#just really tired of how folks are framing this relationship

[oneshortdamnfuse]

The more Buddie fans claim Tommy is a stepping stone to Buddie and/or that Tommy isn't there to stay, the more I want Tommy to stay forever.

[nom-nommmm1]

Hi Oli,

I love your Lords Of Chaos stories so much, so could you write one for me? :)

I was thinking about Pelle x Fem reader, where she's Euronymous sister, and they have to keep their relationship a secret.

Xoxo and also I just saw that you write for some niche fandoms I really love, I can't wait for more stories to come

DIRTY LITTLE SECRET - PELLE/DEAD

Masterlist + taglist

AHHH HI ANON!! I’m so happy you like my stories! You’ll never know how much it means to me 🫶 also I’ve had ‘dirty little secret’ by The All-American Rejects stuck in my head FOR A WEEK truly amazing timing anon. But anyways, I look forward to see you request other fandoms soon. Also I didn’t know if you wanted to make this a smut or fluff so I’m gonna do fluff bc I’ve been in such a fluffy mood lol, request another if you’d like smut and I’ll gladly do it ❤️

Content warning !!: sweet!pelle x fem!reader, fluff?? There’s a suggestive part butt they don’t actually do it, kissing, hair pulling

The doorbell rings as the tussling of keys can be heard from Euronymous’ hands. “I got it!” I shout, opening the door to see Pelle standing there awkwardly. “Hey Pelle! You’re just in time, we’re all about to head to the movies” I say looking at the blonde haired boy, his cheeks turning a slight pink tone. “Oh yea uhm..Euro texted me” he says avoiding my gaze. He shuffles away from the doorway, letting Euronymous and I out. We all proceed to get into Euros car. “So are Faust and the guys meeting us there?” Pelle asks after a few minutes of nothing but the sound of the radio.

“Yeah, they’re just gonna be a minute since traffic’s pretty bad on their side” Euronymous says, putting his foot to the gas as the light turns green. Pelle nods, staring out the window, looking around at all the passing cars. I look at Pelle, he looks..tired? “You alright?” I ask. The blonde looks at me, seeming somewhat surprised by me breaking the silence. “Yea I’m fine y/n” he says looking back out the window to avoid the conversation.

The car pulls into the movie theater parking lot, we all get out walking up to the register. “Hello, what movie are we seeing today folks?” The cashier asks politely. “Three tickets for this movie please” Euronymous says, placing the money on the counter,pointing to a movie. “Of course, the concessions are inside” the cashier says handing us our tickets. Euronymous nods in acknowledgment, holding the door open for Pelle and I.

Walking up to the concessions counter Euro turns to us. “What do you guys want?” He asks pulling out a 20 dollar bill. “Popcorn and a slurpy?” I ask. “Sure sis, what about you Pelle?” He asks turning to the blonde. “Oh- I’m fine with whatever,” he says quickly, almost taken out of a trance. “Alright, you guys can sit down while I pay for this stuff” Euronymous says, pointing to the tables next to the bathrooms.

I nod walking over to the table, Pelle following close behind. We sit down. I look at Pelle, taking in his features as he refuses to look at me. “What’s wrong?” I ask putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Nothing y/n” he says moving out of my touch. Euronymous comes back with a handful of snacks. “Come help me get the rest guys” we all grab our own snacks and drinks. “Sorry you guys are going to have to share popcorn, I was two bucks short to get another” Euro said as we walked down to our designated auditorium. “It’s fine Euro” I say as we take our seats.

The theaters lights dim as music from the projector plays, the movie is finally starting after what feels like an hour of previews. I go to reach for the bag of popcorn accidentally putting my hand on Pelles, immediately pulling away. “Sorry” I say quickly before turning back to the movie. The movie continues on, the main character jumping out into the frame of the projector screen.

The audience chuckles as they say a joke as a criminal swings at them. I take a sip of my slurpy taking a brief glance at Pelle. I look away as I see his eyes look over to me. I lean to Euronymous, whispering in his ear. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, I’ll be back” he nods as I get up from my seat, walking down the dimly lit movie theater stairs.

I walk into the bathroom, splashing water in my face, starting to sob into my hands. After a few minutes I hear slight knocking on the bathroom wall, a figure slowly coming into my line of vision. The figure comes closer to me, rubbing my back. “I’m sorry we have to do this” the figure says. “What..?” I ask looking up, at first confused but soon my confusion is clarified as I see Pelle, still there rubbing my back.

Pelle frowns, wiping my tears away. “I can’t stand to see you cry, but you know why we have to keep this a secret, right?” He asks coming closer to me. I nod looking into Pelles warm brown eyes. “I know, Euro won’t allow it” I reply sniffling. Pelles frown grows and he wraps his arms around me, putting his head in my neck giving me a small kiss.

“Just wait a little longer, we can convince him” Pelle says brushing my hair out of my face. I nod again looking at him glumly. “Hey it’s okay, I promise” he says smiling, waiting for me to smile back but I don’t. Pelle then puts me into a kiss, my eyes widen in shock but I kiss him back passionately. I wrap my arms around Pelles neck. Pelle kisses me harder, putting his hands on my waist, picking me up. “Pelle!” I yelp feeling his hands on my ass, lifting me up.

Pelle places me on the bathroom counter, pushing me against the mirror as his lips attack mine. “I missed this” he mumbles into my lips, coating them with our saliva. I giggle pulling onto Pelles hair. He moans in my mouth, biting my lip and touching up on my body. He’s about to undo his pants before we hear a voice of a staff member. “Get out of there before I call your mamas!!” The staff member screams banging her mop on the floor. Pelle and I bolt out of the bathroom making out to our movie auditorium. “Remember, keep this between us” Pelle says before opening the door for me.

“Of course” I say walking in. “Alright, I’m gonna wait out here for a few minutes so they don’t think anything” he says giving me a quick kiss before shutting the door, smiling.

SORRY FOR THE DELAY BBS IVE BEEN SUPER BUSY N THERES BEEN A BUNCH OF DRAMA W MY FRIENDS BUT IMMA TRY TO UPLOAD

Alt acc: @nom-nommmmworkspace

Taglist

╰┈➤@mxqlss @roseroseluvrr @bkaulitzz @adellaonly @m3tal-chick

[gardigansandkarma]

Travis Kelce Opens Up About Taylor Swift and What Comes Next

Wall Street Journal - Travis Kelce full article under the cut

A few months ago, he was merely football famous. Now Travis Kelce is ready to tell his story. ‘I’ve never dated anyone with that kind of aura about them.’

By J.R. Moehringer

WHEN TRAVIS KELCE was a young man, his college football coach pulled him aside one day and told him the secret of life: Everybody you meet in this world is either a fountain or a drain.

“I need fountains,” the coach growled at Kelce. “I don’t need f—ing drains. Travis, you’re f—ing draaaining me!”

The advice left a deep impression. (“Changed his life,” says one of Kelce’s closest friends.) Yes, Kelce thought—you’re either a giver of the basic wellsprings of life or a thirsty taker. He vowed to be the former. In a world of gutters, be a geyser. 

You think about that story as Kelce drives you around his beloved Kansas City, home of his world-champion Chiefs, for whom he’s the star tight end and arguably the second-most popular player, after his best friend, quarterback Patrick Mahomes. You think about that story on a gorgeous autumn afternoon as Kelce gives you a personal tour of his decadelong history in this city, his singular journey from clueless rook to legend. (“I used to take this scenic route [to the stadium]—there’s just something about seeing the city you’re about to go represent….”)

A different sort of celebrity might be more guarded, might even chirp those big Rolls tires and speed away before someone throws their body across the luminous silver bonnet, but Kelce’s default emotion is this—exuberant extroversion. He likes people. Loves people. Never mind deciding not to be a drain. If people gush at him, he can’t help it, he gushes back. 

Noting all this, you think how fame itself might be a kind of fountain. Some people moan about getting wet, others frolic like kids around a hydrant. You even wonder if this fountain-drain paradigm might be the skeleton key to Kelce, the Rosetta Stone for which half of America seems to be hunting right now. 

Kelce was famous for several years, thanks to his Hall of Fame résumé, his symbiotic relationship with Mahomes, but that was just football famous. This year, after winning the Super Bowl, after hosting Saturday Night Live, after starring in all the commercials, Kelce became inescapable. And that was before—you know. 

People have begun to ask in all earnestness why they can’t turn on their TV anymore without seeing Kelce’s sculpted mug. They wonder, not with snark, but in all sincerity: Who the frick is this guy? And where did he come from? 

You have a TV. You wonder too. So you decide to join the search for answers. One weekend, in the thick of football season, you get on a plane to Kansas City.

BUT FIRST. Back up. Like that knucklehead who threw it into reverse, go back. Before you can take the Travis Michael Kelce Guided Tour, you need to watch him cry. 

Kelce tries to play it off. He launches a sentence, stops. He launches another, again aborts. He paws his eyes with his giant hands and looks to be on the verge of losing it, because if Kelce loves people, what he really loves is his people. 

This whole display takes place on a Monday afternoon at a Kansas City steakhouse, where you and Kelce are having an early dinner. Like, retirement-community early. He’s in recovery mode, healing from dozens of violent collisions sustained during the previous day’s win over division rival Los Angeles, and food is medicine. He can intuit when he’s hit the caloric sweet spot necessary to mend or maintain his 6-foot-5, 260-pound frame (roughly 4,000), and he’s not there yet. So he orders the dry-aged filet rubbed with coffee, Caesar salad (hold the anchovies), a side of “triple-cooked” fries and a glass of water. 

After a long pause, and several Lamaze breaths, Kelce collects himself, apologizes. Can’t help it, he says; those folks who always have his back, who call him by the ancient secret nicknames (Big Yeti, El Travedor, Killatrav, Michael, etc.)—they’re everything. He doesn’t think of them as his entourage; he thinks of them as family, an extension of “Mama Kelce” and “Poppa Kelce” and older brother Jason, the starting center for the Philadelphia Eagles. 

Patrick Bacon, a friend since first grade, says Kelce’s go-to method of winding down after a hard game or long day is to sit with this “core group” around his kitchen island and chop it up. Talk, that’s what nourishes Kelce, not videogames, not bottle service at some club. 

“He loves to talk about the old days,” Bacon says. But it has to be with people from the old days. People who know that Kelce will sometimes dismiss a bad or subpar thing as “buns.” People who know that one of Kelce’s favorite desserts is French toast dripping with whipped cream and syrup. People who know that, growing up, he played every sport in Cleveland Heights, Ohio, and also know the difference between Cleveland Heights and Cleveland proper. You want to break into the Kelce core group? You better have a phone number that starts with 216. 

And yet, you wonder how well his friends really know him, how well he lets anyone know him, because to a person they all say Trav lives in the moment, Trav never thinks about tomorrow, Trav never worries about retirement, despite recently turning 34, making him a Gollum in the NFL, whereas Kelce confesses that he thinks about it nonstop, “more than anyone could ever imagine.” In the same spirit, perhaps, he keeps his own counsel about his round-the-clock physical anguish. “That’s the only thing I’ve never really been open about,” he says, “the discomfort. The pain. The lingering injuries—the 10 surgeries I’ve had that I still feel every single surgery to this day.” 

Kansas City’s longtime tight ends coach, Tom Melvin, says Kelce undersells the pain because the alternative is not playing, and the man will not miss games. “He has phenomenal pain tolerance. He’s played through things that other athletes I’ve coached through the years have not been able to push through. Mentally tough—way off the charts.” 

Kelce’s trainer and physical therapist, Alex Skacel, says there’s not a single day, in season, when Kelce stretches out on the training table and doesn’t have some gruesome bruise. What few realize, however, is the insane number of scratches. Guys claw each other out there, Skacel says; it can leave Kelce’s epidermis striated with crimson. To bounce back after such abuse requires more than basic therapy. Kelce and Skacel use a battery of esoteric treatments, from cupping to dry needling to occlusion therapy: essentially tying off a limb with a tourniquet while Kelce works out. Kelce also adheres to a pregame regimen of anti-inflammatories, which he doesn’t like to discuss because they “have a history of affecting people’s insides.” 

“There were definitely people she knew that knew who I was, in her corner [who said], ‘Yo! Did you know he was coming?'” Kelce says about how he initially found his way into Taylor Swift’s orbit. “I had someone playing Cupid.” Loewe coat, $4,990, Loewe​.com.

IF KELCE BROODS on life without football, one reason is that he had an excruciating sneak preview. A redshirt sophomore at Cincinnati, he got booted off the team for smoking pot. In a blink, he lost everything—his purpose, his meaning. “It was like my life was over.” 

He also lost his scholarship. He had to get a job. The best one he could find was at a telemarketing firm, doing healthcare surveys. “Eye-opening,” he says, bowing his head.

Cold-calling people in southern Ohio, northern Kentucky, eastern Indiana, asking what they thought of Obamacare, taught him a lot. (“Uh, sir, I ran out of the comment box, I can’t write anymore, we gotta kind of keep this moving.”) Above all it taught him that he didn’t want to ever do that again. 

He probably won’t have to. He’s got options. Sometimes he sees himself in a broadcasting booth. Sometimes his manager talks about action flicks. (Maybe a Marvel movie? Kelce’s already built like Wolverine.) You also get the sense that Kelce toys with notions of doing some form of comedy. He haunts clubs, lives for open-mic nights, and he’s gotten to be friendly with several rising stand-ups.

At the moment, of course, the only thing millions of people want to know about Kelce’s future is whether or not it will include Taylor Swift. And the second thing they’re dying to know is how he and she got together in the first place. 

Did he sit in a dark room and say Jumanji three times? He laughs. “I don’t know if I want to get into all of it,” he says, and then he gets into it, because fountain. 

It all started when he tried to meet Swift at her Arrowhead concert in July and got blocked, presumably by security. He then recounted the experience in a charming way on the podcast he does with Jason. Soon after, he says, he received an unbidden assist from inside Team Swift. 

“There were definitely people she knew that knew who I was, in her corner [who said]: Yo! Did you know he was coming? I had somebody playing Cupid.” He wasn’t aware at the time, however; the revelation only came later, after he looked down at his phone and got the shock of a lifetime. “She told me exactly what was going on and how I got lucky enough to get her to reach out.”

He lets slip that some of his early helpers were part of the Swift family tree. “She’ll probably hate me for saying this, but…when she came to Arrowhead, they gave her the big locker room as a dressing room, and her little cousins were taking pictures…in front of my locker.” 

Understandably, he’s not handing out details about the first date, though he will say that he managed to not be nervous. “When I met her in New York, we had already kind of been talking, so I knew we could have a nice dinner and, like, a conversation, and what goes from there will go from there.” 

If anyone was nervous, he adds, it was his core group. “Everybody around me telling me: Don’t f— this up! And me sitting here saying: Yeah—got it.”

Likewise, his mother. Donna Kelce still berates herself for how she handled a question about Taylor on the Today show. Trying not to sound too enthusiastic, she came off underwhelmed. Kelce, not wanting his mom to feel bad, immediately phoned her and assured her that she did a super job—adding that her green eyeglasses looked great. 

These days, however, with the relationship progressing, Donna feels more at liberty. “I can tell you this,” she says, beaming. “He’s happier than I’ve seen him in a long time…. God bless him, he shot for the stars!”

Kelce seems freer, too. He doesn’t need to be asked about Taylor; he mentions her unreservedly, lavishes praise on her, calls her “hilarious,” “a genius,” notes that they share compatible worldviews, especially when it comes to family and work. “Everybody knows I’m a family guy,” he says. “Her team is her family. Her family does a lot of stuff in terms of the tour, the marketing, being around, so I think she has a lot of those values as well, which is right up my alley.”

One of Kelce’s friends describes a sweet, magical moment, a late-night gathering around Kelce’s firepit. Kelce and Swift looked like two “peas in a pod,” the friend says, and at one point they even burst into a memorable duet of—“Teenage Dirtbag”?

This must be fake 

My lips start to shake 

How does she know who I am? 

Kelce squints into the distance: He’s not sure they were singing…Wheatus. But he allows that his memory might be compromised. 

LONG BEFORE MEETING SWIFT, Kelce was just another Swiftie. In some ways he still is. He explains the concept of her concert—“She does it in eras”—as if you live in a yurt in Outer Mongolia. Then he eagerly informs you that the night he attended, he was counting the minutes until she got to 1989. (Both he and Swift were born in 1989.) “ ‘Blank Space’ was one I wanted to hear live for sure. I could make a bad guy good for the weekend. That’s a helluva line!”

More often than not, he says, it was a Swiftian beat, a melody that captivated him. (“She writes catchy jingles.”) But lately he’s all about those lyrics; he’s scrutinized the breakup stuff. What a miracle, he says, the way Swift can turn life into poetry. “I’ve never been a man of words. Being around her, seeing how smart Taylor is, has been f—ing mind-blowing. I’m learning every day.”

Something he might need to learn from Swift: how to handle the attention. Kelce lives in a quiet neighborhood north of downtown—leafy trees, trim lawns, no gates. There’s now a clutch of desperate-looking dudes with cameras stationed on his sidewalk 24/7. He’s followed everywhere, drones buzzing overhead—it’s stressful, more than he lets on, according to one confidante.

“Obviously I’ve never dated anyone with that kind of aura about them…. I’ve never dealt with it,” Kelce says. “But at the same time, I’m not running away from any of it…. The scrutiny she gets, how much she has a magnifying glass on her, every single day, paparazzi outside her house, outside every restaurant she goes to, after every flight she gets off, and she’s just living, enjoying life. When she acts like that I better not be the one acting all strange.”

Asked if he has anything to teach Swift, he looks shy. He can’t think of anything offhand. 

Football? 

Sure, he says, sounding unsure. 

Of course, the thing she probably wants to learn about most is him. While talking to Kelce you realize all at once that the most avid participant in the national scavenger hunt for clues about his character is likely Swift herself. To that end, Donna says that anyone wishing to understand her younger son would do well to start with her older. Travis “could never quite catch up” to Jason, she says. “He was always just second, just searching to be the best, and never quite getting there.” (The only way in which the two brothers were full equals was appetite. As boys, Donna says, “they would sit down and eat whole chickens.”) 

Others say the key to Travis is simpler than that. He’s basically still the kid who filled his Dad’s shampoo bottle with hand cream. “He just lives his life with so much joy,” Jason says. “He’s always kind of surrounding himself with people who are funny, who have a zest for life; it’s one of the things that defines him.”

Jason recalls many nights in the Kelce family room, the two brothers and mom eating in front of some comedy. “We had one of those coffee tables that the top would lift up and meet you at your face if you were eating,” he says, guffawing. 

Indeed, Kelce has warned Swift that she’s going to have to reckon with this part of his personality. Adam Sandler, Chris Farley, Will Ferrell—they will all be a part of the relationship. “I told Taylor that I have that world, I’ve got to introduce it to her. I let her know: This is my jam right here.” (Kelce does an uncanny imitation of Farley’s dorky baritone, and the ringtone on his phone is Farley primal screaming: For the love of GOD!) 

If the past is any prelude, this will register like an 8.0 earthquake among Swifties. Their queen—screening Tommy Boy? Every new factoid, every new piece of the puzzle, gets eagerly cataloged, investigated, celebrated, especially on “SwiftTok,” a fervent virtual community, according to Brian Donovan, a professor at the University of Kansas who teaches a seminar called The Sociology of Taylor Swift. 

Donovan says several of his class discussions this semester have been given over to No. 87. Swifties make no apology for delving into her relationships, just as Shakespeare scholars like to contemplate the subject of the sonnets. But the deep “vetting” of Kelce, Donovan adds, goes well beyond fans. “I think there’s a public fascination, because it seems like a pure unalloyed moment of joy in the wider context of global wars, deepening political polarization, dysfunction in Congress, an ongoing health crisis. There’s a lot of bad news out there, and this is a common story that everybody knows about and can talk about. I don’t think we’ve had that in American culture for a long time.” 

NOW GET IN THE CAR. Now you’re ready for the Rolls. Or are you? Gawking at the ceiling, you ask, Are those stars? 

Yes, Kelce says. 

You stare in disbelief. Embedded in a leather firmament are scores, no, hundreds—many hundreds—of twinkling lights, a fiber-optic galaxy meant to resemble the larger galaxy in which we’re all floating. For the sake of verisimilitude, the Rolls even produces a shooting star now and then. There was one, just a second ago, Kelce says. “Make a wish. Dreams come true.” 

He guns the engine and steers toward downtown. The Rolls doesn’t drive so much as waft you around Kansas City. The ride is so cush, it almost makes sense, for a moment or two, that the car is worth more than many of the buildings you pass. (A Rolls Ghost, before customizing, goes for nearly half a million dollars.) All of which makes it that much more startling, as you come to the heart of downtown, when Kelce points out his first-ever apartment and shows you the alley door where he’d sneak in and out when he was late on the rent. 

What? 

He’s not ducking landlords these days. Still, he’s grossly underpaid. His $14 million salary, though near the top among tight ends, is half what the league’s star receivers make, and Kelce often functions as a receiver. 

Nothing to be done, he says flatly. The Chiefs know, he says, that he would play for free. They know he loves his city, his quarterback. “Unfortunately, in this business, things gotta get ugly, they gotta get unpleasant [if you want more money], and I’m a pleasant son of a buck.”

Thank goodness for endorsements. At this point, says his co-manager Aaron Eanes, “the NFL is just his side hustle.” 

Eanes and his brother, Andre, handle much of Kelce’s business life, from investments to marketing, and it was they who widened his investment portfolio, putting him into a tequila company, an energy drink and a chain of car washes. They also steered him into lucrative endorsements, like Bud Light and the Covid vaccine, for which he caught much grief from Aaron Rodgers. The Jets quarterback, out since game one of the season with a torn Achilles, belittled Kelce as a Pfizer shill during one of his Tuesday appearances on The Pat McAfee Show. 

Kelce took the high road then. He’s staying on it now. “Aaron’s always been cool to me,” he says. “I knew he was trying to have some fun. He’s in a situation where Tuesdays are his game days…. So I get it, man, I’ve been injured too…. Who knows what the guy is going through?”

Mary Esselman, Operation Breakthrough’s CEO, says that whenever Kelce visits, he doesn’t bring media and he doesn’t leave until the last kid has felt seen and appreciated. Not long ago, she adds, Kelce sponsored a football camp. Afterward, Esselman asked the children to name the highlight of the experience. 

One told her: “He remembered my name.” 

Kelce drives you past a jazz club he likes, a coffee place he used to frequent. Just recently, he concedes, he could go to a Starbucks in Manhattan without anyone looking twice. Those days seem over. Minutes later, he’s steering past a small airport, where Swift’s plane is often prominently parked these days. 

Is it there now, gleaming in the moonlight? The Kelce eras tour is coming to a close. Left unsaid, but palpable: She’s at the house, waiting. 

The Rolls pulls off the highway, up the hill to your hotel. You thank him for taking so much time, for answering all your questions. As you step out of the Rolls, you turn, ask him one more. 

You ask him if you’re going crazy, or did he really say that thing when you first got in the car? Did he really point to a shooting star in the ceiling of his Rolls-Royce and say, “Make a wish. Dreams come true”? 

He cracks up. 

He did. He said it. 

He’s not running from it. 

What’s more, it might just be true. 

“How do you think I manifest it all?”

[quailxcrossing]

AAAAHH AAHH JUMPS UP AND DOWN JOYFULLYYY!!!!! I love reading about your ocssssss I’m. Stares up at you with giant wet eyes THERE ARE A LOT OF THESE IM SORRY I GOT EXCITED HEELLPPP FEEL FREE TO NOT ANSWER SPOILERY(?) ONES OFC!!!

43 & 17 for Rlioch

37 Auï and Fracture

35 Auï

1, 38 & 44 for Bartenn

16, 40 & 49 for Machwell

and 56 for Machwell and Bartenn LMAOO

YAYYYY HI!!!!! HEY FISH ohhohoho rubs my little hands together. delightful questions so delightful

RLIOCH [43] Do they enjoy flirting or being flirted with?

nooooo but also yessss ? he's allo/allo, but simply doesn't prioritize relationships at the moment. he...does flirt, a little, in a weird way, and he doesn't mind being flirted back with, but only women he's interested in, or else he gets unreasonably pissed off. he's just a very difficult person to be with, i think...for many reasons. he has indeed been in relationships but they've been......mmmmm......

[17] What is their biggest struggle that no one around them is able to understand or believe? I'll imagine the "no one" in this question is our little protagonist troupe. I think the true answer to this question is a bit sppooilery of Rlioch's backstory, but I think its literally just that- Goat and his friends have a hard time believing Rlioch really has a backstory. it's not a great one, but I would never say Rlioch acts without motive. they just have so little sympathy for him, they can't understand he'd act under pretense but pure malice.

AUÏ

[35] Do they like their own appearance, and what do they do, if anything, to alter it in any way?

MY GUY!!! ok ok Auï has had such an up and down relationship with his body.....from the biggest ego ever to so much crushing body dysmorphia, the answer to this question is not an easy yes or no. Auï understands, on some level, his appearance is likeable, and has qualities to be liked, but he feels so disconnected and uncomfortable in his skin that he used to literally shower fully clothed.

but he's getting better over time, and he's doing all sorts of little things to make himself feel more at home in his frame again- growing his hair out, for one! that was always something he had control over. he also is taking more time for his fashion, instead of simple greyscale clothing, he loves experimenting with alt fashion like his gothic outfits when he goes out and his silly graphic print shirts at home. his fashion has become a huge outlet for him.

Auï has two moods.

both make him very happy :)

[37] How would they spend a lazy day when they have nothing specific to do?

he loves to laze....watch tv or videos, play clicker games in the basement on Vega's desktop (like Horse World Online), or nap/catch up on his rest, or he'll wander around and see what his friends are doing and watch them/join them. he's a simple lad. so tired. a day off is soooo desired...

TURRIE (art by my friend @/tigtoggle!!) [37] How would they spend a lazy day when they have nothing specific to do?

probably find a little perch and sit around and doodle. if she wants to go out, she'll find some idle wandering and exploring to do around town, as she's still learning the area! she might also sleep tbh, but hanging off Cian is incredibly likely. she might find a little place in their backyard to sit and work in her sketchbook.

BARTENN [1] What first impression do they typically make? Are they likeable from the get go, or take time to grow on people?

Depends on who are you are, i think! He gets along best right off the bat with people who share his humor, he can't help to rib at people when doing transactions, and a lot of folks find that offputting. he's just sorta an old dad. he's friendly, but teasing. so if people are as chatty and extroverted as him, they may have him likeable off the get go, but i know my scared fearful prey-animal self would be so unsure what to say to him

[38] What do they usually do or where do they go when they need to feel comfortable and safe?

He's most comfortable and safe at his gas station! he treats the whole place like his house. no one has the upper hand on him in there. he actually feels really vulnerable outside of the gas station, even to a certain degree in his own house, but he doesn't show it. bartenn is not one to ever let his guard down

[44] On a party, where would you find them?

most likely in a back corner with his friends, drinking and making idle smalltalk. he's not one for raging parties anymore- and he is NOT hitting the dance floor. dad is NOT breaking it down swagful style. he is not even going to try. his back hurts

MACHWELL i like this guy

[16] Do they easily rely on others to help them out, or prefer doing everything themselves?

Machwell really prefers doing everything himself. he hates asking for help...which sucks because he really does need a lot of help in a lot of aspects of his life. his main "problem solving" tactic is "lay down and don't move for days on end" but he's FINE he's handling EVERYTHING and he doesn't Want anyone getting in his space anymore; he doesn't like feeling incapable, it makes him scared. so. regardless. bartenn will help him anyway. he's careful to make sure machwell doesn't feel coddled, but just enough to keep him from rotting to death on his couch. bartenn is actually one of the first people machwell met when he moved to their town, when machwell was in need of some SERIOUS help, and he's been quietly helping quill ever since. and machwell is helping him too!

[40] How picky they are with food, do they have specific dietary requirements based on their health or culture?

Machwell is a moderately picky eater, he has a couple of set meals that he really likes (usually with highly acidic, bitter ingredients) and he likes a lot of "controversial" food like bleu cheese, eggplant, and beef liver,,,so he's not really a classic picky eater, he's just more of a guy who often forgets to eat and then gets crazy cravings for a whole jar of black olives at 4am. (and he eats a lot and i mean a LOT of pineapple....canned pineapple is his favorite. he loves how it makes his mouth hurt.) he is lactose intolerant tho. this is not a relevant fact but its something that i know

[49] Do they possess any unexpected skill or knowledge that surprises others, and otherwise, what is something anyone would assume they know or can do, but in fact they don’t?

A little known fact about Machwell is that he was going to be a realtor before his life went extremely downhill. he was in trade school for it and everything- he dropped out because his ex-girlfriend-then-ex-wife thought it was taking up too much of his attention and time. but yeah Machwell will just randomly know a lot about housing markets work. and he gave his youngest son his crazy good math brain to wrap around all the transactions.

now. i know what you're thinking. "Quail, Machwell does not seem to have a single skill that is useful for being a realtor" (good communication, people skills, personable, friendly, emotional intelligence, etc etc) i know.....i never said he was a GOOD realtor! just noting he was a lot of unexpected knowledge in that area :D

the silly grand finale

BARTENN AND MACHWELL

[56] How would they react to hearing a dirty joke? Bartenn loves making them, so assuming he's not the guy making it, he's laughing and egging it on. dirty jokes are just like dad jokes between dads (????)

Machwell takes them at face value.

[kotamagic]

Wedding night in Lore Olympus!

This opening shot has me thinking several things.

Hades' eyes being covered could very well mean he's tired. He and Persephone have been dancing and likely interacting with guests all night.

Covered eyes could also mean that he's hiding something. Let's hope that it isn't Kronos creeping in!

The other thing he could be hiding is nerves. After all, after the wedding, you're expected to consummate...

Glad Persephone makes it clear that this is what what she wanted. She wants to put Hades at ease for this moment as much as possible. Sometimes, folks just need extra reassurance.

Omg, Persephone, that face! There's "excited to get laid" and then there is this. Holy shit...

I'm curious about the "chill" she's describing. Did winter not happen in the mortal realm until this point? Is it a pre-cursor to the long winter Demeter brings about in the original myth?

Also, the slow process of disrobing is beautiful and hot. Talking while doing so can definitely help with any lingering nerves about what they're about to do. I just really hope that Persephone is mentally and emotionally ready for this.

*chef's kiss*

This is perfect....please let this be perfect, or at the very least, maturely wholesome.

Tried to see if I could spot anything suspicious in the veiled shot. So far, so good....

A disruption is NOT worth the tip! Let them be!

And....we cut to Demeter having a flashback.

So....Zeus initially considered Demeter for Queen of the God's? Interesting. Not sure if this is COMPLETELY how it happened or how Demeter mentally framed it.

If I recall, Hades originally wanted Hera back in the day, but then Zeus decided she would be his wife.

The notion that Demeter wouldn't have what it takes to be Queen sounds like something Demeter would blame Hades of saying, BUT, is it entirely wrong?

Look how Demeter has handled raising Persephone as well as Persephone's relationship & now marriage to Hades. Also, consider how both Hera and Demeter handled Zeus' many affairs.

Demeter, for a time, was protecting Zeus' lovers, but she got sick of it really quick, and when she put her foot down, Zeus took a tantrum and burned her gardens.

How well would Demeter have handled things if she had been Queen and Hera had been in her place? Or if Hera had married Hades instead?

On the other hand, there is the past relationship between Hades and Hera.

Even IF Hades did recommend Hera marry Zeus instead of Demeter, I doubt it was out of spite. (I'm not ELIMINATING that possibility, just stating I have doubts on it.)

Thanks for coming to my LO post!

[system-architect]

10, 13 and 15 (actually for all your Inquest rats if you feel like it, mainly 15 if I have to pick)

"am a tired dummy and forgot to say "for Plex" in the previous ask 👀💦" well no worries bc IM GOING TO ANSWER FOR ALL OF THEM📣

10. How do they feel towards Inquest leadership? (Optional: How do they feel towards Kudu and Kuda?

plex: not gonna lie plex thinks theyre scary and kinda nuts LMAO . he stays out of that shit!!! not keen to get vivisected!!!!!!! he DOES have a complex relationship with his overseer and director tho (hot and fresh off the presses: that is because, unknown to either of them until recently, director vahnn* is his.. DAD !!!)

*sasha's oc. i've drawn him twice or smth oop lmao. he's the scary undercut man here. this was b4 vahnn knew their relation.. :")

daizz: daizz Respects inquest leadership and views them as visionaries. generally. i think the only qualms he has with higher-ups tend to be things like allocation of funds (he always feels the enforcers are underfunded) and other somewhat inconsequential grievances.

daizz... i dont know how else to phrase this sorry. he has a bit of a hard-on for kudu. he's obsessed with the man. feels he was a visionary ahead of his time. he literally has framed kudu posters in his office. he got to witness kudu in person Once before kudu died and it was daizz's gay awakening probably (he isn't aware of this but i am.)

he actually has like.. strange.. respect-infused semi-familial feelings about kuda because daizz's mother, prova, is an exceptionally high ranking enforcer and works as one of kuda's personal guards! he's only glimpsed her maybe once or twice though, they've never hung out or anything crazy, but they're like one degree of separation lmao

kai: feels theyre all greedy bastards just looking out for their personal interests and he is correct. he has no particular loyalty or respect for higher ranking folks (except daizz). he'll still follow orders tho bc that is simply what he does

toza: she has a decent amount of respect for her immediate supervisors and bosses, she'll follow them without too much question, but has no particularly strong ties to leadership further up the ladder than that. i think she might have a weird fondness for kudu and kuda bc based on what she's heard about them, she feels like they have/had some traits in common with her/are the same 'type of person' as her (it's the desperate violent streaks)

13. What was their real motive for joining the Inquest? Whatever their job or area of research is, why is it that they feel they can't perform it within normal society-- why do something so extreme and push moral boundaries?

plex: going to be honest with you.. plex joined the inquest because he is stupid, basically. he wanted to figure out his father's whereabouts and he knows his father was associated with the inquest and just sort of.. went in that direction. he didnt think about how dumb this was until recently. unfortunately he's now entrenched and starting to Like It now that he's getting to perform some of his own research. inquest is family business for him now ig.

daizz: LOYALY.. HONOR.. VALOR.. ZEAL... VISION............. daizz is a Guardian with a capital g and he really truly Believes in the inquest and what they're doing. he's intensely religio-philosophical wrt the eternal alchemy, and he believes in the inquest's vision of the alchemy (minus the asuran dominion bit.. he dgaf about that). him and his mother were both originally peacemakers, her very high ranking, and she became disillusioned and he connected w/ her disillusionment, and so when she defected he followed

kai: kai wants money. kai is also kind of a rude mean violent person who, as gregarious and chatty and friendly and sociable as he can be, does not function fully well in normal society as a former ultrarich kid turned burnout gambler. he could've just as easily been a bounty hunter or a mercenary. the inquest is simply always hiring, is consistent with their delivery of paychecks, and was close by.

toza: sasha asked me this one specifically so it gets its own post in a hot minute ok

15. Were they involved with any of the canon GW2 events that involved the Inquest-- Thaumanova, Crucible of Eternity, Sorrow's Embrace, Rata Primus, etc? (Optional: How'd they escape when the Commander rolled in?)

plex:

daizz + kai: both daizz and kai were stationed in rata primus when it fell. this is where they met, actually-- kai was a fresh-faced enforcer recruit just shipped out from metrica, and daizz was the leader of the unit he was assigned to. kai is the sole survivor of daizz's unit, and they had to pry themselves out tooth and nail. daizz was able to find and retrieve kai halfway, and then after kuda was secured, she very gracefully allowed prova a brief leave to go find her son in the cube, so prova managed to track them down and help pry them out from there. they narrowly dodged the commander, it was just joko's forces they were fighting through

toza:

[tzigone]

The Redeemed Rogues

Bouncing around ideas for my headcanon reboot. Now, we all know Flash has an inordinately large number or Rogues that have been redeemed at one time or another. Since my headcanon characters will actually age and their stories will have ends, unlike real comics where they have to be kept in play, I'm thinking about what to do with these folks after they quit their criminal careers. I don't like them bouncing between good and bad - those that are redeemed stay so (and there's no mind-control making them go good).

Al and James are the ones that matter to me, I know Hartley matters to others. And Mick happened in the comics, too. Chime in on which villains you think should or shouldn't go straight, but Al and James are non-negotiable in my universe.

Albert Desmond - First rogue to go straight. Well, he'll quickly become engaged to Rita (maybe meets her on work release?). But he has to get a job. We know from issue 153 that he worked at an industrial company and was offered promotion to supervisor - any idea what he'd actually be doing?

I'm not sure on the idea of kids yet - depends on how his mental health is. While he'll still be hypnotized by Zoom a couple times, I'm definitely not going with Dragon's Eye thing, so he doesn't have that to worry about.

Mick Rory - Well, he got tired of being in jail. Got a straight job. In the comics, it was in a glassworks so his parole officer could frame him. I'm fine with that, but if anyone thinks any other jobs, let me know. His wages will have to be garnished to pay for the damages he's caused to buildings through arson.

I'm much more silver age on Mick's origin. A big show to impress a girl. Though he's not as fickle as Cold. Anyway, he'll probably find a woman who likes dramatic displays. Get married, and maybe have a kid.

James Jesse - Honestly, I just really enjoyed reading him in the '80s Blue Devil comics and then later popping up in '90s Impulse. He's just fun in those. So, like many villains, he has a great invention. His anti-grav (probably not using air pressure version because it's harder for me handwave the science) is something that could be patented. I'm not sure if it's useful for airplanes or hover cars. But it'd be great for getting people out of burning buildings. I think it'd be good for moving things - from furniture to stock in warehouses.

He's not the settle down type. I see him bouncing from occupation to hobby and back as he gets bored with one thing and moves on to the next.

Hartley Rathaway - I admit to finding the incredibly bribing first appearance of his parents kind of amusing. I feel he's more defined by his dynamic with Wally. Do you think they should still be killed?

Then there are his personal relationships. I didn't read New 52 for various reasons. I understand he was married to Barry's boss there. That seems less likely with Barry not being youthified. And a large percentage of gay men are not in monogamous relationships, so it might be nice to explore that. Of course, I didn't read, so the marriage may not have included sexual monogamy.

Leonard Snart - He just gets older. After Barry's "death," there's little reason to keep up the show. Barry comes back, but he stays retired.

I've said before that his cold gun is worth a fortune. Great for police officers and home defense. And, depending on how it works for stasis-ness, it would be amazing for EMTs. And yeah, kids are going to get ahold of them and shoot each other with them - but hey, it's not like it hurts anyone.

He would be so rich, and him being rich off the dollars of police departments is amusing. He'd take care of his sister. I can't decide what to do with her - her focus was all about Roscoe originally, which makes her unwilling to give up and kinda one note. Either her motivation changes, as with the comic, or she loses her drive for some reason. Since Barry won't stay dead, maybe she finds out Roscoe was cheating or something. Or she could be given an entirely new motivation.

Anyway, Leonard will live well, and fall madly in love two or three times a year. He's very fickle, though, so it never lasts more than a couple months.

[lady-starkiller]

Assorted Courier Six headcanons:

- Remembers absolutely nothing pre-shooting

- Took the name “Margaret” after listening to Peggy Lee on Radio New Vegas but she’ll usually just go by Mags or Maggie (only Margaret dear if it’s lily)

- Doc thinks she’s 19 since her wisdom teeth are just poking out

- Is tiny, maybe 5′3′’ at most, built to brute force charm her way through a situation and if not successful then she’s born to run

- Doesn’t often turn to violence which is strange for the mojave but she doesn’t even feel a way towards benny (no memory of the event, you know), even if everyone else expects her to swear revenge, she really doesn’t know what she’ll do one way or the other

- S: 2, P: 7, E: 6, C: 8, I: 3, A: 6, L: 8 with Small Frame trait

- Got her hands on a harmonica to realize that she can really play but has no memory of learning how to, with singing to match

- boone, after mags jumps in on harmonica for ‘this train is bound for glory’ at some random bar in freeside: you think getting shot in the head makes you good at music?

arcade: if so then boone I’d say you personally have made the mojave just a bit more musical

- Which means the kings basically gave her a new vegas passport just for providing A General Vibe to freeside

- Brain damage did a number to Mags, so much that she can’t focus too much on any one thing and her short term memory isn’t so good

- But anchoring important things to music helps her remember (she has jingles for every faction and for every quest, accompanied by harmonica)

- NCR didn’t take too well to Mags concluding her Nipton report with a rendition of ‘Fox on the Run’ though really she didn’t want to think about any of that horror

- Performing these songs around the Mojave nets Mags and co. a fair amount of caps though there have been times that her songs haven’t been well received (especially the ones that poke fun at the factions of the Mojave)

- Main alliance is with The Kings and The Followers, who Mags throws responsibility of New Vegas at with the mentality of ‘figure it out folks’

- Mags’ relationships with the NV companions are like: spare parental figures? spare parental figures please???

- After getting an independent New Vegas, Mags usually spends her days recording songs to play on the radio (she’s tired of repeat songs all the time!) but hits the road often to get inspiration for new ones

- Mags tried to teach her companions to play an instrument (any instrument!) but literally everyone sucks bad and Mags is so sad they can’t be a traveling band together :(((

- Took the happy trails gig just to play music on the road and didn’t expect to survive yet another near-death experience but ok I guess

- Unstoppable force (Mags’ fear of the Legion) vs. Immovable mountain (Graham knows new songs Mags has never heard before)

- Mags, rocking with ‘the man comes around’ vibing in her brain: oh grandpa? grandpa graham?

- mags, following graham around: please be my duet partner please please please plea

graham: go AWAY

[boypussydilf]

ok folks let’s keep it going

why is fionna the only alternate finn who doesnt lose an arm 💔 fern didnt either i guess but. you know. Give that woman a disability NOW

for the love of god, don’t act like simon wasn’t Equally Insane About Betty, or was pretty much completely at fault for everything wrong with their relationship. lets zoom out from this 1 specific part of it and look at the whole picture! framing that more clearly expresses No One Is To Blame instead of making it murky by kind of acting like someone is. simon put her on a pedestal too. yes betty sacrificed everything because she thought simon was so amazing and wonderful that she would do whatever he wanted to do and whatever helped him. and simon didn’t notice that, for a reason. because simon thought betty was so amazing and wonderful and bold and proactive that she would do whatever she wanted to do. she would always make the first move and he always took this as just: she’s doing the things she wants to do. both of them unaware that there could be more to it than that, that just because she does want to do this and she is happy doesn’t mean it’s the right choice.

so we get Simon Petrikov And A Series Of Emotional Revelations many of which are completely unconnected from each other and just make his feelings more complicated, but we also get 1. him actually seeing and noticing the effect he has on other people, not JUST how he unintentionally contributed to the toxic dynamic w betty but how he has Made People’s Lives Better And Has People Who Care About Him. again!! something or other with marceline!!!! And 2. the thing they seemingly kind of considered in writing but didn’t really talk about in the show. that simon feels guilty about bettys sacrifice to become golb for him. that he feels like this is something he didn’t deserve! something he can’t pay back!

im getting tired so imight start making less sense here but i want to keep going

theeeeeeere’s definitely somewhere to go with that and expressing to simon that like… betty did make a choice and he does not need to beat himself up and agonize for a million years over a decision she made of her own free will and he does not need to earn the right to be alive

Let’s talk about the golbetty situation i want to talk about the golbetty situation. We NEED to know how SHE FEELS. about anything really

Because honestly? To some extent i think maybe this would be awesome for her. she’s always been fascinated with all this weird freaky magical stuff. now she IS weird freaky magical stuff and now she can see so much. she can understand things her human mind would have been literally incapable of grasping! she has a brand new perspective on everything! EVERYTHING IS DIFFERENT!!!!!! and it’s FASCINATING!!!!!! SHE SEES THE WORLD ANEW AND IT IS FULL OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CONCEPTS THAT WOULD TWIST THE MORTAL MIND

but there r downsides too. Betty Was Always Proactive!!!! we see how much betty likes GOING and DOING. she makes choices and she takes actions and now. now she has this fascinating new mind and nothing to do with it except OBSERVE! she can’t go anywhere because her own existence is dangerous.

i think that betty “i’m not sure if there’s even any ‘me’ left” grof needs a second chance at life and she needs an opportunity to rebuild her own sense of self and figure out again who she is independent of simon - something she probably cannot do being alone in a void forever with no one to talk to. i think that betty going somewhere simon can’t follow and continuing her life as a god is a perfectly fine way to do this, if they had a bit more actual, proper closure.

however, consider my extremely biased and extremely emotional opinion: what if they did get to exist in the same space and ever see each other again huh!!!!!!!!!!!

my judgement is clouded by emotion so its hard for me to work out if this really would be a better way to end it or if i just Like It, but i do like it so let’s talk about it. i absolutely do not think betty should ever just be human again. her status is irreversible - but does it have to be unchangeable? idk i basically just like seeing halfway-point monstergirl bettys and i think surely there has to be some theoretical way where through the power of Weird Adventure Time Magic Stuff there is a climactic story about like. betty bridging the gap between the part of herself that is now an unknowable extremely powerful chaos goddess and the part of herself that is a 20th century human woman who had, for a while, an ordinary life. and she can both be a character we can see and understand and who can live her life in a new way. explore the world. find herself again. and also like. be a god who does whatever a superpowerful god of chaos even does. idk betty goes and hangs out at the deities club where everyone is shaking in a corner because she is golb and shes just like so do you guys play cards

feel like im losing the thread but you get me.

Anyway, again. Theoretically i like the idea of fionnaworld becoming a fully fledged proper universe because of the people in it, but it’s not like. Tied In to any story about them being real people in their own rights? Again, the means to do that should’ve happened because of a choice fionna and cake made, not just because simon didn’t want to make the choice. Also prismo should’ve gotten to do a little more than just dropping some people into fionnaworld to help fight. Idk what but there’s probably some weird way to tie everything together and have some wild magic shit he does also affect betty? but ofc help his creations that he cares abt so much. The scarabs whole deal also feels like it shouldve tied in more directly w thematic stuff and emotional resolution but idk what to do with that and its not a super big deal so let’s ignore that

where are the consequences. Where are the consequences. Of anything

ok so simongets it shown to him that he has a positive effect and there are people who care about him and he does not need to earn a right to live by doing something special betty gave him a new lease on life and hed better fucking use it damnit and he goes aw shit fine i guess i will try to be alive a while longer and check out this whole “””””being honest about your feelings””””” thing. probably more connecting parts in between to get him to even that point but i dont really have all the pieces i need to work with i have to invent new pieces and right now im tired

but he goes back to ooo and EITHER things with golbetty go the same as in the show where she’s leaving to go Do Something Else but in a way where its more clear than in the show that she has new things to do with herself and is making a choice which is good for her. OR we go to my perfect fantasyland where something either Has Already Happened or Will Happen to allow betty to be……. a little demystified, yes, but she has some method to Exist Inside A Universe without killing everything and she and simon aren’t going to just Never Ever See Each Other Again but they do have to go be independent people. separate them just not so harshly

BUT ANYHOW, THE CONSEQUENCES. shit should be going down. marceline wanted to talk to him but couldn’t find him, for days, so PB’s got a giant search mission going on for her sake and finn is. finn is doing something idk i just wanted to mention him and simon realizes How This Looks For Everyone Else and he sees marceline again and marceline is all torn between a bunch of different thoughts and feelings and between shaking him and yelling at him and gesturing at everything in his house and going what the FUCK simon what the fuck were you doing, and just being so happy he’s okay, and crying and hugging him and throwing him. however that goes rhey ACTUALLY FUCKING TALK. simon is not at all, like, All Good Now he’s just somewhere along the line been inspired to actually put in extra effort to communicate with her bc she isn’t just…. completely fine without him and now that she doesnt need him to survive it doesnt matter if hes there or not. like he thought. and she gets it across to him that she WANTS to hear about his problems she HAS to its not gonna be more than she can handle and he DOES and she GETS IT because SHE HAS HAD A FUCKED UP LIFE AND TRAUMA AND DEPRESSION TOO.

i thimk this might conclude the specific thoughts i have. ending where simon has not necessarily stopped. kind of wanting to not be alive. but has been convinced to go back and Actually Try,. and fionna and cake…… sssssssomething? im very tired i dont kmow. i love them and their ending is mostly good but could have used some different execution and stuff. and betty gets to actually express her own thoughts and perspective and. have agency. yeah. done now i guess

once i have slept and my brain works and makes sense again i am so making a list of all the things the finale couldve done better and stuff i think wouldve worked better narratively. and turn it into a post. if we’re really lucky ill make a banger alternate ending fix it fic but either way. i need a different ending i can imagine happened bc that one. i dont think it worked.

[dbh-ankcon]

oof, it really makes my blood boil when other folks in the dbh fandom act like it is IMMORAL or otherwise disgusting to ship hank and connor and that the only “ethical” lens through which their relationship can be viewed is that of a parent/child.

the framing is so uncomfortable imo, especially when people claim connor is a foil to cole - a glimpse into what he would have been like had he been able to grow up.

firstly… when i first dove into dbh, this idea was SO prevalent, i was sure hank and cole’s accident must have occurred 15+ years ago. this made sense! on this timeline, cole would have been born when hank was in his early 30’s, and connor may have been a window into a potential version of what his son’s life might have looked like in 2038.

…but then i learned that cole died just THREE YEARS before the events of the game. if cole had survived, he would’ve been NINE YEARS OLD. why would hank think of his late child (who would only have been in the THIRD GRADE IN 2038) when looking at an android modeled after a /30 year old man??/

also, um. parents don’t replace their deceased children. it’s not an identical situation: but i’ve been completely estranged from my parents for four years. if i found out they’d just, like… projected their unresolved grief over our separation onto Some Other Girl and started thinking of her as their daughter… that would be the set up of a horror movie. it’s just not a healthy, sustainable way to confront loss.

if you see hank and connor as father and son and have answered the above concerns differently for yourself than i have, that’s totally within your jurisdiction. but it gets pretty tiring to witness people act like shipping hank and connor is reprehensible and that people who ship them are untrustworthy creeps. objectively, there’s nothing morally inferior about interpreting their connection as romantic rather than familial. they aren’t related. connor is fully autonomous and is hank’s respected, equal counterpart. connor is modeled after a fully grown adult man. they are both recovering from incalculable trauma, and they’re both fully capable of making mature, informed decisions regarding the trajectory of their respective lives. it’s not a ship that’s rooted in exploitation, manipulation, or the taboo. it’s like… incredibly mild lmao even the “age gap” is purely arbitrary because connor is an android with access to more information in a moment’s notice than most humans will process in their whole lives. i am going to rip my hair out follicle by follicle if i see one more post about how hankcon shippers all deserve jail time fbdjdbdjdbd

[luthiensaralonde]

steamroller

stephen strange x f!reader

requested: Yes, by anon. 

 I have a request that’s sort of based on a song (steamroller by phoebe bridgers- more specifically the line “part of me wants you, but most of me needs you”). The reader is a sorceress and a single mother who shows up to the NY sanctum seeking refuge. Stephen takes her in, and over a few years, she falls for him, but because they’re so close, she’s worried about confessing to him. But one night she just grabs his face and kisses him.

word count: 1.4k

warnings:  just a steamy kiss. 

a/n:  I posted this and then made changes to it. So if you read it as soon as I posted, I suggest reading the end again, because I added a bit. 

Thank you anon for introducing me to Phoebe Bridgers. I listened to the song while writing this, and I really like it a lot. It’s definitely going on my playlist. I normally paraphrase the request, but decided to just paste this one how it was sent because I can’t think of a summary and I love how it was worded. 

stephen strange masterlist

Just breathe. You’re both safe here.

That’s what you told yourself when you first arrived at 177A Bleecker Street. You were a sorceress on the run, with your young child, and nowhere to hide. You heard whispers about the sorcerer in New York, the one who some folk claimed to be the new Sorcerer Supreme, but that claim was still up for debate. All you knew was that he was skilled and powerful. The Sanctum in which he reigned over was the perfect place to seek refuge. 

That was years ago, and since then, the New York Sanctum had become your home as much as his. 

You sat in a chair near the fireplace. Your legs were curled up close to you, and you sipped gingerly on a cup of tea. You watched as Stephen helped your child with school work. He was good at explaining things, more patient than you anticipated, and you loved watching them interact together. You sighed, your eyes averting to the flickering flames dancing softly in your wistful gaze. 

You and Stephen had a perplexing relationship. He had become your closest confidant since your arrival. He was like family, yet you were not together. He acted as a father to your child, yet he was not your husband. You would tell him every little worry, every happy moment, and some nights you both just sat in the silence together, enjoying the comfort of each other’s presence. You both had this understanding that you were friends.  And you were both content with just having a companion to share life with, without any definitive commitments. Your relationship was far from romantic. It was a platonic love that transcended typical relationships. But as the years flew by, you were starting to think of him differently. He went from this much-needed friend, almost like a brother, and then suddenly it hit you like a sickness—you were in love with him. And now you were left with this empty feeling, this sadness that gripped your chest. Your heart ached when you so much as looked at him. 

He glanced up at you and smiled gently in your direction. You had this urge to touch him. It was an intense desire, much the same way you needed oxygen, water, and food to survive. If you didn’t touch him, you would simply wither away and die. You released a shaky breath and returned his smile, it was the only thing you could offer him in that moment. 

After the sun’s light no longer lit up the room and the window framed the moon, you sent your little one to bed. At the courtesy of Stephen, of course, who apparently read bedtime stories in a much cooler voice than you. Who were you to argue with the kid? You saw movement at the corner of your eye and looked up to see Stephen enter the room again, his body haloed by the soft glow emitting through the window. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, his eyes searching yours knowingly. You could never hide your emotions from him. He could read you like a book, except for the feelings you secretly harbored for him. 

“Just tired.” You said. Of being sad. You wanted to add, but you didn’t dare let the words slip past your tongue. 

“Perhaps you should go to bed too. Maybe things will look a little brighter in the morning.” He said before sitting down in the chair adjacent to you. 

 No. It was the first thing you felt when you woke up in the mornings. You wanted Stephen, yet in a way, you had him already. He was your closest friend, but it was more than that. You needed him. You needed all of him. You let your eyes take him in a moment just sitting there. You could see the flames reflecting in his eyes. His gaze was always so intense—just as sharp and dangerous as a dagger. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asked as he pressed the tip of his fingers against his temple, tilting his head at you expectantly. 

Your tongue darted out to brush against your bottom lip. Apprehensively, your gaze fell on the crackling fire. “Just about the years I’ve spent here.” You whispered. “It feels like yesterday, yet it feels like I’ve known you forever.”

He gave you a long look, “Is that really what you’re thinking about?” 

You exhaled a timorous sigh, “No, probably not.” You pushed up on the arms of the chair and stood, “Goodnight, Stephen.”

He looked disappointed. “Goodnight.” He said, his eyes following your every move as you left the room. 

How could you tell him the truth? You were so close, and you didn’t want to ruin everything you’ve built with him. Stephen deeply cared about you, it was obvious, but he never showed a sign of harboring anything other than platonic feelings for you. You just had to accept and be happy with the relationship you had with him. You were still his closest person, and the one he confided in during times of darkness and happiness. You were still his person, whether it was romantic or not. 

Months flew by, and with every day you didn't say anything to him, you felt your heart break a little more. Piece by piece, you were becoming more desperate. The ache you felt was never going to go away, and you felt your soul would never be sated until you did something about it. The fear of ruining everything slowly started to take a back seat to your searing desire to be with him. 

It was night again and you dreaded how depressing the evenings felt. You found him in the library. He wanted to go over something with you, but your mind was far too tired and far too occupied with all thoughts of touching him to pay attention to the words coming out of his mouth. 

You stood near a bookshelf, with him standing close to you, holding a book open in his hands. You were distracted by the way he turned the pages, the way his brows knitted together pensively as he absorbed the information and relayed it back to you. 

“Are you listening to me?” He asked suddenly, averting his gaze from the book to look at you.

You pulled your gaze from his lips and instead focused on his eyes. There was something dangerous about those eyes. Like a violent storm over waters, they were shockingly beautiful to look at, but you knew you’d surely drown if you treaded any further. 

“I was listening. Sorry.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced but continued on anyway, all while you continued to watch him with a thudding pulse that was getting louder and louder until you could no longer hear anything but a deafening silence. He was so tangible and standing there in your reach. Like how the moon controlled the tides, you had no choice but to gravitate closer at his command. You stepped forward, seizing his face in your hands. His eyes flickered up at you in surprise, but before he could say a word, your lips crashed into his. 

You felt a chill shoot down from the back of your neck to the soles of your feet. The years of needing him seemed to dissipate from just the taste of his mouth. You felt a sudden fear wash over you at the thought of him ripping himself from you. You were just about to pull away and apologize when you heard the book shut. 

You jumped, pulling back enough to catch his gaze. “Stephen, I shouldn’t have done that.” You glanced down at his chest. 

He slipped the book back onto the shelf before both of his hands found your waist, and he gently pushed you against the shelves. You felt your head loll back against the books just as he grabbed your jaw and caressed your lips with his.

Your head began to spin and your arms wrapped around him, pulling him flush against you. His kiss was slow and gentle yet filled with so much desperation. Your face burned from the feeling of his thumb brushing your cheek and his hand grasping at your hip and sliding up your waist. His fingers drug along the length of your spine until he found the back of your neck. You shivered at the sudden grip of his hand that assured you he had no intention of pulling away from you.

You were a sorceress yourself, but you were utterly under his spell, and you couldn’t stop this if you tried. There was only his mouth, his hands, and a scorching heat sifting through your limbs. Judging by the satisfied exhale that escaped his lips and slipped past yours, you knew he wanted to do this for as long as you did.  

[sixstepsaway]

Great post about purity culture in fandom! If you don't mind me adding on, I think another major contributor is Baby's First Literary Criticism. It as been common online to see people critiquing media through queer, feminist, etc. perspectives, and a push for diversity and positive representation of marginalized groups. Problem is, they use that purity culture framing instead of viewing these issues at the complicated, nuanced matters they are. It doesn't allow room for a particular piece of media to be good in one way or lacking in another. It doesn't take into account that one person from a marginalized group's real experience is another's tired trope. If you try hard enough you can make everything problematic. For example, is it reasonable to argue that Ed is a problematic stereotype of as moc because he is a violent pirate? Well, it's a pirate show about pirates. Lucius might be considered the 'gay best friend' for constantly giving advice, but does that really count when all his friends are also gay? And this stuff is so nuanced it's easy to pick and choose what argument is affective against your least favorite show/character/ship/etc. Voila, now everyone who likes, uh, Blackhands is a racist, homophobic, misogynistic abuse apologist. -dd anon

Oh you are absolutely right and you should say it.

I saw someone saying how nice it is to have OFMD because until OFMD the only queer shows we had were things like Queer as Folk and they said how Queer as Folk was bad rep and cringe and bad

and I wanted to scream because Queer as Folk is not bad rep! QaF was representative of a lot of gay communities. Queer people didn't have marriage equality and couldn't adopt, so they didn't ride the heterosexual relationship escalator instinctively, and so their lives ended up looking entirely different. Club culture and promiscuity was a big part of queer culture even as recently as 2005 (and I would argue it still is) and a lot of that is to do with the conversations that go on at those places about consent or just because going to a gay club you are surrounded by other queer people, instead of having to hope and pray someone is like you at a coffee shop.

Good rep vs bad rep is a reductive argument, in my eyes. The issue is quantity rather than quality, which I realize is backwards to how it usually is, but... in a show like OFMD, where you have [frantic finger counting] I'm willing to say fourteen main characters all of which are stated word of god to be queer in some way? One of them bodying the trope of 'gay best friend' doesn't actually matter

because he's just one among many. I'm-- Okay, my labels are many because my brain is a mess, but to boil it down to something simple I'm a bi ace agender/maybe genderfluid person (idk i havent dug enough into my gender stuff yet i've been putting it off like a knitting project), and I do not fucking care about the discourse around Toni Topaz or Jughead Jones

let me explain: in Riverdale there are two characters I just mentioned. Toni Topaz is bisexual and Jughead Jones in the original comics was asexual but has been in sexual and romantic relationships in the TV show.

Lots of people yell that Jughead isn't rep and he could've been, how upset they are he wasn't made ace like the comics, etc etc

I don't because I am an ace person who has had sex and relationships and plans to do so in the future

so Jughead boning Betty in s1 does not bad ace rep make. He's never looked at Betty or whoever and gone (as far as I know, I'm behind on the show), "Man, I am so cishet. I am so sexually attracted to you in an allosexual manner." though I wouldn't put it past the writers to have him say something like that lmao

so maybe he isn't sexually attracted to her but enjoys sex with her anyway. Maybe he isn't romantically attracted to her but loves her anyway (though asexual =/= aromantic but that's beside the point)

and Toni Topaz has been criticized for being a "slutty bisexual stereotype" or whatever, but... she's fine? She's just... a person living her life? She fucks Jughead, she fucks her girlfriend, she fucks... idk, I think she has a boyfriend now I'M BEHIND OKAY

to me that isn't bad rep it's just... a character. Potentially not a well-written character because Riverdale (again, I am behind, maybe it's not as bad as I imagine) but still just... a character

When the 100 killed off Lexa, the issue wasn't that they killed A Lesbian, the issue was they killed the only lesbian, thus taking away 100% of the lesbians from that show at the time (though I think Niylah became a main character later? I don't know. She was just a one or two-off at the time iirc). plus the writer was a toxic piece of shit about lexa and wielded her as a way of getting his follower count up on twitter and then killed her off but that too is beside the point

We don't need good rep or to delete all bad rep from the universe. We need more rep, period. We need more lesbians and more gays and more bis and more queers and more people of color and so on. We need shows with diverse casts to be so common we don't have a metric fucktonne of people looking at OFMD and hoping for Perfect Rep because it's all they're getting.

Queer as Folk's characters felt real. They felt like real people. Brian's fear of getting old (I had the realization the other day that he was, in fact, 29, and I nearly cried), Mikey's fear of being alone, Ben's fear of bringing Mikey down with him, Justin's fear of never being loved, etc etc. None of them were good or bad rep, they just were, much like the characters in OFMD.

Assuming the party line of 'Izzy is a homophobic homosexual', are (general) you telling me you've never met a homophobic homosexual in your life? Bet you have. Lots of us have. Izzy isn't good or bad rep, he's just a guy, and a guy who could easily exist in real life, flaws and warts and all. Violent men of color exist just as much as cute lute-playing men of color do.

Good rep is not a goal we will ever achieve because the goalposts will always change. The quantity of rep, the variety of characters of color, the variety of queer characters, the variety of queer characters of color are what matters the most.

We need more rep, not to be cherrypicking and pruning the rep that looks a little ugly on the outside to some people.

Real people look ugly on the outside to some people, too.

[shewhotellsstories]

i really dont wanna annoy you but you post about racism in fandom sometimes so i thought you'd be the right person to ask. i hope this doesnt come off as expecting u to be my teacher. yesterday someone said they didnt trust white zk shippers and i thought it was mean but then people started sending the them all these nasty messages and i started to worry maybe op was right. honestly a lot of this stuff is pretty new for me. i think our fandom is inclusive & unlike the rest of the atla fandom we actually like katara. but i'm trying to learn.

why would it be a problem that a lot of zk fics have katara looking after zuko? i always just felt like he needed it more bc he was abused and kataras better at dealing with feelings and she's good at taking care of people. is fire lady katara still ok? is there racism in our fandom? there are a lot of woc zks and i've seen them get hate for it. but the messages op got were pretty bad too. i know i'm asking a lot of questions i just hate the thinking that we might be as bad as the z*kka stans have been saying all year.

This is gonna get long so I’m just gonna jump right in. When I listened to fansplaining’s episode on fandom racism one of the guests said white fans who can acknowledge that fandom racism exists tend to frame it as “just a few bad apples” and get caught up in worrying about not looking like a “bad apple” instead of making fandoms spaces that aren’t hostile for BIPOC. Jag offs hiding behind anon to tell women of color who ship zutara that we have a creepy fetish for imperialism and colonialism suck, but your biggest concern really shouldn’t be the optics or if you can claim superiority over zukka stans.

Yeah the “katara’s a homophobe” nonsense didn’t come from our end of the fandom, but it feels naive at best or dishonest at worst to act like the zutara fandom is uniquely immune to fandom racism. A creator I follow made the excellent point that allyship conditional upon if a poc talks "nicely" about racism is still white supremacy. I believe poc need to be allowed to vent and be salty or angry without being tone-policed. I definitely have my days where I’m like “ugh white people,” or "why must white fans be like this," so I get where the OP was coming from. Ironically the folks that sent them anon hate proved their point. You can always count on hit dogs to hollar.

Fandom is only escapist for some people. It doesn’t exist in a vacuum so you’ll find racism in fandom because there’s racism in the world. Navigating that gets exhausting. There are certain things I enjoy, but for the sake of my sanity I'll only talk about it with friends in real life or only follow fans of color. Before I follow white fans I need to see first that they’re not the kind of person who inspires posts about fandom racism. A good friend of mine loves Star Wars, Kpop, and gaming but after years of attempts at calling in she decided that she’d only interact with woc in those spaces. Again, you get tired.

ATLA wasn’t on my radar until last year so I definitely haven’t read every zutara fic out there but I have noticed a lot of fics do tend to have Katara being the one comforting and supporting Zuko. It’s not inherently wrong of course, it’s just in the grand scheme of things in fiction woc are often cast as eternal caretakers and confidants in fiction:

“How characters of color are portrayed in fanworks, especially fanfiction, is worse than the actual films. They are portrayed as supportive, almost invisible understudies. Any characteristics which they possess in the [MCU] films are stripped and given to other white characters. It is not only erasure. It’s a theft of identity.

Characters of color are positioned within storylines to support the main, white characters. Even within the slash biracial pairings, the character of color is underdeveloped and in a position of servitude within the relationship.”

TheNavyLanguage, Fansplaining

As the quote above points out this honestly happens in a lot of fandoms. I’ve read fanfic for books, movies, tv shows, and comics and I can’t help but notice that in fics the writers often have the non-white character or-- if neither character is white--the darker skinned character being the care-taker, the bodyguard, or the person who is performing all the emotional labor. It’s not inherently wrong to have a character of color have a nurturing personality, you just have to remember that since Black and brown folks have been saddled with narrative after narrative where we exist to serve leaning into dynamics where the non-white or darker skinned character is providing all the emotional support and getting very little in return has some unfortunate implications.

It’s not better if instead of being defined as the avatar’s girl, Katara’s the fire lord’s girl. Part of the appeal of zutara for me is the idea that Katara could lay down some of her burdens and get some much needed support. I always imagine she’d have some major issues after the war.

"i always just felt like he needed it more bc he was abused and kataras better at dealing with feelings and she's good at taking care of people."

I’m going to push back against that statement. Yes, Katara didn't grow up in an abusive household but she has pain and trauma of her own. In fact I’d argue that her believing it’s her job to take care of everyone is rooted in her trauma. Katara needs support and care just as much as anyone else does.

Having read a lot of fics revolving around abuse victims in different fandoms I’ve observed that if fans feel a character’s trauma wasn’t properly addressed in canon, they’ll give them a lot of TLC in fics. But again, reducing the non-white or darker-skinned character to a glorified therapist has some implications.

I feel like the Fire Lady Katara headcanon's been talked to death so long-story short, it’s not inherently racist but it can problematic if it's not clear that Katara is Katara of the Water Tribe wherever she lives. Fics and art where her crown has a crescent moon, she wears blue, or Zuko wears blue when she's in red are the executions I'm fondest of.

When in doubt just listen when poc talk about uncomfortable trends in the fandom. Give fansplaining’s episodes on fandom racism a listen here, here, and here. And very loosely quoting my favorite professor just remember that if a marginalized person says they’re distrustful of a group of people or institution it usually happens after a lot of bad experiences. Don’t center your own comfort and hurt feelings.

“If we truly believe in fandom’s progressive credentials, then perhaps it is necessary for us to listen to critiques that make us uncomfortable rather than those that keep arguing that the status quo is perfectly acceptable—even as there is plenty of evidence to the contrary. Perhaps then we will be able to come at these, yes, these very complex and nuanced discussions with the type of openness and good faith that is required for them to succeed, rather than approaching them with hostility.”

-Rukmini Pande, Fansplaining

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Pairings: Arvin Russel x Fem!Christian!Reader

Summary: Arvin knew he shouldn’t have left you alone with that new preacher... 

Warnings: Sexual assault, physical assault, cursing, Teagarden being a perv, really nothing out of the ordinary for this movie. 

Word Count: 5250

_________________________

“Arvin! Stop!” You giggled, pushing your boyfriend off of you as he nibbled up and down your neck. There wasn’t anything sexual about it, he just loved to hear you laugh and he knew how much the action tickled your skin. “You’re so annoyin’!” You laughed, cheeks flushed red as you gently pressed on his head to try and move it. 

He pressed himself up, looking down at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever lay his eyes on. Arvin was straddling you, his knees trapping your hips beneath him. A hand was placed on either side of your head and he looked down at you, “But you’re so pretty when you laugh.” 

“Oh? And I’m ugly all the rest of the time?” You asked jokingly, hands reaching up stroke up and down his arms. 

Arvin leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling away ever so slightly, hovering just above your lips. Both of your guys’ eyes were still closed as if it were a romantic moment until he whispered, “Ugly as a mule.” 

You both busted up laughing and you shoved him, his body rolling onto the blanket beside you, “I’m breaking up with you.” You teasingly told him. 

“Ah, c’mon. You know you love me.” He looked over at you, loving how the autumn sun lit up your features. 

“I tolerate you. Don’t get it mixed up.” You rolled your head over to see him already admiring you. Your smile got bigger when you locked eyes with him. 

“Well I love you.” Arvin admitted sweetly, bringing a gentle hand to your cheek and kissing you one more time. 

Arvin made you feel beautiful and special and safe, all those things that no boy had ever made you feel. He always had. Even when you were children back in middle school and neither of you really talked to each other, when you saw him around the halls, a peace just settled over you that made you feel like you were on top of the world. When the two of you began dating ten months ago, that never changed. 

“I love you too.” 

The two of you laid back against the yellow blanket with little orange flowers on it, the one that you’d taken from the linen closet back home. This was yours and Arvin’s favorite place, a little clearing in the woods. The grass was tall enough to be soft but not so tall that it hid critters. Flowers lined the edge of the woods in the spring. It wasn’t springtime now but that only meant that instead of a display of white and yellow flower buds, the pair of you had a beautiful show of brilliant reds and oranges from the falling leaves. 

Everyone in town knew you were together. Word spread fast around Coal Creek and it was nearly impossible to hide anything. Your families were both supportive of the relationship. Emma loved that you were involved with the church and put effort into the community when you could, often participating in bake sales around town. She liked to tease that you won Arvin over with your “man catching apple cobbler” as she now called it, since he officially asked you to be his girlfriend over a slice of the delicious dessert after a Sunday service. 

Your parents liked Arvin as well. Even after Fred Dinwoodie had told your dad about what Arvin had done to Gene, it surprisingly made him like Arvin more. “You got yourself a good man who knows right from wrong and ain’t afraid to stand up for the people he loves.” Was what he’d said, which had surprised you. You knew that Arvin had beaten all the boys right after he’d done it, since he came to you to help him calm down and ice his knuckles. You were terrified for your parents to find out, though, sure that they’d tell you to break up with him for fear of violent tendencies. Thankfully, that day never came. 

It was nice out there, bundled up in a warm brown coat, laying on Arvin’s chest, and watching the leaves fly across the crisp sky in the breeze. 

“We should probably get headin’ back.” You said reluctantly, pushing yourself up to sitting. 

“Why’s that?” Arvin perched on his elbow to watch you tighten the jacket around your frame, a cool breeze hitting just right. 

“The new preacher asked me to come by this afternoon. Said he needed help planning a fundraiser to raise money for the less fortunate families in town.” You traced a finger over his knuckles gingerly, small pink marks littering his knuckles from his attack on Dinwoodie and his boys still healing over. 

“Ain’t you one o��� them less fortunate families in town?” He asked, trying to find a way to talk you out of this. Ever since Preston Teagarden had humiliated Emma on his first day, Arvin had it out for the man. 

You scoffed with a chuckle, “Yeah, but you are too and your grandma is still always bringin’ stuff to church. Just cause I’m broke as shit doesn’t mean I can’t try to help other people who are broke as shit.”

Arvin stood up with you and helped you fold up the blanket, “I just don’t like that new preacher. Somethin’s off about ‘im.” 

“I agree that he was totally out of line callin’ your grandma out like that two weeks ago but I’d like to think that maybe I can talk to him about it.” The two of you began to walk back to Arvin’s car, grass swishing under your steps. 

Arvin’s face twisted, “I just don’t trust the man. He’s always up there on that damn stage actin’ all high ‘n mighty every Sunday like he ain’t done nothin’ wrong.” He reached forward and opened your door for you, closing it after you slid onto the seat. He walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat. 

“He’s a sinner like the rest of us. It’s just about doing what you can to make yourself better.” You responded, looking over at Arvin sweetly. He gave you a skeptic look and sighed deeply as he turned his attention back to look towards the road. With one hand on the steering wheel, he slid his free hand over to hold yours gently. The rest of the drive was in comfortable silence, with the exception of the radio quietly playing in the background. 

Arvin loved you. He really really loved you. You generally had your wits about you, a heck of a lot more than most of the girls in Coal Creek, not allowing your religion to totally cloud your vision. You were a good girl, good enough to make his grandma happy and not cause too much trouble around town, always helping those in need, but not so pious that you made everyone else around you feel like a sinner. You were still fun, you still made mistakes. Arvin felt like you were something between ethereal and real, somehow elevating him as a person but also showing him just how good life could be. 

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel like you were making a mistake with this preacher. Of course, with your caring nature, you would help him, especially knowing it was for the poor folks in town. But something about Teagarden just made Arvin’s skin crawl. He just couldn’t put his finger on it… 

The tires rolled to a crunching halt on the gravel outside of the church. The graveyard to the side looked dark and gloomy as always, the cloud of loss looming over almost everyone in this town in one way or another. The church, though, stood small and humble in the field, white paint chipping after years of weathering. 

“Thank you for the ride.” You leaned over and pecked Arvin on the cheek. 

He let out a heavy sigh, “You really sure you don’t just want me to take you home?” 

You rolled your eyes at him with a sweet smile on your face, “Yes, I’m sure. It’ll be fine, Arv, but thank you for the concern.” Opening the door, you climbed out, “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“What? No. I’m givin’ you a ride home.” Arvin looked offended that you even suggested such blasphemy. 

“I don’t want you to have to drive all the way back here for me and I don’t know how long this’ll take. Besides, I don’t live too far from here.” You shook your head, leaning against the open door.

Arvin raised his eyebrows, “What kind of man would I be if I let you walk home alone at night? I’m givin’ you a ride home ‘n that’s final. I have to run to the market anyways to get some stuff for my grandma so I’ll just do that ‘n come back here for ya.” 

With loving warmth welling up in your chest, you leaned into the car, holding onto the roof for balance, while you kissed him on the lips, “I’ll see you in a few then.” 

Pulling yourself back out of the car, you closed the door and waved before spinning to walk towards the church. Looking behind you, you gave Arvin one final wave before disappearing through the door. 

The church was empty, though you expected nothing less on a Saturday afternoon. The pews were empty so you wandered into the building curiously. You closed the door behind you as you walked further in. “Hello? Reverend?” 

Preston Teagarden approached from the door off to the side of the main stage, where his office had been located, “Y/N! Forgive me, I expected you to be a little bit later.” 

You stopped in your tracks, “Oh, I’m sorry! You didn’t say an exact time. Just afternoon…” You chuckled awkwardly, suddenly feeling bad for arriving early. 

“No, no, it’s no problem at all,” He waved his hand dismissively. Teagarden made his way down the aisle a few rows before stopping, “So from what I’ve heard, you are the one to talk to about fundraising” 

Flattered, your cheeks turned a light shade of pink, “Oh, well I don’t know about that… I’ve done a few fundraisers but I wouldn’t say I’m the one to go to.” 

“Nonsense, girl! I’m sure you’ll help plan something amazing. Now, why don’t you come over here and we can start talking about it.” He gestured towards the pew he was leaning on and waited for you to sit down before sliding in next to you. 

Your legs crossed when you sat down, “So, I was thinking about this for a few days and the high school has a harvest festival every November. If we set up a bake sale, we could easily raise a few hundred dollars, at least. Everybody loves Mrs. Lyle’s lemon bars and I’m sure those alone could rake in a small fortune.” You giggled a little at your small joke and the preacher did as well. 

As he did so, his arm slid behind your shoulder so smoothly, you almost didn’t notice at first. Almost. Though the action took you off guard, you chose to write it off. People had done this before to you platonically so this probably didn’t mean anything. Just a show of interest in what you had to say. 

“Mmm, you’re makin’ me crave some sweets,” Teagarden chuckled, looking over his shoulder and then back around the room. 

“Well I can guarantee that you won’t be disappointed. Coal Creek ain’t got much but if we got one thing, it’s some mighty good bakers.” You dug around in your bag that you’d brought, searching for the journal that you’d been planning this event out on, “I actually did some math and I was thinking… we could charge a dime per cookie or a dollar a dozen, yeah? And then maybe a quarter for a slice of pie and then a dollar twenty five for-” 

The preacher stopped you, placing his hand on the notebook, “You really thought this out, huh? You sure are one smart girl there, Y/N. You go to the high school?”

The older man had scooched closer to you sometime during your ramblings and suddenly, you began to feel suffocated by his presence. His body was nearly flush against yours and his arm around your shoulders were trapping. 

He’s a preacher, he wouldn’t do nothin’, you tried to convince yourself but Arvin’s voice came ringing in your ears: I just don’t like that new preacher. Somethin’s off about ‘im. Trying not to be obvious, just in case you were misreading things, you slid away from him just slightly to put some distance between your bodies. As you did so, however, Teagarden’s hand closed around your left shoulder, rubbing it firmly but gently. 

Your eyes widened when you looked over at his grip and your heart began to pick up pace. “Yeah.” Your voice was shakier than you thought it would be. 

“What are ya? Junior, senior? You look young… but definitely not a little girl.” His eyes raked tactically over your body. Your legs were shaped out well in your cuffed denim jeans and your white and pink striped boat neck long sleeve shirt was far from revealing but Preston was well aware of the way the stripes curved out of place over your breasts. 

“Senior. I’ll be graduating this June.” Now your voice was solid and low, just teetering on threatening. 

The preacher smiled, “Ah, ain’t that exciting. Such a smart pretty little thing going out into the real world. It’s good to see a nice Christian girl going out there but y’know, the real world is real bad. Believe you me. You gotta be real careful out there. Temptation and sin ‘round every corner. The devil hides himself, y’know? Wraps up all his evil and disguises it as everythin’ you ever wanted.” 

“A wolf in sheep’s clothing.” You stated quietly but firmly, looking up to lock eyes with him. Arvin was right. Something was certainly off about this man and you were becoming more and more uncomfortable by the second. 

Preston smiled proudly, “That’s right. Now, you gotta make sure you ain’t fallin’ into any o’ his traps.” 

Your jaw clenched and your eyes darted around the room before landing in your lap, “I’d like to think I got a good ‘nough head on my shoulders to see Satan working in disguise.” 

He tsked, “That’s a good start but you can’t go relyin’ on your own knowledge of the world. You need to let God tell you what’s right ‘n wrong. Trust in Him.” His hand on your shoulder shook you slightly for emphasis while his other pointed upwards towards Heaven. 

There was a brief moment of silence in which you could have heard a pin drop before he spoke again, “How is your walk with God?” 

You looked over at him with narrowed eyes, “It’s alright. Could be better but everyone’s could, I s’pose.” 

“I agree,” Preston’s leg started bouncing and he looked towards the front of the church, where he typically stood preaching, “E’ryone could walk a little closer. Myself included.” He gestured to the front of the church, “Why don’t we pray? C’mon over here.” 

He stood up and walked up to the head of the room, just below the cross. Cautiously, you followed him. “I like to think as a man of God, I can do some of His work. Or rather put the good word out there and try to save as many souls as possible. Why don’t you get on your knees? Lemme pray for ya.” 

A shiver ran through your spine as you knelt down on shaky knees, eyes going up to the large black cross that hung on the wall. Please, Lord, get me out of this. You prayed silently. 

Preston stood behind you, his hands coming to your shoulders as he began, “Lord, today we pray for Y/N and her excursions into the world as a young woman. Help her see through the devil’s delusions and guide her through this world. Lord, I pray that you see Y/N in everything that she is as she dedicates her whole self to you. Give her strength, amen.” 

“Amen.” When your eyes slid open, your whole body was shaking. 

“So you say you got some good judgement?” Preston asked as you stood up, “Say you walk in the light?” 

“I try to but we all have our slip ups.” You answered humbly and honestly, avoiding his eye contact. 

Preston hummed, “I seen you with that Russell boy. Y’all going steady?” Silently, you nodded in response. “There’s a lot of temptation in relationships like that.” 

It was clear what he was insinuating and it actually made you mad. What right did he have to be poking around in your romantic and sexual life? “Has he ever touched you?” 

The bluntness of his question hit you like a rock, “With all do respect, Reverend, that ain’t really none of your business.” 

He put his hands up in surrender, “I don’t mean to pry. I’m just concerned ‘bout that boy dragging you down into temptation. Sullying your position with the good Lord, ‘n all.” 

“Arvin is a perfectly respectful man. He ain’t draggin’ nothin’ or nobody down.” Your voice was getting more aggressive. 

“So he hasn’t touched you? He hasn’t seen you…” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Like I said, that ain’t none of your business. Thank you for your concern for my soul but what Arvin and I do is between us and the Lord. I don’t need no middle man reverend to redeem me.” 

He shrugged, “But you know, one of the best ways to get right with the Lord is to surrender yourself. Fully.” He took a few steps towards you and your breathing hitched. There was a sexual tension in the air that made your skin crawl. 

“I’ve already given my life to the Lord.” 

You weren’t giving in quite as easily as Preston had expected. Those other girls, Lenora and Jeanette Reaster, had been easily manipulated into giving Preston what he wanted. Just tell them they were unclean and needed to get right with the Lord and right into his trap they fell but you… you were different. Smart in the worldy kind of way. You were the first girl to give him a hard time but Preston would be lying if he said he didn’t like the chase. 

You were staring daggers at him, your jaw clenched, and your body standing tall and strong. It was almost as if you were trying to prove a point. You could have run, could have darted out screaming about what had happened, but you didn’t. There was no proof and Preston knew it. This was how he got away with it all. No proof, all words and small touches that were just innocent enough to be misread. It wasn’t until he got them in the backseat of his car or in the office in the back of the church that he actually touched them but by then, it was consensual. Sure, for Lenora and Jeanette there was the issue that they were minors but that was the fun of these little towns like Coal Creek, The girl always took the fall. It was always her fault. Preston could get off scotch free and he knew it. He loved it. 

Almost like something out of a movie, he reached down and gently settled one hand on your hip and the other on your cheek, pressing his lips against yours without giving you a chance to object. You yelled indignantly against lips but when he pulled away, the hand on your cheek moved to cover your mouth. Preston leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “I am an extension of the Lord’s work. Surrender yourself to me fully to surrender yourself to Him.” 

** 

Arvin watched as you walked into the church with a distrusting pang in his gut. There was just something about that reverend that didn’t sit right. It killed him to watch you leave, knowing that you were alone in there with him.

But he also knew you were a big girl. The logical part of his brain kept screaming at him that he was being irrational. The reverend was probably an okay enough guy. He’d never be number one or even number twenty on Arvin’s list of favorite people but that didn’t necessarily mean that the preacher would kill your something. Besides, Arvin really did need to run to the market. Lenora had requested some pecans for a pie she wanted to bake and his grandma  needed more milk. It would be a quick trip as town was just a short drive down the street. 

Reluctantly, Arvin backed out the driveway and sped off down the street. 

The entire time that Arvin was at the market, there was an unsettling tingle all around his body. It got harder to ignore as more time passed. The longer he left you with Teagarden, the worse he felt. 

“Just these.” Arvin threw a bag of pecans and a gallon of milk on the counter and paid for it quickly, rushing back to his car. He wouldn’t be having these feelings for no reason. Best case scenario, you were absolutely fine and Arvin was just being paranoid. Worst case scenario… Arvin couldn’t think about it because every time he thought of one, another worse one popped into his brain. 

It had only been about twenty minutes since Arvin left you alone with the preacher. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how long planning a fundraiser would take. Church activities had never been his thing but he supported you as long as it made you happy. 

He sat in the car in the church parking lot, lighting up a cigarette to calm his nerves. Arvin’s leg bounced anxiously as he watched yet another late autumn storm roll in. The clouds cast a dark gloominess, turning the minimal light left from the mostly set sun a shade of grey.. There Arvin sat for another five minutes, awaiting your exit from the building but it never came. 

Fuck it. Arvin twisted his hat on straight and threw the door open, nearly stomping out. He couldn’t put his finger on it but something was wrong. He could feel it. 

Sure enough, when he threw the door open, he was horrified. Preston Teagarden had you locked in a tight embrace, his hands running over your breasts. The two of you were standing in the middle of the aisle, right in the center of church. You had a furious look on your face, “I swear to God you touch me like that again and I’ll cut your damn dick off!” You gripped desperately at his hand that was groping you, trying to pry it away but to no avail. 

The sound of the door swinging open was enough to draw both yours and Teagarden’s attention. “Get your fuckin’ hands off her!” Arvin wasted no time running into the conflict. Teagarden dropped you and your knees buckled from the unexpected action, landing you on the ground. 

He put his hands up in surrender, “Hey, now, let’s talk about this like real men.” 

Arvin threw one solid swing to his chin, sending his head flying sideways, “You ain’t no real man. Real men don’t gotta go around gropin’ girls to get off, you sick fuck!” Another punch landed on his opposite cheek and it sent Teagarden to the ground. 

You scurried away from him and stood up just ahead of Arvin. Preston cowered, hiding his face, “Please, please, have mercy.” His pleading eyes went from Arvin to you and he lingered on your gaze, knowing that he had a better chance with the mercy approach with you. 

He found none. Even with his blood smeared face, his teeth stained crimson, and the way his body shook, you just scowled down at him, “I’m gonna tell e’ryone in this town what a disgustin’ man you are. You think you can get away with this, you’re dead wrong.” You sent a swift kick straight to his stomach, making him curl into the fetal position with a loud groan of pain. 

But then he laughed. He actually laughed. 

“What’s so damn funny?” You and Arvin both spat in unison, blood boiling. 

Preston laid his head back and closed his eyes, an almost serene look of confidence contrasting the blood that covered him and the swelling of his lip, “Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to me. You came to visit the church after hours under the guise of helping me with a fundraiser. But then you used your womanly charms to try and seduce me, a married man of God.” 

“That ain’t what happened!” Arvin yelled angrily, fists clenched by his side. 

When the words left the preacher’s mouth though, your heart dropped. You knew the truth, Arvin knew the truth, the reverend knew the truth. But none of that mattered if the Reverend told everyone his concocted story because he was a man of God. Why would he lie? 

A sadistic smile spread across his face, “It is if I say it is. Ain’t nobody gonna believe two teenagers over a preacher.” 

“He’s right.” Your voice faltered as you spoke, nearly coming out as a shattered whisper. When Arvin looked over at you, your face had paled and you looked utterly broken. 

It wasn’t so much that the assault itself was enough to break you, though, of course, it had definitely left you with the lingering ghosts of his filthy hands on your body. It was the fact that you knew he’d get away with it, that no matter what you or Arvin said, the town would believe Teagarden. 

Arvin swallowed hard, trying to see through the blinding rage. As a boy, he never truly understood the bias that women faced when they were victims of sexual assault- how it was perceived as their faults in towns like this. It had never happened to anyone he knew so he never had much reason to think about it. Now, you were forced to live with knowing that you assailant was going to keep his position as a fucking preacher in town and that you couldn’t do anything about it. 

Arvin wouldn’t let it stand. 

He stomped forward yet again and knelt over Teagarden, sending blow after blow into his face. Bone crunched bone with a disgusting crack with every hit and you flinched every time. 

Your eyes were wide with terror. Arvin’s violent past with Gene Dinwoodie and his boys was not unknown to you. You were the first person he’d gone to after the attack, in fact, and you’d actually supported him for the most part, only wishing that maybe he didn’t send them all to the hospital and only roughed them up a bit. Actually watching him beat someone to the brink of death though was something else entirely. 

“Stop!” The word left your mouth before you even knew you’d thought it. 

Arvin stopped and looked over his shoulder at you in surprise. He was doing this for you after all. 

“Don’t kill ‘im. Please.” You begged, your voice heavy.

“What?” Arvin wasn’t actually sure what he’d intended on doing to the preacher. Sure, he wanted to kill him. That horrified, angry look in your eye as he touched you made a fire burn in him so bright, he didn’t know if it could be put out. But Arvin had never wanted to be a killer. He only wanted to prove a point and make sure that the message stuck. Now that he thought about it, though, he would have to finish the job or the preacher would tell him he’d attacked him. 

Your eyes were almost brimming with tears, though none fell. This whole evening had been too much. First the assault and now watching the love of your life throw his good conscience away for you. You wanted the preacher to pay as much as he did but this just didn’t feel right. 

“P-please… I don’t want you takin’ the fall for none o’ this. He don’t deserve to die but I think a good beatin’ will give him some time to reevaluate ‘imself.” You’d walked towards Arvin and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. 

Arvin couldn’t fathom why you’d be protecting this monster. The question was clear all over his face. Why? 

“I’m not asking you to stop for him. I’m asking you to stop for you. I don’t want you to have blood on your hands for me. Not for this.” His heart broke seeing you look the way you did, your eyes shining with tears, and your hand a little shaky. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you more. 

Arvin grabbed the preacher off the ground by the collar and pulled him up almost a foot, leaning down to get in his disfigured face, “If I ever hear that you went near Y/N or any other girl again, I will find you and kill you. If you so much as look at her again, I will kill you. And if you tell anyone what happened here tonight, I will fucking kill you. You understand? Consider it that mercy you kept beggin’ for.” 

He dropped the preacher gracelessly with a thud and wrapped an arm comfortingly around you. For a moment, he was scared that you’d flinch away. You’d never seen him when he let his anger get the best of him and he preferred to keep it that way. He didn’t want you to think that he was a violent man because he really wasn’t. Arvin just cared for a special few so much that he’d do anything for them. He’d never hurt someone he loved though and needed you to know that. 

Thankfully, you leaned into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder as he walked you back to his car, leaving the preacher an unconscious mess in the middle of the church. When you exited the building, night had fallen upon Coal Creek, casting a fitting darkness over the town. 

“Thank you.” You said simply and quietly, looking over at Arvin sincerely on the drive home. 

“For what?” 

“For everything. Just bein’ who you are.” You paused with a heavy sigh, “But promise me something?” 

Arvin looked over at you, taking his eyes off the road for just a second to show you he was listening. 

“Promise me you won’t go gettin’ yourself in trouble for me.” 

He shook his head, “He deserved-” 

“I know what he deserved,” You interrupted, “And I am so grateful that you stepped in to help. But I don’t want you gettin’ yourself thrown in jail or killed for me.” 

There was short silence before Arvin looked over with the most sincere look you think he’d ever given you, “I can’t promise that. ‘M sorry, Y/N, but if I ever see you in danger, I’m gonna do what I need to do.” 

It wasn’t the response you’d been hoping for but this boy had the ability to make you feel more loved than anyone else you knew. You only wished he understood that you only wanted what was best for him, just like he did for you. “I love you, Arvin.” You admitted, sliding across the seat to lay your head against his shoulder while he drove. 

“I love you too.” 

[creatorofuniverses]

Gt July Day 20 – Exhausted

Went back to the newest characters for this one, since they’re already on the brain! Very fun to be establishing parts of their relationship through random drabbles like this.

––––––––––––––––––

They were spending the night at an inn, for once. The Wayward Gull was the closest thing most of the professional hunters had to a home. The innkeeper gave them special rates, since all of them breezed through fairly regularly, and it gave the hunters some time on a real bed.

Ember was making the most of it.

She was laid out flat on her stomach in only her tank top and trousers, her stockinged feet hanging off the end of the bed. The blankets lay beneath her, still mostly folded- seeing as it was only mid-afternoon, she shouldn’t actually fall asleep, though her body sure as hell wanted to. One arm was curled up by her shoulder and the other sprawled limply across the side of the bed. Her face was buried in the pillow, though one tired brown eye peeked out.

It was staring at Rowan, who was doing his very best to climb up the nearby nightstand. Seeing as the wooden nightstand was carved rather elaborately into floral designs, he was actually doing fairly well. Better than she’d expected, anyhow, though he was always boasting about such things. She watched him idly as he reached up and found another handhold, hauling his lanky little body up another drawer.

“I can’t believe you have the energy for this,” she mumbled, her voice mostly muffled into the pillow. “We were on the hunt for nearly a week, and the first thing you do is clamber around the furniture.”

Rowan huffed, though he didn’t risk looking back up at her. Climbing giant furniture was surprisingly harder than climbing a normal-sized building- if he lost his concentration too much he could fall, and it would hurt, badly. Still, he couldn’t quite keep from slinging back a reply as he worked on climbing up and across the drawer. “You were the one hunting, I was stuck in your pocket for the majority of the trip,” he irritably pointed out. “Being exceptionally quiet and still, I might add, because if I so much as moved you told me off for being too loud while you all were stalking that… whatever it was.” Something big with lots of teeth- Rowan had admittedly hid in said pocket when they actually found the damn thing they were hunting, because he didn’t really want to see it. “So yes, now that I have the opportunity, I want to actually do something.”

“Like climb the furniture,” Ember reiterated, sounding less than sold on his logic. She watched him make progress for a few minutes, somewhat entranced. It was all too strange to watch a little man climb up the nightstand on his own. She recalled that he apparently hadn’t left his city of wee folk until just before she met him, and couldn’t help but ask, “Where’d you learn how to do that, anyways? That thing’s pretty tall compared to you, and I didn’t think you’d come across any human stuff before now.”

A tiny scoff was her only reply for a moment, until Rowan found a more stable position. “Of course not,” he replied. “I used to climb up the sides of buildings sometimes, back in Arturium. Ones even taller than this thing, I’ll have you know.” Sure, it was a shock to go from entire buildings to a two-drawer nightstand, but he’d already filled his quota of feeling bitter at giant things for the day. It didn’t actually help anything, and that only fueled his bitterness, and so on and so forth. He was tired of it.

Ember’s brow furrowed slightly over the edge of the pillow. “Why?”

“Oh, you know…” Rowan focused for a moment at the lip bordering the very top of the nightstand, before pushing off firmly and easily catching the edge with his hands. Having a long frame was still an advantage, even if he couldn’t really qualify as “tall” anymore. “Sometimes I needed to be inside places, and walking through the front door wasn’t really an option.”

A quiet, muffled chuckle told Rowan that Ember had understood exactly what he meant. “Guess those sticky fingers of yours help you with climbing too,” she teased.

Rowan finally made it to the very top of the nightstand and he sat for a while, breathing heavily with his legs dangling over the edge. He looked over at Ember where she lay sprawled on the bed and appraised her for a moment. “You reallydon’t care that I’m a thief, do you?” This wasn’t a new revelation, by any means, but sometimes it struck him as odd all over again.

Ember just shrugged, her muscular shoulders meeting her ears before relaxing again. “You can’t carry off anything I care about,” she easily replied.

Rowan frowned and tilted his head slightly, affecting a sort of half-shrug. “Fair enough.” He stood up and brushed himself off, gauging the distance between the nightstand and the bed with a calculating look. He broke into a jog and neatly leapt over the few-inch gap. His grace then ran out as his feet hit the uneven, giving surface of the bed and he stumbled, pinwheeling his arms and pitching forward. He wound up sprawled across most of Ember’s face.

Her laughter shook through him from this close and he hastily pushed himself away, finding the sensation disconcerting. He sat back, only for her hand to come up behind him and cover him up to his shoulders, effectively pinning him to the bed by the weight of it alone. “Hey!” he protested, wiggling fervently. All his pushing and kicking did nothing at all in regards to freeing him from his impromptu prison. “What gives?”

“Settle down,” Ember said, her voice a solid mix of sleepy and amused. “You’re fine. I just… need to rest, and I don’t want you running off and getting hurt…” Her voice was fading, her eyes closed and her face still mostly buried in the pillow.

Rowan squirmed, but it was as hopeless as it had ever been. The dead weight of Ember’s hand might as well be a block of stone. Cursing quietly, he resigned himself to finding a comfortable way to lay down- as if that could be achieved under a giant’s hand. He frowned at Ember’s face, though his expression softened slightly as he noticed the dark bags under her eyes, the slow, even breaths coming through her nose. She was exhausted.

“This is stupid,” he said, for the sake of declaring it now, and settled in for the wait. Ember just smiled slightly, already half asleep.

[inkedtae]

enough games ⇾ kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ hard dom!taehyung x bratty!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ established relationship, idol au, smut, pwp, filth, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾  you’re both playing around, but your games might be more dangerous than you expected.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 4.5k 

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ hard dom!taehyung, massive dicc!taehyung, tattooed!taehyung, sub!reader, bratty!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it folks), rough sex, sir kink, hand kink, a lil exhibitionism (his mic is still on), degradation, humiliation, overstimulation, bondage, multiple orgasms, reader cums in her lingerie, use of gaming controller, pussy slapping, squirting, spanking, hair-pulling, face-licking, choking, thigh-slapping, thigh-riding, a lil dry-humping, edging, teasing, straight up filth

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ this is commissioned by @momoriki​ through ChangesWithLuv to raise funds for the Black Lives Matter movement.

► banner by ⇾ @rkivepacks​

► beta’d by ⇾ @moonmintrails​

The bright glow of the TV screen illuminates Taehyung’s concentrated features. That scowl of his draws a pout out of you. He flicks his tattooed thumbs over the controller and mutters his position into the mic. Arms draped around his inked neck, you nuzzle your nose against his cheek. A satin sapphire lingerie set hugs your curves as you roll your hips over his thigh. Every time he misfires, loses his positions, or collapses in combat, he’d use what little time he has while his avatar is recuperating to guide your hips over his flexed thigh. Momentary free hand on your hip, he’d sometimes even pull up the hem of your panties and tighten the fabric against your needy pussy. 

Of course, his generosity only surfaces when you’re behaving. And given the fact that you’ve wiggled your way into that panty and bra set, and squirmed onto his lap by crawling under his arms, without his permission, Taehyung hasn’t been in a very generous mood. Now, every time something doesn’t go according to plan in his video game, your ass gets it - literally. His hand would smack your round cheeks then grope them for good measure.

“Why are you clapping?” You’d hear Jungkook ask through the headset. Face to face with Taehyung, you can hear every single interaction between him and the guys. “We lost, hyung. Stop playing around.”

Taehyung would drag his disappointed gaze on you, glaring down at you as you continued to selfishly get yourself off. “Trust me, guk,” he’d reply, his satoori accent making a reappearance. You’d shudder, knowing full well that the moment his accent surfaces, his patience is all but nonexistent. “Playing around was never part of the plan.”

A droning beep sounds from the screen, signalling another failed mission. Taehyung growls viciously into your ear. Shivers ignite fires in their wake, rushing through your bloodstream and prickling your skin with goosebumps. A moan draws from your lips only to have you whimpering seconds later. No sounds. He was very clear on that when you first settled yourself on his lap. You bite your lip and hope he hasn't heard, or worse. You hope his frien- 

“What the hell was that?” 

Darkening brown eyes fall on you. Clenching his jaw, Taehyung mutters into his mic, “Nothing, hyung.” 

Gripping onto his tattooed shoulder, the one you usually love to trace and pepper kisses all over, you try to prepare yourself for another spanking. Taehyung senses your apprehension, however, and the sudden hesitance in your hips. You’re close. In fact, by the way your hips are jolting and quiet whines are pouring out of your mouth, he knows just how close you are. Holding onto your chin instead of your hips, he scoffs and pushes your cheeks in, puckering your lips like a little fish. 

“I dare you,” he hisses, satoori accent thick. “I dare you to cum without permission.” 

“I swear to God, if you’re talking to (Y/N) right now, I’m gonna egg your house,” Jin threatens as Taehyung’s avatar finally revives. 

You furrow your brows, trying your best to keep your moans at bay. Had it not been for the mic and the fact that you know his friends can hear every single dirty detail, you would’ve let out the loudest moan you could muster, just to get under his skin. Your pussy, wet and dripping, quivers at the tone of his voice, the way that promise hangs over the both of you, challenging you to further push his buttons. There’s nothing you love more than getting on his nerves, testing his patience beyond comprehension. 

A good challenge is what drew the two of you to each other. Taehyung had wagered your phone number over a game of pool at Hobi’s birthday party. You had wagered the Chanel necklace around his neck, claiming it looks better on you. It was a flatout lie, but your indifference towards him brought out this serious, no nonsense side of him throughout the game. You just knew, from his shift in demeanour alone, that he was everything you didn’t even know you were looking for. That Chanel necklace shifts against your collarbone now as you continue to shamelessly roll your hips over his thigh. 

“Ew, Jin. Don’t be fucking gross,” Yoongi mumbles. 

You ignore the argument you’ve technically started between his friends and focus on the hard look in your boyfriend’s eyes. Continuing to move your hips at a fast pace, you silently let him know that you’re going to ignore his authority. He did challenge you to a dare after all. His statement wasn’t technically an order. 

Taehyung seems to pick up on your intentions quickly. He pushes his headphones down, letting them rest on his shoulders, and whispers, “you really wanna try that?” His tone has lost some of its power, voice slightly wavering. Cheeks flushed, he almost looks as though this entire situation is more humiliating for him than it would be for you.

Your clit’s in a frenzy, the friction of his bare thigh against your satin, arousal drenched panties setting the bundle of nerves on fire. Tight hole pulsing at the temptation of release, you decide to commit to the challenge and purposefully exaggerate a high-pitched moan. Taehyung smashes his lips into yours to silence you, but it’s too late. The damage is already done and the guys are going crazy over the headset. Yoongi threatens to sue, Jin orders eggs online and Jungkook supposedly regrets his entire existence. 

Your boyfriend disregards the headphones, throwing them somewhere on the couch. Large hand around your neck, Taehyung pulls you off his lap and onto your feet. A whine escapes you at the loss of contact, your orgasm instantly dissipating, but he couldn’t care less. You’ve played too much, taken this too far. His friends have heard more than they should’ve and if you’re willing to put on this much of a show, then that’s exactly what he’s going to do too. 

He tosses his controller somewhere near the headphones, neither of you care too much to know exactly where, as he, too, rises to his feet. His gaze is unforgiving. It tears down whatever confidence you believe you had in possessing the upperhand. 

“Enough games, slut,” he all but spits. Scanning your frame, he licks his lips and shakes his head. He swallows thickly, adam’s apple bobbing, before saying, “you walk out in this little thing and sit on my lap, so I let you. You’re needy and wanna ride my thigh, so I let you. And maybe if you had asked to cum, like I trained you, I would’ve let you.” He tightens his grip on your neck, brushing his nose against yours as his lips tease another kiss. “But you just had to be the little fucking brat you always are, hmm? You wanna cum, baby?”

You nod instantly. 

Taehyung grabs a handful of your ass with his free hand, grunting, “What the fuck did I say about using your words?” 

“Yes, yes sir,” you rasp against the pressure of his large hand around your neck. 

He smirks. A mischievous look swims in his eyes, hints of lust and greed accompanying it. His gaze flickers to your hair, locking in on the matching satin, blue ribbon that holds the majority of your hair back. He pulls an end undone. Your hair falls as he drags the ribbon’s cool fabric against your skin, moving it down your neck and over your shoulder.

His eyes fall to the Chanel necklace, lips tugging into a wider smile. He looks all too calm, too collected. He acts as though he didn’t just grab your throat with one hand and ass with the other. Leaning down, he places a little kiss over the necklace then up your collarbone. 

Throat free of his hold, you inhale a breathful of his suede cinnamon scent. Your skin prickles with excited goosebumps, reveling in his tender affection yet anxious as to why he’s offering it. You’ve just let a majority of his friends know that the two of you were fooling around while they were in the middle of a game.

You read his expression carefully as he looks up at you again. His hands are off your body now, either end of the ribbon pressed between his fingers. “You play these games,” he starts, thumbing your chin tenderly. “But you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. Then, you act all innocent.” His hands fall on your wrists, pulling them behind your back. Using the long ribbon, he tightly bonds your hands together, then lets his fingers graze the curves of your ass. “And then you think you can get away with it.”

Twisting your hands, you try to fight against the ribbon, to test your ability to move and make your disobedience known. Taehyung shoots you a warning glare, holding your chin once more. “But let me tell you a little secret,” he hisses while brushing his nose against yours. For a second, you’re convinced he’s after another kiss but, instead, he presses his face against your cheek and whispers, “I’m tired of your games, babygirl.” 

His hands come down on your ass, the smack echoing in your living room. You cry out a moan but he pays no mind to you or the sounds you make now. You’ve made it all too obvious to his friends what the two of you are up to. He’s done shying away from it. Grabbing handfuls of your ass, Taehyung pushes your body flush against his. You can feel his throbbing hard cock against your stomach, just as desperate for you as you are for him. He looks down at you with a sinister smile, eyes reflecting only unbounded lust that cannot be held back for any longer. 

Turning you around, Taehyung leads you to the side of the couch then bends you over the armrest. Face shoved into the cushions, you can only just breathe. Taehyung delicately rubs the silk, lace trimmed panties. His silence festers an unusual cross of anticipation and arousal in the pit of your stomach, your heart hammering in your chest as a result. Tugging on the side of the panties, Taehyung hums a growl. You shudder from the sound alone and wiggle your hips. He ignores your attempts to entice him, but still falls prey to the shake of your ass, rolling his clothed hips against it. 

“Tae, just fuck me alrea- Ah!” 

A sharp spank cuts you off, jolting your forward. You’re not sure if he even really heard anything you said. Muffled by the cushions, your words could have easily been lost on him. But he didn’t give you permission to speak, and he sure as hell did not authorize the use of his name. Another smack echoes in the room, drawing another moan out of you. 

As Taehyung rubs the stringing area, calloused hands so soft over your sensitive flesh, you can hear a jumble of voices to your right. Shifting in your position, you press your cheek to the pillow of the couch and look to your right. Fallen between the back of the couch and the cushion lies Taehyung’s headset. The red light flashes, letting you know that it’s still on. Their mixed curses and insults are hard to make out, but you know they’re there. 

Still, you can’t find it in you to care too much when Taehyung pulls your panties to the side and cups your dripping heat. You whine at the contact, lips only inches away from the mic. Taehyung notices the headset and bends over you to push it closer to your face. 

“You want them to hear you, right?” he hisses in your ear. His hand retreats from its place on your clit only to return to it with a new degree of force. He slaps you pussy twice more then growls, “Let’em hear you then, baby. Let’em hear you be the bratty slut you are for me.” 

You gasp out moans from the harsh contact, brows furrowed and eyes searching for a way out of this embarrassment. You didn’t care at first, but with their voices so close and the mic pressed against your lips, you can’t help the wave of humiliation that washes over you. 

Parting your lips, you’re prepared to apologize, to take all this back and beg Taehyung to turn the mic off. However, your groveling is immediately replaced by a loud moan. Returning to his previous position, Taehyung pulls out his hard, red-tipped cock and smears his precum between your folds. Pussy lips pulsing, you fist your hands and try not to squeal a moan into the mic. 

“Suddenly so quiet?” 

His large hand clutches onto your tied ones, holding you in place as he slowly pushes himself in. A string of mewls and whines escape you, the sweet burn of the stretch something you never really get tired of. 

While your shame overtakes you, Taehyung’s is nowhere to be found. He lets out a deep groan, slapping your ass just to grab it. “So fucking tight,” he growls, purposefully raising his voice. 

You summon the courage to beg him to turn the mic off once more, ready to play by his rules when he starts to thrust in and out of you. Sharp and fast, he grips onto the fat of your ass and thrusts unforgivingly into you. Frustrated from the humiliation, you decide to call his bluff and give into your sounds. 

“Big, big, big. S-oo big,” you whine. Unashamed, Taehyung continues his actions. He even chuckles at your words, the desperate tone of your voice and the way it breaks with every one of his thrusts. 

High-pitched moan after high-pitched moan leaves you with each of his hard and fast movements. Skin on skin, every clap of his hips meeting your ass mixed with both of your overly loud groans and whines drowns out every one of his friends’ complaints. 

Knots twisting upon each other in the pit of your stomach, you can’t deny that you’re close. Your pussy gripping his huge length, you make it no secret that you’re ready to release. Your legs are already shaking, and whines turn into desperate squeals, shrieking your pleasure to no end.

“You better ask, babygirl,” he warns, voice satoori thick. 

“Yes, sir,” you spit. Sarcasm drips in your tone, frustration in your voice. He lets it slide, convinced you’d follow orders this time. However, you’re dead set on humiliating him as he did you.

 As you feel your orgasm reaching its edge, you clench tightly around his monster of a cock and cry out, “Taehyung.” 

He gasps, gripping your ass to keep himself steady as you gush all over his length. You want to see the look on his face, but your eyes roll back as you lose yourself in your orgasm. Shuddering uncontrollably, crying out his name over and over again into the mic, you adopt his shameless demeanour. 

Taehyung pulls out, not allowing you the privilege of riding out your orgasm. As you huff out a whine, rubbing your legs together to try to regain your high, he pulls you up by your bounded hands and turns you around. One look and you know you’ve done it now. Jaw set, eyes dark, nose flaring, Taehyung has lost all his patience. You should be worried, but he looks too hot when he's angry. 

Pressing your breasts to his chest, you stand on your toes and steal a quick kiss. He gives in for a second or two before pulling you away by a rough grip on your hair. A little whine escapes you and you chew on your lip, watching his eyes swim with confusion. He knows he should be mad, but you can tell he wants to kiss you again. When you lean in for another, his anger sparks back to life. He holds you steady but the grip on your hair then leads you back on the couch.  

“Sit.”

One word orders. You curse under your breath, averting your gaze to the floor as you take a seat. Taehyung lets a smirk play on his lips as he watches you finally behave. His hand, you finally notice, has been working hard on his cock, pumping himself to the same pace of his thrusts in you. 

Rubbing his foot up your calf, he orders, “Open.” You sit back, ignoring the awkward strain of your wrist behind your back and spread your legs. His eyes devour your sweaty, needy body, undressing what little you have on as he continues to get himself off. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you finally say. 

He only groans, running a hand through his blue hair. You open your mouth to explain yourself, but all you taste is his cum. Ropes and ropes of thick white fall over your chin, breasts, and mostly between your legs. He mutters your name as he cums to your submissive state and surprised gasps. Illuminated by the blue screen, Taehyung looks like a sex fiend, ready to take over you once more. As he reaches the end of his high, he doesn’t even take a moment to collect himself. Instead, he pulls up to take your seat and sits you down on his lap. 

Taehyung holds your gaze as he pushes your legs open again. He glances down to your crotch, rolling his eyes and laughing to himself as he examines how his cum perfectly accents the wet mark of your panties. The fabric clings to your folds, drenched in your neediness but covered with his. Your scent hits the both of you and does more for Taehyung than you’ve ever seen. His eyes darken, tongue darts out to lick his lip. He looks ready to devour you, but he knows how much you love his mouth. You both know you’re not getting his lips that easy. 

A sigh escapes him as he pushes your panties aside. You spread your legs wider as the cool air of the living room hits your heat. Taehyung notices your eagerness, you know he does, but he doesn’t meet your desperate gaze with a cocky one. In fact, he doesn’t meet your gaze at all. He continues to stare at your pussy, lips pressed tightly together. While still holding your panties aside, Taehyung uses his thumb to gently scoop some of his cum and rub your clit with it. His hands are so big, the action barely puts any strain on him. 

You gaze down at his fingers, whimpering as he gives you exactly what you want. You love his hands, you’ve told him that countless times. The more he gives into you, the more worried you get. You want to question him, but it feels too good. Hips rolling into his hand, you make no effort to hide your neediness and every effort to ignore the gnawing voice in your head that’s reminding you that all this is supposed to be a punishment. 

Moaning wildly, you lean your forehead against his shoulder, kissing the inked patterns. Taehyung smirks down at you, chuckling to himself as he ups his game. Still using one large hand, he holds back your panties, rubs your clit and now pushes up on your upper pussy fat to get a better hold on your most sensitive part. His thumb works faster, harsher. Growling in your ear, his rough dominance makes a reappearance. 

Body trembling, eyes screwed shut, your hips are moving at a pace you’ve never known they could. You’re desperate to chase this orgasm as fast as you could, worried that he might pull back whenever and leave you edged and semi-satisfied. “S-sir? C-an-”

“Cum.”

Your head snaps up as you return to your previous position. Studying his features carefully, you look for any signs of sarcasm as you try to hold your release back. Meeting your gaze, Taehyung deadpans. Your brows furrow, and desperate squeals return. It’s a clear telltale sign of your nearing oragasm. Having enough of his games, you decide you’re going to cum whether he’s bluffing or not. Throwing your head back, you risk falling off his lap as you scream out your pleasure. Your legs quake, body cultivates as your orgasm rushes through you and your pussy gushes around emptiness. Screwing your eyes tight, you tuck your chin into your chest and press your legs together as his thumb continues it’s blissful rounds around your clit. 

Taehyung watches you rile with pleasure, wrapping his free hand behind you to keep you from falling off the couch. Removing his hand from your pussy, Taehyung pushes your legs apart. You think you’ve snagged yourself a quick breather, but when he slaps your thigh, you find yourself further gushing your arousal and your legs jolting in odd fits of tremors.

Huffing, Taehyung wiggles his hand back into your panties. Without much of a warning, he pushes two long fingers in. There’s not a hint of mercy in his movements. His fingers enter and exit your wet, sensitive hole in fast, hard bouts of force. He cares very little for you squealing moans and pleads for a quick break. 

“I thought you wanted to cum?” He asks. The hand that was once keeping you steady slides up your back and around your throat. He holds you in place by the grip on your neck with light but tightening pressure. “So, cum babygirl.” 

Your legs come together once more and you think that at least he’d let go of your throat to push them apart again, but he doesn’t. Taehyung remains unbothered, unfazed by any of your high-pitched begs and squirming body. The only indication of his pleasure is the occasional grunts of satisfaction at your desperate state and the unmistakable semi-hard yet throbbing cock pressing against the side of your knee. 

Creeping up quickly, you can feel your next orgasm around the corner. Tears prick your eyes as you realize that all his generosity has really been a punishment this entire time. His fingers don’t hesitate to move even faster despite the press of your legs around his hand. 

Taehyung brings your face down to his. He’s smirking fondly at you and your conflicted state of desperately needing to cum and ending all this pleasure at once. He presses a gentle kiss upon your lips, then drags his own across your face. His tongue darts out and swipes up and around your cheeks. He wipes away your tears, staining your face with his spit instead. Dragging his wet, warm tongue over your eyes, Taehyung tightens his grip on your throat. Your moans are mostly muffled now, and raspy against his hold. 

Pussy clamming up around his fingers, squeezing tighter around them, you find yourself on the cusp on your second orgasm. All this from just his fingers. He single handedly unraveled you with very little effort but lots of determination. 

You don’t even bother warning him this time as your second round of arousal gushes all over his fingers. He chuckles darkly against your cheek, only igniting your horny nerves in the form of goosebumps and shaking limbs. Pulling his fingers out of you, Taehyung returns your panties to their place and takes to rubbing your clit over the satin, cum stained fabric. 

As you almost slip off his lap, the hand around your throat shoots back to your hips. Taehyung holds you steady through all your orgasm tremors watching as you squirt all over his thigh and the couch. 

“Ah, shit,” he hisses, rolling his hips against your squirming legs. You fight against the ribbon around your wrists, desperate to push his hand away from your pussy, but you don’t accomplish much besides almost falling off him again. 

“P-pl-ease,” you stutter. The bliss is starting to fade into sparks of pain from the nonstop friction he’s providing. You love it, but you can’t ignore the need for a quick rest, a moment to breathe. “Sir, please!”

Taehyung grunts and finally removes his hand from your crotch. You pull your legs up to your chest, frantically heaving for oxygen. Taehyung dips his head in the crook of your neck, attaching his lips to the most sensitive area and sucking away. Though you feel ruined, completely drained and fucked out, you lean into his touch and let him play around some more. 

Gently, Taehyung holds you close and shifts up. His cum drenched hand reaches behind him and he grabs his phone. You furrow your brows, watching his movements carefully. He peeks a look at the device from under your chin, thumbing his way through the apps until he finds the one he’s looking for. The camera opens up in selfie mode. You stare back at yourself in the TV’s blue glow through the dark screen. You know he loves taking pictures of you like this, a quick keepsake for when he’s on tour and missing you. 

Pushing your breast out, you give him a good shot of your confided tits in the blue lingerie. Taehyung smirks against your jawline as he watches you give your best angles to the camera. He takes a few shots with you then brings the camera down to your cum-stained panties, taking a few photos of your wet slick thighs and ruined lingerie. 

When he’s finally done, he tosses the phone a side and sits you down between his legs. Returning to his gaming stance, Taehyung grabs hold of his headset and puts it on. “Shut up, hyung,” he chuckles into the mic. “You’re just jealous that yours isn’t as hot as mine.” 

Your jaw goes slack as he reaches for his controller. You knew they were listening, and knew he didn’t care, but his response still shocks you all the same. Taehyung pushes the mic down as Yoongi curses him in three different languages and whispers, “Spread’em, baby.”

You furrow your brows. Aflush with anger and humiliation, you question through gritted teeth, “why?”

Taehyung scoffs, rolling his eyes. “They’ll get over it,” he mutters with a new degree of arrogance, as if he himself wasn’t so embarrassed by your moans all those moments ago. “I won’t ask you again.”

You huff and spread your legs, hands still tied behind your back. You can feel his hard cock within your grasp, but don’t dare to make a move for it. Not yet, anyways. 

Pushing your panties aside once more, Taehyung shoves the handle of the controller into your pussy. It’s short but thick. And though it does not fill you as well as his fingers, let alone his huge cock, you still gasp a quiet moan. 

“Yeah, just like that,” he whispers into your ear. “Nice and quiet while I finish up the game. Do you think you can manage that now, babygirl?” Voice as thick and sweet as honey, you can’t help but get lost in it’s trance. 

You nod immediately, quietly mumbling, “yes, sir.”

Taehyung smirks as his tattooed hands make themselves comfortable in the awkward position of the controller. You watch in awe as he plays flawlessly, despite the fact that your pussy is gripping on the other half of the handle. And everytime he loses, his avatar disappears, or misfires, the controller would vibrate, sending sudders up and down your pussy. 

“Sir, please,” you sigh, sounding more desperate than when you started. “Enough games.”

“Just one last round,” he chuckles.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.