of you. although veritas doesn’t seem to take your moans seriously. he carries on teasing you, his tongue flicking your clit and his fingers pushing deeper inside you. your breathing grows ragged, and you know that you couldn't hold back the wave of ecstasy much longer.

but veritas, ever the harsh professor, pulled away, just when you were on the brink. leaving your bare pussy wet and needy, he stands up and wipes your remaining slick off his face. looking down on you, he commands, “stay behind after my lecture tomorrow.” his voice firm and unwavering before exiting the bathroom.

leaving you in the bathroom all alone, you contemplated the situation that just played out. your heart racing and your body still humming with desire. although, as you cleaned yourself up in the bathroom, you’re already contemplating your outfit for tomorrow and a cute matching set to wear underneath for your favourite professor.

taglist: @ryescapades @iamjellyfish @143-ilyuu @maruflix @pixelcafe-network

©lumis kinktober 24' ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

[tsukivampyr]

take it out on me.

a leon kennedy x fem!reader oneshot.

warnings | fingering, unprotected sex, slight degradation and NOT proofread.

word count: 1,715

enjoy :P

Leon trudged through the door of his apartment, the faint light from the setting sun casting long shadows across the living room. His shoulders slumped, his face a canvas of weariness and frustration, as he kicked the door shut behind him with a little more force than necessary.

You looked up from your book, concerned about your boyfriend. "Leon?" You asked gently, as you put your book down on the couch. "What happened?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he ran a hand through his tousled hair, his jaw clenched tightly. You could see the tension radiating from his every muscle, the frustration that simmered just beneath the surface. He tossed his jacket onto a nearby chair with a heavy sigh.

"I failed," he finally muttered, his voice laced with a mixture of anger and disappointment. "I was supposed to get the intel, but... I just couldn't."

Your heart ached for him. Leon was always so hard on himself, holding himself to an almost impossibly high standard. You knew how much this mission had meant to him, how much pressure he had put on himself to succeed.

You got up and approached him slowly, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. "It's okay. You did your best."

He pulled away, stepping towards the kitchen and yanking the fridge door open. "My best wasn't good enough," he snapped, his voice harsh. "People are counting on me, and I let them down."

You flinched at the sharpness of his words, but you understood that his anger wasn't truly directed at you. It was directed at himself, at the situation, at the unfairness of it all. Still, it stung to see him so upset.

"Leon," You began again, trying to keep your voice calm and soothing. "You've done so much good. One setback doesn't erase all of that. You'll get another chance."

He slammed the fridge door shut, his eyes dark with frustration. "You don't get it," he said, his tone softer but still edged with anger. "You don't understand what it's like out there."

You felt a pang of helplessness. "You're right," You admitted. "I don't know what it's like. But I know you. I know how hard you fight, how much you care. And I know that you'll find a way to make things right."

For a moment, he just stood there, his expression conflicted. Then, with a heavy sigh, he leaned against the counter, his anger seeming to deflate. "I'm sorry," he murmured, rubbing a hand over his face.

You walked over and wrapped your arms around him, feeling the tension in his body slowly start to ease. "It's okay," You whispered. "I'm here for you, no matter what."

Leon hugged you back, his grip tight and almost desperate. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You don't have to find out," You replied.

Leon took a deep breath, still holding you tightly. The frustration in his eyes was palpable, but beneath it, there was something else—a spark of longing, a need for release. You could feel the tension in his body, the unspent energy begging for an outlet.

"Leon," You whispered, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "You can take your anger out on me, if you need to." You whispered quietly.

His eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and confusion flickering across his face. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You held his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. "You need to let it out," you said softly. "All the anger, the frustration. You don't have to hold back with me."

"Are you sure?" He asked, his voice quiet.

"Yes," You breathed.

"I'm sure."

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to process your words. Then something shifted in his expression—his eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. Without warning, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close, his lips crashing down on yours in a fierce, demanding kiss.

You gasped, your hands instinctively reaching up to clutch his shoulders. Leon's kiss was intense, a raw expression of all the emotions he had been bottling up. His hands roamed over your back, gripping you possessively, almost desperately.

With a growl, he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. He lifted you effortlessly, setting you down on the kitchen counter. His big hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart so he could step between them. You moaned softly, wrapping your legs around his waist. Leon’s kisses were growing more urgent, more insistent. He nipped at your lower lip, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and you couldn't help but grind your clothed pussy onto him, your body responding to his every touch.

"You drive me crazy," he muttered, his lips trailing down your neck. "You know that?"

You tilted your head back, giving him better access. "Show me," You whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Leon didn't need any more encouragement. He kissed his way down your neck, his hands sliding up your sides and under your shirt. His touch was rough, almost possessive, but it was exactly what you needed. You wanted him to lose control. His fingers dug into your skin as he lifted your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. His lips found your collarbone, then moved lower, his hot breath sending sparks of electricity through your body. You shivered, clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh.

"God, I need you," he groaned, his voice thick with desire.

"Then take me," You replied breathlessly, your eyes locking onto his. "I'm yours."

That was all it took. With a primal growl, Leon claimed your lips again, his hands working quickly to remove the rest of your clothes. The frustration and anger he'd been holding onto melted away, replaced by a fierce, unbridled passion. In that moment, nothing else mattered. All the worries, the failures, the weight of the world—they all disappeared as you lost yourselves in each other. Leon's dominant side came out in full force, and you welcomed it, matching his intensity with your own.

Leon’s desperation was palpable, his every touch ignited by a fierce need. He pulled you closer, his body pressing against yours with an intensity that made you gasp. His hands roamed over your skin, rough and possessive, as if he needed to claim every inch of you.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice a low rumble in your ear. "Every part of you belongs to me."

You shivered at his words, a thrill running through you, your fingers digging into his back. "I'm yours." You whimpered.

He yanked your panties down, the fabric tearing slightly in his haste. His eyes were dark, almost wild, as he looked at you, his gaze filled with hunger and need. "Look at you," he muttered, his voice dripping with desire. "So needy, so desperate for me."

You moaned, his hands gripping your thighs once again, spreading them even wider. "Please, Leon," You begged.

"Please what?" he demanded, his lips curling into a smirk. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," You replied, your voice barely more than a breath. "I need you inside me."

He chuckled darkly, his fingers teasing your entrance. "So eager," he said, his tone dusky. "You're such a good girl for me, aren't you? So ready to take everything I give you."

You nodded eagerly, your breath hitching, as his fingers slipped inside you.

His eyes flashed with something primal, his fingers moving faster, curling inside you to find that spot that made you see stars. "That's right," he murmured. "You're mine to use, mine to fuck."

You cried out in pleasure, your body responding to his words and touch with an intensity that made your head spin.

He pulled his fingers out, and you whimpered at the loss, but he quickly replaced them with the hard length of his cock, thrusting into you with a force that made you scream. "You like that, don't you?" he grunted, his voice rough with desire.

You sob, your nails scratching down his back. "I love it."

"Good," he growled, his pace relentless. "Because I'm not going to stop until you're screaming my name."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you clung to him, your body moving in sync with his. "Leon," You moaned, your voice high and desperate. "Please, don't stop."

He grinned, his lips grazing your neck. "I won't," he grunted, his thrusts growing even harder, deeper. "I want to hear you beg for it."

"Please," You begged, your voice breaking. "Please, Leon, I need you."

"That's right," he muttered, his breath hot against your skin. "Beg for it. Show me how much you want it."

"I wan’ it," You cried, your body trembling with need. "I want you badly, Leon."

He groaned, his grip on you tightening. "You're so fucking perfect," he growled, his voice filled with both love, and lust. "So tight, so wet. You're made for me."

You could feel your climax building, the pleasure overwhelming. "Leon," You gasped, your nails digging into his skin. "I'm gonna- "

"Come for me," He commanded, his voice rough and raspy. "Come all over my cock."

His words pushed you over the edge, and you cried out his name as the orgasm tore through you, your body convulsing with pleasure. Leon followed soon after, his own release shuddering through him as he came inside you.

You stayed like that for a moment, your bodies entwined, your breathing heavy. Leon's grip on you softened, and he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "You're perfect," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. "So are you," You replied, your voice still breathless.

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes with a softness that belied the fierceness of your earlier encounter. "Thank you," he said quietly, his fingers brushing your cheek. "For being there for me. For letting me... let go."

You leaned into his touch, your heart full. "Always," You whispered. "I'll always be here for you, Leon. "

[hotvintagepoll]

Do you have any opinions on modern (post-1970s) movies that you feel capture the essence (in a good way) of Old Movies?

No, unfortunately. That doesn't mean I don't like modern movies or that modern movies aren't good, but modern movies—and here I'm really using modern to mean post-2010, so contemporary movies—have different standards for pacing, characterization, budget, and production that make it harder (or impossible) to capture some of the magic of old movies. Even when modern movies clearly try to emulate that old-movie feeling—I'm thinking of La La Land, The Artist, The Shape of Water, In the Heights—they play the homage too broadly, or they ignore crucial components that make the original films work.

There's kind of too much to go into here without writing a full essay, but essentially, the Old Hollywood system—ugly, failed beast as she was—made some movies simply more accessible to make, due to the ongoing storage of props, sets, master craftsmen, crew, and onscreen talent that could move from one movie to the next without pause. If you needed a dancer, he was already on staff. If you needed a fancy bed, it was already in the warehouse. That kind of longterm storage is invaluable if you want to crank out movies quickly and cheaply because it saves so much time on individual negotiation and sourcing. Modern production companies have to work out individual contracts for every actor on every film; crew members have to negotiate rental contracts and source pieces from scratch; if you need someone with specialist skills, you have to contract them specially at a high rate, which a lot of small companies can't (or won't) budget to do. There's sand in the wheels where there needn't be any. It's wasteful, and costly, but that's the system modern movies are made with.

Which all means that even if the modern movie system wanted to make a classic movie musical just like the old ones, they couldn't, because the talent isn't already there—it hasn't been trained up enough, and there's not that breadth of knowledge you can only get from people who have been allowed to work in the same department in the same place for decades. Movies like La La Land fail, for me, because they present themselves as descendants of Fred Astaire or Busby Berkley movies, while missing the bit where Fred Astaire was a master of his craft. When you watch Fred Astaire dance—or Moira Shearer, or the Nicholas Brothers, or Ann Miller—you are watching a true artist at work, purposely showcased by the studios because they already have them on contract. Modern movies, on the other hand, tend to take people who already have star talent (as actors) and try to convert them into dancers/singers—or they pull dancers/singers off of Broadway, but then they don't have the star power built in. You end up with lackluster musicals where no one truly knows what they're doing, or they do but they're not built up enough by the studios to sell. And that's me discussing just on-screen talent for musicals—there is a huge loss behind the scenes, as well, for all kinds of movies, where roles that would have been filled by union crew who moved continuously from one job to the next have been swapped for freelance labor who live with immense turnover, financial insecurity, and knowledge loss. You could hand me the budget and I could try to make an old movie, but the industry itself has changed so much it's impossible to recapture that charm of steady, niche talent, the amazing possibilities of bonkers set design, and the ability to take a risk on a smaller movie because the other films being produced by the same studio can help balance the budget.

I've talked way, way too much about all of this! Sorry, I just have a lot of thoughts—and the one above is just one of them; the talent loss and storage issues are only facets of a much bigger problem that extends to how we watch movies today, how we market them, what we expect of them, and what's allowed in them. It's a crying shame because the talent is still there, but times change and so does the industry, for better or for worse. (And, just again to clarify, I don't think modern movies are bad—they're just missing a lot of the juice old movies got to play with, even if there's more talent available than ever before.)

[rene-spade]

Ok but how are the crazy f1 dads with their daughters dating? Who on the grid do they like?

oof this is a loaded ask bc they really are all out of it 😭 they just love their babies fr

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dad! kimi | growing up räikkönen!

FIRST OF ALL kimi doesn’t really vibe with most people in general, let alone anyone who’s trying to get with his little lumienkeli. kimi was lucky to raise a little girl similar to him, who listens when he places a no dating rule lasting until she’s 21 (as far as he knows anyways). despises the guys on the grid trying to get with her; he was one of them once so he thinks of them as animals, especially leclerc who’s known for his brow-raising dating life. also hates pierre but he already didn’t fw him bc he’s french. he is SLIGHTLY more easy going with women around his daughter so any grid guys with girlfriends might have an advantage. he finds that he wants the im-a-dog-and-ill-do-whatever-my-girl-says type for his daughter, but he dislikes unintelligence. he does not like anyone on the grid, but he best tolerates:

mick schumacher!

oscar piastri (+lily)

he vibes with kika okay but hates pierre 💀

bonus! he actually really likes max but his hate/distrust for jos overpowers that so he’s not letting that happen

♤ ♤ ♤

dad! jenson | growing up button!

OK SO JENSON is a bit less intense than kimi, however he is much more publicly affectionate with his daughter which means that he has definitely gone on public rants about how no man is good wen enough for his baby. that being said, he is a decent judge of character so he doesn’t hate anyone on the grid. but he gets real serious when he notices people hitting on his baby. this is mostly bc he was def a whore when he was younger so he isn’t quick to trust guys who are living the same lifestyle he was. he kind of turns on dad-mode when he notices anyone eyeing her up. but alas, he raised his own mini-me, who attracts just about everyone, and who likes to flirt back. it takes warming up to, but he can see himself fine with most of the drivers. he most prefers people who are friendly and who didn’t act like him when he was in f1 like:

george russel

daniel ricciardo

lando norris

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dad! fernando | growing up alonso!

NANDO IS DEFINITELY one of those guys who thinks he’s a “cool dad” bc he’s a young father and his daughter is his best friend. but in reality he’s one of those intense, fiercely overprotective dads who have impossibly high expectations for his daughters partner. 100% the type to punch a mechanic for saying gross things about his princesa. he’ll be calm and in a good mood then someone on the grid (or any man ever) mentions his daughter and he’s like 😐. UNLESS! it’s carlos. carlos is the only one who meets his standards, sorry to literally everyone else. but even with carlos, he can be a little stern just to get his point across about not messing with his only child. he just feels the need to personally approve of his daughter’s partner bc he’s hyper-paranoid about someone hurting her. his list looks something like:

carlos sainz!!!

that’s it

i mean if you put a gun to his head maybe max bc he’s a winner but he needs to learn to speak spanish so-

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dad! jos | growing up verstappen! unfortunately

FUCK JOS VERSTAPPEN obviously, however this man is one crazy dad who we have to discuss. his love for his youngest daughter is wild and unpredictable, and it’s very different from the way he treats his other children. his baby has some extreme one-sided beef with him that he’s smart enough to know about, so he isn’t too forceful about bonding, it’s definitely more desperate since max found success in f1 and she sticks with her big brother now. her entire life, he’s never allowed her to date, and when he found out about her first secret bf, he got arrested for trying to kill the kid so. he has IMPOSSIBLY high standards for his daughters partner and definitely wants her to marry within the f1 community, but he hates losers and despises half the grid.

suddenly he’s charles leclerc’s biggest fan !

lewis hamilton but he’ll never admit it

MAYBE carlos sainz

bonus! max obvi likes daniel ricciardo best but jos doesn’t fw him like that

♤ ♤ ♤

Ren

[cressidagrey]

frozen deep blue but you painted me golden

Summary:

Kora feels self conscious. Thankfully, her mate knows how to fix that. 

Warning:

This is literally pure smut people, so NSFW applies. Otherwise: Size kink ( Cassian is massive and she is smol), Use of Mirrors, Mirror Sex? Spanking, Magical Asthma (Is that a thing? I made it a thing.) 

(Beautiful dividers thanks to the lovely @tsunami-of-tears)

Kora stared at herself in the mirror.

Took in the white hair that fell to her waist in long waves…took in the straight eyebrows and the blue eyes that she had inherited from her mother…

She let her eyes track downwards…over the lacy nightgown she wore. Foam green…lacy straps that crisscrossed beneath her breasts…clinging to her curves.

Not that there was much in the way of curves it could cling to.

There had never been much.

Even that stupid nightgown… Kora had needed to have it hemmed and the straps taken in so that they didn’t keep slipping off her shoulders.

Kora could probably fault all that on her mother’s pregnancy complications. The same pregnancy complications that had resulted in her being born early. And the fact that most of the healers hadn’t truly believed that she was going to get older than a few days.

Jokes on them. Well, mostly.

She was…fine. If one ignored the weak lungs, the fact that she managed to catch every cold that went around, had never really reached the height of an adult and it was seemingly near impossible for her to put on any weight…but other than that she was fine. It could be worse at least.

Kora just wished…She just wished that maybe her breasts were a smidgen bigger than they were. That she looked more…womanly.

Instead, she looked… She looked like a porcelain doll. She had heard that more than once. Like something that should be put behind glass and not be touched, for fear of breaking it.

Whatever Kora did…she was definitely never going to manage to look sexy. That much was certain.

Kora pulled her eyes from the mirror and walked to the bed, scaling the height of it and curling herself together beneath the sheets.

She should stop thinking like that, she knew that. It wasn’t going to…give her anything. It was just going to make her feel horrible about herself.

Kora buried herself underneath the duvet, the lacy nightgown slipping further off her shoulder, exposing the white, slender skin underneath.

She knew that she was being silly and vain, but it had always niggled at her that she didn’t quite match the beauty standards of the Winter Court. Kora was petite, fragile, and delicate, and the word ‘sexy’ had never crossed anyone's mind whenever they thought or spoke of her.

She wasn’t strong and muscular…she wasn’t…She was none of these things. 

And so she stewed, in the weak light of the bedroom. She hadn’t bothered to shut off the faelights yet.

Kora knew her husband would come to bed and he would manage to stub a toe and curse under his breath and wake her up even when he tried to be quiet…Somehow he had the incredible ability to be unheard in battle and a bull in a china shop while trying to be quiet and not wake her.

Some things never changed. Even after 300 years.

So Kora closed her eyes, and snuggled deeper in the blankets…and just minutes later, one eye slipped open as she heard the door open, a smile stretching over her face.

There he was.

Her husband's hulking form filled the doorway, massive, membranous black wings held high and proud as he came into the bedroom they shared.

Even close to 300 years after they had first met, Kora still thought him to be the most handsome male she had ever laid eyes on.

Even after 300 years the sight of him still made her heart race. 

Cassian’s wings flared out from behind him, spanning the entire space of the door frame, casting a shadow across his tanned face. Even though the room was mostly dark, Kora could see every single muscle on his body tensing and shifting as he walked through the door. He was utterly magnificent.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, Princess?” Cassian greeted her and she smiled at him.

“Good evening, husband,” Kora gave back quietly, just as he moved to unsheathe his weapons, carefully placing them on their rack.

“Give me 5 minutes,” he requested and she hummed her agreement, watching the play of muscles underneath his skin as he pulled his shirt over his head, ferocious wings trembling and stretching behind him…

Kora’s throat dried as even more of his muscular form was exposed to her. It was a sight that, despite seeing it every night, never lost its effect on her. The scars on his body, the rippling muscles and tanned skin. She was transfixed.

It didn’t take her long for her gaze to linger below his waistline, where her eyes traced the V-lines that were visible above the top of his pants.

Cassian smirked, noticing her gaze, and unbuckled his pants, letting them fall to the floor. He didn’t miss the flush that crept over her cheeks as he removed his clothes.

“Are you ogling me, Princess?” he chuckled, his voice low and gravelly as he walked over to the bed where she was sitting.

So handsome. So beautiful.

She would never quite get over the fact that the mother thought it to be prudent to make them mates. Would never get over the privilege of sharing his life, his bed, his love. He was everything.

Cassian prowled onto the bed, his movements fluid and silent like a predator stalking its prey. He knelt over her, his wings spreading out behind him as if to wrap Kora in their embrace.

“5 minutes,” he repeated.

She swallowed and modded.

It didn’t take Cassian 5 minutes. It took him less than that.

He stepped out of the bathing chamber, skin still damp, the fanlight making it glow nearly golden…the dark warrior markings swirling over acres and acres of muscles.

Eager tonight, wasn’t she? She reflected drily, as he didn’t even bother with a stitch of clothing, the towel getting thrown over a chair as he prowled towards the bed.

Beautiful.

Beautiful and all hers.

She watched unashamedly, the muscular thighs, strong like tree trunks…the muscles that covered his stomach and chest… and the thick, half-hard cock between those thighs.

The sight of him, naked and still damp from the bath, made her shiver. He was magnificent, and he loved her. Somehow this beautiful, powerful, warrior had loved her, been mated with her, and taken her to bed.

He prowled across the room and climbed onto the bed, and Kora found herself leaning back, a strange sort of shyness falling across her. In all of its glory, his muscled body was all too beautiful and powerful, and next to him, her small and weak frame felt…inadequate.

And still, her body reacted with a rush of wetness between her thighs, before he had even laid a single finger on her. 

And then he did lay a finger on her. His hand reached out to her face, and she gasped as he gently cupped her cheek. She leaned into his touch, his skin still slightly damp, and she closed her eyes, revelling in the feeling of his calloused hand tracing her sharp jawline and the curve of her cheek. Then it was on her shoulder, his touch so gentle, and then her chest.

His fingers traced small, lazy circles on her collarbones, and Kora found herself arching her back into his touch, silently asking for more.

Cassian tipped up her chin with these strong and broad hands that could span her whole jaw if he wanted them to. He kissed her, a soft brush of his lips on hers and she moaned against him, her smaller hands squabbling against his shoulder.

“I missed you,” he said softly as he pulled back, catching one of her hands and pressing a kiss against every single fingertip. “How was your shopping trip? Were you successful?”

Her heart fluttered in her chest, and her back arched as Cassian’s lips traced the edge of her jaw and down to her neck.

“Tiring,” she muttered, tipping her head back to bare more of her neck, relishing as he left a trail of tiny kisses across her pale skin. “The shops were crowded, as usual.”

She hadn’t been successful in the slightest.

Seemingly every piece of clothing she had pulled in the shops hung off her…and maybe it also hadn’t helped to see that her friends…her family… Their bodies were strong. Healthy. Fitting in clothing off the rack and looking beautiful.

Her own body…it was none of these things.

It wasn’t fierce…or strong.

She was never going to be able to go head-to-head with Cassian in the sparring ring like Mor or Nesta or Feyre could.

Elain maybe didn’t want to, but she still could. If she wanted to learn, she could.  Elain could still take a hike without needing to ride on a reindeer because otherwise, Kora was probably going to faint.

It wasn’t like Cassian hadn’t tried to teach Kora.

Well, once. Once and no more, because it had ended with him fetching Madja, as she had struggled to breathe.

After that, she had been taught how to use a single knife to the best of her ability, which meant that the lesson was pretty much limited to Stick them with the pointy end, Princess.

She wished she could just… just for once… “Alas, no luck today,” Kora waved him off, leaning to press another kiss against his lips.

She could have this though. At least this.

She opened her mouth slightly in invitation, and that was all Kora needed to do. She gave him the opening and Cassian swooped in and made her forget anything else.

His tongue tangled with hers, a soft sigh escaping her as her hands fisted in his dark hair, and he plundered her mouth for everything she had to give.

Broad hands pulled her towards him, fisting into her nightgown… Kora shut off the faelights with a wave of her hand.  She couldn’t stand it today…couldn’t stand the look of his hazel eyes on her body.

In the dark, she couldn’t see him. Only the feeling of his hands, his mouth, his body as it pressed into hers.

His tongue explored every part of her mouth eagerly, and a wave of heat flushed over her as she felt his strong hands slide up the sides of her nightgown.

For once, there was a small, selfish part of Kora that she hoped that the lights were going to stay out. In the dark, there was no one to see every dip, crevice, and blemish on her body. Cassian wouldn’t see how lacking her body was in comparison to his own. He wouldn’t… 

“What’s wrong?”

Kora stilled, her eyes widened, and she silently cursed.

Cassian lifted his mouth from her neck and was looking down at her, searching for something in her eyes. He knew her far too well. It had been stupid of her not to realise that he would pick up on her suddenly shutting off the faelights when usually, she was the one… who liked to look her fill. 

“Nothing is wrong,” she told him, leaning forward to catch her mouth with her own, but he stopped her. 

“You turned off the lights,” Cassian returned, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders, keeping her still.

“Maybe I just wanted it to be dark,” Kora said quickly, hoping he would drop it.

She could see his silhouette in the shadows, the hard lines of his muscles. Cassian was quiet for a long moment and for a second she thought he was going to leave it…but he never did.

“You’re hiding from me,” he said, his voice flat but not unkind. “Why?”

She wasn’t hiding. It was just…It was…

“I look like a 12-year-old boy,” Kora suddenly blurted out. She didn’t look like…she wasn’t…

Cassian snorted, the faelights coming back on with a blink. He watched her, his eyes soft. 

“You definitely don’t,” Cassian gave back drily.  “For one, 12-year-old boys don’t have these,”  he said with a waggle of his eyebrows, his thumb tracing her breast through the thin fabric of her nightgown.

Kora’s cheeks glowed red, and she gave a frustrated huff.

“That’s not what I meant!” she said, swatting his hand away from her. “You know exactly what I meant. I don’t have any…curves. For cauldron’s sake, I am smaller than even Amren!” she said weakly.

“You are. Itty Bitty,” Cassian agreed, a bright smile on his face. 

Kora bristled, pulling her nightgown tighter around her body. “You don’t have to say that you know. I am very well aware of my…deficiencies,” she said sourly.

“I have eyes,” he disagreed, his hand cupping her chin and tipping it up to look at him. “You are smaller than Amren. That’s a fact. But that doesn’t mean that you aren’t lovely. Your body is exquisite…perfect. As if it was sculpted by the Mother herself, meant for me.”

She didn’t believe him.

“Where did this even come from?” Cassian wondered, his brows furrowing. “You never cared before.” 

No, she didn’t. Normally at least. It was easy to not care when she had a mate who pretty much worshipped the ground she walked on, who was so enthusiastic in their lovemaking that she had never once doubted that he wanted her. 

“Mor, Nesta and  Feyre, even Elain…they can fight. Hold a sword,” Kora said weakly. “I need a ride a reindeer if I want to take as much as a hike.”

His lips came down to press against her temple in a gentle kiss.

“You are worth a thousand swords on the battlefield,” he said quietly, but she only gave a slight scoff. “You can hold my sword all you want,” he tried next and she glared at him.

“Don’t make it dirty,” she snapped at him, making Cassian laugh, before he grew serious. 

“So what if they can? Your skills simply lie somewhere else. I would make a horrible spymaster. And I don’t think that Az is coming for my job any time soon either,” Cassian gave back earnestly.

She rolled her eyes at that, and some of the tension in her shoulders eased, but Kora wasn’t going to be so distracted so easily.

“What would you know? You’ve never had to be a petite, delicate flower that men have to carry everywhere,” she retorted bitterly. “I just wish for once I was strong enough to carry you around,” Kora sighed.

He just snorted. “Ask Az about it,” he suggested drily. “I am sure he is more than willing to tell you how lugging around my heavy ass is not some grand romantic gesture.”

Kora’s imagination immediately conjured up the image of Azriel awkwardly attempting to carry Cassian’s huge frame through a forest like a limp noodle.

Despite her mood, she couldn’t help but give a huffed laugh.

 But it still didn’t fix the root of the problem. 

“I am useless,” Kora said weakly.  “That’s what I am, Cassian.”

Her mate looked at her like she had just sprouted a second head. 

“You are not useless,” Cassian disagreed sharply. “Where would we be if we didn’t have you? You keep Az from going mute all the way. Rhys and you have your long philosophical discussions and you are Mor’s favourite shopping partner…Your research skills are unmatched, and if we didn’t have you, we wouldn’t be a proper court at all. We would probably just be a ragtag band of misfits,” he teased her. “You bring some organisation and decoration to whatever you do, Princess. Even Amren likes you, sweetheart. You are not useless.” 

Fine. Fine, she would give him that. 

“I suppose…” she muttered into his chest. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m weak and sickly and…you deserve better.”

“Bullshit,” Cassian snorted.  “Are you warm enough?” He asked her.

“See? Even now you need to worry about me so I don’t get sick. If Nesta was your mate, you wouldn’t need to worry about that! You wouldn’t need to worry about her fainting!”

He chuckled as he pulled her back against his chest, wrapping one warm arm around her petite frame, drawing her against the heat of his body.

“I rather like tending to you,” he said smugly. “As much as I love her, I am rather relieved that Nesta is not the one in my bed…she’d likely stab me in my sleep,” he told her drily. “And the fact that you are ill doesn’t make you weak,” Cassian disagreed with her, pressing another kiss against her forehead. “That is nothing you can help, Princess, and it doesn’t make you weak or worth any less in my eyes. You are my mate and my wife and the love of my life. You gave me your love, Kora. You gave me a home. You took a bastard as your husband, even when you deserved an emperor,” he told her softly, his eyes warm. 

“I didn’t marry a bastard, I married the General of the Night Court,” she disagreed, tipping her head back to press a kiss against his chin. “I only ever wanted you.“ Kora admitted softly. 18 years old. One look. And it had been done. Him or nobody.

“You have me, Princess,” he told her, pulling her tighter against his body. “Every last piece of me. Always.”

His breath tickled her ear as he spoke, and his touch made heat flush over her skin, stirring something inside of her.

“There is nothing wrong with your body,” he told her softly. “You are beautiful.”

She shivered against him, the warmth of his body and the sweetness of his words sent a rush of affection through her.

“There wasn’t one thing in the shops that fit me today. Everything was too big or too long. Unless I went into the children’s section.” Kora muttered petulantly.

Cassian chuckled, his hand roaming over her body, sliding over her hip and the pale white skin of her stomach, and up to her chest.

“Children’s clothes would be a little too small, Princess.” He commented as he began to toy with the neckline of her nightgown, slowly pulling it down to expose more of her skin.

“Why don’t we go to your favourite seamstress tomorrow?” He suggested softly. “I think you could use a new dress. Or three.”

Kora shivered as his hand brushed the side of her breast, and she curled closer to his touch. “Perhaps,” she mumbled, distracted by the feeling of his strong body against her, and the feeling of his touch.

His other hand came up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, and his mouth returned to her neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. Kora shivered, her eyes fluttering shut as heat washed over her body.

“That still doesn’t fix the problem,” she mumbled.

“What problem?” he murmured against her skin, his tongue tracing the edge of her ear and finding the spot that made her shiver. Kora arched her back in response, a soft moan escaping her mouth. “That the store doesn’t carry your size?” Cassian asked her.

No. That wasn’t the problem. She was the problem.

“That I… don’t look…” she struggled to find the words.

His hands on her body stilled and then tightened.

“Be careful how you speak about my wife.”

Her breath hitched as he held her tighter, his body flush against hers and pressed into the softness of her own. Kora could feel the hard lines of his body against her back, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

She trembled.

“Is that why you wanted to hide? Why did you shut off the light?” Cassian asked her softly. “Because you don’t feel beautiful?”

The light had been a coward’s way of hiding, a pitiful attempt to spare Cassian from seeing her body and his eventual disappointment.

“Yes,” she muttered softly. Kora closed her eyes, but he gently tipped her chin up towards his own.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered her softly.

Hesitantly, she opened her eyes and was met with Cassian’s handsome face, his dark eyes watching her.

“Did you think I didn’t like seeing you naked?” he asked her gently. Cassian was always telling her that he wanted her, desired her, that he liked looking at her like that…but she never truly believed him.

“Not…entirely,” she admitted, shifting her eyes away from his gaze.

Suddenly he was moving.

“What are you doing?” Kora asked as her husband left the bed to cross the room and pick up that dreaded mirror. she had just been standing in front of.

He lifted it like it weighed nothing.

He carried it over to her side of the bed, putting it down carefully.

“Cassian…what are you doing?” she repeated, her voice shaky. He didn’t answer, as he joined her on the bed, kneeling behind her and arranging her body so that she had no other choice but to face herself in the mirror, forcing her to look at her own reflection. 

“I am going to show you how fucking beautiful you are,” Cassian told her simply.

She swallowed, trembling in the grasp of his big hands, as he slipped the sheets from her body. Heat flooded her face as he bared her body, leaving her with no other option but to look at the reflection of her and him in the mirror.

Kora knew she was tiny, small, and weak…and there it was, right in front of her. The huge muscular form of her husband wrapped himself around her dainty frame, his huge hands against the pale white skin of her body.

“We are going to play,” Cassian said softly.

Her breath hitched at his words, and she swallowed thickly. Play. 

They didn’t play each time they took their pleasure in the marriage bed…but if they did…if they did play…if they played and the only way to get Cassian to stop wasn’t the word stop but instead “Red”...It meant that she would end the evening strung out with pleasure and absolutely wrecked. 

“Yes,” she breathed and he chuckled.

“Good, Princess,“ he praised her. Cassian’s hand began to roam over her body, sliding over her hip and stomach, and then up to her chest.

Kora gasped and arched her back slightly, pressing back against the heat of his body, letting herself give in to his touch.

“The rule this time is really simple,” Cassian told her softly. “You stop watching and I’ll stop touching you,” he warned her, his voice warm and deep. “You’ll look at yourself…and you’ll see exactly what I see when I watch you.”

Her breathing was shaky and her heart rate had picked up in speed, beating a nervous beat in her chest.

“Alright,” Kora whispered, her eyes meeting his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. His eyes roamed over her form and then met hers once again, watching her with hunger.

His hands roamed over her body slowly, caressing her pale milky skin, feeling the softness and gentle curves of her body.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered in her ear, his fingers tracing her hip. “So small… so delicate.”

That nightgown she wore was tucked over her head, leaving her utterly bare, his hands kneading her chest, callouses rubbing against rosy nipples and delicate skin.

“Look at yourself,” Cassian cooed. “You don’t look like a 12-year-old boy. I love every freckle on your face. Like constellations in the night sky.”

She shivered at his touch, his deep voice in her ear and the feel of his chest against her bare back. Cassian’s hot breath against the sensitive skin of her neck was driving her crazy.

His hand was roaming over her chest, massaging the sensitive flesh, while the other rested on her stomach, keeping her close to him.

“I hate those freckles,” she mumbled stubbornly.

And still, she couldn’t help but watch as her nipples pebbled against his touch, her breasts growing heavy and warm as arousal grew low in her belly.

“I love those freckles,” he countered, and to prove his point he leaned down and captured her shoulder between his teeth, gently nibbling the sensitive skin there.

Kora let out a soft gasp, arching her body up into his touch and leaning back against his chest.

She watched as he marked her skin, her gaze meeting his in the mirror as his tongue caressed the pale skin of her shoulder, leaving a red bruise there.

“And I love the colour of your eyes. Blue like the sky on a winter's day,” Cassian continued.

Her face flushed at his praise, and she fidgeted slightly, but his hand on her hip kept her from moving away.

He nuzzled into her hair, breathing deeply, taking in her scent.

“And your hair…so soft, and silky.” He continued. "I love grabbing it." He tugged at it as if to prove his point. He twisted her body, just enough to fold his hulking form over hers…just enough to…to suck one pebbled nipple into his mouth.

Kora shivered against him, her head falling back against his shoulder in an arch, the feeling of his mouth against her breast making heat pool low in her stomach. She couldn’t help but let out a gasp at the sensation.

Her eyes closed.

He stopped.

He bit her earlobe, “I said, don’t look away, Princess.” His voice was a rough growl, full of desire and warning. A shiver ran through her body at his words, and she quickly looked up once more at the mirror. His form completely enveloped hers, making her look even smaller in comparison.

“That’s better,” he breathed against her ear, his tongue tracing the outer shell. “Now, what was I saying? Oh right…your beautiful body.”

”I love your breasts. They are beautiful. They may be small but doesn’t keep them from being oh-so sensitive, does it?” He told her, nearly conversationally…and then he caught one between thumb and forefinger…a pinch, a tug… she squeaked at the shot of pure arousal. Her hips bucked and she bit her lip, trying to restrain herself. She was sensitive everywhere… especially there.

“Yes,” she gasped as he repeated the motion, a flush painting itself across her face.

“Gods…so sweet,” he murmured against her ear as his hands continued to tease and play with her. “Every inch of you is perfect.”

He let off her breasts but she should have known that that was only the beginning.

“I love your waist because I can simply do this,“ Cassian said softly, wrapping both hands over her waist and spanning it completely.

Her eyes fluttered shut once again as he wrapped his big hands around her waist, his touch warm on her skin. She felt the heat of his body against her back, almost completely enveloping her. He nipped her ear, “I said look. Watch yourself as I touch you.”

Kora shivered, her eyes opening to stare at their reflection.  Her skin looked pale white against his golden tan, and suddenly the size difference between them was painfully obvious. He looked so big and strong, completely dwarfing her small frame in his arms as his hands roamed over her skin. Cassian let go of her waist, keeping one massive arm banded around her, making it impossible for her to move away, as he reached between her thighs, chuckling softly.

“You are drenched for me, Princess,” Cassian cooed. Kora couldn’t help but let out a shuddering gasp as his fingers found the warm flesh of her thighs. He was right… she could feel it as he reached slowly towards her core.

“Yes,” Kora breathed.

He spread her open and she blushed scarlet at the lewd visual. But that was nothing against his voice: “ I love your cunt. I love every pretty pink part of you I get to press my fingers, my tongue, my cock into.”

She shuddered at his words and the filthy image they conjured in her mind, and she desperately wanted to look away from the mirror as her face grew hotter, but his arm kept her pinned against him. She was completely at his mercy.

“Cassian…” Kora breathed.

The arm around her waist tightened, pulling her more firmly against him.

“No shutting your eyes,” he warned her, his voice thick.

And then… then one finger grazed upwards and she nearly flinched in his arms much to his amusement. “And I love your clit. Because I only need to do this…” he whispered, circling that little nub at the apex of her thighs, the feeling immediate. She keened.  “I love this one noise that you make…this one. “

Kora arched her body as his finger began to pleasure her, and a moan escaped her lips. She was sensitive, and every touch sent sparks up her spine, making her gasp and squirm against him.

“Cassian…please…”

“Eyes open, Princess. Or I’ll stop,” he warned her, pulling back slightly and she made a noise in protest. Her eyes snapped open again, and the image in the mirror caused a fresh wave of heat to wash over her body.

His big form towered over her small body, pinning her completely and making her look smaller than she already was.

“And your little cunt doesn’t want me to stop, does it?” Another gush of wetness between her thighs. 

“No…please…don’t stop….” She panted. “Please…Please…” She didn’t know what she begged for. For him to keep touching her, or to take her right here. Both sounded good at the moment.

He chuckled, nipping her ear and then the soft skin of her neck.

“So polite for me, Princess,” he whispered, his voice low. “I like this version of you. Begging for me…”

Kora choked back a moan and he nipped her neck in retaliation.

“Don’t you dare,” Cassian threatened her sharply.“I want to hear you. I earned every fucking moan,” he told her fiercely.

Kora choked on another moan that wanted to escape…his reaction was immediate. A sharp, stinging slap right against the soft flesh of her thighs. Her cunt gushed with wetness. Her gasp of pain turned into a gasp of pleasure. Pain shot up her thigh and right into the core of her body.

“I thought I told you I wanted to be to hear you moan, Princess,” he reminded her darkly.

Her gasp of pain turned into a gasp of pleasure. Pain shot up her thigh and right into the core of her body.

“I thought I told you I wanted to be to hear you moan, Princess,” he reminded her dark.“Next time, I’ll do that to your poor cunt,” he warned her, and she gasped wide eyed, staring at him the mirror. He was watching her with a look of pure male satisfaction. “

Her breath caught in her throat at his threat.

He hadn’t done it before, at least not with that much force…and Kora couldn’t help the way his harsh words made a little shiver run down her spine.

“Y-you wouldn’t,” she said, her voice slightly shaky.

He raised an eyebrow at her, a hint of a smirk on his lips, “Are you testing me, Princess? Because I’ll do it.”

She was shivering with…soemthing, a blush staining her cheeks as she bit her lips. 

She trusted Cassian with anything. Trusted him never to lay a hand on her in anger. But the thought of him…

Cassian chuckled, the sound warm and still a little bit mean. “You want me to, don’t you, Princess?” he teased her. She swallowed. “Be a good girl and you’ll get whatever you want,” he promised her.”

A rush of excitement ran through her at this, and it was hard not to shiver. She could be good for him, she could.

Cassian’s fingers teased the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, and a moan escaped her. 

His hand went back to her clit and she pushed her ass back against him, feeling his hard and heavy cock…he chuckled as she rubbed herself against him like a cat in heat. He shifted them slightly, fitting her cock against her, but not pressing into her.

“Get me wet, Princess,” he said softly. “Come all over me. Watch yourself.”

And she did.

She watched that expression on her face, the open mouth, the messy hair…watched her gushing cunt and his massive cock pressed against her, teasing her…she wanted him inside her.

She panted and writhed against him, rubbing against him like she needed to rub against his body. He was so big and hard, and she wanted him.

She chased her first climax… she tried to touch herself but he didn’t let her with a laugh, just letting her rub against his cock and played with her breasts, even as she grew frustrated. Kora growled in annoyance, and that was what he seemed to have been waiting for her.

One single sharp stinging slap, right on her lewdly stretched cunt. Her clit just so peaking out from its hood…and she convulsed.

Kora let out a strangled cry and her whole body went rigid as pain bloomed and pleasure washed over her, leaving her dizzy and breathless. The pain was immediate and stinging, but the pleasure…It was hard to breathe, and the waves of ecstasy made black spots dance around the edges of her vision.

It wasn’t the first time that he got rough with her. But it was rare that he got this rough with her…that he was willing to let her feel more than just the edge of pain and pleasure.

And Cassian was enjoying this, she could tell. His body was warm and tense, and she could hear his uneven breathing in her ear.

Kora slumped against him, her breathing coming in sharp gasps, trembling like a rag doll.

But Cassian wasn’t done with her at all.

“Every fucking inch of your body is gorgeous. And I’ll spend the rest of your life telling you that.” he whispered.

Her hips weakly twitched, the blunt head of his cock catching onto her entrance. She let out a low gasp when she felt him press against her entrance.

“Please…” she said softly. “Please….”

She couldn’t find the words for what she needed, but her body was already responding to his touch.

“Yes, Princess?” His voice was soft against her ear, and he nipped gently at her neck, “What is it? What do you want?”

She tried to push herself back onto him, but his hands were firm as they held her hips in place.

“Please…I need you,” she panted.

“Need me where, Princess?” He teased, his hands roaming over her hips and thighs. “Where exactly do you need me?”His words sent a wave of heat through her body, and she whimpered.

“You know where,” she said, but there was enough pout in her voice to convey the begging she didn’t want to admit to. He chuckled, his hands still roaming over her body.

“I have a few ideas,” he answered as his mouth moved to the sensitive skin of her shoulder. “But I want to hear you say it.”

Kora groaned.  “I need you…inside of me…please, Cassian,” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she flushed furiously.

“Oh, do you? You are being so polite, Princess,“ he teased her. “Of course, you get what you ask for.“

And he pushed inside her, with one blunt thrust, her body needing to yield

“Oh, gods,” Kora choked out. It hurt, in a way that was sheer pleasure, the stretch of her body accommodating his size. Her hips ached, her cunt flexed against his cock.

She whimpered as he entered her, his big body pushing against her.

Her body was spread wide to accommodate him, and she shivered at the sensation. 

“Is this what you wanted, Princess?” He asked, his voice low and rough.

Kora took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. “Yes,” she panted, “Please…keep going.”

He pulled back slightly, then rocked forward, and Kora heard a breathy moan slip past her lips and into the air. He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her back, “What was that?” He asked, rocking his hips against hers.

She whimpered, staring at herself in the mirror.

Her cheeks were a rosy colour and her lips were parted slightly, but her eyes were wide and glassy and…all she could see was thick, massive cock that was spearing her, slick and shiny with her wetness. 

“C-Cassian…” she panted, her legs were weak, and she was completely supported by him, but his hands gripped her hips tightly.

One large, calloused hand braced against her stomach, spanning the space between her hipbones. And then…then he pressed down lightly.

“Oh gods,” Kora choked out. She could feel him. She could feel him.

Kora was pinned right there, pinned in place between his cock and his hand, pinned and impaled from the inside and outside and…

She gasped when she felt his hand against her abdomen. The sudden pressure from the outside made her feel even more full if that was possible.

“See?” Cassian rumbled. “Look down, Princess,” he coaxed her and she did. Kora could see her belly bulge out where he rested within her. She couldn’t help the shudder that worked its way through her body at that realisation. 

“Such a good girl, Princess. You are taking me so well,” he cooed.  It was hard to speak as the pressure built and his words washed over her, but she whined softly in answer.

Every movement he made caused a new wave of sensations that travelled up her spine and made her see stars.

Kora’s head fell back against his shoulder, exposing her neck. Cassian didn’t miss the opportunity, immediately licking and nipping the sensitive skin.

“You like this, Princess?” He asked, still not moving much and simply rocking his hips slightly, just enough to send a jolt through her body.

Kora trembled, all she could do was whimper softly in response. She could barely form coherent thoughts and was struggling to keep her eyes open. He groaned a low, guttural sound that reverberated through her body, and she whimpered.

“Tell me,” he murmured, and the sound of his voice against her skin made her whimper again. “Tell me how much you like it, Princess.”

She bit her lip, her breath hitching slightly at his words, and then she swallowed.

“I love it,” she whispered, and her voice broke slightly “Please…”

He took her hand, calloused fingers wrapped around soft, manicured ones, placing it against her belly, right there where he had just pressed down.

She could feel him. Could feel the hard length of him underneath her skin and she couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her.

„Feel,” he demanded his voice as clipped as every other he had ever given. “Feel me fucking you, Princess.” His words sent a jolt through her, and she gasped. Her hips bucked involuntarily, and her head lolled back against his shoulder.

“Cassian…feels…so good… “ she panted. Her thoughts were fuzzy, and she couldn’t focus on anything but the sensations that his body was causing to race through hers. “So full…I’m so full…” she whimpered, pressing her hand against her abdomen.

His laugh was low and dark, a contrast to her gasps,

“That is right, Princess. You are full, absolutely stuffed full with me,” he said and ground his hips against hers to emphasize his point, and Kora moaned, a soft shudder running down her spine.

Everything felt hot and hazy, and Kora’s mind was spinning. She felt like she could barely breathe. “Please…” she whispered, her voice ragged. "Please, I can…"

“Watch,” his mate insisted.

She did. Her eyes caressed over his hulking form wrapped around her…over her arched spine, her heaving breast…her cunt, allegedly spread and dripping. Over his cock, that disappeared inside her…

Her cheeks flushed and her breath hitched at the sight. She was barely even aware of the sounds that came from her mouth, high keening, gasps, small whimpers as sparks of pleasure shot through. Kora pressed her hand against the bulge in her abdomen, feeling him recede and fill her to the brim…, her moans growing more frantic as his pace increased.

“Oh gods…oh gods…” she panted. She couldn’t keep her eyes open as she shivered in his arms, her breathing growing erratic, as were his thrusts. “C-Cassian” she whimpered, “I…I can’t…I’m going to…”

“Watch!” He snapped.

And somehow she did. Kora watched.

Her whole body arched, and tensed, and then she fell apart. Kora felt like she was on fire as the waves of pleasure hit her like a tidal wave. She moaned as she lost herself, and everything was white hot for several moments. And she watched. Watched the shudders work over her body…watched the expression of utter rapture in her face…the way her body clenched down onto the cock pistoning in and out of her…

Her vision blurred, and she clenched around him. Her breath caught in her throat with a moan as she shook, and her legs gave out suddenly as her climax hit her. Her hips rocked against him desperately, each movement sending a new shiver through her body. She trembled as the last waves ebbed away, her head falling back against him.

“O-oh…Cassian…gods…I…” She could hardly speak, her vision was hazy and her mind wasn’t working properly. She panted desperately, trying to catch her breath. He hadn’t stopped moving his hips, although his pace was slower now and deeper.

The new sensations made her gasp, and for a moment she tensed up again.

“I…I can’t…it’s too…” she stammered, trying to get away, but he pinned her in place, holding her right there, like a vessel of his pleasure to be filled as he continued to fuck her, slamming his hips agaist hers. 

“You can, Princess,” he said, his voice still low and rough with lust. “You can take it…and you will.”

Kora whimpered, “No…I…I…oh…please…please please please…”

She didn’t even know what she was asking for, but her hips still rocked against his, the pleasure sparking across her skin.

His hand pressed against her stomach again, and Kora shivered at the feeling. She moaned, and his thrusts grew faster once again. His pace was relentless now, and Kora whined, arching her back.

She let out a breathy moan, and her eyelids fluttered. Her body was tense, but so full of pleasure that she couldn’t think straight. “C-Cassian…I can’t…too…too much…I…”

She could hardly form sentences.

He groaned softly, and his hips moved even faster. Kora was nearly sobbing with sensations, her hips twitching against his and her body tensing again.

Her orgasm crashed into her, the mix of pleasure and pain resulting in a hoarse cry. Too much. too much…

Her body shook, moans and whimpers escaped her gasping lips, and she went boneless in his arms, unable to do anything but quiver and moan, barely even noticing when he slammed into her one final time with a guttural growl. 

Cassian came with a roar, his body stiffening behind hers as his hips jerked into hers. He slumped against her, and Kora felt his laboured breathing against her neck. Her breath was still coming in sharp gasps, and she had no thoughts left to form. She just kneeled there, trembling, as her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Cassian pressed a soft kiss behind her ear, and she heard him whisper something, but she couldn’t catch it. The words sounded jumbled, her blood rushing in her ears…her breathing came in sharp gasps, hurting in her chest like it always did when she had physically exerted herself too much. 

A sharp cough left her throat and Cassian moved immediately.

Her mind was still to sluggish, her body trembling, that she couldn’t protest, even if she wanted to. He laid her on her side, and just a moment later, he had fitted the nebuliser over her nose and mouth. A trinket from dawn filled with medication that would ease the worst of her coughs and make it easier for her to breath. It hummed to life with push of his magic. 

Tears shot in her eyes as she weakly tried to bat him away, but Cassian held firm, keeping it in place with one hand and bracketing her trembling body with his own, holding her in place. 

“No, Princess,” Cassian said firmly. She knew arguing would be fruitless, but she still tried. Still reach up and grasped his wrist, as the mist entered her nose and mouth, trying to get him to stop. 

Cassian only pressed a kiss against her temple, covering them with the thick goose feather stuffed duvet that they only had because Kora was always cold. “No,” he repeated calmly. “Your lungs are roiling. Just breathe, Princess,” he told her and she tried to shift her head to glare at him, her body still trembling. 

“Don’t give me that luck,” Cassian said with a snort. “You were worse to me when I got my wings injured. Don’t think I don’t remember your very creative threats,” he pointed out drily. “I am willing to fuck you until you can’t breath, but not at the cost of your health,”  Cassian said quietly as he held her tighter. “And I hope this has cleared up how utterly beautiful your body is.” Her cheeks flushed at his words, and she pressed closer to him, not wanting to think about how much of a hassle she was.  Kora tried to stifle another cough, but the nebuliser left her throat feeling dry and it came out anyway, sending a shudder through her body.

She pressed his wrist again, and he let up, letting her talk. 

“I…I’m sorry,” she whispered meekly, but even the short sentences made her breath catch in her chest. Immediately, the nebuliser was replaced against her mouth.   

“Hush, princess,” he said, his voice was low and comforting. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You are beautiful and perfect, and I will not allow you to say anything less.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kora’s mouth, despite her discomfort. His words may be corny, but she couldn’t deny that they made her feel better.

She nestled against him, closing her eyes as she tried to focus on her breathing. It was still ragged, but not quite as bad as before.

Cassian’s hands moved gently through her hair, the steady motion was soothing and, combined with the nebuliser, and she started to feel a little better.

“Do you believe me now?” Cassian wondered softly, pushing her hair from her face. “For me, you are the most beautiful creature in all of fucking Prythian.”

[lilislegacy]

if you’re ever having an argument with someone who’s saying that book percy jackson is not a conventionally attractive person, i have the only quote you need.

(i am talking strictly about older book percy, like 17+ percy, but most quotes below describe him at at age 16 and some under)

if nothing is enough to prove to them that percy is attractive…

if annabeth’s huge crush on him from day 1, her saying “he’s good looking” in the demigod files, her constantly saying he’s adorable and has beautiful eyes, isn’t enough for them…

if percy being one of very few heroes sent to calypso’s island, amongst only the greatest heroes, because he’s someone who calypso “can’t help falling in love with”, and when he’s surprised she falls in love with him, calypso says “if you could see your face… of course you.” if that isn’t enough for them…

if nico falling fast and hard for him at a young age, i mean percy was literally his gay awakening, and older nico even calling him “cute” to his face after he’s over his crush, isn’t enough for them…

if piper calling him “cute in a scruffy way” isn’t enough for them…

if rachel badly wanting to date him after not even knowing him long isn’t enough for them…

if reyna, with her standards, immediately making a move on him isn’t enough for them…

if leo referring to percy as a “handsome” guy in HoH, not to mention how intimidated by and jealous of percy he is, isn’t enough for them…

if hazel saying she thought he was a “god in disguise” when she first met him, saying he has an “aura of power” and the “good looks of a roman god,” isn’t enough for them…

if little meg immediately getting a crush on him isn’t enough for them…

if kinzie, one of the amazons, cornering him and then telling him “if you ever need a new girlfriend… well, i think you’d look great in an iron collar and an orange jumpsuit,” (a line i personally found to be… a very adult thing for rick to write lol) isn’t enough for them…

anyway, if somehow they can’t take a hint, and none of that is enough for them

then this is all you need

what is apollo the god of? many things. the sun, light, poetry, music, etc. he’s associated with things of beauty. he’s attracted to true beauty. he admits it many time in his series. apollo is arrogant and full of himself, especially at the beginning of his series. hes extremely judgmental of people’s physical appearances. he will flat out call someone ugly just because they’re not conventionally beautiful. he calls any acne ugly. a little bit of tummy flab is horrendous. his standard of beauty is impossibly high. but guess who he calls attractive? i think you know what’s coming

ladies and gents, i give you a quote form the trials of apollo, book one, the hidden oracle

if APOLLO, with the absolute harshest and most brutal judgement of people’s attractiveness, says that percy is a man of handsome features - not “okay” or “somewhat attractive” but HANDSOME - there is no denying that he is a conventionally attractive character. book percy jackson is, canonically, a very good looking guy.

feel free to comment any quotes about him that i forgot to include :)

[tabithatwo]

It’s actually so painfully brilliant the way yellowjackets sets up their un-stereotype-able characters. I could (and might) do this for all of them, but because she’s on my mind right now—the show tells us that jackie taylor is the type of girl who has high expectations put on her and WILL be analyzed constantly (from coach, her parents, jeff, shauna (if only by way of shauna’s reflective habits and her personal narrative construction), the team (by way of being captain).

Then they show us so many instances of Jackie being good and kind. Is she perfect? NO, BECAUSE THEN SHE’D BE ANOTHER STEREOTYPE (THE PERFECT DEAD GIRL/WIFE), SILLY! She has enough edge to be believable as a teenage girl.

And what do people do with that edge? They sharpen it and sharpen it and use it to cut out every moment where Jackie is being kind or trying her hardest! Because what do we like?? Feeling confident in our stereotypical assumptions of people! And what did the show do? Give us scenes with blocking that suggests the popular girl/loner best friend stereotype and absolutely turn them on their head, because what’s not very realistic?? The popular girl who is mean to her loser best friend stereotype in media! (Is it impossible in life? NO, nothing is! But it’s not a standard set up. It’s not as common as media makes it out to be.)

What is one of Jackie’s primary fears as a character? Being held to INSANELY high standards and not meeting them! And what do the viewers commonly do to jackie? Why, they hold her to INSANELY high standards and show how she doesn’t meet them, of course!

Jackie cannot slip up, every instance where she falls short is catalogued as a gotcha moment. She was never allowed to fully develop on the screen because we often get her through the filter of shauna.

She gets deeply depressed, that depression is largely ignored in the show (lottie doesn’t pitch in much either, but her brand of being unwell is observed and understood as existing more so than Jackie’s), and then it is often ignored by viewers (“why didn’t she just come inside, she’s stubborn and dumb!” rather than “wow, look at this consistent descent into deep depression and suicidal ideation we’ve seen since episode 3, culminating in Jackie choosing to stay outside, what can we glean from that?”)

Jackie dies and she is literally consumed in totality—her memory is obscured, the hallucination form of her is filtered through Shauna’s psyche, her corpse is a doll, her flesh is digested. And a photo of her at 18 years old is posted at the 25 year reunion, looking perfect, attached to nothing of her life or who she was, used to facilitate a dance between her ex boyfriend and her best friend, who betrayed her in a way that most people would never get over, (but as we’re shown in the death dream Jackie ultimately would).

Allie literally says, “While I know she isn’t here with us, I know that this is what Jackie would have wanted.” She says that! In the show! To punctuate the absurdity of it all! The very relationship that broke Jackie’s heart, crushed her spirit, destroyed her will to live, being touted as something she would’ve wanted to hundreds of people.

And if that doesn’t strike you as a fucking horrifying tragedy, as emblematic of the reduction of women to whatever those around them need them to be, in order to fit their narrative, in order to be useful to them, then baby this show is sailing over your head.

[intuitively-her]

Why are people crushing on you?

Pile 1- (The moon, 8 of swords, 3 of cups rx, The empress rx, Queen of swords, 5 of wands rx, 4 of pentacles rx)

People can tell that you have a wall up. You never fully tell others about yourself. You give them just enough. It keeps people on their toes with you. You’re a puzzle that’s impossible to solve.🤭 Especially to people that want to befriend you. They can tell that you’re more of an introvert, but this makes you even more attractive! They like how you’re shy, but also not afraid to speak up for yourself and others. Others like how you’re always 10 steps ahead of them. It makes people wanna look up to you. I feel like you have a more dominating personality at times as well. You’re an ice queen/king.💙 Women especially love when you assert your dominance over them. Others can tell you’re feeling stuck in a situation currently and it has you feeling indecisive. They want to save you from this. You attract a lot of people with a savior complex. People can tell that you have this light energy deep inside. You have a heart of gold, but you’re ice cold on the surface. Even tho you’re stingy with your love and energy to strangers, you give plenty of it to those closest to you. People love how you hold your family/friends to a high standard. You’re actually a very generous sweetheart once people get to know the real you.🥰

Pile 2- (3 of swords, 2 of cups rx, 10 of swords rx, 8 of cups, King of pentacles rx, Page of wands, Strength, 10 of cups)

People really admire how you bounce back after a breakup. You had to walk away from a lot of bs in the past. For some, even your family. You’ve been through many betrayals in your life. You never let it break you tho. You’re like a lion/lioness.⭐️ People love how independent you are and how well you take care of yourself at your age. You’ve built a new home of happiness for yourself.🙃 For those of you that left your family, there’s someone here that’s proud of you for leaving that toxic situation behind. The things you’ve been through have fueled your lust for life. You’ve grown into such a fearless person. People love your curiosity. You’re always the one asking questions and finding the truth. People also really love how you’re not money driven. This pile gives me the vibe of someone that has a lot of money but you’re not materialistic. You could also be rich but you choose to dress down and avoid being too flashy.

Pile 3- (Queen of wands rx, Queen of cups, The star, The moon, 7 of wands, 2 of wands, 2 of swords rx, 3 of pentacles rx)

Your energy is so vivacious and intense! It’s all eyes on you anywhere you go.🤷🏽‍♀️ I’m getting strong Leo energy from this pile. You’re someone that’s well-known in your school/community, even if you don’t think so. People love how you take charge of your life. Your independence is greatly appreciated. Your teachers/professors love this especially. They can tell that you’re not one of those students that needs to be babied. People also love your balanced thinking. You never rush your plans and you have a clear vision on what you want/need. You’re fearless! You live life like you’re playing the lottery. Unafraid to gamble with yourself. 🎰 You might prefer to work alone mostly or you take the lead in group work. This is heavily admired by others. It makes them think, “wow pile 3 could teach me a thing or two.” Many people look up to you because of your amazing work ethic. People think you’re gonna blow up one day and become an overnight celebrity.🙈 Many people have been crushing on you because you’re a sweetheart!💖 For my men reading this, women especially love your aggressive nature. People love your “macho man” attitude.🤣 You hold so much compassion and care for others. Even a simple smile to a stranger can transform their whole day. Your energy is very warm and comforting. It makes people wanna open up and get close to you. You’re the perfect mix of sugar and spice.❤️‍🔥

Pile 4- (5 of pentacles, 10 of wands, Ace of pentacles rx, The emperor rx, Justice, The chariot, Judgement, 2 of cups, The Mother Star)

You’ve been through a lot of adversity in your life. It seems like you’ve had a string of bad luck recently. You’ve lost a lot financially. For some of you, you lost your job or someone stole money from you. You could’ve felt tied to your responsibilities or you do now. People love when you’re dependent on them or you need their help. It can be as simple as someone helping you carry a box. You have this “helpless and naive” vibe to you. Even if you’re not, that’s just how people perceive you. People admire you because you don’t follow the rule book of life. You love to follow your own path and figure shit out along the way. You make people realize that they don’t need to have their whole life figured out right now. You could be in high school or college currently. You could have an indie or bohemian clothing style. People really love the jewelry and accessories you add to your outfits. Especially if it’s related to your culture. People absolutely love your hair! Especially the color of it. 3 of the cards I pulled show a girl with waist-length red hair. People think your girlfriend material. They love what a great friend you are. You may be the “mom” friend of your group.

[hrizantemy]

It’s time to say what’s obvious but so often ignored: the Inner Circle, these supposedly wise, all-powerful beings, are over five hundred years old. That’s centuries of experience, life lessons, and power, and yet they constantly act like immature, emotional wrecks. They’ve lived through wars, court politics, and the passage of entire generations, but instead of showing the wisdom that should come with their age, they bicker like children. Feyre, Nesta, Elain, and even someone like Tarquin—who, by all accounts, is much younger—don’t have even a fraction of their life experience, and yet the Inner Circle’s behavior often doesn’t reflect any of that supposed wisdom. It’s not only frustrating but also embarrassing that they repeatedly revert to petty emotional outbursts, jealousy, and manipulation, refusing to grow past the same toxic dynamics they’ve had for centuries.

There’s simply no excuse for this kind of childish behavior when you’re over five hundred years old. By now, they should be the epitome of maturity, poise, and wisdom, but instead, they choose to stew in their own egos, dragging others down with them. Take Rhysand, for example—he constantly pushes the narrative that he’s this benevolent leader, yet he uses his wife, and her family when it suits him, all while coddling his supposed circle of warriors when they’re in the wrong. For a group that holds so much power, they act like they’re stuck in the same emotional rut, never maturing beyond their pain and petty rivalries.

Let’s get one thing straight: this isn’t about denying the Inner Circle their emotions. They’re entitled to feel, to hurt, and to carry their traumas just like anyone else. But what’s frustrating—and what I’m pointing out—is the way they handle those emotions and, more importantly, how they project them onto others, especially when it doesn’t align with their supposed maturity and experience. These are beings who have lived through centuries of hardship, war, and loss. They’ve seen entire kingdoms rise and fall, watched loved ones die, and survived unimaginable horrors. So, no, I’m not saying they need to be emotionless or stoic. I’m saying that for beings with that level of experience, their reactions, especially to those younger and less experienced than them, are bafflingly immature and often downright toxic.

Take Cassian as a prime example. You’re telling me this five-hundred-year-old man who’s been a general, who’s led soldiers into battle, and seen the worst war can bring, has the emotional capacity of a temperamental teenager when it comes to Nesta? When she, a woman clearly battling her own trauma, tells him to leave her alone, his response is to yell at her? To throw the present he wanted to give her in some kind of temper tantrum? This is a man who has seen more death, more hardship, more conflict than most people can comprehend, and yet, he can’t handle a conversation with a woman he supposedly cares about without reverting to childish behavior. Oh, poor Cassian, does he need a blankie and a bottle after someone dares challenge him or ask for space? Instead of showing any emotional intelligence or restraint, his answer is to lash out. How does that align with centuries of experience? Shouldn’t he, of all people, understand that sometimes backing off and offering quiet support is what someone needs?

It’s not about whether they can have emotions. It’s about how those emotions manifest. Cassian’s outbursts, Rhysand’s manipulations, Morrigan’s coldness—these are not signs of beings who have had centuries to learn emotional regulation. They act like they’re stuck in the emotional maturity of their youth, never evolving, never adapting, never showing the wisdom or grace you’d expect from someone with five hundred years of life behind them.

Trauma absolutely plays a part in how the Inner Circle behaves—it would be unfair to say otherwise. But here’s the problem: they hold everyone else to impossibly high standards when it comes to dealing with trauma, yet they give themselves all the room in the world to indulge in unhealthy coping mechanisms. They’re allowed to drink themselves into a stupor, sleep around, lash out, or wallow in their issues for centuries without anyone questioning it, but the moment someone else shows signs of struggle? Suddenly, the torches are lit, and it’s time to ‘fix’ them. The hypocrisy is staggering.

Take Nesta as an example. She drinks, she isolates herself, she lashes out—and yes, those behaviors are self-destructive, but they’re clear signs of someone drowning in trauma. Instead of offering her real support or even the same leniency they give themselves, they treat her like she’s a ticking time bomb that needs to be locked away until she behaves. It’s as if the moment someone else mirrors their own coping mechanisms, it becomes unacceptable. Rhysand and his Inner Circle are constantly drinking and celebrating, finding solace in excess, but that’s fine because they’ve ‘earned it,’ right? Cassian can sleep around, drink to numb his pain, and it’s brushed off as just his way of dealing. But when Nesta drinks? It’s suddenly a huge problem, a sign of her being out of control and needing to be ‘rehabilitated.’ The double standard is glaring.

It’s this hypocrisy that makes their treatment of others so frustrating. They act as though they’re the gatekeepers of who is ‘handling’ their trauma the right way. It’s perfectly fine for them to drink and fuck away their pain, to drown their sorrows in hedonism, but the minute someone else—someone younger, someone less experienced, someone like Nesta—shows even a fraction of the same behavior, they’re ready to intervene. They want to control how others process their trauma, but refuse to examine their own methods. If Nesta needs to be locked away for drinking too much, for isolating herself, then what about Cassian? What about Rhysand? What about Morrigan? Why don’t they hold themselves to the same standards? Instead, they act like they’re above it all, excusing their own vices while condemning others for the same.

[evilminji]

This? Is driving me ~crazy~?

You know Anti-Force drugs and devices? Such as cuffs or collars?

Presumably, both rare and expensive, since Noteable Force Sensitivity is Rare AF? Not sure if it's more of a Fandom or Canon thing? But still, THOSE things? Yeah, you know THEM?

...... w-wouldn't... wouldn't they fucking KILL people?

Like? I'm not even joking here. We gotta remember, IN UNIVERSE, that the Force? Is FUCKING EVERYWHERE. All the Where. The LIVING Force is what CONNECTS and guides all LIVING things. "Guides" being the significant word there.

I'm not saying it would be IMMEDIATE death? Because Force Blanks exsist. Impossibly rare as they may be. But no one ever said they were HEALTHY. You CAN survive, for a pretty long while, after getting your internal micro biomes DEEPLY fucked up. Can even possibly repair them, depending on the damage.

And, what? Is the Midi-chlorian? If not a symbiotic microorganism? Living off you while giving you benefits in return? Health, durability, and The Force, in return for a place to thrive. Tied, inexorably, to your immune system and other vital bodily functions? To your SENSES. Your BRAIN FUNCTION.

Anti-Force drugs and Devices? Are awful... to those already a count of MULTIPLE THOUSANDS per drop of blood. What about much lower? If the device damages or suppresses all but the strongest Midi-chlorians? Does the average person HAVE enough to survive that?

Is it like radiation exposure? Deadly not in the immediate, but in the days to follow? In the sickness. The nausea. The weakness of limbs and the tiredness that drags. A seeping sense of unreality. Disconnected from others, who no longer feel "real". Do YOU no longer "real". As the interwoven connection you had, inside you, to the Force, is dying?

The Force is still there. You are still a part of it.

But you can't feel it anymore.

And it wasn't even something you knew you WERE feeling, until it was gone. Until people and the paintings of people, hold the same realness. Until you no longer feel connected to your own body. Sick, disassociating, and scared. Blood poisoned by the dying matter now floating in your veins.

There's a REASON, I would imagine, such devices are not standard issue. Mass produced. Expensive, dangerous, and deadly to those who DON'T have a high enough midi-chlorian count.

Even those who DO have a high enough count? Get sick wearing them! Need time to recover!

They are? Fundamentally?

ANTI-LIFE.

People throw them around in fanfic's a lot. As though just shutting off a major part of someone biology wouldn't have NASTY blowback. As though a Jedi probably doesn't fucking DESTROY those monstrosities, those ABOMINATIONS to the Force, every time they come across a set or vial of the stuff. Second only to the Sith, that sort of evil. Probably MADE by Sith. Evil. Nasty. Disgusting and no good.

Burn it.

You absolutely NEED to keep someone contained? Sleep. Nice lil Jedi enforced nap. Or drug enforced. Maybe both. They ALSO have FORCE rituals. Combine THEIR power against YOUR power. There are many ways. HUMANE and ETHICAL ways. They AREN'T SITH.

Just? Those things? Should be treated like the horrors they ARE, you know? They're not convenient plot devices! They are critical biology suppressing radiation collars and chemo drugs! Being PUMPED INTO PEOPLE by RANDOS!!

Shoved ON people! By FUCKING SLAVERS!

That SHOULD be HORRIFYING! They're ANTI-FORCE! <-!!! Which?

Is LIFE.

@legitimatesatanspawn @babbling-babull @spidori @mayfay @hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @leftnotright

[vechter]

👀 please elaborate on ur Cass and Damian thoughts, I’m also always thinking about what their dynamic could’ve been

omg i have so many!!!

okay, so initially, in batgirl 2009 #5 (iffy about character portrayals in this comic but that's a whole other thing), we see damian kind of anticipatory and even excited to meet cass:

it's super interesting to me because at that point, damian is still grappling with being a product of the league, still very much figuring out his role in this group of people his father chose.

and cass is one of them. cass, who's respected and considered formidable even by the loa. cass, who has also killed! i think in damian's eyes, they've had similar upbringings and he probably expects a certain degree of kinship with her.

because yes, dick, steph and alfred are coming to accept him, have purposely and actively showed that they care for him but they don't understand him! they don't know what growing up in that kind of isolation, with that demand for perfection is like.

damian's primary arc being dick's robin is about acceptance, from others but also, from himself! some heartbreaking panels below from red robin 2009 #14:

for damian, who is still actively fighting against his own instincts, who wasn't someone his father- a near mythical figure- chose, cass is someone who can, maybe, not only understand him but is also incontrovertible proof that people can change, that their childhoods don't define them. so, he already has somewhat high expectations for when they eventually meet, as we see in their first real interaction in gates of gotham 2011 #2:

gates of gotham is actually a great comic but unfortunately cannot consider the editorial nuance of cass being pushed aside by dc and removed from gotham entirely. but if you consider the implications, tim and steph definitely talk about her- probably dick and alfred, too. at this point, all of them respect and consider cass one of their own- she's accepted, she's even loved.

and that's probably something that damian is plagued and intrigued by. here's this girl who was brought up by someone the bats deem morally bankrupt, who changed her life around and went from being a would-be assassin to a hero (just like him!). she meets even his father's impossible standards, who has assigned her a whole city with batman inc. he lashes out at her when he thinks she hasn't accepted him (at this point, cass hasn't even done anything except come back to gotham lol so you can see how much damian struggles with acceptance, especially from someone he considers his peer!):

it's a deeply skewed view bc we know how much cass struggles with her own redemption but damian is still just a kid, lacking the emotional maturity to fully understand her.

i won't go into all the events of gates of gotham because it starts off with friction between them and they eventually end up working as a team and everything's sort of hunky-dory. but i think if flashpoint hadn't happened and we had actually gotten a deeply exploratory continuation of the nuances of the complicated bat-dynamics after bruce's return- we would definitely see more friction between cass and damian.

for cass, who sees everything- damian would be painful to witness. her own fears, her own guilt staring back at her. and i absolutely adore cass but she isn't going to be capable of tact or the kind of support that damian is passively seeking from everyone, but especially from her! cass is incredibly compassionate but her world-view is also so deeply jaded by her feelings about the life she took.

damian's initial robin tenure would be about developing his own moral code + coming to grips with what kind culpability he has in his own childhood- and cass would probably not see that bone-crippling regret and remorse and guilt she has, or even the one she often sees in bruce, and it would not sit right with her! sure, damian is a kid but she was a kid, too. and she can never get over what she did so for her to see damian coming to terms with his childhood would be like looking at a distorted reflection. i think it's also possible there would be something like- i don't want to say jealousy- but a complicated kind of resentment, not just from cass's end but also from damian's.

(also, a begrudging sort of respect from damian for cass's abilities expressed in somewhat snide comments)

this is not to say that they couldn't or wouldn't have a good dynamic! i think if they continued to spend time together, they would eventually come to an understanding (just like gates of gotham lol except a much more nuanced and complicated route to getting there) and while it would not be the kind of understanding either of them were expecting- it would be good! and there would be a very strong foundation of kindness in it.

[daytaker]

The Gang's Tumblr Pages

Inspired by this and my own reaction to it.

Lucifer

Perfectly curated, perfectly formatted, and whenever there's a major change to the tumblr format, he simply leaves the website altogether in a huff of peacock feathers.

Lots of HD photography of nature getting reblogged.

Has an extremely complicated and specific list of tags he uses for every single post.

He only reblogs text posts that are sufficiently visually appealing. Very few meet his high standards.

You could look through his entire blog and not learn one single thing about him except that he's a perfectionist to the point of neurosis.

He has a lot of professional art blogs following him.

Mammon

Oversharing oversharing oversharing!!!!

He regularly gets himself in trouble by shouting about the shit he's done into the void of the internet.

Tried to have a tagging system but forgets about 7/10 times.

Reblogs himself all the time to say "AND ANOTHER THING!!!"

He hates looking at the actual blog pages. The text is always so tiny and some of them start playing music and changing his mouse into a weird shape? No thank you.

He has very few followers and he doesn't really care. Who goes on tumblr for the social element? Weirdos, that's who.

He's insanely easy to troll with anonymous asks. Everyone has done it. Even Lucifer, though he wouldn't admit it.

Some of his best asks:

"did u just post that you're okay with the idea of ponies and unicorns breeding. like no shade on that conceptually but why."

"If you reblog another 'reblog this for good luck' post, I will personally break down your door and steal your skin."

"ur ugly" "yeah-huh" "ugly" "no i won't 'come off anon and fight u' whhy don't you come ON anon and fight me?" "'i don't know how' sounds like something a chicken would say"

Leviathan

He just makes a blog like one of us. Fandom stuff.

Except he's multifandom to the extreme. It's impossible to keep track of his interests because he always has so many simultaneously.

He has the most followers of the brothers just because he gets so deep into so many fandoms that they come rolling in.

He has blocked all of his brothers except for the twins. They're okay.

His blog is a chaotic mess but there is order within the madness. He has a masterpost of tags that explains everything if you care to look at it. (I don't recommend it.)

Satan

It feels stupid to even put this in writing but...cat pics. Endless cat pics. That's like 90% of his blog.

The other 10% is a mixture of book recommendations and analysis, Lucifer shade, and a comprehensive, ever-expanding list of shit Lucifer has done to make Satan angry. It's a very long list. It's organized by theme.

"Lucifer inflicts unjust punishments." "Lucifer makes unnecessary snide remarks." "Lucifer simping for Diavolo and MC (pathetic)."

His blog itself is very minimalist and clean.

He's another fastidious tagger. He tags the cat pics by color, breed, age, number of cats, setting...

Asmodeus

He's not very into tumblr. It's like Devilgram but more complicated and less popular.

Sometimes he'll post or reblog 'aesthetic' things. Moodboards and the like.

In general though, he doesn't really 'get' tumblr.

People don't post selfies very often. Weird.

Beelzebub

Food blog.

Just food.

Reblogging hot dogs.

Reblogging nachos.

Reblogging ice cream.

Nothing else. Ever.

Belphegor

"This minimalist Tumblr has no posts."

No posts.

Default profile picture.

Sometimes he'll like something.

Usually he just looks at it.

Diavolo

There is no order. Only chaos.

He hardly ever uses it, then he'll come online and reblog a million things that have nothing to do with each other. Then he'll go silent again.

He has no tagging system.

He has no custom theme.

He is very friendly to all anonymous askers though.

Barbatos

Barbatos would never have a tumblr. Don't be ridiculous.

Solomon

He only posts very rarely. He prefers to lurk.

When he does post, it's something weird as fuck, like reblogging statistics about owl pellet contents.

He likes to keep people on their toes.

Simeon

Reblogging inspirational quotes, pictures of nature, and general positivity.

That is, once he figures out how the website works.

That takes a really long time.

What is a queue? What are tags? Why is it called a "reblog"? How does he track activity? How does he navigate the homepage? Why does it post things in such a strange order? What is a "Blaze"? What is a draft? Custom URL? Custom Theme? Sideblogs? Mass Post Editor?

Someone please help him.

Solomon probably does that.

Luke

Baking.

He uses tumblr for recipes and images of baked goods.

But tumblr isn't even the best place to go for that, so he isn't on very often.

He sometimes likes Simeon's posts, just as a show of support since he knows how hard Simeon works to post anything anywhere.

[casurlaub]

Can we please agree that liking a character doesn't mean you have to explain away their every bad call? And that disliking a character doesn't mean you have to overlook their good qualities to have them fit your narrative? No one is just this or that. It's always a range.

The lack of nuance in parts of this fandom annoys me so much. And let's please drop the double standards - finding excuses for every 'bad' thing character A does while demonizing character B.

Dumbledore is no super villain. Yes, he put defeating Voldemort over Harry's (emotional) needs. He isn't some supportive father figure, but he's not responsible for the war nor everyone's decision to join in. 'He raised an army of children' - um no? Because if so, he, the greatest wizard of the age, did a shitty job. In both wizarding wars it was just one group of friends joining the Order, not a huge number of former students. So either super-smart Dumbledore seriously sucked at recruiting, or maybe he didn't try all that hard?

James wasn't some prime example of social justice warrior from the very beginning. Yes, he had - to some extent - a set moral code, he hated the Dark Arts, and he certainly never used dark curses on others. But he found it entertaining to hex students at random. He was a classic bully; he did it because he could and because he found it funny. He enjoyed it. But that doesn't mean he had no good traits - he cared for his friends, befriended Remus (practically an outcast), and later he changed. I can't get over the people who find excuses for Snape's bullying of his students, of literal children when he's an adult, but seem to think James was the worst person to ever exist.

Sirius has a ton of good qualities; I could write an essay about it. But guess what, that doesn't make the prank thing okay (no matter if Remus cared about it). The same goes for the Snape bullying and his condescending (cruel) behavior towards Peter. And his treatment of Kreacher, who was oppressed, not the oppressor. And why do we applaud him for 'forgiving' Remus in PoA for not trying to get him out of Azkaban? What's there to applaud? He was in Azkaban because he thought Remus was the spy, did we forget that? How do we expect Remus to suss out that Sirius thought himself clever enough to outsmart not only Voldemort but also Dumbledore? Sirius isn't on some moral high ground here. He wasn't in Azkaban because of Remus but because of his own arrogance and lapse of judgement.

Remus isn't some impersonated moral code. He isn't 'the sensible one' by default. He makes a ton of shitty, truly awful decisions (roaming Hogsmeade while a werewolf, not telling Dumbledore about the secret passages or Sirius's animagus form in PoA even after Sirius, the alleged mass murderer with an agenda of killing Harry, broke into Harry's dorm, abandoning Tonks...). But he isn't some master manipulator with a hidden agenda either. He was driven by his self-loathing first and foremost. And when did it become worse to be a bystander than to participate in the actual bullying? (I'm not saying it's okay, but how can we find excuses for James and Sirius, but Remus is super evil for doing... nothing? When it's stated that Snape was following him and trying to uncover his secret to get him expelled? Shocking he didn't feel all that sympathetic.) Of course he is passive-aggressive, of course he was selfish/cowardish, I don't know, but he isn't evil? He's usually kind (ffs, he even felt pity for Greyback), and his issues are in the end all rooted in his endless self-loathing. That doesn't excuse it. It doesn't. But it doesn't mean he's acting like he does because he's an inherently bad person. This idea of inherently 'bad' or 'good' people is naive and harmful anyhow. Besides - I feel some standards imposed on him are impossible to meet, when the same people are quick to explain away James's/Sirius's/Snape's flaws. Remus is suffering from massive childhood trauma that he's forced to relive every month, he's stigmatized for it by society his whole life, but he himself is supposed to just 'let it go'? Without therapy or anything? Right...

And even Lily isn't a saint. She's fighting back a smile when James is bullying her (supposedly) best friend?

Snape is no tragic hero whose every wrong is justified because he turned around and sacrificed himself. Of course, he was brave. Of course, he had a shitty childhood. That doesn't give him a free pass. He was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts when he arrived at Hogwarts already, he invented curses like Sectumsempra while at Hogwarts, he sold the 'love of his life' to Voldemort. And even after he 'changed' and overcame his fascist views, he bullied children he was supposed to take care of - as a grown man. Not only Harry, but also Neville, Hermione, Ron, who knows how many others. So, yeah, cool, he protected their lives 'when it counted' - 'when it counted'??? You don't belittle your students, you don't insult them, you don't threaten to poison their pets no matter what happened to you when you were a kid. You're an adult, take responsibility. Easy as that. What happened to you may be an explanation, but not an excuse. And do we really think he didn't strike back at James and Sirius? That it was just James and Sirius and him taking it lying down without doing anything himself? I don't.

It's entirely natural to relate more to one character than another and to feel more sympathetic towards them. But let's move away from this 'all or nothing' way of thinking.

To me, they're all beautiful because they're flawed. It makes them real. I don't want them to be stripped of their flaws, not even my favorite characters.

Don't take Sirius's darkness away, don't turn Remus into the ever gentle voice of reason or the super selfish master manipulator (same goes for Dumbledore) and ffs don't excuse Snape's fascist views and bullying of children.