#made it in time for may the fourth!!!! :D my first one!

[bishicat]

I feel like they give each other the best embraces 💖

[crescenthistory]

21. (During a passionate session, A accidentally draws blood while gripping B’s back (A apologizes over and over while tending to B, who just has a shit-eating grin the whole time)) with barty n reader pls

(may I be 🪳 anon?)

hi lovely 🪳 anon, finally i got around to your request<33 i made them have an established relationship because i craved bf!barty, hope it still scratches your itch hihi. enjoy your daily dose of barty!

Prompt: 21. During a passionate session, A accidentally draws blood while gripping B’s back (A apologizes over and over while tending to B, who just has a shit-eating grin the whole time) from this list

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: not proofread, smut (mdni), vaguely described smut, fem!reader, sexual jokes, aftercare, accidental blood kink, scratching, established relationship, praise kink, multiple orgasms, soft!barty, barty is a masochist, reader almost cries, cursing, reader is (jokingly) mean to him and he loves it, the l word is said a lot

Note: i am so soft for this man

If there was one way to describe your relationship with one Barty Crouch Junior, it is all encompassing.

Intoxicating, larger than life, obsessive.

He was not one to act half-heartedly in any regard, to both your chagrin and infatuation. It was not half-hearted when he more or less picked you out of the crowd in your first year, claiming you as his best friend without giving you time to react, dragging you by the hand into the whirlwind of his life. It was not half-hearted when he chased off any romantic prospect for you because they were not good enough for you, baby, even landing some in the infirmary if they dared hurt your feelings. It was not half-hearted when he finally crumbled under the weight of his own feelings, consequences be damned, and brought his lips to yours in the abandoned Slytherin common room late at night.

And it certainly was not half-hearted how he claimed you, body and soul, ever since whenever ample opportunity arose. 

You had no complaints about that aspect of it.

Which is how your skin was shimmery with a light layer of sweat with Barty’s lazy, toothy kisses lathered all over your neck as he worked into you in the solitude of his dorm. Evenings when you could stay over, the other boys were quickly kicked out by Barty, though to no significant inconvenience for them, as Regulus was more than happy to sneak away with James and Evan was in the middle of pursuing some hot heated Ravenclaw. In their absence, Barty’s presence easily dominated the room, hands roving all over your body as his whispers of worship filled your ears and anything other than him became completely erased from your mind.

Your legs trembled where they had him in a death grip as his skillful ministrations and attentive thumb brought you towards your fourth climax of the night. His name spilled over your lips along with a string of curses as your eyes clamped shut. You could feel his smile through his kisses as he worked beautiful marks onto your shoulders – just far enough down to be shielded from view in your uniform, your shared little secret.

“Fuck, such beautiful sounds from my best girl,” Barty’s voice was hoarse from the past hours, which somehow just drove you crazier for him. “Are you gonna come for me, gorgeous? Let go for me?”

No coherent thoughts could be strung together, your mind going blank with just Barty coursing through it. Instead you moaned prettily in a way that made Barty groan and pick up his speed, determined to coax more from you, just a little more.

Your hands had been clinging to his flexing bicep and tugging at his hair, but as your body came undone beneath him, you resorted to clutching onto his shoulders and back instead. Your nails, that you always kept long enough to satisfyingly scratch Barty’s hair and arms, dug into his skin for leverage, and you half-registered the moans of pleasure he gave into the skin of your neck. As your body shook both from your climax and the movements of him against you, your fingers dragged slowly down his back.

“Oh, gods– Barty–” was all you managed to get out as you clambered onto him, seeing stars. You needed him closer, just a little closer, more.

“Love it when you say my name, baby,” he whispered into you as his hips stuttered, finally reaching his own high with a groan. “S’good for me, s’perfect.”

You shakily kiss his shoulder, palms moving to smooth over his back you had just been clawing at, the movement instinctual and dripping with affection. Calming him down, gearing him through his own earth-shattering orgasm.

His movements slowed down, dragging the seconds out, before he finally stilled against you, collapsing with his weight onto you in that way he knew you loved. His hands that had been consuming every piece of flesh, every curve of your body, became almost painfully light now, brushing up your sides, over your arms, a silent thank you. You could read this man without needing to open your eyes or ears.

For a minute you laid there, regaining your breath while also revelling in the smell of him mixed with the haze of sex that filled the room. 

Then, Barty laughed breathily into your shoulder before retreating from his cocoon to look at you with lovesick eyes, propping his weight up onto his elbows.

“That was one for the history books.” His grin was lopsided, sweat still over his eyebrow.

You laughed in turn, giving him a slight roll of your eyes, but you couldn’t disagree. The longer you were together, the more you learned of each other, the more passionate your frequent trysts became. You didn’t think you could love him more.

Still – “You’re deranged, Junior,” you said through a laugh – you couldn’t let the opportunity to tease him slide.

Unfazed, Barty leaned down to press a lazy kiss to your lips and despite your teasing you had no inhibition with kissing him back, passionate and slow. “Maybe,” he said between kisses. “But you love me all the more for it. And I love you too.”

You mumbled an I love you, silly against his lips and you could feel him grin against you. 

All too soon, Barty pulled back and away from you, rolling off your body to reach for his wand on the bedside table to clean the both of you – and the sheets – up. You gazed after him with a look you knew your friends would never let you live down if they were here to see it, studying his features as he laid on his stomach, stretching his arm out. One of his legs were still tangled with yours, as if he couldn’t stand being completely without your touch. The muscles in his bicep flexed deliciously, as did the ripples across his shoulders and back, and –

“Merlin’s tits, Barty, your back!” you exclaimed, instantly snapping out of your daze.

It was normal for you both to be quite marked up after being with each other, especially on nights like this where you could truly take your time. Your hips often had some beautiful bruises grazing its sides, hickies covering your chest and collarbone, sometimes your neck if Barty felt particularly possessive. In turn, you loved giving him your own love bites and his shoulders and biceps often had small indents from your nails digging into them.

But this– Your eyes roved over Barty’s back, the usual pink streaks of teased skin that you left there were now bright red and razor thin, blood piping out at random places. There were many of them, trailing over and around each other, a bloody, angry constellation of your desperation from mere minutes ago.

At your outburst, Barty looked at you over his shoulder with a smug smirk, fingers finally curling around his wand. “What of my back?”

“I– it’s–” you sputtered, one hand wildly gesturing towards him, the other half-covering your mouth as you sat up to get a better view. “You’re bleeding, darling I’m so sorry.”

Barty sat up to match you, grabbing you by your thighs to drag you closer to him. A stupid grin was still plastered over his face. 

“Oh, I know,” he smiled. “It was so fucking hot.”

His words didn’t register with you as you kept fussing over him, attempting to sit at his side so you could see his wounds and his face all at the same time. His hand on your thigh squeezed as he continued to laugh silently.

“You’re bleeding.” You repeated, letting your finger ghost over the skin right beside a particularly bloody scratch. "Gods, I'm so sorry." Your eyes began to sting as they flitted all over his back, and at that Barty seemed to snap out of his humour.

“Hey, no, baby, hey.” He grabbed your hands with his, forcing you to look at him. “It’s fine, love, don’t worry. It’s more than fine actually, I liked it – loved it even. You should really make me bleed more often.”

You stared at him incredulously, as if he was being particularly stupid, eyes still slightly glossy with tears. “What?”

He laughed even more at your confusion, which almost shifted the apologies on the tip of your tongue into scolding. 

“As I said, it was hot. I knew you were drawing blood as you were doing it – didn’t you hear how much I loved it?” His tone was teasing, mischief evident on his face.

You opened and closed your mouth at that, trying to make your post-orgasm brain keep up with the conversation. “I actually didn’t hear anything by that point,” you mumbled, looking between your hands clutched with his and his face, which now looked impossibly more smug.

“Right, that’s on me then,” he teased. You pretended to lightly shove him, but he used your movement against you, trapping you in his arms and dragging you closer to his body.

“You’re so stupid, you know that?” 

“Was I stupid when I made you come once on my fingers, once on my tongue and twice on my–”

You pinched him, making him yelp in a voice so light it made the both of you laugh. You squeezed him in your arms, careful not to let your hands touch his still bleeding back.

“I still wanna say sorry.” You pulled back to look at him. The threat of tears were gone, but your lower lip jutted out ever so slightly, enough that he simply had to kiss it better. So he did, lips softly brushing yours in a way that calmed you down every time.

“Well, don’t,” he murmured against your lips. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, darling. I actually give you blanket consent to please make me bleed again next time. However you want.” He winked at you and you lightly swatted at his arm, though you couldn’t ignore how your blood warmed at his words.

“Shut up,” you mumbled before kissing him again. Your tone made it clear to Barty that he won that conversation.

“As much as I’d love to keep kissing you.” Barty pulled his lips away from yours, holding your face in between his palms. “Can I please clean us up like I wanted, now?”

You simply nodded, leaning back onto your elbows beside him as he quickly flicked his wand over your bodies and the bed. A sigh escaped your lips at the warm feeling across your thighs and stomach, as if somebody had carefully dragged a warm towel over you and immediately dried you off. Barty smiled at you softly when he heard your sounds of comfort.

You reached out to take the wand from his hands and moved to point it towards his back when he snapped out of staring at you and caught the tip of the wand with his hand before you had the time to use it. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You looked at him confused. “Cleaning you up?”

“I already did that,” he retorted. 

“I meant the cuts, Barty.”

He immediately shook his head at that, prying the wand from your fingers – his wand, that wouldn’t even have been as effective when you used it – and giving you an almost offended look. “Nope. They’re staying, if I wanted them gone I would have healed them.”

“Barty–” you began to chide, but he cut you off.

“I want to keep them. Little reminder of you. We don’t heal the hickies I give you, hm?” His voice was equal parts teasing and affectionate now, as if your scratches was something precious to him.

“My hickies aren’t painful and bleeding.” You deadpanned at him. He just shrugged, as if your point was entirely irrelevant. 

“You’ll stain the sheets with your blood,” you tried then. 

“How unfortunate that I’m not a wizard who can remove blood stains without any effort.” He tauntingly waved the wand in your face then before leaning over to place it back on his nightstand.

You just groaned at him, hoping he knew that it meant you are insufferable and impossible. He did, and it warmed his heart.

“C’mon, darling,” he drawled as he snuck back up beside you, pulling the duvet around the two of you, creating your own perfect cocoon. “You should be flattered, if anything.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but still pulled him further into your arms, limbs entangling and bare chests pressed against each other. A relaxed sigh escaped you, indicating that you were in no way actually indignant. 

“Just don’t want you to be in pain, B.” Your hand moved up to play with his hair, culprits lightly scratching at the nape of his neck.

Barty’s eyes softened at that and he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “‘S not painful, love, I’m good. I’m all good.” His words were whispered against your skin. You closed your eyes at the sensation, the safety of it all.

“You sure?”

“I swear it.”

You hummed, relenting, and finally buried your face in his neck as he pulled you closer. Sporadic kisses were pressed into your hair, your shoulder, as you continued with your soft conversation filled with praises and small declarations of love. You didn’t notice you were beginning to slip away before your breath slowed against Barty’s skin and he glanced down, smiling when he saw your sleeping form. His fingers drawing patterns on your back spelled out I love you as he kissed your forehead, lips lingering on your skin.

“Goodnight, my love.”

[pupuyvs]

lost

pairings: aespa x reader?? idk its not romantic

wc: 1k+

warnings: heavy angst, you’re dead…sorry, mentions of suicide and abuse

a/n i just wanted to test out writing so uhh enjoy this short stuff (and feel free to yell at me in my inbox :D)

Being friends with Jimin felt like an escape, to be in her group you only had to follow one rule: never discuss the past. The rule worked for them, you all had problems and none of you had to discuss them.

No one brought up how you seemed to fear fire more than others, nor how Minjeong seems to have a strange aversion to water. They didn’t discuss how sickly Aeri often was or how Yizhuo seemed to always appear with new bruises, and they especially didn’t mention Jimin’s disdain towards being touched. And it worked that way, at least it seemed it did, that was until you died.

Suicide, the police told them. The note had been severely burnt, the only piece left having the word sorry written on it.

At your funeral they stand before your picture, one they have never seen before, you look happy – it makes Jimin sick.

They stay until your grandmother arrives, Minjeong not wanting you to be alone. It’s silent as they make their way to the old train tracks, the rocks rolling under their feet being the only sound around them. When they arrive at the train cart they made their second home they each grab a drink from the stash they had accumulated over the years, each taking a sip. They come to a silent agreement that this is also something they won’t talk about.

This agreement only lasts a couple weeks, it’s Yizhuo that breaks first. Her bruised hands shaking as she sobs. It was an honest mistake, someone asked where you were and Yizhuo snapped. It took all three of them to pull her off as she screamed at the person for not knowing what happened to you – she broke down when they left the store. Yizhuo leaves them when she stops sobbing and when she appears the next day with a bruise on her bottom lip they don’t discuss it.

Jimin doesn’t know how to deal with these types of things, she tries to get the group to function as it once had without you, but it’s nearly impossible as none of them can remember the time they had without you.

Aeri slips up next, between her bouts of coughs she asks you to pass her some water. She freezes as your name slips out of her mouth, the air in her lungs rattling as she takes a deep breath in. Jimin rushes to give her a water bottle, praying that this passes, that they can move on, but Aeri is already hyperventilating. It takes Minjeong holding her closely to calm her, thanking Jimin softly as she hands her the water. When she sits next to Yizhuo she misses the way she clenches her hands and how the cuts on her knuckles begin to bleed again.

The beach sounded like a good idea to Jimin, but as Minjeong screams at the top of her lungs she realizes that she may have made a mistake. It started off fine, the beach wasn’t packed as it was winter and the girls listened to the waves from the truck Yizhuo had stolen from her father. Then Minjeong brings up how you loved the ocean, a fact Jimin didn’t know. None of them respond, the waves crash against the rock wall nearby, and Minjeong yells.

Jimin is wary, but when she moves to stop her Aeri grabs onto her, she flinches at the sudden touch but listens to Aeri and moves back. She doesn’t stop till her throat gives out and the ocean calms, on the drive home they stop to get her cough drops. They never bring it up again.

Jimin swears that it doesn’t affect her, she had a handle on her emotions — she was fine. But then she dreams of you, it’s nothing crazy, it’s actually laughable how mundane it is. You guys were on a train eating honey bread, she assumes it’s from the movie she watched earlier. But maybe that simpleness is why when she wakes up she calls you, it isn’t until the fourth ring she remembers that you now only exist in the dreams and memories she holds.

When the group comes together that day their regular silence is off, it’s no longer comfortable nor familiar. Now it’s forced and suffocating, and it’s why Jimin speaks up first.

“Let’s go see them.”

Your grave isn’t anything fancy, it has a bouquet and your picture. The headstone only mentions your name and how you were loved, who you were loved by missing, but it doesn’t anger Jimin because she knew her and the others' names were too long to fit on it.

Minjeong cries first, she sobs when Aeri’s shaky hands lay the few flowers they had collected along the way on her headstone. Yizhuo follows right behind, her sobs come out rasped, her throat still rough from her father’s discovery of the car incident. And when Aeri cries, so does Jimin.

They don’t speak, just sob with each other, and they continue that way until a voice pops up behind them.

“Oh, you’ve finally come.”

Your house, or your grandmother’s, is small but comfortable. Your presence is felt in every space as markings of you grace the wall. The friends sit on the old couch in your old living room — Jimin wonders how many times you have sat here too.

Your grandmother comes back with water for each girl, Yizhuo helping her carry them. When Yizhuo sits next to Jimin your grandmother begins to speak.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to greet you guys at the funeral, you were gone before I could say hello.”

The girls don’t respond, all of them feeling bad for leaving the woman alone on the day. But the older woman doesn’t seem to notice as she reaches for the box that was on the table. Pulling out pictures from it, they watch as she goes through them before seemingly finding one and handing it to Yizhuo, who is seated closest to her. When the picture is passed to her Jimin stares at it, an odd feeling fills her.

You were smiling while an older woman held you, there was an innocent light in your eyes, a sight the group had never seen. Jimin passes it to Aeri once it becomes too much for her.

When the picture reaches the last person, Minjeong, your grandmother starts to speak. “This was Y/N and their mother when they were younger,” the older woman sighs heavily. “She had died in a house fire when Y/N was only ten, Y/N had watched as the house had crashed around their mother.”

They watch as your grandmother starts to cry, all wanting to comfort her, but not knowing how to since they were never comforted themselves.

“When my grandchild came to live with me they were a shell, but when you guys came into their life, they became alive once more.” She pauses.

“Thank you for letting them experience happiness once more.”

Jimin rushes out the house with her heart practically jumping out of her chest – she can’t breathe. The world seems to be closing in as sobs rush out of her.

The woman’s words repeat in her head like a broken record, it's practically mocking her as tears fall down her cheeks. Grief rushes through her body before settling in her chest, where it screams, begging to be let out. And Jimin wants it to, she’s begging for it to leave her body.

The weight is unbearable as it pounds on her chest, the sobs tenfold, her ears ring. She wants it to end.

She doesn’t know how long she's sobbing, or panicking, for, but it's long enough for the girls to join her and pull her into a hug. And when she calms she feels relief when she realizes they are crying too.

A few weeks pass by when they find themselves at the beach again. They shiver slightly as the cold bites at any exposed skin that it can.

“Here.” Yizhuo says as she passes each one their envelopes, her fingers rough with the bandages Minjeong had put on them recently.

Jimin stares at the envelope, tracing the ink that engraves your name. Looking up she sees the girls look at her and offers them a small smile.

“Ready?”

They all nod to Aeri’s question before leaning down to attach the papers to the lanterns. When they’re sure it’s snug enough to not fall, Minjeong picks it up and walks closer to the ocean, the others following her closely. Grabbing the lighter from Jimin she lights up the bottom of the lantern, when she feels it’s light enough she puts it up gently and lets the wind take it away.

They hold each other’s hands as they watch the lantern disappear. Aeri is the first to pull away, walking back to the car, and Minjeong follows after her. Yizhuo goes soon after with a pat on her back. Jimin waits until her mind can no longer imagine the white dot in the distance, breathing out; she feels the slight ache in her chest return. She breathes out once more as Minjeong had taught her and feels it dull just enough to whisper out her final words to you.

“Goodbye Y/N.”

[lennadanvers]

Wish granted

Eddie Munson x Reader

Both Eddie and the Reader are close to their 30's here.

A/N: I miss writing for Eddie so bad. I miss someone real, too. I don't want to spoil anything, but there's angst here. It's based in real events- I'm definitely projecting a little bit. Stay alert, you may have spent your wishes without realizing you did.

You look magical in white.

Eddie spent an ungodly number of nights picturing you in a white dress, and still he wasn’t prepared to see you like this. He suspects the dress isn’t what’s making his voice falter. Any wedding dress would look just as pretty on you. Especially if your eyes shine like that when you look at him.

Someone hands Eddie the microphone and he has to force his knees to stop shaking so he can stand. Your reassuring smile makes it a little easier. He makes an effort not to look around, to all the faces staring at him, and focuses on you. Eddie clears his throat, wincing when the micro amplifies the sound, and starts talking.

“Hello, everyone.”

He makes a pause. There’s no need to introduce himself, everyone here knows who he is. He feels silly, and wonders for a second how long it would take him to get to the door. But, again, you’re looking at him. So he straightens his back and stars talking again.

“As most of you know, I met my best friend when we were nine years old.”

He flashes you a smile, and then whispers loudly into the microphone.

“There’s one thing no-one knows, though- I kept this secret for twenty years. I was saving it for today. I didn’t even tell you!”

Eddie winks at you, trying to appease your curious expression. He’s glad he convinced you to let his speech be a surprise.

“Ready?”

The dramatic pause gives him confidence. This is just like one of his D&D campaigns. More or less.

“I remember the first time I saw you.”

He’s staring right at your bouquet now. It matches the flower in his lapel.

“It was the first day of school. Fourth grade. Early in the morning, t’was a little chilly. I was standing in the hallway. The bell rang, and I turned around. I don’t know why. I was headed the other way. But I turned around, and I saw her… You know how in the movies time slows down, and everyone but the protagonist becomes a blur?”

Eddie chuckles and nods.

“It was just like that. She looked like life revolved around her.”

His tone shifts to a lighter one.

“I have an active imagination, as you may know...”

The laughs all around the room make his shoulders relax a little.

“And she was gone in a second- seriously, like in the movies, the sea of people swallowed her and I was left wondering if I had imagined her.”

He smirks at you.

“Like I said, I have an active imagination.

Sometimes, I convince myself magic is real. That was one of those days. I made a wish- I wished the girl with bright eyes and wild hair I saw for a second was real.”

You’re blushing a little under that makeup, aren’t you? He thinks you are.

“I didn’t see her again that day��� But I did spot her in class the next day.”

Eddie can’t help but beam at you. Your nine-year-old self was adorable, all round cheeks and nervous smiles.

“After that, it’s become easier to believe in magic. That’s why, when I saw her cry over a boy for the first time, I asked for a second wish.”

He dares a quick look around, and finds that every person in the room- including a waiter- is looking at him.

“She’s always been so brave. That’s one of the things I admire the most of you, you know? How you keep your heart open for everyone to see. How you tried over and over again to find love, even if you got hurt, even if it didn’t work.”

Your eyes look a little wet now. He pushes forward, trying to remember where he was going with this.

“I wished you’d find the person that would finally be able to love you the way you deserve.”

It’s getting hard to talk with the knot in his throat.

“Once again, I proved magic is real.”

Eddie has to wipe a very embarrassing tear out of his cheek.

“Everybody knows wishes come in groups of three. So, tonight, here, I’m making my last wish. I wish you the happiest of lives. I wish you a long, beautiful marriage. I wish you the life you’ve always wanted, full of the love you deserve.”

He can’t see much through the tears in his eyes- that will hopefully stay there for another two minutes- but he thinks you’re crying too. He raises his glass, hand full of silver rigs shaking, desperate to end this hell.

“To my best friend, the beautiful bride, and her newly acquired husband! To the first day of a very long, very happy marriage!”

You raise your glass with your left hand- the gold band mocking him- because the right is holding your now-husband’s hand. He smiles at Eddie, raising his glass and mouthing “Thank you, man”.

Eddie feels sick. He hands the microphone to one of your bridesmaids, who pats him on the back, and steps away from the table.

It’s hard to breathe. He’s staring at you, at your wide smile as you hug your mom. The DJ started playing a romantic pop song, and people are standing up. He knows he should stay for the first dance. But he’s looking at you, and you’re not looking at him. You’re drying happy tears with your husband’s handkerchief- who carries a fucking handkerchief anymore? – and beaming up at him.

Eddie keeps staring at you until the sea of wedding guests swallow your white dress, your ruined makeup and your bright, happy future.

He steps outside of the venue, full on sobbing now. His van awaits in the parking lot, ready for him to escape again. Out of the two of you, he always knew he was the coward one. Since the moment you declared your love for him- at barely nine years old you were brave enough to bring him chocolates and honesty. Eddie remembers your little hand, your heart open. He remembers his dirty nails, his feelings guarded behind years of abandonment and cruel jokes. Your sad eyes when he didn’t reply. His heavy chest when he kept being your friend, every day up until today.

Too busy wiping tears, Eddie misses a shooting star disappearing in the horizon. When he looks up, the sky is empty- just like his chest, his house, and his future- and he realizes he lied.

Eddie Munson does not believe in magic anymore.

[tacoma-narrows]

Sha-Bam!

New guy alert!! Meet Kickflip! He's a cool skateboarding skunk guy and I've had him in mind since like, late July lol. Over the past several months, I've seen a lot more people making skunk OCs and every time I saw them, it made me realize how cool of a species they are to make designs out of and I wanted to make one of my own! Also, Kickflip as a name for a character like this first came to me back in February so I'm excited to finally make use of it haha.

I am SUPER happy with this guy's design as well!! (Check out his ref and some additional stuff below the cut!) I am a huge sucker for designs that are a dark base color with bright/rainbow accent markings, so I'm very happy to finally have such a design in my roster hehe.

As for personality, I don't have a ton lined up yet but I do have some key points in mind! Firstly, he's gonna be sorta rivals with Seabreeze, since on a surface level at least, there is a fair amount of similarity between surfing and skateboarding, and I think that opens the door for some rlly fun dynamics in future pieces lol. He'll also be friends with Rye, since they both kinda go for that cool guy attitude, though Kickflip tends to pull it off much better than Rye lmao. I also have relationship plans for him, but that will be revealed at a later point :3c

Anyways, like I said, I REALLY like this guy already so you'll probably be seeing more of him soon hehe. I may take some art trades soon to get some art of him rolling, so keep an eye out for those perhaps :3 Honestly huge year for new Tacoma OCs, with this guy being my fourth new character this year lmao

Hope you all like my new guy here!! Again, ref n stuff under the cut :]

Ref, plus refs for his hat and his skateboard, and an icon for him like I make for all of my OCs! Fun fact, his hat is based on one that I (used to </3) own! :3

And here's the link to his Toyhouse page if you wanna check that out and maybe give him a fav hehe. There's not a whole lot of bio there atm, but there will be more in time! :D

[redhood414]

Intro: The Games

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌: ̗̀➛

Four princes. One princess. Your father, King Clark Kent of Metropolis made a contract with the King of Gotham, Bruce Wayne. The contract said there will be games for his four sons to win and the one who wins will get your hand in marriage.

Prince Dick Grayson is the eldest; it is said he's kindest, most generous and charming of all off them. Loved by the people and humerous. He'll often talk to random people and if he's out of the castle he gives coins to the poor.

Prince Jason Todd is the second eldest, he's the general of the soldiers and is always a winning leading warrior in battle. He has a trauma since an enemy kingdom, Joker's, had taken him and beaten him to death. Luckily the Lazarus Pit ressecuted him, but ever since he's not who he was before. He's rude, grumpy, angry, rough. But inside he's just a boy who needs to be loved and feel safe.

Prince Tim Drake. The second youngest. He's almost as smart as Merlin, really. He isn't a magician, but Merlin, the advisor of king Bruce, helps him with teaching him a lot of things about herbs and to heal, etc. he's always eager to learn, maybe sometime a bit too much since he always looses track of time. He's kind, but a bit moody. And doesn't really socialise well. He's quite distant and his walls (not literally but figeruly.) make sure it stays that way.

The fourth, last but not least, youngest, prince Damian Al Ghul Wayne. The only biological son of Bruce Wayne. He got first teached by his mother, to be a great warrior. Now he's with his father, learning everything he needs to know by a personal tutor because he refuses to be learning aside Prince Tim. (They have always had beef, it'll get only worse now that you'll arrive :d) He's a gentleman, but cold. He'll try to win you over by his charm but is distant and quite easily jealous too.

The games

1. The sword fights. (They'll have to fight till two winners stay over and the winner from that duel wins that game)

2. The joust. (Where each is on a horse, galloping towards each other with a lance and try to get each other off the horse)

3. Arrow and bow. (It's just bow shooting.)

May the best win your hand in marriage, my dear.

[themareverine]

Until We Fall ▹masterlist | worst!Logan x mutant!fem!OC

summary: DP&W AU. It's been God knows how many years after Logan's death in North Dakota—and this wouldn't be much of a story without a shiny new villain with a hot new plan, or someone to save the world. Well, maybe two someones. Ok, you win, three. But first, you have track down that said someone—the Wolverine. And who better to do that than the girl who found him the first time? Logan/OC

a/n: *knocks on glass, looks confused* hi, anyone still here? If so, welcome in! here's my DP& W AU. i have no idea what I'm doing. this is a sequel that i'm writing kinda-sorta at the same time as my main series, Mare & the Wolverine, and yes, please know, this is kinda self-insert-y. let me live, will you? reposting from my old account, OC is a mutant.

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It's Called an Intro, Motherf******

Hi, welcome to the fuc–I mean freak, show. Don't want to blow the whole damn budget on the first 2.5 seconds of page time, right? Critics, good God–they're the worst. One sentence in and they'll judge the whole effin' book, hook line and sinker without even getting to the plot. Frickin' internet has made everyonea literary genius. Not.

ANYWAY—you're probably wondering what the eff I'm doing in the middle of this shitshow, huh? A story that isn't mine, hell—a story that isn't even technically writtenyet. That's a Fox thing. Or an MCU thing. Or a….thing, I guess? Dunno, this habit of timelines and then redoing and undoing them like a nun unbuckling a priests robes in a spittin' hurry after church is getting old—nobody really knows what the heck is going on. But, that's showbiz, right?

Rabbit trail, sorry. Frickin' brain. Anyway, yes–here. Ahem.

Well, really, we've got ourselves a Code Redpool (see what I did there?) with this one—someone trying to take over the world, rattle some cages, all that jazz. And if you didn't already know, such sticky little cumsucking messes requires a little bit more than a mercenary with a mouth. We already know I can't—don't—save the world. Despite what the box office may lend. It's above my paygrade, my hero tier. This rated R mothereffer hasn't gotten there yet, not on his own. Maybe another million or fifty.

Could be different this go around, though. Who effin' knows. All I know is that to save a world, to make a story, you need a couple of things—a smashin' budget, a whole helluva lot of copyright law, and a hero. An "anchor being," because Marvel has to be frickin' special. Sometimes two when the situation is Redpool, like it is. Maybe three, because I'll be EFFED if I'm not part of this one. Earnin' my stripes, going all Tony the Tiger and shit. You know the drill.

To help me out, I need the big guy. Yeah. Not Jesus, though it could be argued He's a factor, here. Very non denominational, very off script, very demure. Think more…yellow. Feral, as it were. Canadian. Yeah, dumbass—we need the Wolverine. The guy with the forks, the mutton chops from the 70s that were definitely a…choice. Logan. Yeah, him. Mr. Feral Forest Weasel himself.

And we'll probably need someone who can help us get to Logan, since he wouldn't know me from fresh effin' ADAM. If you saw Logan, you'll understand. Though it didn't happen exactly that way, because this is an AU—that fanfiction shit, you know. Sigh. We need someone who's tamed the beast, has clawed under all that adamantium and seen the hero where a trainwreck of a multiple-movies-gone-bad guy has stood.

A girl, genius. We need a girl. And lucky for you, delightful little fourth-wallians, I've got just the one.

Buckle up, mothereffer's—shit's about to get Wolverine-d.

Contents ➳❥ somewhere in the past, north dakota (in other words, the prologue) ➳❥ always sinners, rarely saints

[makethatelevenrings]

It’s White and Gold // D. Grayson x f!reader

Requested: yes!

Warnings: insecurity

Summary: You would be stepping out in public as Dick Grayson’s girlfriend for the very first time and you needed something formal to wear. Well, fuck.

Part of assassin!verse but can be read alone

“Well, I think the only reasonable solution here is that I go ask Ivy if she can concoct something that will keep me housebound for a week and we have to cancel the date,” you announced from the other side of the curtain. Stephanie booed as Cassandra tossed a shoe at your feet. You emerged from the thick rayon fabric and sent a half-hearted glare at the three women seated in front of you. You spun in a slow circle, your arms extended at your side to show off the dress Cass had picked out. Barbara glanced up from her phone and scrunched her nose up.

“Nah. Too much sequins. That would be so uncomfortable to eat in,” she declared. You dropped your arms to your sides and grimaced. She was right. The little plastic circles dug into your skin and it would be a bitch and a half to move around in.

“Fuck it. I’m staying home,” you declared.

“Who taught her that word?” Damian sighed as he emerged from the racks. “Right. Todd. I don’t know why I even bothered to ask. May I just say, those sequins are awful.”

“Thank you, tiny Tan France,” Stephanie said. “We get it. It’s a bad dress.”

“Sorry, Steph.” You knew she wasn’t taking the criticism to heart even if she had picked the dress. It was just the first time you would be going on a real date with Dick to some high-end Bludhaven restaurant as both a PR opportunity and as a mission. Rumor had it that a certain politician would be present with one of the largest cartel leaders and Dick needed a chance to bug their dinner and gather intel. 

Which meant that you would be stepping out in public as Dick Grayson’s girlfriend.

Dick Grayson, the son of the Prince of Gotham. The Heartthrob of Bludhaven.

The man who fell asleep into his oatmeal this morning.

“Is it too late for me to fake my death, change my name, and fall off the face of the earth?”

“Been there, done that,” Damian hummed. “Father can’t possibly do even more of that paperwork. It nearly took him out the first time.”

Cass nodded. “No, no. This could work. He ate the last oreos. Go ahead. Fake your death.”

“No one is faking anyone’s death,” Barbara cut in. “Let’s just try a different store.”

You groaned. “This is the fourth store we’ve tried and we have three hours until reservations. I might as well just go in sweats and call it a night.”

Stepping back into the dressing room, you ignored the bickering outside from your entourage and instead focused on stripping off the dress and putting it back on the hanger. It wasn’t your fault you didn’t have any formal wear. You were never assigned jobs where you needed to get dressed up. Your role was always to hide in the shadows, not to be seen. This was the exact opposite of what your training required and it was starting to grate on your nerves. How could you do this?

As if he could sense your frustration, your phone rang from the pile of your belongings tucked on the bench in the dressing room. You picked it up and glanced at the caller ID, a small smile crossing your lips as you swiped your thumb across the screen and answered.

“Hi, Buttercup,” Dick greeted. Warmth suffused through your veins at his soft greeting and you ducked your head as heat rose to your face. Fucking hell, you had at least seventeen confirmed kills under your belt and Richard Grayson made you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Hey,” you replied. “Are you cool with me wearing a bathrobe and slippers to dinner tonight?”

He laughed and you wished desperately that he was here in this tiny dressing room with you. You wanted to feel his hands enclose around your waist, stroke along your skin, and kiss your temple. You wanted to feel the safety he offered. You had four Batlings sitting on the other side of the flimsy curtain and you had years of training, but you never felt as safe as you did when Dick was near.

“Babe, you could wear one of my old shirts and those cute little shorts you wear and I wouldn’t care. I take it shopping isn’t going well?”

“I didn’t realize Damian religiously watches Queer Eye and Drag Race because you would think I’ve committed the most egregious fashion sins with the options I picked.”

He laughed again and then sighed. “I figured it wasn’t going well since you weren’t home yet. Stop stressing yourself out, baby, I can hear you thinking over the phone. Anything you wear is going to look amazing, okay? Just wear whatever makes you comfortable.”

“But the media…”

“Fuck the paparazzi. Fuck them all. Your comfort is more important than a stupid magazine cover.”

You gave up fighting the grin that spread across your face and shook your head. Holding the phone with one hand, you tugged your pants on with the other. “Okay. We’ll try one more store and if I can’t find anything, I’ll come home and figure it out.”

“Good. I miss you, Buttercup.”

“Miss you too, Westley.”

You hung up so you could pull your shirt over your head (it was actually Dick’s shirt that you had stolen but he wasn’t going to argue) and gathered up your wallet and keys. You emerged from the dressing room to join the others and your little gaggle of Batlings led you to another shop at the mall.

“Wait,” you called once your eyes caught on a mannequin in the window of some store. Steph nearly collided with you when you stopped in the middle of walking. The blonde examined the outfit and a crooked grin spread across her face.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” she cooed. “Let’s go try it on.”

Dick kept himself entertained as he waited for you by playing fetch with Haley. Cass and Steph had practically shoved you into the apartment with a bag clutched in your hand, waved at Dick, and disappeared as you darted towards the bedroom before he could say anything. He was glad he already changed into his tux because the clock was inching closer to your reservation time.

The bedroom door creaked with its aged hinges but it was enough to catch his attention. Dick raised his head and promptly lost all ability to breathe, think, and speak. You offered him a shy smile and ran your hands over the soft fabric that clung to your body. A thick strap rested over one shoulder, leaving your neck and arms exposed, and pulled taut across your chest. You had forgone a dress, but the jumpsuit was still formal enough for the restaurant you were attending.

And it was Nightwing blue.

“How does it look?” you asked, your voice quiet with apprehension. Dick sucked in a big gulp of air and he dropped the ball in his hand, sending Haley scrabbling across the wood in pursuit. He rose and crossed the room to stand before you. His hands rose to hover over your hips as his eyes raked over every inch of your body.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. His hands finally came down to settle on your waist and then drifted down to cup the back of your thighs, pulling you into his chest. You laughed at his desperation and eagerness.

“Is that a knife strapped to your thigh?” he murmured against your lips. You fixed the lapels of his suit and smoothed them down, a mischievous smile taking hold of your face.

“Ready to go to work, Mr. Grayson?” you teased.

“I owe Steph my life,” he groaned.

Tag List: @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @bunny-kawa​ @khaylin27​

[kayoi1234]

Now, people may remember that a few days ago, I made a post about intending to read the Scumbag Villian Novels.

I can now report that since then, I had a chance to read the first 3 stories (which I understand are the main run? the fourth has like. the filler episodes right?). I am now here to give my observations in my "Scum Villian Book Report":

My inital assessment of the series, surprisingly, was correct. This is wild.

I did not expect Shen Qingqiu to die so many fucking times. My man has a K/D ratio of 1/3. Still is the worlds funniest hater though.

There is something critically wrong with Luo Binghe and I hope he continues.

Liu Qingge seems to be consistently losing or at least suffering in every scene he's in. He's a very good swordsman it's just he has to also put up with so much bullshit.

Every character in this series is on a sliding scale of stupid and it's awsome. There is so miscommunication.

I knew this series had gay sex, because of course it did why wouldn't it I just didn't expect Shen Qingqiu to take it up the ass dry. My man has balls but also. Maybe don't do that.

He also keeps cursing out Airplane. This is funny.

Also half-related: Really like Velinxi's art in all this. I should read Countdown to Countdown again.

To condclude: This was great I may write stuff for it who knows. I finally read one of those Chinese novels so my mother no longer has to look at me weirdly for not engaging with them.

[camisoledadparis]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … January 27

1832 – Lewis Carroll (d.1898) is born in Baresbury, England, named Charles Lutwidge Dodgson. He was an English writer, mathematician, logician, Anglican deacon, and photographer. His most famous writings are Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, its sequel Through the Looking-Glass, which includes the poem “Jabberwocky“, and the poem The Hunting of the Snark – all examples of the genre of literary nonsense. He is noted for his facility at word play, logic and fantasy.

Carroll came from a family of high-church Anglicans, and developed a long relationship with Christ Church, Oxford, where he lived for most of his life as a scholar and teacher. Alice Liddell, daughter of the Dean of Christ Church, Henry Liddell, is widely identified as the original for Alice in Wonderland, though Carroll always denied this.

Carroll never married and his sexual identity is the subject of exploration by many historians an biographgers.

1888 - The National Geographic Society was founded In Washington, D.C. They are justly famous for many things but mainly for their magazine and for many gay men, the photographs of naked tribesmen featured in the pages of that yellow-spined National Geographic was their first look at the male form in its glory. ("What? Oh, I'm just interested in ethnography, mother.")

1936 – Troy Donahue, born in New York City (d.2001) was an American actor, known for being a teen idol.

Born Merle Johnson Jr, he was initially a journalism student at Columbia University before he decided to become an actor in Hollywood, where he was represented by Rock Hudson's agent, Henry Willson. According to Robert Hofler's 2005 biography, "The Man Who Invented Rock Hudson: The Pretty Boys and Dirty Deals of Henry Willson," Willson tried out the name Troy on Rory Calhoun and James Darren, with no success, before it finally stuck to Donahue.

The blond heartthrob made a name for himself with uncredited roles in The Monolith Monsters (1957) and Man Afraid (1957); leading to larger parts in several other films, including Monster on the Campus (1958), Live Fast, Die Young (1958), and opposite fellow teen idol Sandra Dee in A Summer Place (1959). A Summer Place was a hit and made Donahue a name, especially among teenaged audiences. He signed a contract with Warner Bros., and met actress Suzanne Pleshette on the set of Rome Adventure. They married in 1964 but divorced later that year.

Warner Bros. put him in a TV series, Surfside 6 (1960–62), one of several spin-offs of 77 Sunset Strip, announced in April 1960. On Surfside 6, Donahue starred with Van Williams, Lee Patterson, Diane McBain, and Margarita Sierra in the ABC series, set in Miami Beach, Florida. After Surfside 6 was cancelled, Donahue joined the cast of Hawaiian Eye, another spinoff of Sunset Strip, for its last season from 1962 to 1963 in the role of hotel director Philip Barton.

After the release of My Blood Runs Cold (1965), Donahue's contract with Warner Bros. ended. He later struggled to find new roles and had problems with drug addiction, alcoholism, and his closeted homosexuality.

He was married again in 1966, to actress Valerie Allen, but they divorced in 1968. In 1970 he appeared in the daytime drama The Secret Storm.

By this time, Donahue's drug addiction and alcoholism had ruined him financially. One summer, he was homeless and lived in Central Park. "There was always somebody who could be amused by Troy Donahue", he says. "I'd meet them anywhere, in a park, street, party, in bed. I lived in a bush in Central Park for one summer. I kept everything I had in a backpack."

After his fourth marriage ended in 1981, Donahue decided to seek help for his drinking and drug use. In May 1982, he joined Alcoholics Anonymous, which he credited for helping him achieve and maintain sobriety. "I look upon my sobriety as a miracle", he says. "I simply do it one day at a time. The obsession to not drink has become as big as the obsession to drink. I was very fortunate."

Donahue continued to act in films throughout the 1980s and into the late 1990s. However, he never obtained the recognition that he had in the earlier years of his career.

On August 30, 2001, Donahue suffered a heart attack and was admitted to Saint John's Health Center in Santa Monica. He died three days later on September 2 at the age of 65.

1949 – American author, essayist and cultural critic Ethan Mordden was born today. His stories, novels, essays, and non-fiction books cover a wide range of topics including the American musical theater, opera, film, and, especially in his fiction, the emergence and development of contemporary American Gay culture as manifested in New York City. He has also written for The New Yorker, including fiction, "Critic At Large "pieces on Cole Porter, Judy Garland, and the musical Show Boat, and reviews of a biography of the Barrymores and Art Spiegelman's graphic novel Maus.

His best known fictional works are the inter-related series of stories known collectively as the "Buddies" cycle. In book form, these began with 1985's I've a Feeling We're not in Kansas Anymore. The fifth in the series, 2005's How's Your Romance?, is subtitled Concluding the "Buddies" Cycle. Together, the stories chronicle the times, loves, and losses of a close-knit group of friends, men who cope with the challenges of growing up and growing older. In this circle of best friends, teasing putdowns become performance art, but none of the friends ever attacks any other friend's sensitive spots.

Mordden thus breaks away from the gay model proposed by Mart Crowley's play The Boys in the Band, in which supposed best friends assault one another relentlessly in a style that has bedeviled gay art ever since, for instance in the television series Queer As Folk. Mordden's ideal of Gay friendship presents men who genuinely like themselves and one another. They are unique in Gay lit in that they respect the limits of privacy. This explains their devotion to one another: this "family" is a safe place.

1966 – Taylor Siluwé, popular writer, blogger and activist was born in Jersey City, where he lived most of his adult life. He studied creative writing at New York University, fulfilling what he considered “a burning passion to write.”

Known for his darkly erotic and humorous story telling style, Taylor’s writing has been featured in numerous publications including Details, Venus, Literary New York, Out IN Jersey, FlavaLIFE, and the E-zine Velvet Mafia. His short stories appeared in the anthologies Law of Desire and Best Gay Erotica 2008. In addition, Taylor published two sexually charged short story collections, Dancing With the Devil and Cheesy Porn…and other Fairy Tales.

Taylor’s writing reached new heights of popularity on his blog, SGL Café.Com, which combined a canny combination of the personal and political. Taylor’s blog served has a fiery, and often hilarious, platform for the rights of same-gender-loving men, while also providing insightful and candid asides on his personal life, popular culture and his struggle with cancer.

On Sunday, June 19, 2011, Taylor Siluwé died from lung cancer in his home in New Jersey. He was 43 years old.

Radford with Duhamel

1985 – Eric Radford is a Canadian pair skater. With skating partner Meagan Duhamel, he is a two-time World bronze medalist (2013 and 2014), the 2013 Four Continents champion, the 2014-15 Grand Prix Final champion, and a three-time Canadian national champion (2012-14).

Radford began skating when he was eight years old. He competed with Sarah Burke on the ISU Junior Grand Prix series in 2003 in the Czech Republic and 2004 in Hungary, placing 6th and 5th respectively. He also competed in single skating. At the 2005 Canadian Championships, he became trapped in an elevator just before he was scheduled to skate in the men's qualifying round but eventually escaped and was able to compete.

Radford teamed up with Rachel Kirkland in 2005. They were coached by Brian Orser in Toronto and part-time by Ingo Steuer in Chemnitz, Germany. They competed at the 2007 Canadian Championships where they finished 5th. After finishing 7th at the 2009 Canadian Championships, they ended their partnership.

Radford moved back to Montreal in 2009. He teamed up with Anne-Marie Giroux and finished 8th at the 2010 Canadian Championships.

At a coach's suggestion, Radford had a tryout with Meagan Duhamel and they decided to compete together. They won a silver medal at the 2011 Canadian Championships and were assigned to the Four Continents and World Championships. At Four Continents, the pair won a silver medal. During the short program at the 2011 World Championships, Radford's nose was broken when Duhamel's elbow hit him on the descent from a twist, their first element – she opened up too early. Seeing the blood, Duhamel suggested they stop, but he decided to continue. They finished the program without a pause. Duhamel had not done a triple twist since 2005, and the new pair only began performing it before the Canadian Championships.

In the 2011–12 season, Duhamel/Radford won bronze medals at their Grand Prix events, the 2011 Skate Canada and 2011 Trophée Eric Bompard. They won their first national title and finished 5th at the 2012 World Championships. The next season, Duhamel/Radford won silver at their Grand Prix events, the 2012 Skate Canada International and 2012 Trophée Eric Bompard. They then won their second national title and their first Four Continents title. Duhamel/Radford stepped onto the World podium for the first time at the 2013 World Championships in London, Ontario where they won the bronze medal.

In 2014, Duhamel/Radford skated their short program to music composed by Radford as a tribute to his late coach Paul Wirtz. After finishing seventh at the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi, they returned to the podium at the 2014 World Championships, where they scored personal bests in both the short program and the free skate on their way to a second bronze medal.

In December 2014, Radford publicly came out as gay in an interview with the LGBT publication Outsports. In doing so, he became the first competitive figure skater ever to come out at the height of his career while still a contender for championship titles, rather than waiting until he was near or past retirement; at the 2015 World Figure Skating Championships, Radford and Duhamel's gold medal win in pairs skating made him the first openly gay figure skater ever to win a medal at that competition. He is an ambassador for the Canadian Olympic Committee's #OneTeam program to combat homophobia in sports.

Radford with husband Fenero

Radford became engaged to his boyfriend, Spanish ice dancer Luis Fenero, on June 10, 2017. They wed on July 12, 2019.

Radford coaches skating in addition to competing. He studied music at York University, and plays piano and writes and composes music, and is registered as a member of the Society of Composers, Authors and Music Publishers of Canada.

1995 – At a press conference in Washington, DC, the House majority whip, Dick Armey, refers to Representative Barney Frank as 'Barney Fag.' He later apologizes, insisting it was a slip of the tongue.

[jamneuromain]

Wild Child Chapter. 3

Series Summary:

As the granddaughter of the sole Duke in your country, you know that you were going to marry some douche prince, because it is the only way to solidify the grasp the future king has on the Upper House. On the flight home, you come up with a brilliant plan to defy your upcoming matrimony.

Bringing a random man to your grandfather's place, and say you have a boyfriend already.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Before I meet your family?" Ari cocks his head to the side, watching you adjusting your cerulean Valentino dress when you wave your hand dismissively.

"Just say we're in love and help me get out of marrying this D-bag."

Ari Levinson x You

#i didn't know he is my fiance-douchebag-prince

#when i did, it was too late

Ari had to excuse himself to take a phone call after your brief conversation, after he instructed Lana to do as she was told.

When you were sure that he had stepped out to take his call, you stopped Lana from introducing the different shapes and makes of your wedding dress, and smiled sweetly, “My phone battery died. Do you mind if I make an urgent call first?”

Lana nodded and took you to the tiny office in the corner, showing you a landline.

You had to thank this guy, Guy Thomas later.

Or you wouldn’t even go near a phone within three feet.

Telling Lana that you wanted a design with a bit of fluffiness with the flare, you sent her to find something similar in the shop while you made this call in private.

The call was picked up on the other side.

“Caroline Hastings’ office, how may I help you?” A receptionist spoke.

“Patch me over to Caroline.” Your fingers clenched on the edge of the table, before they relaxed, careful not to scratch a trail onto the surface, “Tell her it’s Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/N! I didn’t know you were back!” Caroline was patched through fairly quickly, “What do you need?”

Hearing Caroline’s voice, you let out an exhale in silence, finally able to breathe properly. Your gaze zeroed on the nametag on the table “Lana Priester”, and her scattered manuscripts. On those were some most beautiful wedding dresses you had ever laid eyes on, even if they were on paper instead of mannequins. If it weren’t for your obnoxious father and his ridiculous requests, you knew, from these manuscripts only, that she would design the dress you wanted.

“Grab a pen and paper.” You instructed Caroline. “Here’s what I need.”

You were back on the couch when Ari returned, sipping on your fourth glass of champagne and discussing with Lana whether your veil could be sparkling but less heavy.

You were patiently listening to the different fabrics that Lana was introducing to you, comparing the fabric examples in your hand, and asking questions about the features of two pieces that looked similar to you.

“It might be difficult to compare with only one layer in your hand,” Lana collected the book of different fabric examples and placed one over a sheet of white, “but the visual outcome will be much more obvious if the dress is made and we’d have this one on top of four or five layers, since you’d like your dress to be fluffy. We’d be considering at least four layers underneath it – Now the other piece is a bit greyer.” She took the other example on top of the white fabric, “Some of our customers prefer the light-grey-misty look on the dress. And through contrast, it would be shinier than the whiter one I’ve shown you.”

“I think I’ll have the whiter one.” After careful consideration, you picked the first fabric, observing it under the light, “And with these changes, you can have the dress ready in four weeks, right?”

“Yes.” Lana had a gleam of determination in her eyes, “We’d also have time to do another dress fitting, right before the wedding.”

“Excellent. I’ll leave you to it.”

Lana dismissed herself, hugging the pile of fabric examples and her manuscripts back to her office, as Ari approached you.

“How did the dress design go?” He took his seat on the couch, pouring himself a glass of champagne.

“It was wonderful.” You sighed almost dreamily, “Just the way I wanted it.”

Ari grinned not-so-subtly. For that smile on your face, he would do anything in his power to make you happy. Ari understood how you were unwilling to marry him, but he also understood your frustration of not having a choice. He didn’t volunteer to be a prince either, but he appreciated your adaptation to your new role as the future queen of this country.

He was glad he could see you in a different way, other than only judging you based on what had happened on the plane. (Plus the fact that he could command the bridal shop owner to call him Mr. Thomas or Guy instead of Your Highness.) He also wanted to retract the comment he had in mind, about you being a handful for him to deal with. You might be sassy, sure. However, considering that you had accepted your fate, showing up nicely to prepare for the upcoming wedding? You were less of a trouble than he thought you would be.

“Speaking of,” Ari stretched his long legs lazily, with a charming smile for good measures, “I’ve given you my card on the plane, as I recall.” He faked his annoyance, “You never called.”

You chuckled, glancing briefly at the large clock behind him, “I would if I had a phone.”

Ari nearly choked on his spit, “What?” He scoffed at your answer, “You don’t have a phone?”

He seriously doubted that. Since everyone would be glued to their phones and messaging apps, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was an excuse that you use, trying to avoid him as much as possible.

“You already know my reluctance to this marriage.” You said this as if it was a daily part of your life, which it was, in fact. “That was a precaution of …” You nursed over your glass, “guaranteeing I wouldn’t contact any extraction team.”

“An extraction team?” Ari couldn’t figure out if he was ridiculed or shocked, “You don’t want to be married that bad?”

The high-pitched voice didn’t bother you, but you pursed your lips together, slightly regretting your decision to share, “The muscle men at the door were for surveillance, honey, not for my safety.”

Ari could not decide whether he was surprised by the fact that your phone was taken away from you, and some sort of imprisonment was ensured so that you wouldn’t run away, or the fact that when you said “extraction team”, you sounded so sincere that he couldn’t tell if you were joking.

You didn’t answer his question of whether you wanted to get married directly, but your attitude spoke for you.

You didn’t like this marriage. You didn’t want him.

On the one hand, Ari had his ego bruised like you just punched him with a boxing glove; on the other, Ari felt truly sorry for you, about his family dragging you into this royal mess that you didn’t want to be a part of. And that there was no way of getting out.

Technically, you could. If he asked to marry another girl from another noble family. But wedding invitations had been sent. Everything prepared had your name and his name on top of it. They had been planning this for over half a year now, and there was no turning back, not at this point.

If he actually did regret this deal, let aside the disappointment and punishments from the King and Queen of this country, your father would do anything in his power to sabotage Ari’s attempt at the throne’s succession, including using his influence to flare the entire Upper House against Ari.

He felt sad. And pathetic. For the fate of this whole country lied upon whether you would marry him, when he was doubtful that he could survive the Upper House without the marriage, when he read from your file that the only thing that connected you to the Upper House is your last name, while you had yet to participate any meetings in the Upper House, which consisted of only men who were old enough to have their one foot stepped into their casket and the other on a banana peel.

If you were in the Upper House, though, things would be different. He would break the marriage deal in the blink of an eye, in order to earn your support in the Upper House.

Too bad he was still a prince. Too bad he could not administer or initiate any law before he took the throne and became the King of Ballenia. Too bad he could not make changes to the status quo, not now, not with his power.

Being a man in his 30s, all Ari could mumble was, “I hope the King and Queen learn about this.”

You scoffed over the edge of your champagne glass, placing it on the coffee table with a sharp click, “And they’ll what? Let their pathetic son swoop in like I’m a damsel in distress?”

“You are a damsel in distress.” Not looking at you, he mumbled to himself, not intending to let you hear his comment.

You let out a short, amused laugh, patting him on his firm bicep, before standing up to take a closer look at the other wedding dresses in this place.

“Oh baby, I’m not a damsel in distress.” Your fingernails raked over the expensive diamonds and pearls on one of the beautiful dresses, clenching your teeth, you spoke as if a prayer. “I’m a woman in a dress. And trust me, I will have everything I want. Even if it means that I have to murder that wimp.”

Somehow, Ari didn’t feel that his head was about to go off, but rather, his dick.

You sounded like you were going to castrate him.

Okay, maybe also murdering him. He was just glad that you didn’t know he was “Ari Levinson”, or God knows what you were planning for him, or pull a knife out of nowhere.

He made the determination to keep this secret identity as long as he could.

Among the fear of his head and dick being in different places than on his body, his mind turned so quickly that he was hit with a realization, “You are laying your murder plan out in front of me? Am I still going to be alive after this conversation?”

Hearing your name being called at the door in a familiar voice, you grinned, shouting to the front door, “Over here, Caroline!”

Ari gulped. This was probably the moment that he needed to regret his reckless decisions. That he shouldn’t marry a to-be-murderer. He should have known that your families were psychos and you were equally insane as everyone else.

His body was going to be found by his guards in a few hours, laying in a pool of blood, had his throat slit……

“Relax.” You laughed, seeing Ari’s face had gone pale, “She’s my lawyer, not my partner in crime.”

Caroline hugged you and complimented you on how well you looked, but one frown from you shut her up about the upcoming wedding and started gathering files from her brown handbag.

“You are not going out of this shop until I am certain that you won’t spill a thing to anyone.” You sat down on the couch, “Caroline, NDA him.”

Ari knew too well what an NDA is.

It is a non-disclosure agreement, with the signed party swearing on almost everything that they own, that they will not leak a word to a single soul in this world.

“Really?!!” Ari assumed the paperwork was at least 20 pages, if not more. Leaning his head back, being able to see you, he scowled, “I offered you champagne and now you pay me back with this?”

“You said you didn’t care, when I told you I’d get you to sign an NDA.”

“Yeah well, I thought that was a joke!” Ari threw his hands up in frustration.

“Aww, don’t be such a baby. You know I would be hanged if our conversation gets out.” You pouted, almost sympathetically, but the smile on your face betrayed you, “Sorry, Guy, if you want the tea, it comes with the gag. But-” You dragged your voice, gesturing to Caroline to take out another file, “If you agree to sign the other file too, there’s some … perks that I can guarantee for your family business.”

Caroline picked up from where you left off, and started explaining to Ari, “If you choose to sign the second contract with Miss. Y/N, you will be her temporal boyfriend for the time being, and in return, Miss. Y/N would wear the jewellery that your business provides for the next two years over two dozen formal occasions.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Ari thought he had misheard you.

“Two years on twenty-five formal occasions.” Caroline rephrased her lines, “And that is only one of the perks of pretending to be Miss. Y/N’s boyfriend.”

“But why?” Ari looked at you, bewildered, “You were marrying … um, the prince. What do you need a fake boyfriend for?”

“You sure you want to know why?” You raised your eyebrows, “That’s gonna get you another NDA.”

He took all his comments back.

You were not a little trouble. No. No. NO!

You were a fucking huge trouble.

“And what if I don’t sign? Neither of them.” Ari challenged you, pushing you to the edge. He crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge more under that blue shirt, “What are you going to do about it, future Miss. Princess?”

You might fuck him for that slutty arm alone.

“I’d fuck you over.” You smiled, not ashamed of using dirty moves against him, not the slightest, ���I’d told the royal family about how poorly you’ve done your service, and what a terrible shop owner you are.”

“What if I had connections?” Ari liked his chances, “What if I-”

“I can let you walk free if you sign the first one. I’d have something in exchange for the second one. Make your decision because my patience is short-lived.” You interrupted him. What was with this man and all his questions? You tapped your foot on the ground, bouncing it up and down, something your father forbade you to do over the years but you broke the rule whenever you can, “I like you, Mr. Thomas.” You said softly, “You seem smart. I like doing business with smart people. Now, smart people walk free when they can. Smarter people take their chances to gain more. Which one are you?”

“But I-” Ari was stalling to sign his name. It might not be as recognizable as in typing, but it was clear whether he would start with an “A” -

The corners of his eyes caught the name on the contract.

It wasn’t Ari Levinson.

The name put on the contract was “Guy Thomas”.

He introduced himself as “Guy Thomas”. Had the royal security forged a name and life experience of “Guy Thomas”, and if you presented this contract in front of him, that means you, in the limited time, did not have the time nor the patience to examine whether his fake identity was true – you must have assumed that it was solid and trustworthy, at least enough for you to bring the second contract. But the question remains – “If I sign this,” Ari signed the first NDA with ease and zero hesitation, pointing at the second one, “you have to tell me what it is for.”

“Simple.” You smirked, asking Caroline to check his signature, before replying with a devious smile, “They made me upset. I’m returning the favor.”

Vengeance towards your family and/or the royal family?

You were more than trouble; you were a fucking menace.

Ari took a sharp inhale as he lowered his head to sign his name on the second contract.

Fuck being a prince and all those rules. If this is the way you want to rebel against your family and the royal family, he’d be your knight in shiny armor, making sure that no harm comes your way.

His sane brain was preventing him from signing, as he was well aware that everyone else would know it was a joke, everyone apart from you. It would be devastating for you when you find out.

And yet, he wanted you to spend your last days before the wedding as a happy woman. You had such a horrible family that he wanted to help. He wanted to make you happy. Which reminded him that he had to call his future father-in-law, and get him on board with your plan, while you could not find out a single thing about Ari and his fake identity Guy … and demand him to return your phone and your freedom to you.

Was it pitying? Or was it that he knew you would find a fake boyfriend to piss off your family either way, and in the deepest darkest pit in the bottom of his heart, Ari wanted to be your boyfriend, and be by your side, even if it was a pretence?

Signing the name “Guy Thomas” on the line of the last page of the contract, Ari capped the black fountain pen and returned both objects to Caroline.

He gathered his thoughts as he ran a hand down his full-grown beard, his heart pumping a little faster than usual, probably because he was going undercover much deeper than he had thought he would, or because that making you happy makes him happy as well.

Or both.

The corner of his lips curled into a smile.

“I’m all yours.”

Taglist (also tagging those who might be interested: @irishhappiness @patzammit @identity2212 @lokislady82 @petalj @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @magnificentsaladllama @xx-rennyxx @cringeycookies @autumnrose40 @hawkeyes-queen @vonalyn @theliheat

Find the Wild Child Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

[clairedaring]

Hoàng Thùy Linh dropped her first concert album and it's the BEST Vietnamese EDM Pop Album of 2024

Compiled of 21 songs performed at her first full-scale concert, HOÀNG THÙY LINH's VIETNAMESE CONCERT THE ALBUM is a mixture of songs from Hoàng Thùy Linh's third and fourth studio albums "Hoàng" and "LINK".

With the main genres of the two albums being folktronica, EDM, pop songs, the VIETNAMESE CONCERT ALBUM has succeeded in elevating the original tracks into epic, high-energy performance-based songs for the concert. It would not be a reach to say the concert remixes/rearrangement feel like Hoàng Thùy Linh is giving a metalstep/dubstep rock twist to her repertoire of folktronica songs.

Here are my top 8 favorite tracks from the concert album

1. Kẽo Cà Kẽo Kẹt (The Creeking) - Orchestral Version

note: i previously wrote a mini commentary for the song. this song is always most painful yet beautiful to me because it encapsulates her life story so well even through the borrowed use of a folk tale.

2. Tứ Phủ x Đánh Đố

My life was tormented when he betrayed my love Even heaven could not understand Aah a.. my tears immersed in the Natural Paths Aah .. I’ve longed for you in the middle of life for thousands of years Longed for you in the middle of life for thousands of years I blame nothing but our without-graces destiny. Clouds and water will not drift to their roots Like you didn't come to my lonely life And since I knew the name of sadness. The day I picked up from the old love story, Self-talkful words all night long, Amitabha...

Both original tracks were written by Hồ Hoài Anh, Ngân Vi and produced by Triple D, with the shared depictions of the tragic beauty of Vietnamese woman. I love Tứ Phủ (Four Palaces) which is inspired by Đạo Mẫu - the Vietnamese worship of mother goddesses.

3. Lắm Mối Tối Ngồi Không (Run After Two Hares, Catch Nones)

Sometimes I want to love But I'm not suitable to love anyone

The title is taken from an idiom in Vietnamese to talk about how if you have too many suitors, at the end of the day you will end up with no one.

4. Bánh Trôi Nước (Woman)

My body is white; my fate, softly rounded Rising and sinking like mountains in streams The hand that kneads me may be rough— At center, my heart is red and true

The lyrics of the song is taken directly from the traditional poem 'Bánh Trôi Nước' (lit. translation “floating cake in water”) of female poet Hồ Xuân Hương. The poem describes the life cycle of a floating cake which is used as metaphor for the tragic life of women in the feudalism era, detailed explanation here.

5. Gieo Quẻ (Casting Coins)

Love comes like a miracle, no one can predict We meet up as God's will, then suddenly, we'll fall for each other No one can force love, neither the Gods above Love doesn't ask for anything

6. Để Mị Nói Cho Mà Nghe (Let Mị Tell You Something)

Let Mị tell you something This soul ain't made to dwell in silence Owing the love for father, for mother Might as well surrender to fate

The song was inspired by a Vietnamese classic novella, "Vợ chồng A Phủ" - which is about a young girl who ran away from an abusive marriage. If the original song had given it the novella a modern twist by using the lyrics from the protagonist Mị to express her desire to enjoy her youth to the fullest, I'd say that the anime rock twist in this remix has essentially painted the picture of Mị partying at a festival during Tết after successfully escaping her abusive household.

7. Bắt Vía

This moment is rare Please don't turn away, turn away, away No need for long or forever So even if time fades, as long as you alone stay

While it is the most pop song on the album LINK, I feel like this specific rearrangement elevates the original track by giving room to the strings which were subdued in the og track.

8. Lúc Thấy Lúc Không

I dream, dream for the high clouds Where we had a date, but you didn't come I know you just want to play with my heart, yet I still wait for you, that's why I'm sad Keep waiting for you for what? Waiting for nothing

The rearrangement was so dreamy and fairy tale-like and gave the original track the grand ballroom sound it deserved in the first place.

bonus: See Tình aka Ting Ting Tang Tang being sung by a children choir accompanied by the HCMC Symphony Orchestra is just beautiful 🥺

tldr: hoàng thùy linh dropped a great concert album rearranging all the songs on her two latest full albums. please give it a try if you're into edm, pop, folktronica, traditional music sound like zhongguo feng

[inkabelledesigns]

Fixing dolls with glue hair is a lot, and I really don't like doing it. XD But yesterday I made an effort to do another oxiclean treatment in my Way Too Wonderland dolls. This is maybe the fourth time I've done it on some of them? I've lost track. Most of them had excessively bad glue hair. But I am thrilled to say that we've almost got it! My Apple on the far left of the first picture still has a little glue, but one more treatment and I think she'll be okay. Apple is my favorite from this line, so it's gonna be all the more satisfying to have her fixed up. But everyone else I think is ready for hair styling and to be dressed up for display! This is my favorite Ever After High line, and I'm so excited I'll finally be able to have them all up!

Briar needs some repairs in terms of getting some body blushing. I made the mistake of not taking off her head when I did one of these treatments, so it got a little bleached, but I'm confident I can fix it. You may be wondering why I have two Apples and why Blondie is here. Well, for Apple, I actually got an incomplete doll back in my early days of collecting, but then I got another for a good price that was less damaged, save for the glue. X'''D So I have two. Contemplating doing a repaint for her, that could be fun. As for Blondie, I know Just Sweet Blondie Locks isn't a part of Way Too Wonderland, but they go together in my head, so I wanna display her with the rest.

Truth be told, part of this is an excuse to display my playset. I'm not usually one for doll playsets, but I really like the art on this one and would like all of my girls together. Currently doing a lot of rearranging, but it looks like my theme for September is a mix of Wonderland and popstars. I really wanna have all my dolls that are singers out for a bit, so it's a lot of MH and RH surprisingly. XD It's just, nice to update the display once in a while.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hihi!! Hope you're doing well! Please take rest and drink as much as water as you can (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

Do you write platonic relationships? If yes, may I request headcanons of Lu Bu and reader being best friends :D

It all starts with reader approaching Lu Bu because she thinks he would like a friend to talk to. Now, they're from completely different timelines and somehow very close. It's a cute friendship because she's small and very friendly to everyone and Lu Bu scares people with just one look.

I hope this wasn't too much to ask. If you can't do it, it's alright!! Have a wonderful day and sending lots of love >:D

btw I love your works sm this is my first time requesting 😭😭😭

-The sudden pressure on his back did nothing to break his concentration as he continued to swing his halberd, working on his technique, as he wanted to fight Thor again!

-Ever since being returned to life, Lu Bu has been working hard, training even harder, wanting to have an even better match against his soul mate, the opponent he had always wanted.

-Your arms wrapped around his neck, giving him a small hug, “Hi~ Lu Bu!” he cracked the smallest of grins before swinging hard, splitting the ground in front of him, but also breaking his fourth halberd of the day. He wasn’t bothered, he had plenty more.

-You hopped down before he turned, ruffling your hair lightly which made you grin before he spoke, “You need something or you just hanging out today?”

-The pout on your face was cute as your hands came to your hips, “What I can’t just come and see my most favorite Lu Bu in the world?!”

-His grin widened, and to anyone else who didn’t know him, it would have been terrifying, but to people like you and Chen Gong, you weren’t bothered, he was just smiling!

-Seeing him smile, you grinned, “I came to get you, Chen Gong asked me to bring you to lunch! He found a hot pot place!” while wanting to continue training, hearing what lunch was, he agreed, plus he couldn’t say no to you.

-If anyone saw the two of you together, they would think he was threatening you, because you were an adorable cinnamon roll while he was… not.

-Your friendship was an oddball one, but many thought it was cute, big scary Lu Bu with tiny cupcake Y/N, but you got along great with each other!

-You were the only one that could sneak up on him and hug him without breaking his concentration and you didn’t care if he spent hours training, you didn’t bother him, and if he wanted you out of the way, he would tell you, but since you’re so small, usually he doesn’t care.

-Chen Gong was overwhelmed with tears when you first met him as he hugged you, sobbing comically that his lord had made a friend!! Lu Bu had been a bit embarrassed, which was rather amusing to see but only you and Chen Gong had seen it.

-Even Red Hair liked you! And Red Hair didn’t like anyone but Lu Bu; but you didn’t ride him, as he wasn’t your horse, but you could at least approach him without fear and he would let you hand feed him and brush him.

-Chen Gong greeted you both as you led Lu Bu into the hot pot restaurant, waving you over to the table he had gotten, beaming, “I ordered plenty of meat for us!”

-Lu Bu gave him a grin, and being the only other person that didn’t mind Lu Bu’s smile, he wasn’t afraid, seeing it more as praise and happiness.

-Anyone looking at your table couldn’t understand the mismatched trio seated there, you and Chen Gong were chatty and bright, while Lu Bu was silent and scary looking, but seeing him with the two of you, he didn’t seem so scary, he almost seemed like a stoic father.

-Lu Bu cracked a grin when you put some vegetables into his bowl, “Eat some veggies too!” only you and maybe Chen Gong could get away with that.

-But then again, that’s why Lu Bu liked you, you weren’t afraid of him, you just treated him like a normal person, because to you, that’s all that he was.

[piracytheorist]

Who or what is Grim Fandango?

Set in the Land of the Dead...

A tale of corruption and greed...

A soul being deprived of her peaceful afterlife...

And a soul trying to make things right.

It's a video game!

It was released in 1998 by LucasArts and a remastered version was released in 2015. You play as Manny Calavera, the guy with the white suit in the picture, and it's set in a kind of afterlife inspired by Dia de los Muertos. Manny serves as a Grim Reaper to repay his debts to life, but in an effort to get himself into a better situation, he gets involved in a whole case of corruption and conspiracy, which he has to get himself and another soul whom he accidentally gets involved into this too out of.

It's got a fulfilling story, interesting and layered characters, immersing backgrounds and one of the best game soundtracks I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

(I recommend listening to the full thing. So much great noir jazz stuff. There was even a location I would have Manny walk slowly so that I could enjoy the track that played over it longer :D)

The "Ask me about Grim Fandango" on my blog description is a reference to it made by another game by LucasArts, Monkey Island. In the first game of that series, which barely even has a fourth wall and has the characters go meta quite often, there's a background NPC you can talk to who has a pin that says "Ask me about LOOM", another game by LucasArts that was released a little after the first Monkey Island. If you ask him he'll start excitedly talking to you about LOOM while the screen shows *advertisement* over him.

And then, in the third Monkey Island game, which came a little before Grim Fandango, there's a skeleton who is wearing an "Ask me about Grim Fandango" pin. You can't ask him about it though, cause he's dead

Basically, they were promoting their upcoming game in that way, back before everyone had constant access to the internet XD

I played Grim Fandango in the very beginnings of 2020 and got absolutely enamoured about it, and even though I haven't replayed it in some time I am still very much enthralled by it in so many ways. And so that sentence has stayed on my blog description for over four years XD

The game may come off as having some puzzles which are hard to solve - it is, after all, an adventure puzzle game, and you're supposed to spend a good amount of time finding clues and hints on how to solve each puzzle - but it's very satisfying, made with a lot of love and care for the characters and the story, so I recommend even just trying it out and using a walkthrough if you get stuck. Manny is an absolute delight and moodTM to play as, which makes the experience even more enjoyable.

So anyway, yeah. Try out Grim Fandango :D

[numberonebidoofenjoyer]

Excerpt: Team Building

//a experiment of something, if you will. I’m a writer (at least, mostly fanfics at the moment) and I wanted to see what people would think if I did more novel-esque segments at times, or even instead of video script formats (drabbles basically.)

//if it’s not too much to ask, can anyone who reads lemme know what you think? :D Thank you for reading and (if you’re a follower) staying with me so far!

“What about Worry Seed?”

Lochland sighed, flipping quickly through his latest copies of the Pokedex, biting his pen. “Nope. Shroomish in this region wouldn’t learn it as quickly.”

“Well- maybe Mold Breaker-”

“Doesn’t worry either, we don’t have the right Pokemon.”

“Just catch one, bzzt!”

He closes the book in a bit of a huff, looking up at the Rotom Phone. “And if it doesn’t become a mainstay on my team? I don’t want to catch a Pokemon just to release it for no reason.” He adjusts his glasses. “The bond has to be special.”

His Rotom Phone falls quiet, his interface changing from catalogs of Pokemon and abilities toa single worried digital frown. Lochland immediately feels a bit guilty, sighing as he pulls himself off the bed, taking care not to step on Fang’s tale.

“I don’t- want the solution to be something that’s resolved by catching Pokemon.” He said, pulling a box of snacks out of a cupboard, wincing from the strain on his shoulder. “There comes a point where I have to work with the team I build. Half of it doesn’t work if it’s Pokemon that I don’t get to bond with.”

Roto floats over, hovering over his shoulder as he fills the bowl of chips. “I don’t want to say that you can’t form a bond with them, bzzt, but there may be the fact that after a bit…your team may not work?”

“What do you-?”

The screen shifts to a model of his Pokemon and their stats. “You’re going for a more speedy approach, right? But that only works for two of them, and Garlic hasn’t been very helpful in the past couple of battles, bzzt.”

“He- he hasn’t evolved yet, that’s not-”

“Furthermore, the only real advantage he’d gain is up against the fourth gym leader. You’d still have to get through Iono. And she has four Pokemon, and putting Pave in that fight is-”

“You’re not letting me get a word in, damnit!” Lochland twists around, eyes slit into daggers as he fights back. “There’s a way around that, I’m sure there’s some sort of ground -type or Rock-type move to take care of that!”

“....Or you accept this team isn’t like your first.”

As gentle and sympathetic as the words were, they stung into Lochland’s heart, stomach twisting as if he had been hit with a Twineedle and suffered a status effect. Silence haunted the dorm room for a minute.

“...You’re allowed to try and switch out other Pokemon, you’d be allowed to experiment. You don’t need to get it right the first time. And these are fun battles, bzzt! You don’t need to be a tank or able to dodge attacks. Your life isn’t-”

“In danger.”

Roto moved over, resting his rectangular body against Lochland as a sort of comfort. “Right, bzzt. Maybe you should give different Pokemon a shot and see what clicks. Like that Galarian Challenger- the one who almost made it to the Semi-Finals!”

“….Challenger Hop became a Professor, Roto.”

“Shush.” Roto tried not to show a smile on his screen as Lochland snorted. “Hmm…how about a Pancham? That seems up your alley!” It flickered between Pokemon. “Or a Chansey?”

Lochland looked pensive, before biting on a chip.“….Chansey sounds somewhat fun. Can I get a list of attributes?”

“Of course!”

Roto started to ramble, while Lochland sat in thought.

He supposed his partner had a point. He didn’t really ever get to expand his team beyond the six he used to have. Sure, Bessie’s strength and durability were elements he kept and loved, but that was mainly to make sure that he had something to hide behind while he could heal his own or his team’s injuries. He didn’t have to overthink every move anymore, right?

…He always wanted to use a Riolu….

He’d think about it.