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isuckatwritingsobenice · 11 months ago

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Infernal Shadows 03

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it. Carmilla and Velvet feud because I also live for that. I also really favor Zestial for some reason as a calm mediator.

Song for this chapter: Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61

A/N: Thank you all so much for your positive feedback & feedback in general on the last two posts!! I really didn’t think this would catch so much attention but I’m so glad people like it. For some reason Tumblr’s being weird and doesn’t want to let me tag certain people, I don’t know why but if anyone does please let me know because I really don’t like that ;/ But I hope you all enjoy this chapter!! Please note that some blogs cannot be tagged, so I recommend checking this post and to check your settings to make sure I can tag you! If anything I can always just message you when the next chapter comes out, and yes I am making this series longer :) it’ll also be posted on my Wattpad soon!

Word count: 3890

Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote @froggyferrets @frompeach @absurd-ash @sillysillyxinnabun @urdariingdoll @delectableworm @immahuman @justaproudslytherpuff @local-mr-frog @angeli-fucking-cat @coldsweetsenthusiast @jadekomaeda @iaaeav @coffeethoughtsandanxiety @lunalixya @pretty-puppy-stuffies @lemonrolls @asimplikeallyall @lunalixya

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part two. // Part four.

Engaging with guests throughout the night had become an exhausting endeavor, and a part of you yearned for the solace of your absence. Nevertheless, you maintained the façade, acknowledging every sinner whose smile dripped with crimson mischief. Having greeted each guest, you discreetly slipped into a shadowed corner, your shadows enveloping your figure quickly, seamlessly disappearing from the expansive room in mere seconds and emerging into an intimate gazebo outside, meticulously arranged beneath the sweeping branches of a weeping willow, you marveled at its unique ambiance. Unlike the earthly counterparts that stood white, the willow in your realm bore a deep crimson hue, its leaves adorned with a subtle, luminous sheen. A gentle smile graced your lips as you leaned against the sturdy black iron railing, delicately cradling a piece of the weeping willow between your fingertips. In the distance, the grand mansion hosting the gala loomed, its opulence contrasting with the simplicity of your secluded retreat. Despite the awareness of etiquette dictating against leaving guests unattended, the need for a mental break led you to this haven, a safe space for you. Reflecting, you acknowledged a desire for better preparation and rehearsal with the shadows, realizing the repetitiveness of conversations with the familiar sinners had rendered the night somewhat lackluster. It almost felt like you had come out of hiding for nothing. Quite the disappointment.

You sigh, massaging your temples, the lace fabric on your fingertips only slightly soothing the growing headache. However, not too far behind, you hear the sound of soft grass. You straighten up and turn around, seeing none other than your long time friend Zestial, who just smiled, nodding at you.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial inquired, standing by your side with his back against the railing. You resumed your original position, taking a moment to appreciate his father. Mentally noting how much of your grandfather Zestial reminded you of, you kept the sentiment unspoken.

Tonight, Zestial adorned himself in an outfit resonant with his time period, preserving his distinctive color scheme. A dark, meticulously tailored coat with lime green accents draped over his slender frame, capturing the essence of his demonic class. The cloak, adorned with lime green spider webs, unveiled a mesmerizing display when unfurled—his lime green eyes radiating, the upper pair embellished with vivid red irises. Instead of the customary big top hat, Zestial selected a smaller, more appropriate hat with a touch of flair. Dark as the shadows you command, it featured a light grey patch at the front and was finished with a grey-colored skull and a lime green and red-striped feather on the right side, adding a distinctive touch that mirrored his nature.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial repeated, shifting toward you a bit. Yet you resumed your original position, savoring the quiet ambiance before finally answering him. “What shall we discourse upon during our repast this eventide?” Zestial asked. Though his wording occasionally posed a challenge for others, having grown up in a family of eloquent speakers, you easily deciphered his intent. Something he truly appreciated. Though he was learning to speak more ‘modern’, or as modern as he could be.

“Quite unsure of that. Everything is changing, and I fear I might be left behind,” you expressed bluntly. Zestial sighed in response, a mix of understanding and concern evident in his lime green eyes.

“Madame, thou art timeless,” Zestial said with a bow, his cup proofing into smoke. “I pray thee, vex not thyself o’er so trivial a matter,” he added, his words resonating with both reassurance and genuine care.

You nodded, handing him a card. His surprised expression upon finding two cards instead of one didn’t escape you. “What manner of thing is this?” Zestial inquired, prompting you to summon a shadow for yourself, knowing he would find his own means back to the Gala.

“Carmilla. I am no fool to the both of you,” you said, amusement coloring your words as Zestial shook his head.

“Thou dost astonish me on every occasion,” Zestial remarked, standing by your side as you walked into your portal. Two seats vanished, leaving four empty seats at your table and six occupied.

In your study, you floated scripts in front of you, checking off names on the table list for tonight. With a few overlords left to choose from, Alastor and Charlotte secured seats based on trust and connections. Vox, Zestial, and Carmilla, an unspoken but potent couple, promised intrigue. Reconsidering Velvet for her potential devolution, you weighed each decision with strategic acumen.

Valentino, the Von Eldritch twins, and other weaker options were dismissed, maintaining a careful balance of power and influence. As you weigh the option of inviting Rosie to the gathering, her unpredictable nature adds a layer of excitement and potential surprise to the upcoming discussions. However, this unpredictability could also introduce challenges, creating an air of uncertainty around her contributions. Hopefully with Alastor around, she’d feel more inclined to behave. You check her name off the list.

In considering Stolas, the Goetia prince, his personal issues and tarnished reputation pose significant hurdles. Divorcing from his wife, sleeping with an imp for fun, as well as losing control of his daughter on Earth, it all seemed too risky to get involved with. While his wisdom and influence could contribute positively, the shadows of his struggles may complicate the dynamics, stirring potential conflicts and requiring delicate handling. Someone might get out of line with a comment towards him. His power was incredibly useful, but not worth the risk.

Husk’s transformation from a former overlord to a bartender signals a decline in power and status. While his laid-back demeanor might bring a sense of unpredictability, his diminished influence raises questions about the relevance of his involvement in the current political landscape of hell. Though he was your friend, you needed to keep your reputation pristine.

As the you contemplate the overlords assets, a mix of excitement, caution, and uncertainty envelops the decision-making process. Each overlord’s potential positive contributions are balanced by the looming negatives.

“Madame?” One of your shadows materialized, prompting a nod for them to proceed. “There seems to be some trouble in the lobby between the guests. What would you like us to do?” it inquired. A grimace crossed your face, hoping the disturbance wouldn’t mar your night. “Let me handle it,” you declared, snapping your fingers, causing the script to vanish. The shadow nodded, blending back into a wall for you to step through.

Upon reappearing, you assumed the form of a taller shadow. The room surrounded by guests revealed Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla standing in the middle. Zestial, seemingly composed, stood close behind Carmilla, observing the situation. Carmilla appeared visibly upset, with Velvet in proximity, a pointed finger dropping as soon as she noticed your arrival. Alastor maintained his usual wide smile, though it bordered on the eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The scene unfolded, presenting a potential challenge to the serene atmosphere you aimed to maintain during the gala.

Everyone seemed to stop, slowly turning toward you to see your face. Except there was no expression, just the large shadow you had taken form of. In seconds the shadow disappeared, leaving you in the fog, the expression on your face anything but calm.

"Madame I-" Velvet began, but her words were halted by the sight of your lace glove, your hand rising to silence her. Approaching the overlords, you spoke with an air of cold authority.

"My quarters. Now," you commanded, and with a snap of your fingers, smoke enveloped your spot as you vanished. Shadows materialized around the overlords, guiding them to your quarters, leaving the stunned guests in the lobby.

"Well, that was interesting," Valentino remarked.

In your study, the overlords found you seated in your tall, black chair. Its ebony surface featured intricate carvings of black glass, elegant swirls, and patterns tailored to your essence, creating an atmosphere of undeniable authority and refinement.

"I hope you all had fun acting like children," you chided sternly. The overlords lined up, forming a unified front. Leaning against the right side of your chair, you crossed your legs, elbow on the armrest, pinching the bridge of your nose with a sigh. Annoyance laced your words as you questioned, "What did you feel the need to argue about now?" Before Velvet, Vox, and Carmilla could respond simultaneously, you halted them. "One at a time. I'd assume you all handle this like adults, if you even can." The tension in the room hung thick as the overlords awaited their turn to address your inquiry.

“She wants me at her table Vaggie! Me!” Charlotte said excitedly. Vagatha just smiled.

“That’s good! Now you can tell them about the hotel, and maybe someone will be interested.” Vagatha said, and Charlotte just nodded.

“Maybe they-“ Charlotte stopped, observing as people began to crowd around the center of the lobby. Charlotte and Vagatha stood from their spots at the bar to walk toward the center, where the overlords stood. Velvet and Vox were next to each other, while Carmilla, Alastor and Zestial were across. Carmilla and Velvet were face to face. “What’s going on?” Charlotte asked as Vagatha and her pushed their way through the crowds of people.

“Come on, Carmilla, always the mood-killer,” Velvet scoffed, a disrespectful tone tainting her words. Carmilla shot her a stern look, ready to assert her authority.

“Watch that tongue, Velvet. I will not let your insolence slide,” Carmilla retorted, attempting to rein in the escalating tension.

Vox, ever the smooth talker, chimed in, “Ladies, ladies, let’s not turn this into a drama fest. We’re all here for a reason.” Vox said, sternly giving a tight lipped smile to Velvet, silently telling her to keep her shit together.

Carmilla shot a glare at Velvet, who replied with a defiant smirk, “Drama or not, Vox, some of us aren’t here for the ballroom charm.”

Alastor, drawn to the brewing chaos, couldn’t resist adding his flair, “Well, well, a bit of spice never hurt a party, does it?”

Carmilla, unfazed by the chaos, spoke with a calm authority, “Velvet, your insolence is unnecessary. This is not a playground; it’s a gathering of overlords. Act accordingly.”

Velvet, seemingly undeterred, shot back with a dismissive laugh, “Poor Grandma, always trying to play the responsible one. Maybe loosen up a bit? Have a drink will you?”

Vox, ever the smooth talker, added with a slick comment, “Perhaps we can focus on the matters at hand. Save the theatrics for later ladies.”

Alastor, intrigued by the unfolding drama, simply grinned, “Oh the picture box has spoken! Quite intriguing.” The room continued to buzz with tension as each overlord, except Rosie, added their own flavor to the brewing turmoil. As the tension thickened, Vox, with a sly grin, couldn't resist adding his own slick comment to the mix.

"Ah, Alastor, the radio days were quaint, but it seems you're a bit outdated. Television is the future, perhaps you should tune in sometime," he quipped with a wink, the words delivered with a calculated smoothness. The room momentarily hung in a charged silence before the verbal sparring resumed, adding another layer to the complex interplay of personalities at the gala.

With Vox's comment about Alastor being outdated sinking in, the radio demon responded with a sly grin, sharp teeth on display, his eyes displays dials, as the rooms lights began to deepen, "Ah, Vox, your television endeavors are impressive, but remember, I'm not just audible; I'm unforgettable. A little screen time won't change that," he retorted, “This face was made for radio.” He said with a grin, tilting his head to the side, a sharp snap in his neck, his words carrying a mix of amusement and confidence. The verbal exchange between the two overlords added another layer to the already charged atmosphere, each comment becoming a piece in the intricate puzzle of conflicts and egos at the gala.

“See what you did grandma, now you’ve got the two of them fighting.” Velvet said, pointing a finger into Carmella’s chest. She scoffed, shoving her away.

“Don’t you dare get disrespectful on me you brat.” Carmilla said, beginning to heat up with anger.

That's when Madame stepped in, reappearing in the form of a taller shadow, casting a lengthened silhouette in the room brimming with guests. Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla found themselves at the center of the unfolding tableau, and Zestial, seemingly composed, lingered just behind Carmilla, quietly observing the escalating drama. Carmilla's visage betrayed a hint of distress, her pointed finger lowering as she registered your reappearance. Alastor, with his trademark grin, bordered on eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The unfolding scene disrupted the serene atmosphere you had meticulously aimed to maintain during the gala, presenting an unexpected challenge.

A hush fell over the room as everyone turned their gaze toward you, anticipating your reaction. However, your face remained expressionless, concealed within the depths of the large shadow you had taken form of. In mere seconds, the shadow dissipated, leaving you in a misty veil. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, a storm brewed, ready to challenge the delicate balance of the evening.

Now, here you all were, sitting in the study after Carmilla had explained the situation.

“Madame, with all due respect,” Carmilla spoke, looking down. “I truly do not believe Velvet is mature enough to be at our table tonight.” Carmilla said.

“Are you questioning my judgment?” You asked sharply, to which Carmilla stiffened quickly, shaking her head then.

”No Madame, I would never-“

“Then do not say foolish things.” You said. Sighing, you shut your eyes, feeling the weight of the situation. Tonight sensitive information would be revealed and Carmilla did have some point here. Velvet clearly could not hold her tongue.

”Vox, control your associate please, or you both will be cut from the dinner tonight.” You said finally, to which he nodded nervously.

“Of course Madame.” He said, nodding to you.

“I wasn’t finished.” You said, looking to Alastor.

“I want none of this technology talk either.” You spoke, staring at Alastor who just smiled with lidded eyes. You knew he was very much upset, but you had forbidden anyone to fight in your home, anyone but you of course. “You all will act like mature adults wether you like it or not. I am not your guardian, I should not be having this conversation with overlords who should know better.” You said, standing. ”Now, all of you, out.” You said, snapping your fingers. Quickly the shadows began to move, ushering everyone out of your study. Everyone except Carmilla. “Not you.” You said to her, Zestial nodding to you and her as he stepped out, giving you both privacy.

“Madame, I didn’t mean what I said-“ Carmilla said quickly. You waved her off, straightening yourself out.

“Nonsense Carmilla, I know you meant well.” You said with a stoic expression. You sit back down, crossing your legs and snapping your fingers to form a chair in front of your desk, ushering her to sit. “I wanted to speak to you about your weapons.” You stated. At this her eyes went wide, before dropping again.

“Oh, very well then. What would you like to know?” She asked. You grinned, before standing again.

“Well, how much would I need to give you for you to make me a personal bayonet?” You asked. She went silent for a moment, before answering.

“Nothing at all Madame.” She said, standing to look at you. “May I ask what for?” She questioned. You shook your head.

“No, just to have on display. I want a new one, the old one I have is quite out of style for me.” You replied. She just nodded, before you waved to her, sitting back down and summoning a script again. “You may go now, and please, do not argue with children.” You commented. She just smiled and nodded, leaving you to your own vices.

It was half-past eleven, five minutes till the midnight bells chime. Everyone in the lobby was beginning to get excited for the entertainment you had planned for the night. Oh, you knew you would not disappoint.

“Madame would like everyone to accompany her on a journey tonight. She has sent me to retrieve you all. She would like to formally welcome you to tonight’s entertainment.” The large shadow said, standing from the topic of the stairs. Behind it was a large portal. It stepped backwards, into the portal, and nodded for the guests to start coming through.

The custom-built coliseum stands as a testament to Madame's vision, a grand fusion of opulence and dark elegance. The circular structure boasts towering columns, but instead of conventional pillars, thick chains rise, intricately linked and serving as both ornamental decor and structural support. The arches, molded in black, curve gracefully around the circumference, evoking a Victorian Gothic aesthetic that permeates the entire venue.

Two larger-than-life statues of Madame herself flank the entrance, capturing her regal poise and adding a touch of imposing authority. The statues serve not only as decorative elements but as a representation of the gala's hostess, a constant presence overseeing the proceedings, she is always watching, all seeing, perfection.

The overall ambiance is one of grandeur and mystery, with the black molding on the arches casting shadows that play into the darker undertones. Every intricate detail, from the chains to the statues, contributes to the unique Victorian Gothic feel of the coliseum, matching Madame’s home perfectly, matching her perfectly. The venue, finally being unveiled to the guests, now welcomes them who are treated to an appetizer course, surrounded by the striking architecture and entertained within the darkly enchanting atmosphere Madame has meticulously crafted.

Numerous shadows, dark and formless, line the entrance walls, extending silent greetings to the arriving guests. Their presence adds an air of mystique and intrigue as they blend seamlessly with the Gothic architecture. As attendees make their way into the coliseum, these shadowy figures create an ethereal welcome, embodying the unique atmosphere of Madame's custom-built venue.

At a separate entrance reserved for the handpicked members of Madame's esteemed dinner table, a solitary shadow stands guard. This entrance, reserved for a select few, hints at the exclusivity and importance of those who will partake in the upcoming dinner. The shadowy sentinels serve not only as silent greeters but also as guardians of the event's secrets, casting an enigmatic allure over the gala.

A singular shadows escorts Charlotte, Alastor, and the rest of the overlords to the exclusive section, leading them to an elevator to bring them to the best seats in the coliseum. The elevator’s interior is a striking display of elegance, with white and black checkered flooring lending a timeless touch. The walls, enveloped in darkness, exude an air of mystery, while black, smokey glass engravings on the ceiling add intricate detailing that dances in the ambient light. Each number on the elevator, indicating the ascending levels, glows a vibrant red, creating a vivid contrast against the monochrome palette.

“Oh I’m so excited! What do you think we’re gonna see? Gladiators? Sinners fight? Oh actually I hope not, I don’t want people to die.” Charlotte said to Alastor. Carmilla just chuckled at her antics while Zestial eyed her with curiosity. Where did Alastor find such a girl and why the princess of all people?

The elevator stops at the top floor, revealing the opening in the middle, which was surprisingly covered with water.

“What is Madame playing at?” Carmilla questioned as the overlords sat in a row at the top. From there they could see everything and everyone.

“I am quite uncertain, yet my anticipation is stirred nonetheless.” Zestial said. The lights around began to dim, and shadows began to pour glasses of water in front of all the guests. Down in the middle of the coliseum was the tallest shadow, the one that seemed to be Madame’s favorite, since it always spoke for her.

“Greetings all. It is Madame’s pleasure to invite you all to the special entertainment tonight. Madame has put together some of hell’s finest performers for your entertainment tonight. I would like to present, preforming here tonight, The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra preforming Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61.” The shadow said with a bow, before it vanished just as quick as it came. Then, other shadows appeared, but this time they were different. They were people, performers, with clear outlined silhouettes, faces and expressions, even clothes.

“Hey, Al?” Charlotte asked, leaning over in her seat to Alastor. He let out a ‘hm?’ In response.

“Does Madame own those souls down there?” Charlotte whispered, but before Alastor could answer, a shadow had already cut in.

“Yes. All the shadows here, even yours, Madame owns.” The shadow said quietly, filling Charlotte’s glass cup with water. Charlotte nervously, perked up, but said nothing as she shadow carried on with it’s catering.

The ethereal notes of the music filled the air as the performance unfolded. Around the musicians stood ballet dancers, their movements a delicate poetry in motion. Clad in all black, the performers created a stark contrast to the dancers, who emerged with an otherworldly grace akin to figures rising from the depths of water. The dancers moved with an angelic fluidity, their forms intertwining seamlessly with the haunting melody, creating a mesmerizing tableau that captivated the audience. The visual symphony of black-clad musicians and the whisky-hued ballet dancers painted a scene of enchantment and mystery within the grand coliseum. Even down to the dancers, this had Madame written all over it.

Velvet's keen eye captured the essence of the dancers' ethereal movements on paper. With each stroke of her sketch, she depicted the dancers as if emerging from a watery abyss, the fog enveloping their feet creating an illusion of water flowing upward. The intricate details on her sketch paper brought to life the dancers' graceful forms, their figures seemingly intertwined with the rising mist, evoking the enchantment of a waterspout captured in a moment of sublime artistry. Velvet's artistic interpretation added a layer of depth to the performance, transforming the ephemeral dance into a tangible and captivating visual narrative.

Water had begun to swirl, the dancers moving around it, the water getting taller and taller, similar to the way it had when you had first made your entrance at the beginning of the Gala. Now, it was water, and from Charlotte’s seat, she had struggled to make out what was going on. She turned to Alastor to see him holding a pair of opera glasses in his hand. Without you having to ask, he tapped the armrest of her seat. Charlotte turned to the side to see a pair tucked neatly against the front of the armrest. She grabbed them quickly, before looking through them and at the waterspout now forming in the middle. Her jaw flew open, as well as the loud screech of Alastor’s track playing. Vox had short circuited, and Carmilla gasped loudly. Velvet stood silent, but there was evident confusion on her face, while Zestial sunk into his seat, conflicting emotions flowing through him.

“Madame- she’s-“ Charlotte stuttered, and Alastor nodded, swallowing thickly.

“With an exorcist. I know.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin vaggie #hazbin demon #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel rosie #alastor #zestial hazbin hotel #yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor #yandere vox #yandere vox x reader #hellaverse #isuckatwritingsobenice infernal shadows #isuckatwritingsobenice

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the-record · 11 months ago

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☀️ i see the light ☀️

summary: ellie is just trying to hide from the guards when she stumbles apon a tower and a girl with really long hair.

pairing: flynn ryder!ellie williams x rapunzel!reader

warnings: non me things

a/n: i want to thank the oh so lovely @meowmeowtimw for sending me their gorgeous art, and also everyone who anticipated this fic. thank you so much for the love. also, first time doing a taglist, but let me know if you’d like to be added!

this is going to be done in parts bc my tumblr glitches and i dont want to lose any writing and delay this anymore! i have changed it up a bit from the movie to attempt to fit ellie as a character and not feel like im writing out the script but all the iconic moments will be included

you’re not quite sure how she ended up here. knocked out and stuffed in your wardrobe.

earlier, it had just been you and pascal. your mother out fetching ingredients for dinner, your birthday dinner.

she’d shut down your hopes and dreams of seeing the lights you saw every year for your birthday. she called them stars, made you feel fragile and weak. left with a half hearted goodbye.

thats when the girl showed up.

short auburn hair, climbing the tower with arrows. before you knew it, she was passed out on the floor, a frying pan in your hands.

in her bag though, that was the interesting piece. something gold and shiny, crystals decorating the circle. too big to be a bracelet, too beautiful to be a magnifying glass.

you and pascal jumped as your mother called up the tower, a surprise apparently. when you tried bringing up the lights once more, she’d simply laughed, brushing it off. you tried again, but gave up when she yelled, asking for paints.

she left, leaving you alone again. until you weren’t.

a girl, in your window.

now in your chair, tied up with pascal on her shoulder. he licked her ear, once, twice, three times before she jolted awake with a yell.

“what the hell?”

you took a deep breath, still hiding in a shadow.

“struggling… struggling is pointless.”

she looked around, taking in what was holding her down. was it, hair?

“i know why you’re here, and im not afraid of you.” slowly, you stepped into her view. “who are you, and how did you find me?”

“am i wrapped in hair?” the girl gawked at you, struggling under the wraps. “who am i? who are you? this is insane. this is kidnapping, just so you know.”

your face dropped. “you broke in first.”

“and you knocked me out and tied me up! with hair! who even has this much hair?” she groaned as she struggled.

“so you dont know who i am?” you whispered as you stepped closer.

she looked at you incredulously, “are you joking? of course not. can you let me out now?” you nodded as you stopped in front of her.

only now did you really notice her. short auburn hair, tied up at the back. green eyes that matched yours. freckles lining her nose and cheeks. lips slightly cracked and parted.

“ill let you out, if you promise me one thing.” she rolled her eyes but nodded. “every year, on my birthday, there are these lights. my mother told me they were stars, but ive tracked the stars for years.” you turned away and pulled back the curtain to your most recent painting. “they’re floating lights, and you are going to take me to them.” she hesitated but you quickly jumped in. “and if you don’t, say goodbye to your satchel.”

she sighed and relaxed into the chair. “alright, fine.” she smiled as your eyes lit up and you ran to her. “ill take you. but, we’re going my way.” you nodded excitedly as you untangled her from your hair. “and, im ellie by the way.”

“rapunzel.”

she shook out her limbs before standing. “rapunzel? pretty.”

“so you’ve really never been outside the tower before?”

ellie walked slightly ahead with her hands in her pockets, a small smile on her face. she said she knew a place to stop on your way to the kingdom.

you nodded as you took in everything. “she said it was too dangerous for me out here. that id get eaten alive.”

ellie frowned a bit as you spoke. you were definitely a bit ditzy, but smart. you weren’t naive but you noticed the good in everything you’d seen.

“so,” you pulled up beside ellie, nearly bumping her. “how did you find me?”

“i didn’t actually intend to.” she said, looking at you. “i was running, from… some very bad people, and i stumbled apon a pass in the woods. totally by accident. and when i went through it, there it was. the tower.” she watched as you nodded. “i figured id just, go up. i wasnt really thinking someone might be there.”

“obviously.” you teased.

she rolled her eyes, “alright whatever. i just needed somewhere to wait everyone out. and then you came out of nowhere and tried to maim me.”

you gasped, hitting her arm as she laughed. “i thought you were gonna hurt me! what was i supposed to do?”

“okay, fair enough.” you walked in silence for awhile, side by side, hands grazing.

ellie couldn’t help but feel a pull to you. you were kind, and funny. she hadn’t known you very long, but she knew she wanted to know more. and she couldn’t deny your beauty.

she was knocked out of her thoughts as you pointed to a sign in the distance.

snuggly duckling.

taglist: @urcherrr @onlinelesbo @diddiqueen @pedropascalsbbg @dinaismyfavmilf @madislayyy @ellieswilliamsgf @williamellieslilho @iove-bbb @swxxtbnny

#☀️ i see the light ☀️#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams fic #ellie willams the last of us #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams angst #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader

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eetherealgoddess · 8 months ago

Note

Can you make a fem reader whose is a martial artist with a yan bonten but she doesn’t let them get her easily

ik it's been a while y'all but don't worry bc i will be getting through your requests!!

idk much about martial arts so I’m just gonna do my best with the fighting scene. hope you enjoy!

also, why am i more inclined to write when i’m high 😩

ꨄFight For Your Lifeꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten Au

❦You’ve been on the run from your childhood friends❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Fight For Your Life

The platforms of your shoes slap against the wet concrete, puddles of water splashing as you ignore the rain falling on your skin. Your bloody clothes hugging against your body uncomfortably as the street lights glow amongst the dark sky, the empty buildings sitting under as you run past with squinted eyes. Your lips are apart as you take in quick breaths, though you tried to keep the panting steady. The adrenaline running through your veins made it easier to ignore the goosebumps caused by the cold air hitting your dermis and the red liquid running down your nose.

You didn’t know how long it had been since you ran from your totaled car. It was amazing how you slipped away, not expecting the driver of the car to have died on impact. You knew exactly who sent the sheep, snarling as you remember the men you couldn’t seem to escape for long. Although you made it far enough to stay in a motel a great distance away from Japan, you still had a long way to go.

I’m so tired of this shit.

It’s frustrating having to travel from place to place, continuously spending a limited amount of money just to be free from the grasp of the yakuza. If you would’ve known that you would be abducted as an adult by your childhood friends who disappeared without any warning, you wouldn’t have become close to them in the first place. To have been so devoted to them and the rest of the gang, only for them to abandon you and reappear without warning, snatching you up and treating you as property rather than a person, murdering most of your loved ones without a care of how that could affect you. Not only is the situation painful but demeaning. How could they treat you like that? No explanation for the disappearance nor the behavior, not that you needed it. Who they are now explains everything you need to know.

Ignoring the tightness of your chest became harder as you slowed your pace, halting your movements before bending over, hands on your knees. You gripped the fabric of your pants as your eyes closed, head dropping as you struggled to steady your breathing. Your tears of frustration mix with the droplets of rain, finally lifting your body and rubbing your sleeve against your eyes, only for the moisture to return.

Your eyes widen as bright lights flash behind you before you swiftly turn your body to face the car speeding toward you. The loud engine roars as the vehicle darts down the hill through the fog. You search around your surroundings for a good hiding spot amongst the empty stores. You huff before running behind a structure closest to you. You find a dumpster, cursing as you open it and climb in, ignoring your discomfort for bacteria as you cover your nose and close yourself into the darkness, praying to not feel anything crawling on you as you rub your face with both hands, smearing the blood from your nose.

You breathe in through your nose and release from your mouth, ignoring the overwhelming stench as you listen for anyone close. The pouring rain made it difficult to hear any footsteps if someone were to walk near. You closed your eyes as you pant into your cupped hands quietly. You patiently stay in your spot for what feels like a while, planning to hide in the dumpster all night long if you have to. The phone you bought when you ran from Bonten was lost in the wreck, hidden behind the broken machinery and shattered glass so you had no way to contact anyone to help, not that you knew anyone. You also didn’t know if the police would help you anyway considering Bonten has some of them wrapped around their fingers.

The top of the dumpster is snatched open, rain pouring as the sound of your screaming covers the droplets landing on the full sacks of trash. You struggle against the hold on your wrist as you’re yanked out of the hiding place, feet meeting the ground.

“The more you struggle the harder this will be for you!” The man growled, attempting to hold you in place. When he pulls you toward him with his grip tightening, you straighten your posture before pulling your head back and slamming it against his forehead causing him to release you as he grabs his head in pain. Running on nothing but adrenaline, you dash away from the man as you ignore the throbbing ache of your head, only to run in the direction of two more men speeding towards you.

“Shit!” You hiss before turning back around.

“Get her idiot or it’ll be our asses!” One of the men exclaimed on his way toward you as he faced the original male whose face is still scrunched in pain.

Just as you were about to pass the man who attacked you, he reached for you in which you dodged before continuing to make your escape. Before you could succeed, you are snatched by the collar of your top and yanked back. You gasp as you feel the sting from the sudden pressure on your neck, though your shock doesn’t last long.

“Gotcha you bit-!” He grunts and bends over, releasing you in the process when you elbow his stomach with as much strength as you could muster, so much so you release your own throated shriek. Before you could run the next man comes forth, pulling his arm back before landing a punch on your cheek. Your face hangs to the side in reflex as your palm immediately meets your cheek, eyes wide as you wince in pain.

Before he could make another move, you use your fist to back hand the man’s face before landing a punch on his cheek with the same arm, his body wobbling back as he tries to keep balance. You shove him just as the third male comes to ambush you from the side, both of you landing painfully on the ground with you at the bottom. The puddle of water mixed with dirt and grime splashes as you thrash in his hold as he grasps your wrists and forces them next to your head, squeezing as you howl in agony.

Seeing an opening all the while your face is scrunched with fresh blood oozing down your cheek, you take the opportunity to knee the man’s midsection. His eyes widen as his grip loosens, mouth hanging open with a silent scream. You make eye contact before shoving him off of you. Before you can pick yourself up, the original man places the platform of his shoe on your stomach before pressing down hard. Your nails claw at his covered ankles as he glares down at you with a smirk.

“Oh? What is this?” You watch as the color drains from the man’s face. Your own eyes widen at the realization that you had just been caught.

Your head slowly turns to the side, your own eyes meeting two pairs of purple orbs. A certain mullet haired man tsked as he stood in place, flicking the cigarette butt from his fingers before lifting the black gun held by his other hand. A blaring shot echoed in the air, your eyelids met just in time before the red liquid could splatter in your eyes.

As a result, a weight was lifted off of your stomach as you opened your eyes, watching as the other two men had an expression of bewilderment, freezing in their spots as they watched the bloody corpse drop to the ground, pieces of the brain and skull lying all around the wet ground. You stare at the situation with wide eyes as you slowly sit up, leaning on your trembling arms as you watch both males take a step back with their hands in surrender.

“Come on boys, don’t cower on us now.” The tall man says, running his fingers through his short streaked hair, a sly smile on his face as his other hand holds the black umbrella both him and his brother stood under.

“Pathetic.” Rin states before he turns on his heel, slowly walking away from the scene, Ran follows alongside. They don’t give you another glance.

Escaping your trance, you went to jump up, only for your arms to be grabbed by the two men. You thrash as your feet lifts from the ground, your biceps slightly sliding against their wet hands as the rain continues pouring. You didn’t stop your struggle even when nearing the familiar black suv that caused your heart beat to accelerate. Sweat mixed with the droplets sliding against your forehead as the pressure in your chest became more prominent the closer you got to your entrapment. You pull your arms with all your might against the growling males’ holds, attempting to use your feet to kick them, only for them to dodge and grips tighten.

“Don’t do this.” You plead, bargaining for your freedom.

“We got no choice, lady.” The guy on your left responded.

“You have to have a wife or daughter or something, guys! Please!” Your eyes burn with moisture caused by frustration, your eyebrows furrow as you glance between the men who hold you.

“Shut up!” The guy on your right hissed. “We’re doing this to keep them safe. Your well being is worth nothing to us so just accept your fate.”

Your head hangs low as you’re dragged to the car, the tinted window rolling down as a blur of white reaches your peripheral, right before the men holding you halt in front of the vehicle. You hear footsteps before a tight grip reaches your chin, forcing you to meet golden eyes that seem to glow through the rainy night. A blonde strand hanging on the left side of his face, the rest of his black locks pulled back in a messy ponytail. His empty orbs bore into you as you seem to internally cower from the strange expression.

Your discomfort increases as time goes on, the sound of the rain hitting the pavement masking the silence as you continue to hold eye contact. The corners of his lips curve upward before you can comprehend his next move. The tight grip released on your left arm before you hear a thud against the ground. Your eyes widened as you eye the injured male, turning your gaze back to the man who gives a sheepish smile, rubbing his bruised knuckles as he chuckled.

“You really know how to make a guy angry, Y/n.” He scratched the back of his neck before looking to the side as his smile dropped. “Running off like that wasn’t cool.”

You scoff before shaking your head angrily. You couldn’t believe his deflecting. They treat you like a pet. It’s degrading and abusive. The lack of respect as close as they were before is disgusting. Before you could respond, the cocking of a gun snatched your attention away from the tiger tattooed male in front of you and towards a certain pink haired man who now stood outside of the car. The barrel of his gun aimed right at your torso, your body tightening as you lose your breath.

His scars stretch as he snarls shifting his aim quickly before pulling the trigger. A loud shot rings out, echoing throughout the empty street. Your breathing slows down as the pounding of your heart is the only sound you can hear, followed by a ringing in your ears as the final grip releases you to the ground. The water pellets fall on your face as you feel pressure on your front as you stare at the sky, a warm liquid forming under your torso as your lips hang slightly apart.

You barely hear the car doors opening as your hearing goes in and out, five figures hovering over you as they observe your figure. Crouching down closest to your face, the platinum haired male who gives you an expression of emptiness uses a hand to caress the left side of your face, thumb tracing your temple. He leans over, his warm breath connecting with your ear.

“If you won’t let me have you, death will.”

As your hearing comes back and vision clears you watch as the men with solemn gazes turn and leave your vicinity. Mikey pulls back before picking himself up and following his men. You listen as you hear footsteps fade and the car doors open and close. The engine roars before they speed away, leaving you on the wet street.

You were in slight shock considering you couldn’t believe you had just been shot. You knew they were capable of it but the thought of yourself being murdered is unsettling. You stay on the ground for a moment, relieving yourself of the panic attack you just had before you slowly sit up and eye your surroundings. Seeing nobody in the area, you look down and pull your shirt up, grabbing the busted sack that once held fake blood from your cushioned vest. Staring at the sack you took a deep breath before releasing.

This is perfect because now they think I’m dead.

Although you were surprised about the gunshot, you wore a bulletproof vest, along with the fake blood sacks since you had escaped because you knew that there was a chance you might die trying to leave them. Your hands couldn’t help the trembling as you eyed the bloody puddle under you. Seeming to escape the trance, you hopped up from your seat and began to walk in the opposite direction from where you came.

The car’s atmosphere was thick with tension and grief. Although all the men held the same stoic and zoned out expression, their emotions were going haywire with their decision to kill you. Do they regret it? No. They don’t regret it as your punishment nor as a blockage for you to be able to move on without them. Do they wish you had just listened so it wouldn’t come to this? Indeed. Kazutora wipes the stray tear as his head turns to the side, eyebrows furrowed as he leans back in his seat with crossed arms and a crossed leg. Sanzu slowly cleans the gun used to take your life, wiping in slow yet rough strokes, all the while trying to focus on everything but the memory of your body landing on the ground. Now that his anger was gone, he lacked the adrenaline he had originally.

The Haitani brothers sit next to each other in the back of the black suv, Ran smoking a cigar with a tired expression as well as Rin removing a flask from his suit’s jacket and throwing his head back for a good sip. Mikey sat in the passenger’s seat, eyeing through the windshield with nothing but an empty void filling the inside of his chest. He feels nothing and everything at the same time. You used to be so close to all of them. It was a shame but he knew that he couldn’t allow you to live without him. You chose this. This is your fault.

A sudden ringing interrupts everyone as Mikey grabs the phone and hands it to Kakucho who uses one hand to direct the wheel.

“Hello?”

“You what?!”

Everyone’s eyebrows furrow at his reaction. He lowers the phone before handing it to Mikey with a concerned expression. Mikey sets the phone on his ear as he listens to the other person.

“Boss, her body is gone. She’s nowhere to be found.” Kokonoi says as he crouches down to get a closer look at the busted sack. Using a gloved hand to pick it up before it hangs from his fingers and the remaining liquid leaks.

“I have a feeling she faked her death and has escaped.”

Mikey stares ahead with a more focused expression, his eyes slightly wider than usual as he narrows his gaze.

“Find her, now.”

You eye the two lines with wide eyes. Your hands tremble as your fingers barely hold up the test.

“I-I’m pregnant?!” You hiss. You hop from the toilet and slam open the stall door, tossing it into the trash before walking to the sink and recollecting your memory as you try to search for how this could’ve happened because you genuinely had no remembrance of any sexual encounter in the last few months.

“I-I can’t feel…” The tingling in your limbs causes them to limp as you attempt to move your body around, though hands around your wrists prevent you from budging. Legs sit in between yours as the person on top of you leans over to your ear.

“How much of a dosage did you give her this time, Sanzu?” Kazutora asks before he licks a slow trail from your neck to your ear. You squirm under him as you try to find an escape before your body slightly shuts down and you become still as your eyes become heavier.

“G-guys…” You whisper, trying to come back to reality as you feel him adjust on top of you. Your mouth hangs open in a silent grunt as you feel a firm pressure enter your vagina.

“Enough.” The blue eyed male responds while rubbing his thumb along your forehead, taking in your scrunched nosed expression as Kazutora slowly thrusts into you.

“Fuck.” He whispers as he pressed his cock against your cervix, holding it there as his hands snake to the back of your head and neck, squeezing before he pulls his hips back to repeat the same process.

You shut your eyes tight as the girth stretches you, a stinging sensation surrounding your core before your pussy engulfs his cock perfectly. The pain switched to a conflicting pleasure that your own drugged body couldn’t handle. Your head falls back as Sanzu leans over and pulls you into a heated kiss, while Kazutora holds you tightly, his head on the other side of your neck as he accelerates his pace, hips rocking in a steady rhythm purposefully aiming deep against your g-spot.

Ran watched the display to the side with his brother, enjoying the show as they patiently waited for their turn with Bonten’s signature doll. He man - spreads while sitting with his arms resting against the top of the sofa, one arm slightly behind Rin who has his arms crossed. Both brothers ignore their erections as their pants become tighter, listening to the sounds you make as well as the juices colliding.

Mikey sits in a chair, similar to a throne next to the sofa, eyeing the session with his legs spread, leaning over to where his arms rest on his legs. From this angle, you both make eye contact when Sanzu pulls back.

“P-please stop!” You whine out as tears fall, hoping for Mikey to take control of the situation. Unfortunately, the only response you get are Sanzu’s thumbs smearing your tears and groaning from Kazutora in your ear.

Suddenly, he stops his thrusting and pulls back. He sets your legs on his shoulders as he looks down at you with a glazed over expression, red covering his face along with sweat as he repositions himself before leaning over your thighs and thrusting hard. His pace accelerates once more as he brings you both closer to your release. His forehead rests on yours as he thrusts his hips rhythmically against you. His cock slides in and nearly out of your walls as the head kisses your g-spot repeatedly.

“You're taking his cock so well, sweet girl.” The pink haired male whispers against your ear before nibbling the lobe, his hand sliding on your chest towards your neck before circling his fingers around the surface and slightly squeezing. The stimulation becomes too much, the sensation overwhelming as it mixes with the effects of the drug. Your hips meet his deep thrusts as you cry out.

“So. *thrust* Fucking. *thrust* Good, baby.” Kazutora’s raspy soft spoken words meet your ear as his eyes bore into yours. Biting his lip, he watches as your hands meet his chest as his grip tightens on your legs, along with the thrusts forcing you into having a violent orgasm along with sending him into his own as he moans out your name and his hips move sloppily, riding out both of your orgasms as sweat drips from your skin.

Your hand shakily reached your mouth as you recall when they would drug you up and proceed with sexual acts against your will. You have no clue which of them would even be the father. You knew you had to figure something out but you just didn’t know what. You quickly leave the public restroom and ask to use the cashier’s phone. Once you dial the number, you set it to your ear.

“Draken? C-can you please help me?”

“Ugh, girl come here!” You sigh as you eye the mess left from the little devil.

“What is this?” You question your child, eyeing her golden eyes as you point at the red paint that spilled all over your carpet.

“U-uh, I don’t know mama.” The eight year old responds with a cheeky smile. You shake your head, irritated because of the mess but you breathe out a sigh considering the paint is washable and will be able to be cleaned.

“Yeah, okay. You’re gonna help me clean this up.” You shake your head as your daughter nods. You chuckle to yourself before stating, “And don’t try to lie to me anymore, I can see right through you.”

Your daughter shrugs before leaving to grab some of the supplies. You couldn’t believe how much she grew to look like Kazutora. It was haunting and hard to deal with at times but she had nothing to do with it so the love for your child was enough distraction from how she was created. Before you could follow and help her, you heard a knock on your door. Your eyebrows furrow, not expecting anyone to have appeared so you ignore it.

Once the knocks stop, the ringing of your phone catches your attention. You snatch the device from your pocket and lift it to your ear.

“Hello?” You say to the unknown number.

“You have something of mine, and I’ve come to get it.” Before you could react, your windows were shattered as you crouched down and covered yourself. Immediately going into action, you run to the storage closet in the hallway to grab your child.

“Mama?” She cries out in surprise at the commotion.

“We have to go now!” You snatched her with one hand and pressed a contact with another.

“D-Draken! They broke i-!” Before you could finish, the phone was knocked out of your hand and you were forced to the ground, releasing your child in the process as she’s snatched by a person you hadn’t wanted to see.

“Awe, you really do have my eyes.” Kazutora says warmly with a smile as he holds your child in his arms, the poor girl crying in confusion and fear.

You're cuffed before you’re forced to stand up and face five of the men you never wanted to see.

“M-Mikey, please! She needs me! Don’t t-take her from me!” You yell in hopelessness, the tears falling uncontrollably as you watch Kazutora caress your daughter’s hair. The leader only stares down at you before turning on his heel and walking away, motioning for the other men to snatch you and follow.

“Wow, Y/n. You know, you really had us fooled.” Rin says as he grabs one arm. Ran stands on the other side and mimics his brother’s hold on the opposite arm.

“It’s silly really. We knew only an hour after you escaped and followed you up until this point.”

“You should be thanking the king for not killing you on the spot.” Sanzu growls with his head turned slightly back to make eye contact with you.

“On the bright side we can all be a family, now.” Kazutora beamed.

Truth be told though they would never say it out loud, they were all thankful that you hadn’t actually died. They found it humorous that you thought you could escape their radar at all. Now having been caught, you could only stare ahead, in hopes that if you comply, you could possibly come up with a plan to safely take your child and completely leave your past behind.

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enchantedescapist · 9 months ago

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Unveiling Desires

Theodore Nott x Ravenclaw! reader

MY FIRST FIC ON TUMBLR. English is not my first language so be kind luvss , No warnings yet..just fluff Enjoy!💗

You and Theodore had always shared a complicated relationship.... From the moment you first laid eyes on each other in Potions class, there was an undeniable tension between you. But neither of you dared to acknowledge it, opting instead to exchange snide remarks and cold glares whenever your paths crossed.Despite your best efforts to ignore him, Theodore seemed to be everywhere you turned. Whether it was in the library or the courtyard, he was always there, a constant presence that you couldn't shake off.

It was during one of those chance encounters, in the library this time ... You were buried in a pile of books, trying to finish an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts when Theodore sauntered in, looking equally engrossed in his own work.

You tried to focus on your parchment, but his presence was distracting, to say the least. Every time you glanced up, you found him stealing glances in your direction, his expression unreadable like always.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, you slammed your quill down and turned to him, annoyance evident in your voice. "What do you want, Nott?"

He raised an eyebrow, acting nonchalant. "Just studying, same as you."

You rolled your eyes, not buying his act for a second. "Right, because you're such a model student"says sarcastically and sighs "Why do you even have to study on the same table as me when the whole library is empty"

Theodore chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Well darling , maybe I just enjoy the view from this side of the table"

You let out an exasperated sigh hiding the effect he has on you. "Or maybe you just enjoy tormenting me."

He leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Now, why would I ever do that?" visibly enjoying the banter.

You shot him a pointed look, not buying his innocent act for a second. "Because you're Theodore Nott, the slytherin manwhore desperate for attention."

He laughed, the sound sending a flutter through your chest that you quickly squashed. "Touché. But in all seriousness, I'm here because your company is much more interesting than the solitude of an empty library and i am sure you enjoy my company as much"

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Is that so?"says while praying he won't notice the blush on your cheeks.

Theodore nodded, his piercing blue eyes locking with yours in a way that made your heart skip a beat. "Absolutely. Besides, why would i lose to witness your delightful eye rolls and annoying sighs?"

You couldn't help but smile despite yourself, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his words. "You're impossible, you know that?"

He grinned, flashing you a roguish smile that made your stomach do somersaults. "Guilty as charged."

You felt a flush creeping up your neck at his proximity, cursing yourself for letting him get to you like this. "Well, as long as you're aware of it." you insisted, though the words sounded weak even to your own ears.

He grinned, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "Now you will excuse me love cause i really enjoy the teasing but as a dedicated beater i have a quidditch practise to attend,see you later."

With that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face, Theodore gathered up his books,winked and sauntered out of the library, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a newfound sense of confusion.

As the days passed, you couldn't shake the memory of that encounter from your mind. And try as you might, you couldn't deny the growing attraction you felt towards Theodore Nott, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

It all came to a head at the evening during a Ravenclaw-Slytherin Quidditch match. You were cheering on your house team from the stands when you noticed Theodore winking at someone that was not you, while following his gaze you notice he winked at a girl from Slytherin.

A pang of jealousy shot through you at the sight, catching you off guard. You tried to brush it off, reminding yourself that you had no claim over Theodore, but the feeling lingered, refusing to be ignored.

After the game full of jealousy and anger at the loss of your team ,before you knew it, you were marching down the pitch towards him ready to confess, determination fueling your steps. When you reached him, you grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn and face you.

"Well, well, what's got you charging at me like a Hippogriff on a rampage?" he asked with an annoying smirk, his eyes dancing with a sarcastic amusement.

You opened your mouth to deny it, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you found yourself blurting out the truth."Don't play dumb, Nott. I saw you eyeing that Slytherin girl during the match."

His smirk widened, and he leaned back slightly, as if reveling in your annoyance. "Oh, did you now? And here I thought you were too focused on your own team's loss to notice."

Sighs on frustration . "This isn't a joke, Theodore and dont try to change the subject what kind of player is flirting literally during the game huh."says while suddenly pretends that the reason of this outburst is his unprofessional wink during the game.

He shrugged innocently, though you could see a hint of amusement in his eyes. "And what if I was? Are you jealous?"

You huffed, trying to mask the twinge of envy that gnawed at you. "N-! And what if i was?!" feeling the heat more and more with every passing minute.

Theodore's eyebrows shot up, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, you really are jealous! Wait, why would you be jealous?"

You scowled, shoving your hands into your pockets and avoiding his gaze."I'm not jea—" Before you could finish your sentence, Theodore's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him. Before you could protest, his lips crashed against yours in a sudden, passionate kiss.

Your eyes widened in surprise at first, but then you found yourself melting into the kiss, your hands instinctively finding their way to his chest. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of his lips against yours and the rapid beating of your heart.

When Theodore finally pulled away, you were left breathless, your mind reeling from the sudden turn of events. He smirked down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"You don't have to be, you know." he said, his voice low and husky. "All this tention...there's this constant craving that I can't shake off. No matter how much I try to resist, you're the one I yearn for, the one I ache for in the depths of my soul. You're the temptation I can't really resist."

You could only nod dumbly and look at hin in awe, still trying to process what had just happened. But as Theodore took your hand chuckling and led you away from the crowded pitch, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to this complicated relationship than you had ever imagined.

If you liked this fic please repost it!

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genericpuff · 5 months ago

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no stop this article is too funny

this is from 2020 and while it talks about webtoons in general as a platform and medium, there's an excerpt from Rachel that's ironically and hilariously telling on herself when it comes to her priorities as a creator and how her work has aged incredibly poorly in the past 4 years:

She may as well just be saying, "I like Webtoon because they don't have any quality control" and "the trad publishing market had standards that I couldn't live up to, so instead of actually trying to live up to them, I went with a platform that has zero standards and was willing to make me into the standard regardless of my own qualifications and lack thereof."

Like y'all, take this as advice from someone who's had their fair share of rejection letters... the print industry dumping your unsolicited portfolio in the bin isn't gatekeeping, it's the nature of the business. The way Rachel describes it here - albeit I'm sure it's simplified for the sake of being an interview answer, but still - makes it sound like she was just expecting to walk right into the trad publishing market without an agent, without a completed manuscript or pitch, without any professional representation, and just slam her portfolio of mid-2000's art on the desk expecting them to hire her on the spot.

Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of barriers that prevent people from getting into the trad market, hurdles that can often be outright unfair (lacking the funds, lacking the connections, etc.) but... there's also a reason many of those barriers are there in practice.

First of all, fun fact: the reason why many publishers don't take unsolicited manuscripts isn't just to help them filter out the spam and low-effort submissions and prevent an overload of submissions (because if they took submissions from anyone and everyone, the overviewing system would break entirely), but it's also for legal purposes so that they don't get sued. Because if Joe Chucklefuck sends in an unsolicited manuscript that just so happens to include a plot point about the multiverse, and then a new book series or movie comes out that is about the multiverse, Joe Chucklefuck might get the sense they're being stolen from and attempt to sue them for plagiarism. This is why it's stressed so much by publishers that any unsolicited manuscripts will not just go unread, but will be thrown straight into the bin.

But second, many publishers simply don't want to take the financial risks on random start-up creators whose only experience is running their own personal projects on Tumblr, much less personal projects like Rachel's, half of which are fetish-content and all of which are unfinished. Of course they weren't gonna take Rachel seriously back then, she hadn't done anything to build up her presence in the industry.

In that sense, yes, self-publishing or pursuing a platform gig like Webtoons probably was Rachel's next best option which would be perfectly acceptable on its own, but it's just so, so telling that she thinks it's a "perk" for Webtoons to lack so much in the way of quality control, and we would ironically see the glaring evidence of that "perk" 3-4 years later in LO's final season when every single element of it as a "professional" piece of work turned to shit. It's no wonder she liked Webtoons in 2020 for letting her do anything she wanted, because what she wanted absolutely would not fly with an actual editor and publishing agency that cared about putting out a polished piece of work. The only way she was able to get "in" with a professional publisher was through Del Rey after Webtoons brokered a deal for her to have LO put into print, and even that level of prestige can't hide the fact that LO sucks ass in print. It's almost like under normal circumstances and without Webtoons carrying her on their shoulders above every other creator on the platform - many of whom actually do have experience in both tradpub and self-publishing - Del Rey wouldn't have paid her any attention. Without Webtoons, no one would take her seriously because she doesn't take what she does seriously, and it shows in her priorities as a creator who simply wants to just do whatever she wants without any sort of reasonable oversight like research or editing which are, again, necessary expectations within the tradpub industry, because it's not just about being a free-thinking self-expressive artist anymore in that industry - it's a business.

Of course, Rachel is probably now laughing from her soapbox over the fact that she now technically helps run an imprint, so haha "poo on the meanie trad market", but considering that imprint has still not launched and has been put on the same "coming soon" track that the LO television show has been on for the past 4+ years on a loop, I'm not holding my breath that it's actually going to amount to anything substantial.

(gotta love how they asked if Rachel was gonna create any more stories and her answer was RSP, which will help other creators bring their stories to life. so at best she didn't answer the question which is nothing new for her, at worst she gave away the fact that she's gonna be acting as some kind of producer who will be given all the credit and praise for other creator's works and efforts lmao no thankssss)

And god knows what the quality control of this imprint is gonna be like if Rachel's attitude toward the trad market overall is, "Nooo they won't let me do what I wantttt :((((" when she admittedly never even broke into the trad market to begin with and had zero experience working within that industry prior to LO.

And even then, Webtoons still doesn't give her as much freedom of choice as she claims to have. I mean ffs, this is the same person whose moderators stated that the Swarovski crystal dress from the finale was done as a "fuck you" to Webtoons for not letting her draw Persephone nude all the time.

She's obviously still being prevented from doing what she wants to do, when a lot of what she wants to do is better off not passing the vibe check and making it into the comic.

Quality control exists for a reason, Rachel. And "letting you do what you want" isn't necessarily a "flex" that Webtoons can claim over trad publishing when that "flex" is forgoing the traditional barriers that would usually prevent someone like you from failing upwards into manufactured fame the way that you have.

And that's my big bag of cents on that.

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus

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gettinontopic · 5 months ago

Text

This is so transphobic like what the hell is this

↓Screenshot↓

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[Image Id: A large addition to a tumblr poat reading "Also if I'm going to be honest, passing as a man is also just easier than passing as a woman. The rules to being a man and passing as a man are much more lenient than being a woman or passing as a woman. Trans women have to worry about shit like "I need to wear an outfit that distracts people from the fact I have an adams apple, and not allow people to see that I have shoulders, and learn makeup and basically become a voice actor and etc. and maybe I won't be called a man today" (and if you pass too well and the wrong cis guy feels guilty about being attracted to you, you get murdered meanwhile if you're a trans guy and you wanna pass as a man, you gotta like have short hair and hide or remove your boobs and at this point you can already just go to the grocery store and most people will see you as a man. Once you get facial hair and a deeper voice, most people will just see you as some guy. Like I don't understand why transmascs insist on this idea that they could never really pass. Like the idea that trans man who passes is almost far-fetched. Weird as hell." End Id]

Lets upack this shall we?

1."Passing as a man is easier than passing as a woman"

No it's not. The rules to being a man and passing as a men as strict as lots of rules for women. Have you ever seen a cis guys who fails to pass? They're called names, theyre physically beat, and theyre often ostracized from their cis peers just as fast as any trans person. Cis boys cant even pass half the time by the rules they made. Quit fucking lying about men just magically having it so easy.

Your experiences as passing as a man aren't universal and if you've never passed as one what makes you think it's fucking easy?

Also god forbid you're a black man, or a black man who is into something deemed feminine. Shit I've seen guys call black men women for wearing a damn hair bonnet.

Oh not to mention I'm only a man to transphobes when they can call me a "dangerous black man" only to switch back to tryibg to detransition me by saying "you can just be a masc girl!"

2.Adams apple

While you have to hide yours, I have to wear shit that distracts people that I *don't* have one. Cause, and I know this is wild, if they expect you not to have one for being a women, what do they expect me to have for being a man? Hmm? And if you're a man who's adams apple never came in? I've seen them called girls to. Shit I've heard a guy called not manly for missing his, and he was still in puberty!!

3.Shoulders

While you have to hide you shoulders, I have to do whatever I can to have the.. small shoulders on men? maybe if youre in a "non manly" field like music or art, but I do gym work. I better look likeit regardless of the disability that effacts my muscles growth and development or I am called maam by every guy there. Which sucks btw.

4. Makeup and voice acting:

Trans men also are regularly advised to wear makeup that masculinizes them and do voice training. thats some of our oldest passing tips. thats litterally never been unique to trans women. what the FUCK kinda of implications are you trying to put out here?

5. Murder:

Hey did you know cis guys will murder trans men bc they were attracted to them and then found out they werent "real men" and then kill them. shit cis women also kill us if they find out they were attracted to us and we aren't their ideal man anymore. do u know how men who hear im butch and into women behave?

Fuck right the fuck off trying to tokenize the murder lf trans women while throwing trans men murders in the "that doesn't happen" bin.

6. How many times have we said short hair and no boobs dont fucking automatically gets us gendered correcly!! We have voices that have to be trained, we have muscles were expected to build,and some men even watch the way you walk to guess if you have a dick or not.

Listen to any trans men. any of us for five minutes. those things do not making an easily passing trans man fuck you for lying about our experiences as not a trans man.

7. "You gotta like have short hair or remove your boobs"

Untrue! just Untrue. we also have to preform the rules of manhood really well. ive seen beareded transmen clocked for like so many different other reasons and you wouldn't listen to those men if it would save all trans people lives forever. cis men constantly dig at other men presentation to keep each other in line. Its a regular for them.

Also: not all of want to pass with those features. I deserve to have long hair and not bind and still pass as a man and you suck for defining everything around passing.

8. I don't know why you insist on this idea that trans women never really pass without obscene work (when ive met trans women that admit they have it easy by throwing on a dress and wearing her hair down) and that all trans men who have ascess to transition magically do pass (When multiple of us transitioning have said we dont)

If we can't talk about the ones who don't pass then you kinda can just sweep away the idea we don't face discrimination or danger and that's getting us killed actually.

None of us have said we can all never really pass any who say they can't are usually speaking on their own experiences. Because you want us all to pass so bad you don't care that we don't, and that it gets us backlash and hurt.

Also, if you ever read this, kiss my black ass and go reevaluate what makes you think you should speak on experiences that aint yours as if you're the one with the Hard Cold Facts.

#transandrophobia #transphobia #this is just fucking piassing me off #why lie #just talk about your own experiences and stop pretending they cant apply anywhere else #this took me way to long to get back to #thank u to the person who did the image id for me it helped a ton #has id #anti transmasculinity #transmisandry

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artdcnaldson · 6 months ago

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so what happens patrick is back from tour and visiting and you're all at his big mansion for a weekend and you're making art absolutely fucking miserable because you keep treading a thin line - flashing your panties to art from behind patrick so he cant see - clinging to arts arm and when patrick asks when you got so close all the sudden you giggle and arts heart nearly drops out of his ass but you just say its because hes been so helpful on campus! he even told off a bully for you! - art could strangle you, you think this is a game like patrick wont literally break his teeth if he finds out and why is that so fucking funny to you?

he ends up cornering you in a moment alone - when you're coming out of the shower and patricks doing something else - he slips into the bathroom - locks it. backs you up against the sink counter when you're in just a towel and you're so excited but art looks furious - and not the horny kind of mad he gets before he caves and touches you - the genuine anger before he cuts deep and you think 'oh shit -' before he lays into you.

Because, what the fuck? Do you think your pussy is more important than his friendship with patrick? Is that it? Are you thinking that if patrick finds out arts gonna pick up his sword and fight for you? Dump patrick for you? Finally date you? Is that the delusional little fantasy you've been cooking in your head?

You aren't the kind of girl he wants to date anyway, he says most painfully. I mean, you let him fuck your ass and slap you around - and throw your pussy at him at every given opportunity. You're not the kind of girl he'd have as a girlfriend. You're the kind of girl guys fuck before they find a woman with some fucking self respect.

It might be the meanest thing he's ever said. Which is why you're both suprised by the slap that rings out - your hand frozen in the air in shock - arts head whipped to the side from the hit, cheek already burning red from your handprint.

You want to say sorry - but art just laughs. Shoves you to your knees - "I'll show you fucking sorry - " and when he fucks your throat you know your tears are from the truth of his words as much as how hard hes hitting the back of your throat.

🥰🌈☀️💐 how life feels when tumblr user poppy-metal in my inbox

It’s two days, but he feels like he’s going insane just one day in. Every single fleeting glance you send his way, he’s sure is going to be the one thing that makes him slip up— that clues Patrick in on every fucked up thing he’s done.

But he gets set off on Saturday night, when the three of you are smoking outside in the garden. It annoys him because it was like he can’t get a fucking second alone with Pat. Like you need to be there to remind him of what a shitty friend he is. Patrick closes his eyes, leans back on a stone bench.

You’re sitting on the fountain with a cigarette dangling from manicured fingers. He sees something dangerous flash in your expression and it makes him sit up straight. You uncross your legs and reveal your bare pussy beneath the little skirt you wear, Art he takes a long drag, but can’t make himself look away like he should.

A strange, mournful tug pulls at his chest when you close your legs, hide away from him again. Your laugh rings through the air when you look at Art, when you feel the palpable want. Patrick sits up, eyes narrowed. “What’s so funny, huh?” Art coughs uncomfortably on his exhale.

You glance over at the blond, duck your head shyly. It’s all a fucking act, Art thinks. He can see you laying out every single clue for Patrick to uncover. It’s fun for you, to make Art squirm, like you have the power. And you do. You could fucking ruin him.

But you just shrug, blow smoke towards Patrick’s face, which makes your brother’s expression wrinkle in annoyance. He ashes his cigarette with a tap of his finger. “You two are pretty close now,” he notes. Not accusatory. Yet. “Do you two have fun at Stanford without me?”

Art opens his mouth to speak, to deny that he spends time with you outside of making sure you don’t get roofied at college parties. But you speak first, your voice ringing out into the air. “Art’s been really good to me at school,” you say, really laying it on thick. “He’s always taking care of me and making sure I’m happy. I can sleep in his room when I’m lonely, and he doesn’t let any guys take advantage of me when we’re at parties. He always keeps me close so nothing bad happens. He actually broke up with his girlfriend because she was being so mean to me.”

Patrick’s jaw ticks slightly, and the brunet forces himself to laugh. Art’s stomach drops, and he takes a drag to distract himself. You fucking bitch. You know exactly what you’re doing, he can read it in the fake, doe-eyed look you wore.

“That’s nice, Donaldson,” Patrick says. “Keeping my little sister happy, huh? Really nice.”

You stand up, like that was your cue to leave. So Patrick could beat Art into a pulp, drown him in the fountain, put out his cigarette on his tongue. It was hard to say. But you just stretched, stubbed out your cigarette on the stone edge of the fountain. “I’m gonna go shower before Daddy smells smoke on me,” you tell Patrick. You ruffle his hair, then turn to face Art. “Goodnight.”

Art is quiet, watches you disappear into the hedges and greenery leading back to the house. The door shuts behind you in the distance like a gunshot, and Patrick glares over at him. “What the fuck, dude?”

Art sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “She’s exaggerating,” he says as calmly as he’s able. He meets Patrick’s gaze, does his best not to wilt. “She’s just trying to convince you that she’s doing fine at school.”

Patrick’s tongue pokes against his jaw, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Whatever,” he says, shaking his head. “I fucking hate this, you know. We’re hardly even talking, but somehow my little sister knows all about your fucking college girlfriend. I didn’t even know you had one, dude.”

Art swallows, nods. “I know, I’ve just been…” He sighs. “Senior year, you know? Things will be different once I graduate and go pro like you.”

Patrick rolls his eyes, shrugs. “Yeah, sure. Whatever, dude. Night.”

Art is left alone in the garden, with the stub of a cigarette burned down to his fingers. He sticks it in a flower pot and bites at his cuticles. They’re practically raw at this point, but he’d already chewed the inside of his lip raw and achy, so he’s running low on things he can use to distract himself.

Once he sees the light in Patrick’s room flick on he stands and walks back to the house. Patrick’s parents were always weird about him wandering the place alone— like he’d steal some random clock that was a gift from a world leader, or something stupid like that. Like his parents weren’t making six figures themselves.

Whatever. You and Patrick are both fucking brats, spoiled and expecting the world to fall at your feet. Expecting him to fall at your feet. Fuck that. Fuck you for screwing up his friendship with Patrick, for making it impossible to talk to his best friend because of the guilt.

Your bathroom door is open to the hallway to let the steam curl out while you get ready for bed. When he walks past, you ignore him entirely, and it snaps something sharp and hard in his chest. He slips in, shuts the door, pins you against the counter.

You’re wearing a robe— leopard print and tacky. It falls open just slightly, and he’s greeted by a glimpse of your tits. You smile up at him, pretty and amused, expecting him to cave, to touch you the way you’ve been needing. But you know Art— you’ve seen most of his expressions at this point. Good, like when he and Patrick won the doubles tournament and you saw joy written in his face. Bad, when you got too handsy at a party and he dragged you away and laid into you.

But he was more than that, he looks scary. Your smile falls and you press yourself back against the counter so it digs into your spine. His eyes follow the line of your throat as you swallow hard, like he can read your dread in every tiny movement. He grabs your wrist, hard enough to make you yelp.

“Art, that hurts,” you whine, trying to wrestle out of his grip.

“Cry to Patrick then,” he says, and you wither. “That’s right. You don’t want Patrick to find out what a disgusting fucking whore you are, do you?” You give a weak shake of your head. “Then shut the fuck up and listen.”

Your pulse is already hammering, he can feel it thrumming where he holds your wrist. You’re all limp and pliant, waiting for the blow to strike.

“You are actually fucking crazy if you think I would ever choose you over Patrick,” he says, and you exhale sharp out of your nose. “And whatever you think is going to happen here is just one of your brainless little fantasies. If Patrick finds out what you’ve been doing, he’s going to fucking kill me. It’s going to be messy, and fucked up, and he’s going to lose his only friend in the entire fucking world. It’s going to crush him. And when that happens, it’s going to be all your fault. And for what?”

You swallow, blinking at him dumbly, unsure of what to say. Were you supposed to talk back? Were you supposed to just stand there and take it?

“I’m never going to fucking date you. You let me fuck your ass, and you suck my dick and let me slap you around, and I bet if I touched you right now you’d be soaked, but it doesn’t change anything. Because guys like me don’t call girls like you their girlfriends or wives. Girls like you are a stopping point on the way to someone better, someone who has some fucking self respect.”

The sound of the slap startles you, even if you were the one to hit him. Your hand stings where it collided with his face, where it left a red mark behind.

“Art—“ you start, eyes wide as you look at him. Your voice is watery, teary and pathetic. “I’m so— I shouldn’t have— I’m sorry, Art. Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sor—“

You whimper as he pushes you hard onto your knees, makes them dig into marble tile. He’s already hard when he pulls down his jeans and boxers, and you feel hot tears slipping down your cheeks.

You’d fucking hit him. You ruined everything, you were always going to ruin everything. You’d fucked him up, you made him twisted and mean and nasty. All your fault. You needed to fix it.

“You’re sorry? Fucking show me then.” He slaps his cock against your cheek, precum smears against the plush skin there. It snaps you back into reality. He rubs his tip against your lips, moves his hand into your hair.

Your heart hurts, actually hurts in a way you’ve never felt before. You wonder if you should go to the hospital, or something, but every cell in your body just says. Show him you’re sorry. Show him you’re sorry. Apologize apologize apologize.

You open your mouth, relax your throat, let him bully his cock inside. He doesn’t give you time to adjust, you try not to need it. Even when he’s slamming into the back of your throat again and again, when you’re gagging and feel drool flooding your mouth and it’s all messy, dripping down your chin.

“That’s it, take this fucking dick—“ His grip on your hair tightens and your cries are muffled around his cock. Your jaw aches from being stretched wide to accommodate him. Your face is smeared with black mascara tears, snot, and sticky spit. You look awful, you feel awful. But Art doesn’t care. He’s getting off on it. “Fucking choke on it. ‘S all you’re good for, isn’t it?”

He pulls you off, slaps you across the cheek. “Isn’t it?”

You sniffle pathetically, nod, and open your mouth wide. Show him you’re sorry. Show him you’re sorry. You let him slide back into your throat until your nose presses firm against the soft curls at his pelvis, until his balls press against your chin and they’re coated in the stringy, slick drool that spills from your lips.

Art grabs your face, holds your nose shut and blocks off your airways. Your throat constricts in panic and you look up at him with wild, frightened eyes. Nails scratching at his thighs as you feel the need for air begin to get to intense.

You can’t breathe. Arts fucking into your throat, and you’re going to puke, and you can’t breathe, and he’s going to just let you black out around him. The tears are flowing hot and fast, you keep pathetically grasping at his thighs. He lets go of your nose, but doesn’t let you pull off of him. He ruts against the back of your throat, and you’re only faintly conscious of something warm and hot shooting down your throat as your body screams for a big gasp of air.

It’s only then that he lets you pull off, with cum dripping from your lips, from your nose. You take large heaving breaths and cry as you try to wipe it all away. It only manages to smear it around your skin.

You feel stupid, but you can’t stop crying. Not because it hurt, not because you were scared and couldn’t breathe. But because what he said fucking stung.

You’re nothing more than a hole for him to use. Worse, you’re nothing to him at all. A stopping point until he gets someone better. He sees you like that, and he treats you like that.

“Stand up,” he says. His cock has hardly even flagged, and you watch him wrap a hand around himself, stroke himself standing above you. “C’mon, I’ll fuck you— I’ll give you what you want. If Patrick’s gonna find out I might as well make it worth it, right?”

You stand and grip the edge of the sink. Your head swims as you look at him. His hand moves between your thighs, probing at your entrance. The first breach of his finger makes you whimper. You’re not wet, not nearly enough.

“Art, stop,” you say, voice wobbly. “I don’t want it.”

“No? You fucking wanted it all semester.” He mouths at your throat, wet and hot, and you shake your head. “Did I hurt your feelings, baby? You need me to lie to you? Does that get you wet?”

Tears well in your eyes again, and you shove at his arm until he pulls his finger out. “Just leave me alone, Art. I won’t bother you anymore. I get it.”

He looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. He fixes his clothes and slips back into the hallway.

You cry so hard that you throw up. Brush your teeth so hard that they bleed and you spit pink foam into the sink basin. Wash the mess off of your face until it’s stinging and raw.

The rest of the weekend, you rot around in bed. Keep your doors locked, pretend that you have food poisoning. You relish in the solitude and watch Lost on DVD. You make it halfway through the first season before there’s a knock on your door.

“Hey, I have soup,” Patrick calls, muffled through the door. “Doctor’s orders.”

You stand up, pad slowly to the door and let him in. Sure enough, he’s got a little tray for you. Ginger ale, Gatorade, and soup. You want to cry that he cares so much— that he’s such a good brother. He sits the on the foot of your bed and sits against the headboard.

“I’m sick, Pat,” you say once you sit back down, a feeble attempt to be alone.

All he does is shrug, press play on the DVD. “Whatever, it’s food poisoning, right? Not contagious. Lemme watch with you.”

You eat some of the soup, but your appetite isn’t there. You just sit it on the floor and curl up next to Patrick. He wraps his arms around you, lets you lean on his shoulder.

It’s only an episode later that he talks. “Did he do something?”

You freeze a bit, then redirect, gesturing to the screen. “John Locke?”

Patrick sighs, jaw ticking. “You know who I’m talking about. You can tell me.”

“What are you talking about?” You ask, feigning confusion. He gives you a look, exhales sharply. “Art? Did he give me food poisoning?”

You feel stupid protecting him still. After everything. You know where you stand with Art, and it makes you sick. There aren’t any more dreams of somehow convincing him to love you through your cunt, like your pussy is some sort of magic love potion. It feels more like poison. It ruined everything— you and your incessant greed.

But you don’t want to hurt Patrick. Art could hurt you, but he can still be good to Pat. That’s worth something.

“Not the food poisoning, just… anything. Did he do anything to you?”

You meet his gaze, and lie the way you grew up lying to everyone. “Patrick, he didn’t do anything. I don’t even know what you think he would do.“

Patrick nods, but doesn’t say anything else. He stays two more episodes, then leaves.

Art never stops by your room, which is good. You don’t want to see him, because even thinking about it makes you feel sick. You lock your door again and don’t sleep. Art leaves early in the morning to go to the airport, back to Stanford.

You transfer your plane ticket for the next weekend, text classmates to get you notes. You’d be staying home for a while.

#Patrick’s sister au #Art is going to hell #dubcon

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allilcat · 9 months ago

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Ive been noticing an increase amount of Dreamtwt refugees, and let me preface with saying: Welcome!!! Genuinely, we lovingly welcome you to this happy lil community.

That being said, Tumblr is confusing, between the big etiquette book and the interface that hasn’t changed since 2008 there is a lot to learn. So this is my little attempt to a welcome guide tailored to our lil dream community! Feel free to add your own recommendations and stuff.

Tumblr is a Blogging site, a goog ol relic from ye olden days, your ‘profile’ is your blog, and you can put anything you like on there! However, please do change your avatar and background, we have a massive bot issue here and we tend to auto block someone with a standard avatar.

The main tags for the dream team are as follows: - just their entire usernames, but, those do get hooped up in controversy from time to time. -Dreamblr for the content creator dream

-Dreblr, for C!Dream

-404blr for CC George

-pandasblr for CC Sapnap

-Dtblr for the Dream team

PLEASE REFRAIN FROM USING: #Dream, that’s for people actually posting about their dreams, and #myct as it is mostly used for general MYCT stuff, we prefer to stick to our own spaces.

‘how do I find people?’ you go to any of these tags, find someone you vibe with and click ‘follow’. The algorithm here sucks, and we don’t advice the ‘for you’ page.

On that note, the ‘like’ button is useless, use reblog instead! If you like someone’s hot take, art or stupid shit post, REBLOG. Its how we keep our fandom alive and active here :D

When you reblog you usually keep your comments in the tags, one only really uses the comment section when they DON’T want to reblog. (usually because of le discourse).

Send people asks! People love to chit chat, you can do it anonymously! Tell that one artist youd love to have their brain for lunch! Engage with everyone! We love discussion and open communication here. (prob since there is no real word limit to posts)

Tumblr has developed a nice ‘block liberally, no need to make a fus’ culture. You can block someone for any reason, and it really isn’t a big deal.

On the Tumblr is more relaxed note, we tend to be more relaxed on CC boundaries, since most CC’s do not use twitter. If you don’t like people breaking CC boundaries, even in places where they cant see it, follow the advice above and blockkkkk!!!

Please spell out words! Don’t censor triggering words at it can fuck with people’s filter settings, by censoring these words you put people in more risk.

Now for some technical advice: Most tumblrina’s turn on ‘hide likes and follower count’ . Any blog can have 4 people following it or 4000, we like to keep it mysterious.

Also turn of ‘best content first’- once again, the algorithm is not to be trusted.

Furthermore, you can really personalize your Tumblr experience and please do! Under ‘account’ you can find many options to filter the content you see, make use of it, for your mental health sake.

#Dreamblr #404blr #pandasblr #dreamwastaken #sapnap #georgenotfound #dtblr

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kaddyssammlung · 10 days ago

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Twitter "gang" is acting out...again. About the purpose of art / freedom of artists

TW: self-harm (not mine of course but Vessel's)

Twitter gang is ripping each other's heads off because some artists out there make choices that they don't agree with.

Let's leave it at that for now.

I just read that “art is supposed to be comforting”. I find this confusing and also I don't agree. I don't know much about art (in that case it's about drawing). Sometimes I look at fan art and it really is nice and comforting and I just like looking at it. But other Sleep Token fanart I find provocative or even triggering. I see nothing wrong with that in general. It should be an artists choice to portray Vessel however they want to do portray him. Twitter gang has no problem with overly sexual depictions of Vessel and the other guys but someone draws Vessel with his scars and then Sleep Token Twitter goes wild. What the?! And also there is not one purpose of art in my opinion. It can have so many.

“It's overstepping boundaries and also not being protective of Vessel...?” What...?!

How we see someone influences them btw. If you look at Vessel and think of him as a weak human that needs your protection then you actually “make” him weak.

I see him as someone who struggled but found his strength. He does not need my protection. I learned and grew a lot over the past years and the reason for that was all the past trauma that I finally started to resolve. If someone out there looks at me like some weak creature it would make me feel weak.

Something else....it was also said that everyone (especially the ones who struggled with self-harm themselves) agreed that it's not okay to talk about self-harm?!

Hmm....pretending bad things don't exist does not make them go away!

And also I had a lot of conversations ever since starting this tumblr about that topic and also I have always written about it, from the very start and no one ever came at me for it. It was the opposite.

I'm sorry but I'm not going to shut up for anyone's comfort. I do hide posts like these because I want it to be your choice if you read about these topics. Some days I would not want to read my own stuff because it's too triggering. But I won't be silenced. I mean of course talking about this topic in a respectful way!

And also I'd rather have someone come talk to me or open up about their struggles then make them feel like they are wrong for how they feel.

This topic is arleady being so misunderstood and having some sort of "thought control" about that topic is not helping at all.

Whatever...I keep forgetting that so many fans are still quite young and not some close to 40 year old women. I am responible for my employees (and also tenants but I never talk about that). And idk...maybe I learned a thing or two over the years. You know...make mistakes and then learn from them and move on and things like that. Life-experience is the word that I'm looking for. They probably don't have as much as I do but I can't hold that agains them.

#sleep token #thank you to everyone who responded to this :)

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springypaws · 3 months ago

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Tumblr scrambled the first time I tried writing/sending this post so uhmm… let’s see if two’s the lucky number?

Anyhow, finished drawing of the interisolary commercial liner, the Hanankur!! Not exactly sure how I feel about it considering it kinda looks like a mismatched quilt made up of different styles from the different days that I worked on it, but it exists anyways

I was actually hoping to draw Coalition Airship Archer, but there weren’t any official images of it that I could find 😔

Reference image and additional speed paint under the cut :]

Obviously this drawing was super heavily referenced off of this official art of a Disco Elysium in-world miniature of the aerostatic, even if a bunch of things aren’t perfect and my drawing’s quite a bit messier

Plus a speedpaint just for the fun of it

(TW: FLASHING (I hide and un-hide layers a bunch) and rabies?? With the most minuscule amount of blood maybe??? I snuck in a random tiny sketch in there somewhere that has poor quality stuff like that)

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letmesleep8 · 3 months ago

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the fucking punchline // elliexreader

CHAPTER 1: White Carnations

Ao3

content warnings/tags: drug usage (weed), implied daddy issues

notes: hello lesbians! this is my second ever fanfiction here on tumblr, quick reminder: i didn't drop the other one. this is kinda slowburn and also kinda daisy jones & the six inspired, so if you like that book you might like this too. i'll always link up the songs I used in the story at the end of the chapter. hope you enjoy. <3

taglist: @lorelaihehe @lonelyfooryouonly

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

September 09th, 2023

Time shakes, found you at the water

At first you were a problem my father, now I love you like a father a brother

Earthquakes shake the dust behind you

This world at times will blind you

Still I know I’ll see you there

The calloused, ink stained hands scribbled on a sketchbook, next to a drawing of what seemed to be a wolf. On the same page, Ecology notes got lost between chord progressions and two-sentence long lyrics. Near the margin, a quick but precise drawing of Dina’s eyes.

Ellie was sitting in the corner of her Organic Chemistry lecture at Jackson’s Community College, hiding her freckled body under a gray sweatshirt and her sleepy eyes behind overgrown face-framing bangs. As the professor finally called the class off, she got up from her seat, walking to her visibly well loved truck, its blue paint holding scratches and slight dents, clearly faded from the sun

I sat on my window as I watched her old truck drive by, as loud as always. I was waiting for my nails to dry, afraid that the maroon polish would stick to everything if I didn’t have the patience to let it take its sweet time. She got off her truck and stepped on her cigarette before going through the front door.

I had met Jesse a few weeks earlier, it was karaoke night at the bar. I managed to get a few drinks from the old creeps there and was already feeling a bit too “happy” when I stepped onto the improvised stage we had set up and gave that bikers’ bar the best drunk performance of “Hopelessly Devoted to You” they had ever seen.

I have always loved to sing. Writing, playing the guitar, putting up concerts for my family in my living room. Music is my soul. But I’ve come from a reality where art wasn’t an option, being an artist would not pay my rent, nor would it show to my parents that I wasn’t a complete disaster. So I worked as a waitress and saved up to the last cent of any tips I would get, only spending enough to pay my parents my contribution to what they spent so I could go to cosmetology school

After I finished my fifteen minutes of fame, I went back to the cold reality and started cleaning up some tables. That was when Jesse came up to me, drunk and full of compliments to give. He had a girl beside him, Dina. He started rambling about his band and how they’re so good that they even do weddings, and then he asked me if I had ever auditioned for a singing gig at all. I was full of confidence and whisky, so I gave him my number when he said they could use another vocalist

The next morning I had basically forgotten about my new deal, and I figured he would have forgotten about it too. But I was wrong. The boy did not forget about it, in fact, he kept calling me to schedule my “audition”. So I finally gave in. I grabbed my guitar case and started walking to the address he gave me. It was just down the street from my house, at the Miller’s. I held the case on my shoulder and walked towards the open garage door. There were Dina, Jesse and the girl I had only seen from my window every now and then.

– You actually came! – Jesse got up from his seat, walking his way to me. – Oh, you play the guitar too? Damn, Williams, found someone else to do your work. – He joked and the girl gave him an annoyed look, sitting comfortably on the old chair inside the garage. I couldn’t help but observe how her thighs set apart from each other and her head was thrown back mindlessly.

– So, are you gonna show me what you’re all about? You seem to have really impressed the other two. – She gestured for me to sit on a stool, her voice was, honestly, cold but not in an unfriendly way. She seemed nonchalant, but not distant. Her green eyes had the warmth her mouth seemed to lack and her face was strangely expressive, like someone who had spent their developing years in front of the tv instead of talking to people, but it complemented her sharp voice just perfectly.

– This is a song I wrote a few weeks ago. It’s not finished yet, but I think it’s fine. – I spoke as I tuned in the guitar while keeping my eyes mostly on the girl, who seemed to be paying close attention to me and, at the same time, seemed to disdain me.

She analyzed my every move as I started singing. I could see some curiosity peeking through her eyes when I began performing the first verse.

“She's asleep in the backseat

Looking peaceful enough to me

But she's wakin' up inside a dream

Full of screeching tires and fire”

I played the chords and kept singing the words, trying to mask the knot on my throat. “Emily, I’m sorry, baby / You know how I get when I’m wrong” I tried to keep my voice from shaking; not because of the lyrics, I haven’t talked to Emily since 8th grade and, honestly, I just think it’s a beautiful name. I wanted to cry because I felt anxious. Turns out it hurts more to overcome your fears when your blood is not 50% whisky.

It was as if I could listen to my father screaming from a distance: “you are a waste of time!” Suddenly, it was like I could slowly feel my blood going through my veins all throughout my body, sliding like raindrops on a window. I was feeling overwhelmed, the song felt never ending and I was sure that I had gotten at least 30% of all the notes wrong. I didn’t realize how much I wanted this, how much I craved for a chance to showcase my songs, a chance to pretend that my dreams were possible. And in my head, it was all over, until I heard Ellie’s voice from across the room.

– Sounds good to me. – She shrugged her shoulders and raised her eyebrows. – If you two think she’s good then she’s good and she’s in. I’d be the odd one out anyway. Dina flashed me a warm smile and gave me a side hug.

– Welcome to the band! – She nudges my arm.

– Rehearsal every Sunday, Wednesday and Thursday from 3 to 5 pm. – Jesse smiled from the worn out couch he was lazily lying on.

We decided to spend the rest of the afternoon getting to know each other better. Dina talked about some songs she would like to perform at their next weddings, Jesse laid back on the couch and played with the drum sticks. The band had some work of their own, but not many since Ellie was basically the only one who was more interested in writing than playing covers.

– Hey – I was sitting on the floor and scrolling on my phone, Ellie scooted closer to me, brushing her jeans against my knee. – D’you write that song by yourself? The “Emily” one and shit?

– It’s called “Emily, I’m sorry”. – I chuckled, nodding. – Yeah, I did. I actually write a lot of songs. Why?

She reached out for her sketchbook inside of her forest green backpack, I couldn’t help but notice how it matches her eyes almost too perfectly. She flipped the yellow pages until she found a small verse of lyrics to show me. I wasn’t really used to showing unfinished lyrics to people but I grabbed the small handbook in my pocket.

Do you understand the things that you’ve been seeing?

Do you understand the things that you’ve been dreaming?

Come a little closer, then you’ll see

– I woke up in the middle of the night last week and wrote this down on my phone. Do you think it could perhaps work with the melody you wrote?

– Well, actually… – She scratched the back of her head and looked up.

– You haven’t thought of a melody yet, have you? – I smirked.

– No, no, of course I have, I just… – She stuttered. – It just needs a bit of… refining.

– Refining, huh? – I chuckled.

Jesse told Dina he was bored and, with a smirk, they both decided it was time to go watch a movie at his house. I was ready to take my things and leave too, but Ellie stopped me.

– Hey, wait! – She called for me. – Do you want to work on the song? I mean, I ain’t got no professional studio but we could make it work with what I have. The others don’t really like to write and shit, I was thinking maybe we could give that one a try.

– Oh, sure. – I smiled softly.

She closed the garage door, giving us some more privacy. Ellie reached for the laptop on a tools table, it was plugged into a reasonably nice mic, she must have saved up for ages to buy it. She also got an electric guitar out of the case and started to tune it. With my acoustic guitar, I started humming a few different generic melodies that came to my head, until Ellie liked one and decided to try to follow it with her guitar. We stayed there for a while.

– Do you like it that way? I don’t think it’s working out well enough.

I scratched the back of my head, my eyes narrowed. I rubbed my hands over my face.

– I don’t know, I'm just having trouble locking in, I guess. We could give up for now, if you want.

– I know something that could help, if you’re up for it. – She smirked slightly. Maybe I was overthinking it, but I could swear I saw her eyes wander to my mouth. – I mean, if you’re even a smoker, of course.

– Oh. – I fell into reality and felt stupid. – Oh yeah, sure, I- I mean, we could try. Cool.

She got up and gestured to me to follow, I put the guitar on the case and took it with us. We exited the garage through a small door that led to the kitchen. Her house was messy enough to be acknowledged as a college student’s but it was furnished like some kind of family had once lived in that space

She led me up the stairs, into her room. I shyly sat on the edge of her bed and she got some weed and some silk out of her bedside table. She started rolling it up and I watched as she licked it together in record time, I would be lying to say I wasn’t impressed. A simple lighter came out of her pocket and she took a long hit before passing it over to me. I brought both the blunt and her gaze up to my lips, taking a drag not as experienced as hers. It wasn’t my first time smoking but I was scared to bite more than I could chew, for some reason.

– So, are you from around town? Never seen you around. – She was trying to break the ice. I got up from her bed and walked towards her window, she was quick to follow after me.

– Right there. – I pointed to the other side of the street, about three or four houses over. She seemed surprised.

– Really?! – She spoke, surprised. – I thought that was where the annoying lady from the Neighborhood Association lived. The one that’s always telling people to speed down and shit.

– Yeah, that’s my mom. – I laughed as I watched her cheeks grow a bright red, her eyes trying to look anywhere but mine. – It’s okay, she really is annoying. She does that to me too and I’m her own daughter. – I sat on her windowsill, taking another drag of the joint. She joined me, sitting by my side.

– I mean, she never complained about the noise during the band’s practice sessions. Gotta give her that, though.

I laughed and she took the weed back.

– She can be a bit mean but she is a music lover, after all. Maybe you’ve found her soft spot with that one.

– Aw shit, gonna have to give her tickets to our next underground-bar concert.

We both laughed at the idea of my mom at one of our shows.

– Gonna make sure to tell her to look out for it. – That was when I realized I hadn’t asked a really important question. – What’s the band’s name anyway?

– White Carnations. – Ellie took another hit, blowing the smoke outside and passing it to me.

– White Carnations… – I breathed out the smoke. – I like it. Any particular reason for the name?

– I don’t know. – She shrugged her shoulders. – Sounded good, I guess. – She was clearly lying, but I didn’t want to push her too hard so I changed the subject.

I went back to playing some chords on the guitar and we were lost in a comfortable silence, until I had an idea. I started humming something along the lines of: “Ten thousand people stand alone now / And in the evening the sun sank, tomorrow it will rise / Time flies by, they all sing along”, repeating the last line over and over until Ellie started singing it too. At some point she simply changed it to “time flies, bye-bye” and I absolutely loved it. It sounded like something you’d point the mic at people so they could scream at a concert

Only then I realized my bare feet were in her lap, like we had been the closest of friends for ages and not distant neighbors that only now realized that each other existed. Her tattooed hand rested on top of my ankles and her hazy eyes and smile seemed as familiar as my mirror. That evening we wrote the entirety of ‘Come A Little Closer” while sitting on her bedroom window, then ate a bunch of chocolate covered ice cream bites.

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severeangerissues · 4 months ago

Text

SO ABOUT THE TRUYERABI GATE

You've probably already seen the post about the artist Truyerabi, who is accused of drawing incest and eroguro. The person who posted this said they did it "just to inform" But they clearly didn't do it just to inform, because if that were the case, they wouldn't have defended their actions and called the artist disgusting. This is already becoming personal and is clearly more than just informing.

Please don't skip this post, it's important if you're against false accusations and bullying and canceling people.

Truerabi knows that she draws disgusting things, and it is important to understand this. The accuser, let's call them that, said that she was hiding it, but in fact she was not.

Next I will provide translations of the post from Truyerabi's telegram to prove that she is not as bad as she is demonized.

I want to point out that Truyerabi actually draws these things and if these pictures are trigger for you, I advise you not to follow her telegram channel. You can follow her tumblr because these pictures are not there.

Let's also remember that the Internet has always drawn and will draw guro, ero-guro, and other abominations. It was like that from the very beginning and that's how it is. There is no point in fighting what has always been.

Please note that the translation may contain strange punctuation or something else. But overall, I translated everything that was written here honestly. Except that I didn't use swear words and adapted some sentences because this is the great and mighty Russian language /hj

Left is the original, right is my translation. I've highlighted the important parts in pink, but you should still read the whole post to get more details.

1.=~=~=~=~=~=~~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=

The first important part. Truyerabi does not support what she draws, and you should understand this. There is no need to demonize her, she is a human being just like you. Yes, she is a pro/comshipper, but that doesn't put a cross on a person. Just like any other label. People can be like this for completely different reasons and it is wrong to lump everyone together. You must understand this.

2.=~=~=~=~=~=~~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=

Here Truyerabi mentions that she puts warnings on her works, which is proof that she herself knows very well that her works are not something good. This also proves that she does not draw it "in secret", "in the shadows" or "behind the scenes" as some have accused her of. Because if that were the case, she would not published it on her blog, describing everything in the picture in a trigger warning. It's not very secret when you describe everything that's "secret", is it?

The accusation that she does this "in the shadows" comes from the fact that she only publishes explicit works on Telegram. And is this logical? There is no strict moderation in Telegram. But she does this mostly because she doesn't want to trigger anyone. The argument that she doesn't post it on Tumblr is just empty words to further defame the person. By the way, the prosecutor eventually published the works that were hidden from sensitive eyes without any censorship. They didn't even hide them under a cut. This is rather reckless, don't you think? Who ended up triggering more people?

*-You may have noticed that Truyerabi is not the only one being accused, but I translated the post she wrote "from herself"

3.=~=~=~=~=~=~~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=

⚠️The third argument contains a mention of self-harm, if this is a sore subject for you, read with caution or skip the 3rd point!!⚠️

In this screenshot you can see that Truyerabi is not a crazy fetishist, but a person who uses shock drawings as vent art. She is well aware that these are disgusting topics, horrible actions. And it helps her "let off steam". Everyone has their own way of dealing with problems and she is far from the only one of those who preferred this method, believe me.

Now it is quite wrong to blame a person and insult them for something that is an outlet for them. It's still incest and ero-guro and you shouldn't watch it if it upsets you, but putting it out there in public and telling others that the author is disgusting is just wrong.

⚠️WARNING, THE BOTTOM SENTENCE CONTAINS A MENTION OF SELFHARM, READ WITH CAUTION OR SKIP IT!!

⚠️Someone told her "I think self-harm is healthier than proship" What? What for the hell? Are they saying that drawing non-existent people who have already died many times in many different ways even in the official media is worse than REAL self-harm? What? What kind of soulless bastard do you have to be to say that? It's not better at all. Anything is better than self-harm. This is an indisputable fact and arguing with it is idiotic.⚠️

4.=~=~=~=~=~=~~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=

Here is another argument that Truyerabi does not romanticize incest and so on. She's right, the pictures don't depict Scout as someone who is happy with his situation. I don't think the person who wanted to normalize this would portray the characters as unhappy. On the contrary, it portrays incest as something negative, something that causes rejection and discomfort, something that harms a person.

Here she also says that it is unfair to say that her vent art is not vent. We don’t know what she went through, we don’t know what emotions and memories she puts into these works. It's wrong to blame her for the way she copes with her problems. She doesn't have to tell anyone what she's been through or what's going on in her head, but that doesn't mean she can be bullied.

5.=~=~=~=~=~=~~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=

An argument with which I completely agree. I don't think that if you are a real internet hero, a public figure, you will hide behind a clean account. If you haven't noticed, the person who published one of the posts is an empty account with an anonymous nickname. Doesn't this seem strange to you? If the author of the post simply wanted to inform you, then why did they create a separate account for this, if they could fit everything into one post on their main one? Could it be that this person is a person who is upset with Truyeraby for something and does not want to be recognized. Because they might be recognized? I don't want to theorize, but it seems to me that in order to inform people, you won't create an empty account and hide behind it like a coward.

They also justified themselves with the argument that “I was disgusted by these works, that’s why I informed others.”

That's fucking weird dude. You were so disgusted by the work that you went into the person's account, looked at their work, saved a few TO YOUR DEVICE and posted it UNCENSORED to a platform where people are not ready for this, where there are many minors. They could, again, have hidden the work at least under a cut, but they did not do this. This is a thoughtless act. I think if you want to warn people, you'll write about it, you'll say it, but you won't call the artist disgusting, make up reasons out of thin air, and demonize them. You'll just warn people. But without inciting hatred towards the artist. Which, by the way, has really begun. We don't know exactly what people write to Truyerabi in her askbox, DM, anonymous messages on Telegram, but I saw that they wished death on her, wished death on her subscribers. THIS IS NOT NORMAL. This is not something a person should deserve, even if he draws something terrible.

And again. Everyone has their own limits of disgust. Someone might find what you draw or like disgusting, but they don't go humiliate you and publish a whole post about it, because no one cares. And if they do, then they are not mature people who are not able to cope with distress on their own.

So what do we have as a bottom line?

YES. Truerabi draws incest and ero-guro. If this is triggering/shocking/problematic content for you, DO NOT FOLLOW HER TELEGRAM UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.

NO. She doesn't hide it, she doesn't romanticize it, she doesn't find it normal and it's ultimately just her vent art. She has other great normal pictures that you can see on her Tumblr blog.

PLEASE. Don't write anything like "this is disgusting, this artist is disgusting" and don't spread the qwertypsdfgh's post, because it leads to even greater cruelty. Better explain to your audience that they should be careful what they watch. But you can't bully a person for it.

REMEMBER. Before you accuse someone of such terrible things, figure everything out, because you can only make things worse for the person. You can make their life even worse. Think about your actions when they affect other people before you do them, and our world will be a happier place.

На круглой планете, гуляет круглый ветер

По кругу гонит облака.

На круглой планете, есть место всем на свете

Пускай она не велика.

#team fortress #team fortress 2 #spy tf2 #scout tf2 #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #team fortress scout #team fortress spy #tf2 fandom #tf2

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