#no one will ever see them from the exact same angle you saw them from

[songmingisthighs]

how is it that it just dawned on me that i saw ateez in person almost 3 months after the actual concert ???

[kingkatsuki]

— calm before the storm

I was thinking about this ever since I saw this panel, and here we are.

Togame fingers us at the back of Shishitoren’s theatre. That’s it—

Pairing: Togame Jou x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, semi-public sex, fingering, dirty talk. Choji uses one (1) pet name for us but I explain in the notes at the end!! (Don’t be mad at me pls).

Word Count: 1.8k.

You cherished moments like these— the calm before the storm before the Shishitoren men would come flooding into Ori to cause a rowdy scene inside the abandoned theatre. It was peaceful here like this, as you settled in the backrow of seats beside Togame Jou. Your usual, favourite spot to be as your fingers stroked over the wooden armrest. Following the scratchings of a messy heart with both your initials inside that Togame had carved into it years ago.

Togame’s tongue glides across your lips lazily, his warm palm pressed to your chin as he holds your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. There’s no real sense of urgency to his movements, despite the fact he knows the Ori will be full of Shishitoren gang members at any moment for their afternoon sparring session.

Nothing ever happened early with Shishitoren, so having a quiet moment with Togame like this— seated at the back of the old theatre, felt like bliss. His body curved over yours as he pushed you back into your chair, deepening the kiss as his tongue swiped across your lips. Tasting the saccharine gloss that tacked to your skin with a grin, pulling away to stare down at you with half-lidded eyes.

“You’re so pretty, you know?” He drawls, “Has anyone told you that today?”

Togame doesn’t give you a moment to respond before his lips are already back over yours, persistent and commanding. The kind of kiss that would leave you in a breathless daze as he pulled the sunglasses that rest over his eyes up onto his messy mop of black hair.

“Jou,” You practically whine against his lips when you feel the familiar heat scorch through your veins as he runs his fingers down your clavicle, following a path towards your sternum to pause at your racing heart.

“So pretty.” He repeats, as though he needs to remind you, his warm palm grabs at your breast through your top as he delights at the way you press your body into his touch, “I don’t even understand how it’s possible—”

It’s always the same story, he knew every single thing that made you tick.

“Not right now,” You squeeze your thighs together shyly, trapping his warm palm between them as you look towards the theatre stage. With so many entrances to the building, there could be someone watching from any angle, “We don’t have time.”

“Why, sweetheart?” He rasps, “No one can see you like this, I promise. Please?”

He knows you can never say no to him— he delights in it, in fact.

“It’s not like we’ve never done anything here before,” He grins against your skin, “Soaked that chair nice and good for me last week—”

He knows what he’s doing, chipping away at the final pieces of resolve that you cling to in tight fists. Feeling the exact moment that the final one dislodges to have the entire tower tumbling down around you as he indulges in sweet victory.

“I’ll be quick.” Another lie that has you exhaling softly, Togame was many things— but you would have never described him as quick.

You could feel Togame’s fingers moving, despite the way your thick thighs caged him in. Rough callouses dragging against the damp crotch of your panties as wet lips lingered against your cheek, peppering lazy kisses against the skin as he felt you begin to loosen up. There was something so satisfying about a man begging like this— asking so nicely to get what he wants when it’s no secret that he could just take everything from you if he wanted. The brute force and unbridled power behind Togame Jou was no secret, especially to you— but his hands held you so delicately.

“That’s it,” He murmured against the shell of your ear, biting down on your earlobe as he felt you spread your thighs for him, the fabric of your skirt bunching up towards your hips, “Good girl.”

Togame pressed down against your puffy clit through the thin layer of lace as an airy gasp left your throat, leaning your head back against the worn theatre chair as he pulled your sodden panties to the side.

“So wet and I’ve barely even touched you,” His lips curled into a lazy smile against your cheek as his warm breath fanned your skin, “Is this all for me?”

You were shameless as you rocked your hips into his touch, suddenly unbothered you were in such a compromising position in public. Seeking out the sweet friction of his fingers against your sensitive nub as he dragged his digits through your messy slick.

Togame cherished the hushed gasp you made when he slipped two fingers inside your drooling cunt, feeling your walls tremble around him in an attempt to drag him deeper as he began to curl them with precision. Searching for that spot inside you he knew better than the back of his hand, rolling his wrist with intent as your chest began to heave with muted breaths.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He hummed, bringing his other arm around the back of your chair so you could lean against him instead. Resting your head in the inner groove of his elbow as he continued to press gentle kisses against your cheek, listening to the sound of your messy slick echo around the abandoned building.

“Jou.” You whined, reaching up to cup the side of his cheek as you felt the two-day stubble rough against his jawline, tilting your head to meet his lips in a sluggish kiss that was all tongue and teeth. Capturing the husky groans that nestled deep at the back of his throat as he fingered you, melding together with the sound of your slick as you felt the coil inside you start to wind and tighten.

You could feel the intent behind his movements, the persistent thrust of his digits as he pushed them inside you to the hilt. Coating his palm in your essence before curling at the knuckle and leisurely dragging them against your velvety walls. Repeating the motion as you writhed against him, forgetting where you were altogether as you greedily searched for your own release.

“You’re always such a mess for me, sweet girl.” He broke the kiss to stare down at where your bodies were connected, the sheen of your slick glistened against his fingers as he watched them disappear inside your warm, wet cunt. Following his gaze as your cheeks flushed with heat as he moved his thumb to your neglected clit with a smug grin, delighting in the debauched noise that he pulled from your pretty lips.

“Fuck, Jou.” You bit down on your lower lip hard as Togame pressed slow, persistent circles against the pulsing nub. Drawing the hood back as your thighs began to shake and quiver from the intent behind his actions, his kiss stained lips now smoothed into a lazy smile as he watched you through tired eyes.

Ignoring your attempt to pull him back into a sloppy kiss to stop him from watching you so intensely as he leaned back with a sly shrug, “Don’t wanna miss the show.”

You scrunched your nose in irritation at his embarrassing statement, although the flood of disconcertion that washed through was quickly replaced by the persistent throb of your core as your walls clenched around his fingers. The pressure inside you built up to boiling point as you dangled on the tip of your bliss, waiting for something to push you over the edge.

“You’re so embarrassing, Jou.” You voiced your irritation, thick lashes fluttering as the pleasure ebbed away at your insides.

“Yeah?” He laughed, low and husky, “Is that why you’re lettin’ me finger you in the backseat of a theatre like some randy teenagers?”

“Oh.” You couldn’t fight the heat that flowed through you like molten lava as you felt yourself succumbing to the pleasure, crying out his name far too loudly for the position you were in as you came undone, “I’m gonna—”

“That’s it,” Togame grinned, leaning forward in his seat as he swung one of his heavy thighs over your spread knee in an attempt to stop you from closing your legs beside him. His body almost covering yours completely as he sped up his motions, fucking his fingers into your pulsing cunt with vigour as he kept his thumb rough and constant against your clit, “So pretty for me.”

Your entire body was shaking as you slid down the worn theatre seat, unable to close your thighs with Togame’s calf between them as you tried to wriggle out of his constant touch. The white hot pleasure coursing through your veins was too much— too intense as you fought to blink back the spots blanking your vision. Togame deliberately wriggled his fingers to make your sloppy cunt sound out louder in the Ori, delighting in the crude sounds before you moved your hands down to his wrist in a pathetic attempt to stop him from overstimulating you.

“Stop it,” You huff breathlessly as Togame grins, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“That’s not what you were saying a second ago when I had you creaming on my fingers, sweetheart.” Togame finally allows you a moments reprieve as he pulls his sticky fingers from your drooling hole, holding them up to the light so you can see the strings of your slick webbing between his digits as they break off into messy lines on either side. Lips curled in a lazy grin as he used his arm around your shoulders to pull you into his side, before a large bang at the side of you had you jolting in surprise.

“It’s time! Wait— is no one here?” You heard Choji’s voice shout through the main theatre, and for once you were thankful he was always so loud, “I thought Kame-chan would be here for sure.”

Togame turned his attention back to you to give you a final kiss before moving to stand, watching you fix your skirt so that you could attempt to hide what you’d both been doing moments earlier.

“Kame-chan! And Kichi-chan’s here too!” Choji waved at you both as you gave a shy wave back, watching the other Shishitoren men funnel into the main room even after all these years, “I should’ve known you’d both be here already!”

You saw Togame’s face soften as Choji called you his name of endearment for you, a warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of him. Choji had called you Togame’s lucky charm ever since he’d met you—

“Won’t be long, sweetheart.” Togame spoke before raising his wet digits to his lips to clean your glistening slick off the tips of them, unbothered that all the other men were still very much in the room as he slid his sunglasses back over his lazy eyes and made his way down to the front of the stage.

So—

1) YES he did fight with the same hand that was just buried inside you, and YES the guys could probably smell it on him ;)

2) I didn’t want Choji to call reader Y/N-chan, and I usually try super hard not to use it. So I was trying to think of a term of endearment that Choji would use for reader in place of it that wasn’t like babes or honey or something. So I settled on Kichi, which is the Japanese word for luck or good fortune— because apparently turtles in Japan are considered lucky, and that’s why they’re often found in shrines etc… and since Choji calls Togame Kame (turtle) I thought Kichi would be cute for reader. If it gave you the ick I’m sorry though just pretend it never happened xxx

[ronearoundblindly]

Okay, so, hear me out.

I know I've got a Beauty and the Beast AU coming for skinny!Steve, but @darsynia gave me/let me have this idea of a Cinderella AU with him, too, except he is the Cinderella character who gets transformed to live his dream for a day.

I present to you the setup of:

*All photos from Pinterest

Steven is the only child of an exiled prince, and due to happenstance of the aged Warrior King Phillips having no male heir of his own, Steve becomes true royalty overnight.

His cousins, Princesses Margaret and Sharon, angry at the circumstance of their demotions at court, offer no help to the young, small, and often sickly new king.

No one is allowed to see him until his coronation. The few knights and advisors who have laid eyes on Steve are sworn to secrecy, and though he has a mind for strategy, Steve is burdened by his appearance.

Given the coronation crown the night before the big ceremony, Steve stares deep into the massive yellow gem at its front and wishes to look like the "ruler they all want to see."

And he does.

He wears the heavy crown easily, he stands tall over most of the court, and he carries a heavy, steel sword at his hip for the first time ever without the blade dragging across the stone floor.

The court is elated. No one looks twice, not even the handful of men who knew, but that's the magic of the stone...

Steve meets a seemingly endless stream of people, but the most curious is the apprentice of King Phillips' military advisor, a young man he saw befriending a stray cat in the courtyard while everyone else ogled and angled for him. The apprentice's eyes...there's just something about them...

After a long celebration feast where he charmed the nobility with humility, practicality, and honor, Steve falls asleep small again, but certain he can win over the whole realm if he can simply be known for his actions, not his physique.

That becomes the plan; Steve will work behind the scenes, make the kingdom better for people high and low, and then he'll be loved and accepted for who he is. In the meantime, he, in his natural form, can act as a sort of messenger or page boy 'for King Steven' and move around freely. Why not? They all are on the lookout for a man standing two hands higher and broader than him.

One of his first visits is to his inherited military advisor. Of course, Steve doesn't expect the apprentice to live inside the family home, possibly somewhere on the estate maybe, but after a long ride to get there and a long discussion while sitting in the man's study, Steve asks if he might walk the garden before leaving.

He asks about the woman by the roses, and his advisor simply replies "that's my daughter."

Of course, he won't bother to introduce him. Steve's an untitled nobody like he's been his entire life thus far.

Steve might not have seen the resemblance, truly, if not for the exact movement of your finger to gently lift a wilting petal back into place.

It's the move the apprentice made when scratching beneath the cat's chin, and he'll never forget that smile.

"You," he blurts, startled at the otherwise drastic change in your appearance.

You jump back before composing yourself, shielding your eyes from the bright sun above as you look him over.

He's more alarmed by your curtsy than you are by him, watching you bow deeply where moments ago your father dismissed him offhand.

"Your Majesty," you say to the ground.

You...

You recognize him like this? How? How is that possible?

His wish was granted. They all saw a perfect soldier, but that's just the thing: you didn't want to be ruled by a perfect soldier.

You wanted a good man.

You, who secretly longs to offer more to your father and family than a bartering chip for marriage, same as his cousins, need the king to be a good man because then he'll understand this...

A/N: Ok, full disclosure, I might already be very protective of this one, so we'll see if I can bring myself to put it all out there. Anyway! Thank you for the gif, Brandy! It was a great opportunity to get this down.

Also, if it's just an idea/intro, do I include the taglist? Idk. I hate pinging y'all if it's not like a lot of content.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[heartfullofleeches]

Spill

Immortal Male Yan + G.N Criminal Reader

Summary: You kidnapped him to get some information about a shared friend, but he won't give in so easily

Warnings: Sadomasochism themes, violence, slightly suggestive scene

Good little Silas.

Always keeps every word someone says to him.

It's his job afterall - one no-one else in the entire world could full. You see, Silas knew the secrets of a lot of dangerous people. The type of series others would die, or even kill for. Why would these people trust a scrawny, pathetic looking guy like him? It's simple really. He has a bigger secret than all of them combined.

He couldn't die.

It was really hard to convince his boss of his usefulness at first. His buddies put a bullet through his skull and tossed him into the trash out back before he could demonstrate himself. Didn't even buy him dinner before hand. Assholes. Coming back after having his brains splattered on his soon to be employer's did wonders for his credibility. He was mostly used as a living meat shield early on, but with his resilience to wounds and the pain they may cause his boss become more relaxed around him. He had proven worth plus is anyone ever caught wind of their ties and kidnapped him Silas would never saw a thing. He was the perfect lapdog.

After that he pretty much became an outlet for everyone's tales. From little white lights to infidelity, murder, and every other sin in the book. Sweet Silas would do his to lean an ear and give input when requested. By the end of the year Silas had enough information to get everyone involved arrested, murdered, or whatever else might happen if he let any details slip. He could easily save the lives of innocent people, but he had a bigger prey to catch than the fleeting high of justice.

After all, a good boy might go to the police, and he was no good boy.

-

Silas greedily gulps down tablespoons of water as the glass clacks against his teeth.

"Feeling better?"

"Mhm..."

A backhand soars across his face.

"Good."

Silas' head hangs at an awkward angle from the force, red stained saliva dribbling down his lips. He bite into the lower one to avoid making a sound. Normally he'd hold his captor to the same standards as his friends in regards to filling his stomach with something other than water before smacking him around, but this was no ordinary kidnapper. They were intoxicating, threatening, the exact type of person he'd love to...

Ugh, he's getting carried away again.

Best not to do that while he's still playing an innocent victim, especially in front of his Doll. Just a single week before his employment, Silas fell in love. The culprit of his stolen heart was a crook committing another robbery that night, the two's paths crossed in an alley behind the bank. No questions asked, his future spouse stabbed him directly in his chest before they fled the scene. That boldness almost made them an optional playmate, but that hint of guilt in their eyes swept him off his feet. Researching them only made him fall madder in love. He would do anything to have them.

"I don't want to hurt you. Just tell me code to his safe and I'll let you go.

Facing away, Silas is fully able to roll his eyes. At least threaten his life if he speaks while you're at it.

"Please... I really don't know what you're talking about. I'm just a waiter!" He fights in his restraints and sobs with wide eyes, hoping to sell the act anc draw attention away from his lower body. Pitching a tent right in front of his doll on their first meeting was rather embarrassing. You snarl as you pick up your knife.

"Just tell me what I want to know!"

You're so pretty when you scream. Silas can't wait for his turn to play. He holds it isn't too long so he can take a picture of his wounds and mirror them on you so you'll have matching scars. Sure he'll have to redo his now and then, but the photos you take at your wedding won't know that.

You ghost the blade down along his neck. Silas swallows to feel its point and prevent himself from choking on the blood collecting in his mouth. He wants to act just a little longer - but you're making it so hard teasing him like that. He repeats his scripted moto in his head like a pray as you drag the knife down his chest.

Scream. Cry. Scream. Cry. Ah-

Your eyes grow to the size of dinner plates as the tiny moan sounds within the empty room. It's not a whimper you're used to, but one of pure unadulterated lust. "Did.. you just."

No going back now. So much for that.

"Guess I just can't help it, Dolly. You're too fucking irresponsible. I know you wanna hurt me, but since I love you so much I wanna let you in on a little secret. You can hurt me, but you can't kill me. Break me apart if you don't believe me. I'll be back tomorrow to take what's mine."

You step back as he erupts into a fit of shrill laughter. "That bastard- Always hiring the freaks. I can't believe he ditch me for someone like you."

His laughter stops. That's a secret his boss never shared with him. That old fuck would've been dead long before then if he had.

"Ohh, did he do something to hurt you? That changes everything. I'll give you whatever you want to know down to his house code if you let me have first cut."

"Why would you help me?"

"I already told you, Doll." Silas stands up and drops the cuffs to the ground, dislocated bones bopping back into place as he flexes. "I love ya, and I'm gonna make sure whoever's hurt you pays. Got this job just to help you out anyway. Issue is if you want me to spill the beans without a few dates first you gotta spilling my guts on the floor as my spit spills down your pretty throat."

[raccoonscupoftea]

🦉Balance Act

Timeskip!Bokuto X gymnast!F!Y/n

Summary: While waiting for practice the boys spot you practice your routine. Afterwards Bokuto regrets not speaking to you.

Warnings: Fluff, possibly grammar mistakes cause english is not my first language.

| MASTERLIST | REQUESTS INFO |

//----//----//----//

Atsumu had thought, if his teammate Bokuto ever has a partner they would be relaxed, bringing down the Volleyball player with just a smile. Someone charming. That meaning, IF Bokuto ever gets into a relationship. A big If. Said teammate is so head first into volleyball that he basically never really goes out and meets new people. The same applies to him but this is not his story.

Practice was postponed for an hour today. No one told the players the exact reason, so as the trio of troubles still arrived at the usual time, they were devastated to seeing the whole gym plastered with balance beams and trampolines. Everywhere are people practicing their routines on the devices. There's no space left for them to do their practice. There also don't have their outdoor sports shoes with them, so practicing outside wasn't an option either.

One overseeing person noticed the three players and jogged over to them. He first bowed down to apologise and then explained "I'm sorry for occupying the gym, but ours is under renovation and we need to practice due to an upcoming tournament next week.

The three of them looked like deers in a cars flashlight, but Hinata soon spoke up "Oh no problem. Our coach only told us practice starts one hour later. We didn't know the gym was occupied"

The overseer thanked the three of them, then pointed to the seats "If you don't mind you can watch the girls practice. Some eyes on them will get them accustomed to the pressure next week"

At the word girls Atsumu's eyes lit up. Just now he realises that there are only girls running around and training their routines.

"No bad idea, what ya' guys think?"

His smirk all over his face. And so Atsumu, Bokuto and Hinata sat at the sidelines and watched them, also waiting for time to pas so they could practice as well.

They saw some mess up heavily, slipping of a beam or messing up the angle of their jumps. They also saw that some girls had noticed them. Of course Atsumu had to wave over with a charming smile, making the girls giggle and leave to the next round of practice.

Hinata was eagerly watching the practice at the trampoline, now wanting to jump on one too, to see how it feels to jump so high in the air.

Bokuto on the other side was a bit down because of the lack of practice and leaned his head on the railing before him. His hands just dangled down from his shoulders.

Suddenly they heard is loud round of applause over by a balance beam. All three glanced over and saw a bright smiling girl with h/c hair tied up in a ponytail. She slowly walked backwards to the beam, while bowing to the crowd that applauded to her. Halfway at the beam she sprun around and jogged the rest.

At the very beginning of the beam, still both feet on the ground. She took in a deep breath in and out, relaxing her self and her breathing. With one swift and effortless motion of one of her legs, she now stood steadily on the beam. Her routine on the beam was interesting and even if it looks easy to the unschooled eye, it was still mesmerising to see such grace and balance on a 10 centimeters thin walkway. Her every foot placing was without a fail and no balance disturbances could be seen.

Even Bokuto, who as still a little sulky, couldn't look away and felt his body tense up just by seeing her walk over it.

As she began to make jumps, cartwheels and back flips on this thing, Bokuto hoped with every jump that she would land on her feet again. And she did. At the end of her routine she did a flip of the beam at the end. She spread out her arms, waited a few seconds and then the applaud came back.

As the sound of the claps echoed throu the hall, Bokuto as well wanted to clap. He had raised his hands but never committed to it. Realised that she wouldn't have heard it in the first place.

The girl turned back around to the crowd and smiled bright, made a little happy dance and jogged over to the others. They all hugged and padded her on the back.

"bet If I were to search up graceful, I would find a pic of her beside it." Atsumu commented.

"Oh, guys. I know who she is" the excited voice of Hinata was a little bit louder than he head though. Both Atsumu and Bokuto glanced over to him. Hinata suddenly had a flyer in his hand.

"Where did you get that from?"

"I got it from the person we met at the entrance, but look at this"

The sunshine boy held the flyer to his friends to read, pointing at a specific place.

Both of them read. L/n Y/n youngest gold medal awarded gymnast. Her talent is astonishing and the shining star of Tokyo, when it comes to the balance beam. She had won multiple gold medals even in junior high school, but her goal of reaching Olympia is still one place behind.

You were known throu the gymnastics world, that's why the other girls had applauded when it were you're turn. That's what the trio thought.

"woah" Bokuto started "that's amazing, but why didn't she went to Olympia when she's so good"

"guess you have to ask her yourself" was Atsumu's only answer.

Hinata looked into the flyer once more but there was nothing to his question.

During their speculations and astonishment, they didn't notice that you were glancing over at them. One of your gym friends pointed out that the three of them were watching your every move with interested eyes.

You shyly pushed away a streak that got out of your ponytail. "Look at our gold star, winning those boy's hearts in no time" one girl claimed "Yeah, and here you are saying it's not easy to get a boyfriend. You so married to your hobby"

You shy away more by the cheer amount of compliments "I just wand to get accepted finally" you explained "Then I can care about love"

One girl padded you on the back "You have this Olympia invitation in save hands when you're perform this good at the tournament. Screw this bitch who always outscores you by one point"

"for me it still smells like bribing the judges to one up her one point every time"

"Girls" you started calmly "It's not like that. They would have found out already. Besides she is just a bit better than me"

"Don't make yourself that low, Y/n. You slay. You are the greater one and deserve it. You've trained since you were a child, she only started in highschool. That's so unfair to me"

You smiled at the others's anger, that you should held instead. "It's fine by me. Now let's continue for the last minutes we have, until we have to clean up"

You once again looked at the three boys. One cuter than another, but probably way out of your league. You heard that today's practice crashed with one of the most known volleyball teams, so these three must be from that team.

You watched some routines from other girls before heading to a more isolated beam to practice your own again. You had done a cartwheel and your trainer comes up to you "Your foot placement was a little off. Remember to keep your balance up and don't lean to any side. The judges will have eyes on everything"

You let your arms slouch down and you began to sat on the beam. The energy was out for today. It's only been 2 hours but it were intense 2 hours. You had your own balance beam while the others had to share with the other girls.

The trainer saw your lack of energy and gave over your bottle.

You knew the trainer just wanted to make sure and meant well, but these constant reminders that the judges are judging everything you do, is like a curse to be perfect every time you do the routine.

"Let's stop for today" the trainer proposed "You seem to be in a state where you only do mistakes"

He was correct, but it still hurts to hear it. You jumped down from the beam, took the bottle as well as your towel and left to the changing rooms.

Thoug, over by the seats Bokuto was being teased by no one other than Atsumu "Ah you fell for her didn't ya'. I can sniff those love fumes. Bet'ya can't call her over, eh?" Bokuto wanted to say something but Hinata interrupted him "Yeah he can't. She's gone. Like gone gone" that's the sign for the other two players to search over the hole gym, but still no Y/n in sight. They're also starting to clean up the place, meaning volleyball practice soon starts for them.

--

Volleyball practice was cut short, because of a sudden visit from Kuroo and his Co-worker. Apparently some client was disapproving something and they had to redo their work. After that they went out to eat. Bokuto was happy to be connecting with his old friends again, but Kuroo noticed that something was off about his buddy.

"Did anything happen today, or why are you so down?"

"Yeah. I noticed that too" Kuroos co-worker spoke up "Who made you upset? I'll beat them some sense into their brain"

Bokuto smiled at his friend's for carering about his feelings "It's nothing so serious. I'm fine"

"Bullshit" of course Atsumu had to butt in. Said blonde put both hands on the table and leaned forward "He took a liking to some gymnastics chick we had seen today. At our gym" He leaned back into his seat again "Poor boy regrets not speaking up to her"

After his explanation the Co-worker's face lights up while Kuroos was begging to smirk. "That's to damn bad, man. Wish you had someone in a certain company with almost every athletes contact information" He was talking about himself. His claim earned him a slab on his forearm from his Co-worker. "You're an asshole"

His smirk only grew wider "I know"

The door of the café had opened once again and Atsumu had full view on who just entered. Normale He would have just ignored it but this laughed made him look over. And who would have known, you just walked into the room with a friend of yours.

Atsumu's fave lightens up and he repeatedly poked Bokuto's are pointing at you with incomplete words. Bokuto mood immediately got better just to be shocked again as Hinata called the two girls over.

You turned over to thier table as one of them shouted out your name, them recognising the 3 volleyball players you had seen at practice. With a smile, you decided to ditch your friend for a second and go over to them.

"greetings" you said with a cheerful voice

"L/n-san you're were amazing at this... Uh... Stick thing"

You laughed a little at the words Hinata choose, but then explained it "It's called a balance beam and thank you for you're kind words. It's not much thou"

"Not much!?" This time Bokuto had the courage to speak up "You were stunning. All this flips and wheels. I myself was so tensed up, hoping you wouldn't fall off and hurt yourself"

The sudden loud compliments struck with you and made you stand there not knowing what to do, until the heat creeped up at your face. You quickly pulled up a hand to hide you're cheeks. A nervous laugh escaped out of your throat "I'm happy to hear that"

You then didn't really knew what to say next but luckily the friend of yours came to the rescue.

"Hey, you're the guys who were watching today's training. Nice too meet you. I'm Y/n-chans best friend" they all greeted her as well.

"I haven't gotten y'all name, yet?"

Hinata was the first to apologise for this mistake then went on and introduced his teammates as well as Kuroo to the two girls.

Unfortunately you and your friend had a tight schedule today and left after the introduction, but you made sure to write down your number on one of the coasters. Also not leaving before giving a sweet smile to the guy who made you blush after a long time.

As the two of you left the café, Atsumu elbowed his friend and wiggled his eyebrows "Someone's got the jackpot"

Bokuto was holding the coater and smiled from ear to ear.

a/n: possible part 2? If wanted

[blindmagdalena]

Heya, do you write for ftm!reader? You can ignore this ask if you don't write for them.

(sorry if this may sound self indulgent) But can I get a tiny scenario of Homelander just being affectionate towards his boyfriend. I know he's mostly written as a boob type of guy, but what if he likes thighs and ass. Like reader has top surgery, but would Homelander would be just loving his boyfriend's thigh and ass. Both him and his boyfriend would praise eachs others bodies in bed (can be nsfw if you like)

(just been really bummed about my dysphoria lately, and I wanted my man Homelander just being cuddly n stuff)

i hope this is okay, anon! i'm still a little fried, and my requests are technically closed, but your ask really resonated with me so i wanted to put out a lil something-something. never, ever apologize for self-indulgence! also, if you're in the market for more ftm!reader x homelander content, i highly recommend you check out @sehtoast's works if you haven't already! 🖤

It's early morning. You've been watching sunlight crawling up the headboard as the sun rises above the skyline, spilling over you and illuminating the face of the man sleeping soundly beneath you.

There was a period of time after surgery where you couldn't lie like this anymore. In fact, the only way you could lie was upright, slanted back against a special pillow.

Often times, that pillow was Homelander. He didn't mind sleeping at an angle with you so long as he still got to hold you.

However, you're healed enough now that it doesn't hurt to sleep with your chest pressed to his. You were quick to jump on the opportunity.

Homelander wakes with a deep inhale, nostrils flaring with it. He opens his eyes belatedly, squinting against the sunlight backlighting you.

That same light makes his hair look ethereal and golden, and his blue eyes even brighter.

"Morning," he greets, the word slurred with sleep. He smiles lazily after a beat.

"Mmmmm, missed this," he murmurs, sweeping his hands all the way down your back, over your ass, your thighs.

He's never been shy about loving every part of your body.

The two of you have happily spent hours mapping each others curves and slopes, charting moles and birthmarks like waypoints.

Even blind, you would know him by the shape of him beneath your palms.

You laugh softly when he makes a point to take two handfuls of your ass, squeezing appreciatively.

"Me too," you agree, toying with the hair at the base of his neck, your own arms pinned under his.

"Do you miss the boob squish, too?" you ask, smushing your flat chest against his.

It's hard to put into words the sense of euphoria you've felt ever since the surgery, but a nagging little voice in the back of your mind has nipped at your consciousness, fretting that this joy was yours alone.

"Mmmmhm," he hums, eyes closed against the light.

Your smile falters. His casual confirmation of your gnawing insecurity has instantly made you anxious.

"You ever feel upset I got rid of them?" you ask tentatively, trying to keep the nerves from your voice.

He cracks one eye open, his brows furrowing. "What? No."

You can see in his shifting expression how he's mentally working his way back through the conversation. "You asked me if I missed 'em, and I do. I'd miss any part of you that was gone. Doesn't mean I'm upset. If you wanna..." He lifts his hand to gesture vaguely.

This kind of conversation isn't his forte, but you can tell he's trying.

"Dye your hair, wear makeup, don't wear it, whatever... Whatever you do to make your body feel like yours. Whatever. It's still you."

He's beginning to sound like you. You still remember how embarrassed he'd been when you first saw him without his suit, or when you figured out his hair bleaching routine.

You had said almost the same exact thing to him.

Tears prickle unexpectedly in your eyes. The good kind.

"Now, that said. Your ass?" he follows up, kneading the soft swell of it against his palms.

"You try and hack that off, then we'll have problems. Serious problems," he says gravely.

You huff an affectionate laugh, kissing his chin, his cheek, his nose, and finally his lips. You're determined to ensure your lips know every part of him as well as your hands do. "I promise my ass isn't going anywhere," you say, swallowing back the lump in your throat, unable to keep the smile from your face.

"Good," he says, kissing you in a series of short bursts. "Because I'd catch it," he says, punctuating the sentiment with a crisp two-handed slap to your ass.

You laugh, pressing your forehead to his. "I love you."

You can feel his grin against your lips when he replies, "Love you more."

[fandom-shitposter]

Why do we have to slog through 50 layers of heavily applied references in every current Star Wars show?

Because it's a smokescreen trying to make us dismiss the ones which point out the actual underlying story. Which is the exact same story we already know only from a slightly different angle and using clones and technology instead of Jedi since, you know, that's not really an option anymore

The story of a child living on a backwater planet who lives solely with their mother, a child who has an amazing talent for machinery and builds their own droid(s), who gets to run off with a bunch of men (their new 'family') for a far more exciting life which ultimately leads to devastation after they made some really bad life choices because they don't want to accept death as a factor of life

And yeah, I do realise how basically stripped down that description is

First we meet the small child, then we meet them again when they're older and getting all trained up (even if it is done as more of a Dooku/Ventress thing second time around)

And then they hit their final stage where they never ever take their helmet off until the very end of things, and neither of them are using their own speaking voice

Cue the supposed 'shock' ending and a bunch of Disney execs patting themselves on the back for no one seeing it coming

-

Each OG role has been divided up between 2-3 current characters so Omega can help Mommy out by building a cyborg to mimic Anakin building C3PO but she hasn't had the opportunity or ability to do the equivalent of killing the Jedi in the temple, that part was farmed out to someone else regardless of whether they stated it on that specific show yet. It already happened and we saw it previously

Tech can stand in for Obi-Wan disliking her flying style, teaching her the skills she'll need to survive and dealing with her on an emotional level (with the assistance of the rest of the 'family' like the Jedi would have supported Anakin), but the big Anakin vs Obi-Wan fight at the end of season 1 was acted out by Hunter and Crosshair instead and since Echo already lost the appropriate number of limbs which that fight claimed before becoming a cyborg there was no need to repeat it

-

Unfortunately they've spent so much time on cramming in the surface level references into all of these shows, bending existing characters into shapes that don't fit them (*cough* Ahsoka show *cough*), obscuring the details and dropping any inconvenient parts of former canon they don't like that it's all become a little bit overblown and boring.

The makers of Star Wars just can't get past the Anakin Skywalker story no matter how big the SWU is or how many far more interesting tales there are to tell in it. How many promising looking shows have been cancelled or lost to development hell to focus on this instead?

Just last year Dave Filoni claimed that Anakin was the best Jedi ever (or something like that) and we all laughed at him for it. So why did he claim it in the first place? Who was he trying to convince? Are we just supposed to watch these shows and decide that Disney are doing it better than Lucas ever could? Just what is the point here?

Apart from money, obviously

[lorata]

I’m loving the “outsider/insider perspective” fic that’s going on re: the Games. Your Rowan and Blake, @cloversworldsblog’s bit about the outlier Victors and Alec, it’s so good and it helps add so many layers to the worldbuilding! The idea of the people who “know” (or think they do) the Games, and yet, they really don’t know everything.

For Rowan, the thing that caught me was the whole attitude about the 74th being a love story-how clearly the Centre sees that it’s just that, a story, how the rules change wasn’t ever going to last, even how Katniss was fully prepared to shoot Peeta in the end (a kind of ruthlessness Two would begrudgingly approve of). But even though they *know* it’s just an angle, the word comes down from the Capitol, and Two falls in line, parrots the storyline even though they don’t believe it.

Also, I’d love to see a story with Two’s Mentors (it would have to be Two, One is too resentful and Four is in that odd space) dealing with the outlier Districts, and just flat out telling them, “You would have done the exact same thing if you had the chance. To save your children, you would make the same choice we did, and if you deny it you’re lying.”

"You would have done the exact same thing if you had the chance" is exactly the undercurrent and the tension that plays in a lot of the mentor interactions, and I swore I wrote that precise line in a Ronan scene somewhere but I can't find it so maybe I imagined it? or maybe it's just like ............ so steeped in all the unsaid even though he's never actually said it aloud, haha

I'm really loving the discussions and interplay that's coming out of things lately as well! Chaff's "I'm nothing like him" (Alec) is incredibly damning but it IS the mystique that the Capitol -- and the Centre machine itself -- work so very hard to maintain on many different levels. D2 kids die, yes, but choose to be there. D2 victor prostitution is "different" because they choose their targets; they aren't sold, they're selling themselves. D2 victors might be disfigured or traumatized but they wanted this so they can't complain.

as someone who was around in the early 2010s and saw how the prevailing fandom attitudes were basically ... well, the above, it's really gratifying to see such rich, nuanced conversations happening around all the districts and the propaganda that goes into keeping the people divided. partly due to people growing up but even new & young fans are having these discussions, partly, i think, due to like ... world events that have happened since. a 14yo in 2012 has had a very, very different life experience than a 14yo in 2022

also just as an aside since you mentioned it, Katniss and Peeta have very different skillsets as far as the Centre is concerned and it makes for fascinating watching. Peeta has the crowd work while Katniss does not -- they point this out, that he's the one who's been giving her audience appeal, he's the one who (if he weren't bleeding to death) could have walked out with sympathy by throwing the knife away at the same time Katniss pointed the arrow, but he lacks survival skills. Katniss has a singleminded ruthlessness (in the Marco Animorphs sense, where she can see the bright, clear line from A to B) that makes survival possible, but the audience doesn't like her and she makes very little effort to do so until forced. they need each other and it was a fascinating game to analyze, from a strategy standpoint.

the trainers always assumed the rule change would be revoked at an appropriately dramatic point, but they also thought that whoever won would be a disappointment without the other as complement. a weird game to play and no clear resolution, until the kids blew the whole thing up

not one that would work for any of you, indeed

[anne-chloe]

Underground | XIII |

The Goblin King/Jareth x Reader

Summary : The Goblin King is constantly there. He offers a gift, a crystal ball, so you can see clearly what your beloved fiancé is up to. And it seems as though Harry is back to his normal ways.

The spotlight shone brightly in your eyes as you advanced towards centre stage with your castmates. The theatre roared in excitement as an instrumental version of the opening song was playing; the cast directed their own applause to the directors, the band, the costume and set designers, and finally to the audience themselves.

Adrenaline filled your body as the applause rang true in your ears. You couldn't help but smile gleefully at the appraisal, bathing in its glow alongside your friends. The way everyone had worked extremely hard for the past 6 months was unreal—every ounce of energy went into this very performance.

You were saddened that this would be the final one, the closing night of the performance. While you mourned the ending, you were joyous that it had happened to begin with.

You exited the stage after the curtains finally fell, and immediately your shoulders dropped. Arms embraced you from all angles, pulling you into one of those joyous group hugs that you loved to savour every second of. You laughed happily in the arms of your friends, listening and participating in words and whispers of encouragement and exclamation of the performance that had taken place.

And out of the corner of your eye, you saw a familiar face.

Jareth.

He lingered in the wings, slightly obscured and hidden by shadows. He looked the exact same as you had last seen him; his mismatched eyes glued to your form. You tensed up at the intensity of his stare, feeling shivers roll down your spine. And in his hand was a crystal ball, which he played nonchalantly with, twirling it in his gloved fingers.

You blinked.

He was gone.

The embrace broke and you followed your castmates to the changing rooms, where makeup and hair care accessories were scattered across every surface. Random articles of clothing strung haphazardly over chairs and the floor, shoes messily piles and sticking out.

"I'm just going to be sobbing for the next year," Penelope joked as she slumped into her chair, focusing her attention onto the mirror that displayed a red lipstick mark of her name in the bottom corner. You slid into the chair next to her and started removing your character's accessories; earrings, necklaces, bracelets...

"Me too," you said in agreement. You blinked at your own reflection, half expecting it to start moving by itself. You scrutinised is closely, watching for any indication that it wasn't truly yours. But it followed your every movement closely, and you tried not to roll your eyes at your own paranoia. "I'll be waking up at 3am singing-crying."

Penelope let out jovial laugh.

You stripped out of your costume and lovingly hung it onto the rack, feeling the material one final time between your fingers before finally letting it go. You always became too attached to your character when playing them; it was part of the job. You felt like a piece of the character always stayed with you. Well, you were going to take a piece of the character's jewellery home with you and maybe a prop from the set, just as a cute reminder of the character you got to be. It would be stored away safely in the box that contained other trinkets from previous performances that you'd done, since you were a child up until now.

"Oooh," Penelope called teasingly from behind as you stepped away from the rack. She held up a small white gift bag, a pink ribbon attached at the top with a small hand written note. She dangled it in front of you to take; you gently pinched it from her fingers and skimmed your eyes over the message. "[Name] has an admirer!"

' Your beauty knows no bounds. Your talent is to be admired. Call for me and I will be there. '

It was a note written in cursive. Harry didn't have the neatest hand writing ever, so you knew that this couldn't have come from him. Inside the gift bag was a beautiful rose and a crystal ball.

It was from Jareth.

"So, who's it from?" Penelope asked tauntingly, sliding into your personal space and taking a peek at the written note. You shrugged her off and held the gifts close to your chest, whether to hide them or protect them you weren't entirely sure.

"It doesn't say," you said quickly, and a familiar heat started to burn at your cheeks. But you didn't need Jareth to write that it was from him, and he knew that.

Penelope scoffed and stepped back, flipping her brown hair over her shoulder and jutting out her hip. "Well, that's a bit silly," she mumbled, "how are you supposed to call them if a name or number wasn't given?"

Because Jareth wanted you to wish yourself away to him. Again. You knew that was the only way to find him, and he knew that too. His magic was stronger in the Underground, inside his own realm; it was possibly very scarce in the human world.

"Magic, I suppose," you replied, hoping that your tone came across in a joking manner. It sounded dry and sarcastic, and luckily Penelope found a hint of humour enough to laugh along with you.

You finished changing into something else after the conversation was dropped. Your castmates were going out to celebrate the closing performance, but Harry was expecting you at home. He didn't come to the closing show because he was busy with work (and because you didn't want him making love-eyes at Casey again, if she happened to be there). You didn't mind his lack of presence; you were strangely more comfortable without him watching you constantly. You felt at ease knowing that he couldn't tarnish your favourite space with his betrayals.

"Just come out for a little!" Penelope begged, her arm locked with yours and tugging you in the direction of the nearest pub. She wiggled her brows and it made you chuckle, but you continued to decline and unwrap yourself from the group.

"I'd love to, but I promised Harry I'd come straight home," you explained, now stepping back.

Penelope rolled her eyes. "I don't know if you guys had an argument or something, but in the last two months something has changed! Is he being kind to you?"

Yes. No.

You couldn't answer that.

Harry wasn't horrible to you. He was actually very doting on your personal needs. He became suddenly too attentive, and it was like he knew your emotions before you ever did. But in a way, his behaviour was somewhat hostile—not violent and abusive, but to the point where you felt like tip toeing around him. You couldn't deny that it was nice not having to deal with particular things at home, but you felt smothered and overwhelmed at times, as though Harry was constantly breathing down your neck and waiting for you to make a mistake.

You convinced yourself that he was scared to lose you again. You had been so close to giving yourself away to the Goblin King, and that must have frightened him. To have lost you so easily. It's what you wanted him to feel; you wanted him to mourn losing you, as a punishment so he'd never dare to cheat again. But that changed when Harry had confronted Jareth and saved you both. You'd given him a second chance.

"Nothing happened," you said with the best of smiles you could muster. "I'll text you all later!"

And so the final goodbyes were said, and you parted ways. You found a taxi to take you home, and you arrived back at your shared apartment within 15 minutes. Traffic wasn't too bad at that late hour, but you'd asked the driver to take his time and to prolong the journey by driving down back roads instead.

You paid and left and entered the shared space, inhaling deeply into the quietness of your apartment. You shrugged off your jacket and hung it up alongside your bag, then entered the lounge where Harry was sitting and browsing the TV. His laptop was perched on the coffee table, displaying a document with thousands of words written. You joined his side and snuggled up, placing a quick kiss on his cheek as a greeting.

"Good show?" Harry asked without looking at you. He seemed focused on the TV.

"Very," you answered curtly, sitting back and resting into the cushions. You felt the ache ease from the heels of your feet, and you stifled a satisfied moan at finally being able to relax. "Pen and the others were heading out to celebrate."

Harry grunted, but he didn't look at you.

You placed your hands into your lap. Your gaze roamed the laptop in front of you, sneaking words from his paper. None of the content made much sense, and you were sure if you'd read it from the beginning then you still wouldn't understand. You'd tried to once, but his company was very intricate and complicated.

"Good day at work?" You asked after a brief pause. You watched in your peripheral as Harry's shoulders tensed. But still, he didn't look at you.

"Yes."

Odd. Normally he had more to say. Whether it was about a meeting he was dissatisfied with, or a moan about a colleague messing up—he always had more to say.

You furrowed your brows at his behaviour. "Did Marcus upset you again?"

Harry shook his head, and he continued to scroll through the channels on the TV. Then, he flicked on the Netflix app, where he continued to browse the selection there. But he wasn't looking for anything in particular; he was just keeping himself distracted. And that made you suspicious.

"No. Marcus was off sick."

"Oh," you breathed, feeling your chest tighten as the tension in the room started to grow. You didn't dare to pry any further. There was a question you wanted to ask, but you knew that it would spark an argument if you weren't careful. Harry was clearly not in the mood to be reasonable with his responses, and you were particularly drained from todays events.

"I'm going for a shower," you told him when he didn't show any indication that he wanted to continue speaking. Harry waved you off and you immediately left.

Once inside the safety of the bathroom, you stripped your clothes and turned on the shower. You splashed your face with water from the sink and began wiping away the makeup that made you appear preciously doll-like. Then, you stepped into the shower and started to wash your troubles away.

Your mind continued to focus on Harry and his strange behaviour. You couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong. Something bad must have happened at work, or else he wouldn't behaving this way. Harry couldn't lie to save his own life, nor could he keep a secret very well; he wore his emotions on his sleeves, and that's why you matched well with him in the first place.

You stepped out the shower and wrapped a towel around your hair and body, then moved into the bedroom you shared. It wasn't how you had left it at all—the bed was made, and the sheets were fresh from the cupboard. You dried off and shimmied into your shorts and shirt. You towel dried your hair and plaited it over your shoulder.

You blinked at your reflection.

It blinked back, delayed by a second.

You immediately backed away and pointed accusingly at the mirror. "It's you again," you whispered harshly, watching as the reflection displayed a devious grin, completely the opposite of your irritated expression.

"Yes, yes," she hummed, waving you off with her hand. "Magic is a fickle thing. You chose Harry over our King."

She was direct and straight to the point. You frowned and slid back into the chair. "He was using me—"

"No he wasn't," she corrected fast, shaking her head in disapproval. "Our King did everything you asked of him. And you left. And you still haven't called for him. Why haven't you called for him? You know you want to."

Why hadn't you called for him? Harry told you he was using you for entertainment. You were just another pawn in his sick game of taking advantage of vulnerable wishes. You bit your tongue every time you thought about calling for the goblins to take you away; it was always so tempting to leave this world behind.

"I won't be tricked again," you explained firmly. You drummed your fingers into the surface of your vanity. "I don't belong there, do I? Harry told me—"

"Harry is a liar and a cheat," she hissed, her hands pressing against the mirror. It was almost like she was trying to claw her way out. You were thankful that this wasn't a scene out of a horror film, or else you'd have been screaming in fear. "Don't you think he's been acting strange today?"

"He's probably tired," you defended.

"From?"

"From..." you couldn't find the words to back up your argument. Harry's job wasn't laborious in the slightest. It was an office job that required him to sit, drink coffee, talk to other people via email and meetings, scroll through his phone, type a few words on a document then go home. Sure it could be mentally draining, staring at the same four walls for 8 hours a day, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be tired. Right?

Then, the reflection lifted her finger and pointed at something behind you. You blinked, confused, then spotted the gift bag you had left out in the entrance of the apartment. You whirled around to confirm it was there, and it was. You stood and picked it up, and instinct told you to pull out the crystal ball from the bag.

"He's awfully suspicious," she taunted from the mirror, her eyes glistening something dangerous and knowing. "Take a look."

"That's spying," you muttered, your thumb rubbing over the smooth glass.

"It's checking," she whispered.

A white mist rolled from the centre of the ball, then revealed Harry sitting in the lounge with the laptop perched on his lap. He seemed completely normal, typing away with the TV playing a random film as background noise. But then his phone buzzed, and he immediately discarded his laptop and unlocked the texting app, revealing Casey's contact and an entire history of messages.

You sank down on to the bed as Harry smiled dearly at the messages. He glanced around to check you weren't there, and he texted back. They were flirting—sending kisses and making jokes about their most recent meeting, about how wonderful it was to be in one another's arms again, to explore one another so personally and deeply.

You felt something shatter.

Tears rolled down your cheeks. You zoomed across the room and flung open the drawers, threw on outside clothes and began stuffing random articles of clothing into a duffel bag. You ignored the sly smirk from your reflection, not noticing the way she faded completely.

The bedroom door opened, revealing Harry's mop of messy hair. He peered in, confused, then gaped at the sight of you packing your things. "What are you doing? What's going on?" He exclaimed in panic, rushing to your side to grab your arms and stop you from moving.

You pushed him away, expression darkening at the mere sight of him. "I'm leaving," you spat, bitterly and venomous. "For good. Have fun with Casey. I'm sure you'll both be perfect for each other."

Harry visibly paled, and the clogs inside his mind whirled as the connection was made. "I don't—how did—" He lunged forwards and secured your arms around your body, and you struggled to move against him.

"Let go," you demanded, whipping your shoulders back and forth to try and throw him off. His grip remained firm and secure, his nails digging into your skin.

"No." He huffed, "I want to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about!" You hissed. You tried pinching his arms, but he merely groaned and held you tighter. It was becoming harder to breathe at this point, and a brief fear that he might accidentally suffocate you crossed your mind.

"[Name], please just listen to me," Harry begged, his voice an annoying sound in your ear. Like a fly buzzing around something sweet.

"So you can lie to me again? I trusted you! I believed you when you said you wouldn't see her again! And you're texting her! I bet you didn't want to come to my shows because you were seeing her instead!" You cried accusingly.

You'd caught Harry again. Well, sort of. You weren't going to admit that Jareth had given you the means to discover his betrayal, because that would only add further fuel to the argument. You didn't need him finding out your methods of discovery, it was practically irrelevant.

"She messaged me first," Harry argued, as if that very fact would make anything better.

"Why didn't you block her?"

"She got a new number!"

"Then block that too!" You shouted. It was like he found a thrill in cheating on you; sneaking around behind your back and romancing another woman. He must have found an enjoyment in being involved with Casey, then romancing you as if he hadn't just done something wrong. You felt icky and disgusted, especially now that he'd wrapped you into his arms so you couldn't escape.

"I'll do better," Harry quickly said, his attitude changing from defensive to pleading. He spun you around so you were forced to look up at him. His eyes were glossed over, and his face was rather red. "I won't do it again. I'll phone her now and tell her that I'm finished with her. I'll do it."

His ramblings made you want to be sick.

You needed to get away from him. There was no way you could trust him again, not after he'd cheated with the same girl twice. You felt stupid for ever believing that he'd change. You thought he was afraid of losing you to the Goblin King, that nearly remaining in the Underground would have surely broken his heart—but it was clear to you now that he didn't have a heart.

"Phone her then," you decided coldly. "Phone her. Now."

Harry let go and he bolted for the door.

You crumbled to your knees and began scraping together the shattered crystal ball. You desperately tried to piece them back together, but it was useless.

Your head tilted forwards and a harsh sob left your throat. How could you have been so incredibly stupid? You'd always said that a cheater was forever a cheat, and that if your significant other ever cheated then you'd never forgive them. Why didn't you take your own advice? You wanted to believe that your relationship could remain as it had, but you were so stupidly wrong.

"Goblin King..." you huffed under your breath, tears dripping into tiny puddles on the bedroom floor. You sniffled and rubbed your eyes. "I... I wish..."

The words were stuck in your mouth. You were extremely conflicted. Did you really want to leave like this? You could go back into the city and find your friends and maybe crash at theirs for a few days. They would remain out partying until the sun would surely rise—it was their typical fashion.

Harry returned to the bedroom with his phone fumbling around in his hands. You could hear the tone dial beeping, signalling that he was calling somebody.

"Hello? No. Its over. I don't want to see you anymore," Harry said into the phone, his eyes directly trained on you. You tensed up, feeling like his words were directed to you rather than Casey. "I can't keep sneaking around. It's exhausting. I'm not in love with you anymore."

He's not in love with you anymore.

Your lips parted in disbelief. This is the push that you needed. You suddenly felt empowered. You felt... free.

"I wish the goblins would take me away."

Harry's expression turned into shock as the words left your mouth. He lowered his phone and moved towards you, his hand shooting out to cover your mouth, to muffle the words about to be spoken.

But you were too fast.

"Right now."

[collectivecloseness]

We Can Still Have Fun

Kurt Kunkle x reader

(Summary: When you walk in on Kurt in a precarious situation, with your underwear he’d just stolen from your bedroom, you can’t help but close the door behind you when you see those big brown eyes. Notes: reuploaded from my ao3. F!reader, dom!reader. Virgin, perv, subby, bratty, good boy Kurt. 18+. 9k)

Kurt was your friend, so you knew that he and his mom never locked their side door in such a secluded area. You didn’t want to disturb Mrs. Kunkle if she was in, you only needed to see Kurt for a second. He’d left his wallet at your home accidentally when he’d been hanging out earlier today, and he hadn’t answered his phone, so you thought it was easier to just step inside and chuck it at him, maybe teasingly tell him how much of a klutz he was, Kurt the klutz, before leaving back home. It was dark, but still early on in the night, and you knew you’d only be a minute.

You quickly shut the door behind you into the hallway, noting how all the lights were on, and made your way to Kurt’s bedroom, wallet in hand. Your free palm turned the knob on the door “H-“

You froze in the doorway. Kurt hadn’t noticed you in the small opening, and in his hands were a pair of your panties, ones you wore all the time, but worse that that, Kurt was rubbing himself with them.

Kurt had gotten the tip of his dick perfectly aligned with the area of your panties your pussy would lie on, knowing there might be a stain or two there, and he kept fiddling to get them positioned just right, as they’d move every few times he viscously stroked himself into them. Like a desperate man he wasn’t slow, he leant his head back and moaned pornographically as he bobbed his dick up and down through the material of your used underwear. Sitting alone on his discarded mattress in the corner of his room that lacked a bed frame, fisting his dick into your stolen panties.

But as his head was angled back in pleasure, that’s when he noticed the light beaming in through the doorway. His hand flung from his dick, underwear still dangling onto his erection that was firm up against his stomach, and he looked in horror as he saw you standing in the doorway, slack jawed in the exact same way he was.

“Y/-“ he swallowed hard, like he had no spit “Y/n?” It was barely a whisper. His eyes were blown wide, terrified about what you’d just seen, about what you could still see- his hands quickly went to cover his junk and the evidence, moaning a little accidentally as he made contact- terrified you were going to bolt.

But instead you did something that almost surprised even you, you closed his bedroom door, but only after you’d stepped inside.

This time when Kurt whined, you could tell it wasn’t to do with his raging hard on, he was so scared or nervous or ashamed, as you just stepped closer silently, not anywhere he could touch, but standing above him next to the bed.

Seeing his dick, pathetically stuffed into your panties, did something to your chest you weren’t so pleased to admit, especially when you felt your throat getting dry, but you could tell it was for the wrong reasons, you knew this feeling. Avoiding wetting your lips, you looked into Kurt’s eyes sternly, but spoke with a calm, straight voice. “Take them off Kurt.”

Immediately, face red and eyes rimmed and glassy, looking like he was about to cry at any second, Kurt used one finger, trying to minimise the damage, as he carefully lifted your underwear off his dick, putting it to the side instead, waiting with a hung head for you to speak again.

The tip of his dick was red, a glob of pre leaking out the head, and twitching as you moved closer, almost breathing on Kurt’s neck. Fuck. You knew it shouldn’t be turning you on. But you’d always thought Kurt was cute. He was your friend, but you liked teasing him, it was fun to watch him get flustered, and if he ever did have the balls to make a move, you weren’t so sure you’d pull away either. Plus you hadn’t been laid in forever, so you could try and blame your feelings on that.

You stayed in your position of power, straightening up a little, and looking Kurt right in his wide brown eyes. “Did you steal those panties? Earlier today when you were in my room?”

“Y/n lis-I-I-I’m sorry, I-“

“No.” You interrupted calmly, noting how Kurt looked like a terrified child being scolded. “Answer me. Did you steal those from my bedroom today?” You waited impatiently.

Kurt nodded, tears finally spilling as he rubbed the back of his hand miserably against his pink cheeks. “I’m sorry.” He choked out the last word, whimpering to himself as he desperately tried to cover his lap with his arms.

“Don’t.” You held out your hand. Kurt stopped trying to spill out apologies, instead, looking at you in shock as he realised what your order meant, when you took his wrist by his wet sleeve, and lifted his arms up, exposing his completely naked lower half, and his cock that was still somehow completely erect. Maybe it hadn’t gone down because of your presence.

You tutted loudly, making Kurt bash his eyelashes down in shame, they were sparkling with his tears. “You were really that desperate for me huh?”

Kurt couldn’t look at you, or his crotch, he stared to the side, making sure to avoid your sullied panties. “Well- I-“

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” You snapped. Kurt’s head whipped up, immediately following your orders. He sniffed as he sucked in his lips, tasting the salty tears that had fallen onto there.

“You must really want me badly huh? Kurt?”

Kurt wanted to look away again, but he didn’t dare, nodding flushed as he stared right into your eyes.

“I bet I turn you on so much.” This time you didn’t need to wait as long. Kurt nodded, but he looked totally ashamed. The pitiful look he was giving you was actually going to wreck you.

You moved slightly closer to his unmade bed, his eyes following you the entire time. “I bet you’re a real dirty slut, huh Kurtie?”

“N-no.” He looked at you puzzled, almost offended, until he yelped, as you sat yourself down on his naked legs, just at the end of his knees though, not near the area desperate for attention. “Don’t lie to me.” You told him bitterly, shuffling yourself a little on your knees, especially since he was too afraid to hold you in place. “You’ve gotta be. The way you’re stealing women’s panties and jerking yourself off with them pathetically, alone in your room, like a pervert.”

Kurt turned red, but instinctively moved his eyes away from you again, shrugging into shoulder, more tears spilt from the movement. “I can’t be.” He mumbled.

You would’ve leant back if you wouldn’t have fallen off his knees. Now you understood. “You’re a virgin?”

Kurt nodded into himself, hiding behind his greasy hair, looking like he wanted a black hole to open up and swallow him right now. He was still crying.

You didn’t think about the way it made your stomach flip in excitement even more. “Do you not wanna be anymore?”

Kurt’s eyes shot to you now. Straightening up a little purely in shock, trying to wriggle around under your weight. “W-I-what?”

“It’s a yes or no question.” You furrowed your brows at him when speaking, but quickly afterwards your eyes went back to that kind, normal look Kurt was used to, letting him know this was really you right now, and you were still his friend. “You can say no if you want to Kurt.”

At finally understanding what was happening Kurt’s eyes flew open “No!! I mean!!! Wait! I mean n-no, d-d-don’t leave... me. Please.” He thrusted his hips up pathetically, he didn’t even mean to. “I want to.”

You smirked at him, lightly still, looking down to his hardness, where his pre had long since dripped a long slow line down the underside of his cock. “Oh really?”

Kurt nodded enthusiastically, you’d only seen him this excited before about viewing numbers. “I really wanna-!”

At this you smiled, finally giving Kurt something, as you leant your hand against his chest, following Kurt’s eyes down to it and you could tell by the way he lips popped open for a breath he’d been imagining even that touch for the longest time. You slid your hand under his shirt, finding some surprising chest hair at the top, but noting the way Kurt hissed through his teeth in pleasure as your hand rubbed past his nipple to get there. So of course, you ran your hand back down, smiling at the little noises he made “ah- ah!”

“Take your shirt off.” You ordered, drinking in the way he scrambled to do as you asked, messily managing to take his shirt off, throwing it to the side of his room with no care. You kept your hand on his chest, grazing past his nipple with your thumb just once. Kurt whined needily.

“Are your nipples sensitive?” You asked curiously, wanting to get some genuine information out of him as you worked on your task. Kurt just whimpered. “I think I’m a-all sensitive, all the places.”

You nodded at this, it seem to fit what you knew about Kurt. He quickly spoke up again. “No one’s- no one’s really touched me, like, at all, in years. Like I don’t mean t-touching me like that, I mean-“

“At all?” You finished. He nodded. You bit your lip, feeling sad for him, when his eyes met yours.

“Until you.”

You smiled, rubbing up his pec but leaving his nipple for now.

“You’re the first person who’d hugged me in... ages, years.”

Kurt’s hand went up to reach your cheek but you grabbed his wrist in your own, taking his other and restraining them both against his collarbone, so his knuckles were pressing into his chin. “I thought I was in charge?” You asked daringly, and Kurt seemed to know his place, eagerly nodding under your gaze. “Yes m-mistress.”

Mistress. You didn’t mind the sound of that. “Good boy.” You gave one quick praise, noting the way he whined under you. You let one hand go, restraining him with just the left, as your right went back to flick agaisnt his nipple, not missing the way his hips shifted into the covers.

“Did you cum yet?” You asked, rubbing your hand down to his happy trail, drinking in the sound of his gulps “Before I got here?”

“No.” Kurt answered smally.

“Good.” You leant in close to his ear, nibbling his lobe for just a few seconds, careful to keep your lips away as you’d use them later. Kurt was soundless at this, but the fact he’d touched you for the first time, putting the pads of his fingers needily against your stomach as he reached out for you, told you how amazing that must’ve felt to him. And as you looked up, you saw the sound practically stuck in his throat, his eyes squinted and rolled back.

You didn’t lift your shirt off all the way, but you raised the material a little so Kurt could have his hand under your top, just gently resting to the right of your stomach, where you realised he felt most happy right now, just being able to touch you, feel you there with him, hold you.

You were still on the edge of his knees, shifting to the side only for a second to grab your stolen panties, the tiniest of wet spots marking one of the bleach stains in them, and you smirked to yourself as you toyed them in your fingers, mainly from the way Kurt looked at you from your peripheral.

His mouth was hung open dumbly, eyes hooded, until you put your panties right in his face. “You like sniffing women’s underwear huh? Like a dirty stalker?” Kurt sniffed in a teary way and you could tell the tears were just being held back, but he drank in the smell, eyes closed as he breathed in, rubbing his face against the cloth comfortingly like a blanket. “Only yours.”

You ripped his comforter out of his face, making him look at you and take in what he was admitting to. “You’re a really bad boy Kurt.” You hadn’t expected that to make the floodgates burst again, his face scrunching up before he began to cry properly now, but you could tell he absolutely lapped it up at the same time. “Stealing my used panties just to spill your tiny load into. How pathetic can you get?” He cried more, shaking his hair out his face as his fingers rubbed up and down the small section of your stomach daintily, innocently. “I bet you’d cum just from one touch of my hand on your dick.”

Kurt whimpered harder, hips gyrating into the bed, “P-please y/n... n-n-need you...” he begged needily, fingers itching at your stomach now, knees almost buckling under you.

You leant in closer to his face. “I don’t know if a dirty boy like you deserves to cum under me.”

He moaned harder.

“I’ll have to see if I want to use you or not, now I can’t touch myself through those panties anymore.”

Kurt whimpered, licking up his tears, his ass shifted more into the bed, he couldn’t stay still.

“Now you’ve dirtied them I can’t even touch them.” You scoffed. “But I guess I should touch you?” You asked sarcastically, but Kurt couldn’t answer, he was so under your spell.

With that you leaned forward and finally pressed your lips against his. It wasn’t a deep make out session in the slightest. But you slotted your warm lips in with his, noting how wet his mouth was. He breathed out hot needy pants into your own, once he remembered to breathe after you were initially just moving your lips against his. You slid your lower lip under his upper one in the short kiss when you felt something damp flop against you.

When you pulled back Kurt was full on sobbing, and you looked down to see his load all over his legs and stomach, and some on your jeans as well. His dick, while still somewhat half hard, had fallen back between both of your laps, and you looked up at him stunned. Both his hands were still on your torso, having not moved.

“I-I-“ he breathed in shakily “I’m sorry!” He sobbed, and you looked at him genuinely surprised. “I-! I didn’t mean to!” Kurt wailed hard, hiccuping on his breaths. You didn’t mean to either, not to make him cum yet, and he seemed to have found it just as unexpected as you.

He’d cum just from you kissing.

He was bawling pathetically by this point, and he was an ugly crier, snot dripped out his nose and his eyes were red, lips puffy and swollen, as he shook out more cries. You noticed his dick was still half hard though.

“It’s okay.” You finally said, a smile painting itself on your lips. “It’s alright Kurtie.” You stood up and Kurt’s hand trailed from your stomach, still reaching out as you left, looking up at you desperately, but you kept smiling at him, going over to his desk where a box of tissues was, and wiping at his nose first. You gave him the tissue once you’d dabbed a little, “Blow” you encouraged, watching him clean up his face even as he still sobbed quietly some, only stopping as he noticed you’d gone straight from handing him a tissue, to cleaning up the mess he’d left on your, and then his leg. He’d stopped crying completely by the time he watched you gently move a new tissue down his stomach, cleaning him off. You left his dick as it was though.

Even as he was crying it’d only gotten fully erect again, he probably liked some if not all of this.

“It’s perfectly okay beautiful boy.” You praised and reassured him, gently leading a hand to his cheek as he’d so wanted before. And he gratefully took it, burying his cheek into your palm with a soft moan, relaxing more, which meant his hips had started thrusting into the air again, as you gently stroked his soft skin. “I think it’s hot you came without being touched. Just by me kissing you.”

His moan was less soft this time. His hand finding purchase on your stomach yet again, but this time gaining a little more confidence, his thumb and forefinger needily pulling at the hem of your shirt.

“Don’t worry” you got him to look at you with that, and he licked his salty lips with anticipation “we can still have fun.”

With that, you shoved his chest down, making him lie flat on his back as you crawled closer, smirking. “Think I can kiss you again without creaming yourself Kunkle?”

Kurt licked his lips for a different reason this time, nodding fervently as you kissed him again. He was sloppy, very over eager, you weren’t actually sure if he’d ever kissed someone before, but it was cute. He jammed his tongue down your throat, moaning loudly as he excitedly tried to explore your mouth. It even went outwards a little, licking at your chin as he tried to touch you with his mouth as much as he could. You settled him a little by sucking on his tongue, making him slow down, even as you could feel your cheeks getting wet from how big he was trying to make the kiss.

You pulled back, a trail of spit connecting your two lips that was definitely mostly from him, as you felt his hand tugging more desperately at your shirt. “Pl-please can you take it off?” He whined.

You grasped his chin at that point, wet but not as much as yours, moving your fingers up to smush his cheeks together. “Are you forgetting who’s in charge?” You asked demeaningly.

Kurt shook his head fast, still trying to keep in your grip, lest you get more upset.

You leant closer, repaying him a little and you licked a long luxurious stripe up his face, flicking your tongue off as it reached his hairline. Kurt nearly melted into the mattress right there. “You can try and beg for it, it might help.” You whispered into his ear, feeling his hands immediately grasp for yours, even his legs tried to hold onto you, but you slapped his knee and he put them back down again.

“Please.” He groaned, finding it hard to swallow. “Please... please mistress.” He ran a hand up and down your waist. “Please. Please please please I-. I need to see you. I need you. Please. I wanna touch. Oh please. Let me I’ll be so good!” He begged, trying to lean his head up so you could see him nod even a few centimetres closer, his lips were puffy and wet, and you didn’t think he even realised he was pouting at you.

You ran your thumb down his lips, noticing how his eyes tried to follow, and how his mouth was so hot to the touch. You leaned down again, only pecking. Kurt tried to hold back a whine of displeasure, until you started kissing all over his face, pecking wherever you could, and hearing Kurt sigh so relaxedly into your ear pooled warmth in your stomach.

You moved so you were sitting in Kurt’s lap, just not close enough for him to be able to rut himself into you, but still perched comfortably. Once you’d done that you stopped touching him, only to use both your arms to take your top off, still wearing a bra and trousers on top of his naked form.

Even though your chest was still partly covered, Kurt looked up at you like he worshipped you, and it did wonders for your ego. You started stroking his arms, happy when he lifted his arms above his head and crossed his wrists over each other having not needed to be asked, letting you move him without hesitation.

You pressed a kiss to his right nipple, and he almost arched himself into your chest with how far he rose. “Good boy.” You soothed quietly, rubbing the middle of his chest till he sat back down, whining as he watched, needing to know what you’d do next.

You grabbed his wrists from where he’d put them for you, keeping his hands there while you went to explore his chest. It had a bit more hair than you’d expected but not a mess of it, and his skin was adorned with freckles and moles across it. Leaving only one hand against his wrists, You took your free one and played your fingers against each marking “Your freckles are cute Kurtie.” You kept your eyes on his torso as you spoke, feeling his gaze watching over you. He seemed to not know how to respond to this praise, but soon you were leaning your face close, and you wrapped your lips around his left nipple.

“Aah!” He gasped before seeming to quickly hush himself. You felt his hands twitch as if he wanted to cover his mouth, but he dared not move under your touch, especially as you started to suck on him.

Whiny, breathy pants left his mouth as you flicked your tongue against his small nub, suckling on it as you finally made eye contact, swirling your tongue around his nipple as you continued sucking. You pulled off with a went pant after a while, letting some saliva stick to his skin, making a bit of a show for your poor boy.

“Please.” Kurt begged, knowing the rules now. “Please the other one mistress.”

“What do you want me to do to the other one Kurt?” You teased, enjoying the small cry he let out “You have to tell me what you want if you want it good boy.”

“P-please tou-s-suck on my other nipple.”

You smirked.

“Please mistress. I-I wa-I need it so badly.” He started wriggling again, it almost annoyed you, but he kept his wrists deadly still for you. “Please I need your mouth on my chest-on me, I need it, please I’m-I’ll be so good. I’ll be your good boy just for you y/n.”

That did it for you. Your hands reached to your jeans, leaning down to peck his other nipple quickly, smiling widely as that seemingly let out an even bigger moan that earlier with less contact. He must’ve been really riled up.

He tried to move his hands to cover up his sounds this time, ears alert to the noise of your belt unbuckling. His dick twitched at the metal sound. But it also fired his mind up in a different direction.

“M-My mommmmm might hear.” He voiced his concerns lowly, trying to whisper but his voice was too shaky to be that quiet. Kurt’s eyes flicked to the closed door and his tongue wet at his lips, watching it in horror as his heartbeat started to become audible, looking down at you hoping for an answer.

You rolled your eyes just so he could see, leaning away from your zip for a moment and to the side, Kurt’s heart only got faster at your sharp tone of voice. “Well then you better be quiet.” You stuffed your panties from earlier into his mouth, making sure he could still breathe, but you already knew he could as he groaned around them, the sound slightly muffled but his eyes fell back into his head and he relaxed further into the mattress. You licked a stripe up his left nipple before continuing to undress your pants. Now Kurt looked back up.

“Unless you want your mommy to find out what a bad boy you really are?” Kurt whined almost silently at that, his boyish face looking deep into yours as he shook his head, eyes dark, wide and pleading. He went to take your hand but before he could you finally gave one long stroke to his cock, Kurt crying out in surprise against your underwear, eyes squinting hard.

“You wouldn’t want her to know your dirty little secret, right?” You asked, finishing off your slow stroke before placing your hand back on his knee.

Kurt’s chest rose and fell hard, he had to take a few breaths to calm himself down, before he could reach for your hand again. His own was shaking, tenderly placing your fingertips to the material of your underwear in his mouth. Understanding, you took it out for a second, to let him say what he needed.

“I-“ he panted “I’m a good boy.”

You liked the confidence as he spoke that sentence. And you enjoyed the fact he’d asked your permission to remove the cloth and speak, rather than taking it out himself. You rewarded him with a kiss, a short but tender, loving one, before gently placing the material back inside his lips. “I know you are. You’ve been very good for me so far, haven’t you?” You asked, stroking affectionately against his cheek.

Kurt was dying, nodding affirmatively, eyes pooling warm in yours, sighing as you calmly stroked his cheek, compared to how he felt when you stroked further south.

“And you’re gonna be a good boy for the rest of the night? Aren’t you kurt?” With this you held a little harsher on his chin, but your other hand stroked lazily through his brown locks. He nodded once again.

“Good.” With that you reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, not looking at Kurt yet but making a small show, cracking your neck as you flung it onto Kurt’s door handle, smiling. “Now that feels better.”

Kurt’s hands were firm in your lap where they’d been placed before, you could feel them clenching and unclenching into his palm on your skin. You dug your nails just slightly into the back of his hand, watching him wince but not doing it hard enough to properly hurt him. “No touching.”

His expression dropped forlornly.

“Not unless I say. Got it?”

Nodding once again, you tapped Kurt’s head in what he understood was a slight affectionate gesture, or a pat well done.

He sat eagerly under your lap, just watching you. Waiting for your next move, or for you to tell him what to do. He was entranced.

Finally, you moved further up, only wearing your panties, Kurt totally naked, and you hovered over his crotch.

Kurt could practically feel your warmth, and he was dying for your touch, drool soaking your panties in his mouth.

Slowly you lowered onto him, pressing your clothed cunt against his erection, and Kurt screamed into your underwear as he felt a spot of warm heat from your pussy, just sitting on his dick.

You ran your hand up his chest, gripping his skin but Kurt didn’t seem to care, especially when you started dragging your wet panties up and down his dick, slowly grinding on him.

Kurt wanted to grab your hips. He wanted to dig his claws into your skin and hump himself senseless into your warm covered cunt until you’d completely soaked through your panties and his cock was leaking all over your ruined pussy, having another one of your clothes stained with him, before burying his cock deep inside your sultry walls. But he had to be a good boy. And he cried into his gag, teeth bearing into it as you slowly tortured him.

He was good.

For you, he was good.

“Mmm, even though I’d love to hover myself above you in a different position...” you lifted yourself slightly off him, noting the way water pooled from Kurt’s lips at that mention, even with the gag. “I think-“ you brought his hand close, taking his finger for him and placing it on your clit. Even with the layer in between, the feeling was insane. You rubbed his hand on it, and you could tell Kurt knew what was going on by the way his hips thrusted under you, trying and occasionally successfully rubbing himself against your skin. “I think I’m a bit too worked up for that.”

You just had to play with his finger more. Your panties were soaked now, making it easy for you to glide Kurt’s finger along your swollen clit, panting a little at the pleasant sensation, starting to just grind yourself into his hand. That was until Kurt’s finger started to move on its own. He circled your clit with pressure, mimicking what he’d seen in porns, although he only knew where to touch because you’d placed him there. His finger toyed with your clit, and it sent tiny electric sparks into your lower belly every time he touched it, even though he was only going at an even pace, it made your whole body tingle with the sensation. “Jesus I need to fuck you.”

You removed his hand only to place it on your thigh, as you started pulling your underwear down, Kurt tried to help you as best he could now he was sat up, addicted to the way a long string of glistening wet clung to the underside of your panties, as you pulled it away from your cunt. It eventually snapped at your knees and fell against your thigh, and Kurt wished nothing more than to lick it off you.

Seeing exactly where Kurt was mesmerised and too horny to not be touched right now, you took his hand with the one that wasn’t trying to get rid of your underwear, and lead it near your thigh. “Taste it.” You encouraged, finally pulling your panties out his mouth and throwing them on the floor.

And Kurt happily accepted that offer. Drool coating his entire mouth, he took his middle and index finger and swiped them up your thigh, collecting your juices but be being careful not to touch where he was not allowed, just grateful he was allowed even this from you. He never expected any of this. Not with him. He took his two digits and stared at them curiously. Separating them a little, he enjoyed the way strings stuck together between the space, before dripping down his fingers even more.

Curiously, and very eager, he popped them into his mouth, moaning around the taste of them. It was you. It was you he was tasting. He licked and slurped at his fingers, getting in between and sucking off as much as he could, dick pulsing with need, tongue feeling like it was on fire. He needed more. He was addicted to the taste of you. If he liked you a little too much before, he was obsessed now, there was no way out of it. Kurt wanted to drink you up like he hadn’t had water in weeks. He needed to drink from you. He needed more of you, he needed all of you. He wanted you inside him. But as well as that, as he watched you finally free yourself from your panties, landing then on top of your stolen ones, Kurt needed himself inside of you.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” You asked properly, looking into Kurt’s eyes without any touch, just making sure before the two of you went any further. But Kurt’s eyes looked to your own with a fire in them you’d never seen before, it still didn’t stop him stuttering out his answer of “f-y-fuck yeah.”

You smirked, a breath of a giggle escaping your lips at his response, before your hand was running up his chest again, coaxing him onto his back one more, as you took his dick firmly in your grasp.

As expected Kurt groaned once again, deciding upon using his arm to muffle his moans now his hands were freed, but still not wanting anyone to hear, even though he felt like he was going crazy as your hand lingered on his hard dick, slowly dragging him towards your dripping pussy.

You sighed a little as you toyed with the head of his dick up and down your wet folds, coating his red tip with your juices to make sure he was lubriacted enough, groaning a small amount in the back of your throat as you saw how it made Kurt’s upper body toss and turn, like you were driving him insane, as he tried to keep his legs still so he could finally have you.

Finally, and not without some resistance due to how long it’d been, you started to feel Kurt inside you.

Kurt moaned loudly and you almost thought he would cum again from just this, but you bit your lip as you slowly sank down onto his length. He was quite long but his girth, fuck. “Fuck you’re thick.” You praised him, a gargle coming out of someone’s throat as you finally sank yourself fully down on him, bottoming out.

Kurt panted beneath you, tongue hung on his lower lip as he looked at you in awe. You were still adjusting to his size, looking down at him you decided to treat him for his first time, taking one of his hands and reaching it up to your tit, letting him feel.

Kurt gasped as he was finally given that pleasure, having wanted nothing more than to touch you there since you’d mentioned his virginity, no, truthfully, since you walked into his life. Although he was too scared to tell you that. He tried to stop his eyes from being so heavy, wanting to remember what this felt like. He squeezed the soft flesh gently, moaning as he was happy to just simply cup your breast for now, dick warming in your cunt. “Y-you’re so mmmm-fu-so tight m-mistress.”

You let him speak this time, gently rolling your hips as a test. “Mmmph, all for you Kurtie.”

Kurt whimpered to the sky, his other hand clinging onto your thigh as you gently nudged your hips again. He could feel himself inside you. His fingers played with your nipple but he was too scared to do much with it and hurt or anger you, he allowed himself one roll between his finger and thumb, before going back to to massaging the tit. “Mmm- I wanna-“

“Wanna what Kurt baby?” You asked, slowly beginning a grinding rhythm, it was only once every few seconds so far. “You don’t wanna cum already, do you baby?”

Kurt shook his head at your teasing, deciding to focus on your breast instead as his mouth got hotter. “I wanna- my mouth- the-the taste- to suck-I...” he whimpered at himself this time, seemingly unsure or too stimulated to know how to ask the question.

Luckily, you understood from the way he was eye fucking your chest. “You wanna suck on my tit? My pretty boy?” Kurt’s head bounced at that, eyes eagerly bobbing between yours and your chest, smiling as he thought he’d get what he wanted now, both hands coming up to toy with your breasts.

But you denied him as you gave another, much larger, thrust forward, even bringing him out his trance for a moment with a moan. “Not yet. I’ve gotta fuck you first sweetheart.” You told him.

Kurt’s eyes widened at that. He seemed perfectly okay with that deal. He let one hand go to watch your tits bounce for when you’d use him, the other seemingly couldn’t let go.

“You can pleasure mistress later.”

He didn’t seem able to stop his head from nodding. He was so happy to do anything you asked, and he really really craved this. Not to mention his fantasies of old all brimming at the front of his mind as he wondered what the two of you would do even later.

You kept moving your hips forward, coming to an even pace now as you felt yourself properly relaxing against him, hands resting on his soft thighs which he seemed to moan at, as you started fucking him.

He felt perfect inside you, your clit throbbing with every thrust, begging to be touched, as he moaned in unison with every move you made. You started to circle your hips now, just feeling him hit every spot imaginable inside you and it felt like heaven, both of you panting together even though you’d only just started.

“Mm y/n... so pretty.” Kurt mumbled dazily, you smiled at that but your head was looking up, using his cock to hit that delicious itching spot every time, until you started to lift yourself off him. Just an inch or so, and then you bottomed him out again, the delicious sound of skin slapping skin edging you both on as you thrust his cock partly in and out of you, pounding against your gspot with each fall.

Kurt’s eyes stuck on your tits as they bounced, hands itching, hot, begging to touch, his bitten nails holding dearly onto your thighs but you could barely feel them, it only spurred you on. A fast pace had been met now, wet slapping sounds coming from the both of you as you whined and tugged on his chest, one palm rubbing raw on his nipple where it had landed and Kurt could feel tears in his eyes. When all of a sudden, you stopped moving.

Kurt hadn’t felt anything, you certainly hadn’t come. And now he cried out “No no please... I’ve been such a good boy.” his tone starting to become indignant, “You said I was a good boy!” He whined like he was having a tantrum, not happy that you’d stopped.

“Relax.” You told him, hand soothing up his chest where his areola was starting to look pinker, you didn’t approve of how his eyes looked daringly upon yours. “Remember who’s in charge?” You tried to reassure him, knowing you were just leading up to more pleasure.

You kept still for a few more seconds, before slowly starting to circle your hips again, only a little, as though you were wiggling in place, but you were building up to it.

Kurt huffed out in annoyance, even though you’d started moving again. His eyes left yours, looking sorely to his wall.

Now that you wouldn’t take. You grabbed his cheeks more harshly this time, forcing him to look at you, his brown edgy eyes on yours, slipping into a state of stimulation, then dismal, as you slipped him out of you fully, sitting in his lap now, dick coated in your juices, but the cold emptiness blowing on it, as your own hole throbbed with the sudden loss of contact. Kurt looked at you upset.

“Such a little brat.” You chastised him, letting go of his cheeks as if he was filthy, eyes screwed in discontent upon his form. “I might have to punish you after all.”

Kurt shrunk under you.

“Should i spank you?” You rubbed your hands up the side of his soft ass, eyeing the paler freckled flesh in thought. You squeezed harshly, earning a hiss from him before letting go in under a second, using your hand to then flick his left nipple, earning a hurried gasp for air, before resting them on your legs and sighing tiredly, disappointedly, still with a hint of anger. “Maybe I shouldn’t let you cum in me after all? Fill me up, lose your virginity fully?” You hummed in thought, eyes raking over your own naked chest. “Maybe I shouldn’t let you cum at all.”

Kurt’s mouth opened and closed. Lost for words, finally not acting out. He blinked dumbly, mouth opening again “n-no.”

“Oh, no?” You asked.

“No please!” Kurt shot upwards, still a distance between the two of you. “Please! I’ll be such a good boy now. I will! I’ll do whatever you say, please no!”

You sighed, still not looking at him once, picking at your skin. “I don’t know if I can trust you.” You lolled clearly.

Kurt cried out again, desperate, bringing you closer by his hand on the small of your back, just wanting you to look at him again, he hated it. “Nonono” smally, almost to himself. You noticed him trying to rut into you, maybe stick his dick back inside as he dragged you closer to him, desperate to keep going, even if it was just to please you. But you allowed it, because he was begging like this.

He frantically tried to claim you as close and tight as he could to him, with small murmurings. Leaning his soft hair against your chest, quickly kissing your shoulder, quickly holding your neck, he moved like a madman, frenzied to have your attention back on him.

“I need to worship you. Please.”

You didn’t say anything, you didn’t even look at him, but you soaked up his upset moans as he tried to get your attention back to him in any way, kissing you wherever, even on your lips you wouldn’t kiss back, moaning little whimpers and pleas, of your name, nicknames, just begging, he even tried to get your hand back to his chest but you just let it drop, not missing the way he cried out in his throat, nuzzling into your neck, hitting his head into your collarbone repeatedly.

But all the while, you’d been slowly opening yourself up again, he hadn’t even noticed, it was only when you finally sank back down on his dick, with his forehead pressed to yours, that his gasp of pleasure signified that he’d now seen your efforts once more.

He continued to hold onto your back, mumbling little things to himself as he pressed the crook of his nose into the tip of yours, snuggling himself against your face, one hand coming to the back of your head and self-soothingly stroking through your hair.

You returned the favour, thinking at first you were going to pull his hair, but ending up just stroking through it once you’d held him, giving pleasing scratches to his skull. “You’re gonna stay an extra good boy for me, for the rest of the night now. Right?”

Kurt nodded against your face, each nod making him thrust up a little into you at the same time. You couldn’t hide your little gasps of pleasure when he was this close to your face, and he closed his lips against yours to take those sounds. But you pulled back, hand clenched in the hair at the back of his head now, giving him a stern look.

Kurt swallowed. “You’re in charge.”

You smiled pleasantly as you didn’t even have to ask to remind him. You let go of his hair, rubbing softly before placing his back flat down on the mattress again. “No cumming till I say. Got it?”

With tears in his eyes Kurt nodded, rolling his head back as a groan escaped his throat, when you started grinding on top of him again. His hands held onto your thigh and hip to ground himself, letting you fuck him for the first time in his life, and shit if that wasn’t it for him. He wanted this forever. Kurt let out a choked sob of pleasure as you thrust in a particular way that made his mind spin, and his dick throb.

You swore you could have felt the throb inside you, speeding up a little as your placed your hands on his chest, keeping eye contact with Kurt as you rode his cock. And those little pants he made out as he looked straight into your eyes were delicious.

They were slightly hooded but dead set on you, hiding beneath his shifting head of hair and above his parted hot mouth. Your pussy throbbed with need. “Fuck that’s it, my dirty slut.” Your nails grazed up his chest, humping into his cock to relieve some of the pressure that was building. You were so hot inside. “You’re my boy toy aren’t you Kurt?” You asked him with a hand tender in his hair, he moaned your name in response. “You-“ You hissed, fucking into him harder “you’re my cumrag.”

Kurt was fully blissed out by this point, moaning evenly under you and your thrusts. “Hh, uhh, hh” He never took his eyes off you but he swore he could already see stars. His hands hardly felt real gripping onto your flesh. But his cock was burning in your walls, his hips thrusting upwards in the smallest of spasms because he couldn’t help it. He was fully sheathed inside you and he wanted more.

“Do you wanna fill me up?” Warmth was pooling in your stomach, Kurt’s head had fallen to the side of your arm, and his mouth was drooling against your quickened pulse. “Stuff your dirty load in me? Have me walking around with all your cum sitting inside me?”

Kurt was breathing out desperate pants, heart hammering as you spoke more, eyes just devouring you. You felt full of electricity, squeezing against his pulsing cock. “Everyone would know I was yours then. With your cum filling me up, staying with a part of you inside me before you fucked me full again.”

Suddenly, Kurt’s cock spasmed inside of you, hot gushes of cum spurted out and filled you up, seeming to never end. You just rocked it out, squeezing on Kurt more and more as you moved your hips, feeling his warm cum spread inside your walls. Until eventually, somehow, there was nothing left.

You didn’t stop, but you slowed down your movements considerably, panting. Kurt was shattered beneath you, a sheen of sweat clinging to his head and his chest. But then his lip wobbled as he met your eyes deeply, and it looked like he was about to start crying again. “I’m- It- I didn’t...” he had to pant after choking in his words, his hot breath fanning all up your arm that was resting on his shoulder. “It w-was an accident. I-I- ‘m sorry..!”

You knew you’d told him he couldn’t cum unless you said, that’s why it’d been such a surprise when you felt him spilling himself all inside you. He hadn’t even warned you he was close.

But you put your hand to his cheek and stroked warmly, smiling down at him. You let him have it, because A) it was his first ever time, and B) it was very obviously an accident. Even Kurt looked shocked it had happened. Also C) Kurt was just too damned cute. “It’s alright sweetheart. Don’t you worry about it okay? I’m here.” You soothed, letting your fingers stroke just under his hair as your palm cupped his cheek. Kurt whined at that, melting into your soft touch, eyes gentle and loving on you.

You leant down to kiss him, letting his tongue taste you but still not giving him dominance, pulling back just a few seconds after. “But you gotta stay here while I fuck you some more. Okay sweet boy?”

Kurt nodded happily, licking his lips and shimmying as you readied yourself to finish off. You picked up your movements again, steadily at first, but you knew you wouldn’t last long. You gave Kurt more kisses, letting him calm himself down with the taste of your mouth, with your wet warm touch that he wanted to exist in. But eventually you pushed him back as you felt that warmth pooling in your lower stomach.

“P-please y/n-“

“Please what?” You interrupted in a breath, feeling yourself almost at a close as you bounced his dick in and out of you, feeling his girth perfectly hit your walls again and again.

“Please cum. I need you to cum on me.”

You looked down at him yet again, gripping both his shoulders under your hands as you rocked yourself on his cock, your hair a mess under your sweat.

His eyes pleaded, freckled chest rising and falling heavily. “I need you to cum ‘round my dick. I wanna feel you cum on me. Please. I wanna be good for you, make you feel so so so good. I wanna be yours.”

“Fuck Kurt.” You groaned out, the passion of his steady words sounding so real, you felt yourself fluttering around him.

“Please cum y/n. Please I need it- ah!”

Your walls quivered hard against his cock and electricity shocked through you as you finally felt yourself release around him, on top of him. Crying out Kurt’s name as you clung onto his shoulders, desperately humping on his dick as you rode out your high, your insides buzzing and tingling with sensation as Kurt’s dick moved inside you.

After several seconds of just panting on Kurt, with his chest booming right under yours, you finally released your grip of nails on his shoulders, slowly pulling out of him in a way that just made you more euphoric. His twitching cock against your pulsating walls drove you crazy as they spurred each other on, the wet sounds ceasing as you finally completely pulled his length out of you, flopping onto his chest as your cunt squeezed around nothing, feeling aching emptiness and a persisting tingle in your clit. You did your best to ignore it as you rested your cheek against Kurt’s chest. When you felt his hand go to stroke your hair, you were so pleased for the distraction.

Kurt moved your damp locks out of your face, eyes stunned at you. You here with him, how earth shatteringly perfect you were, as he gently stroked through your hair, soothing you. Loving you.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling Kurt’s warm hand- were his hands always that big- caressing up and down your shoulder blades.

You leaned your chin up to smile at him, happy to see that same goofy grin staring back down at you after you showed your own. Your hands stroked up and down the middle of his chest gently, and after an initial gasp at the contact you felt through his skin, he seemed to calm down at feeling you actually touch him there, letting you glide your hand from the start of his happy trail, up to the top of his pecs, and down again. He kept his hand rubbing through your muscles on your back. “Wow that was li-ins-crazy. That was so cool.” He finally spoke, eyes dotingly on yours , having to flick his sweaty greasy hair out the way first to do so.

Laughing, you trickled a finger down the line on his chest. “Yeah? Was it good for your first time?” You asked, genuinely happy that he was happy. You pressed a kiss to the middle of his torso.

“Yeah! Are you-I mean-that was. No that was amazing. You were jus-amazing.” His eyes widened a little on that word, rolling you, and you weren’t sure what he was doing with that crazed smile, but moving your arms so that you were under him. He pressed himself flatly on you then, laying his nose against your cheek as his chest beat happily against yours. “Was that-I was-I mean was I alright? Too?”

You squeezed your cheek against his nose with a laugh, tilting so he could see your open mouthed smile, and your heart burst as you saw him wearing one too. It made your press the tip of your nose against his, giving him a nose kiss “You were incredible Kunkle, absolutely nothing to worry about” before a proper one.

Kurt moaned into this kiss, even though it was a lot less intense than the others. You realised it was just a happy noise along with the small wet sounds, and the both of you kept kissing over and over. Whenever either of you pulled back a centimetre you kissed again. Both smiling into your sweet little sentiments.

“And who knew you were packing such a weapon? How’d you keep that hidden for so long?” You whacked his chest lightly, finding it almost strange he was above you now. Especially since you had to playfully hit the very top of his torso, as he’d seemed to smush himself into you completely, like he was afraid you’d somehow run away from this, or maybe just disappear from under him like it hadn’t even been real.

But you didn’t find yourself minding this new possible side of him. Immediately though Kurt’s same self came rushing back as the blood hit his cheeks, blushing hard over you. You kissed him again, happy when he very quickly kissed back, that he was getting the hang of it so quickly. He just shrugged above you, tucking his head into his chin, before deciding to bury it in your shoulder, pressing a small kiss there as he hid. “I dunno.”

Even you could feel the lingering sentence in the air. ‘I guess no one’s ever asked before’, that seemed to be what he was thinking. You managed to free one of your hands trapped beneath Kurt’s intense heat, God he got burning hot, and wrapped it around his neck, gently tracing your fingers up and down, happy when you passed maybe a mole or freckle. “Well I guess I’ll have to be asking- no-“ you stroked gently along the fine hairs on the nape of his neck “pleading, to see more of you, won’t I?” You informed him, happy when his eyes shone at that. God you loved this man.

“Mmhmm!” Kurt responded gleefully against your lips, seemingly his brain not catching up when deciding to either kiss you or speak and doing both instead.

“But first...” You groaned against his lips, managing to get them off when he noticed you talking against them. Meanwhile, you’d noticed that whenever Kurt moved, his growing member pressed into your hip also seemed to throb and rut. Poor Kurt hadn’t even noticed. And your clit still tickled. “I think we need to go for round two.”

Kurt’s eyes grew wide, whining as your hand dug into the sizeable flesh of his ass. And with his body pressing all of yours firmly onto his bedroom mattress, his teeth went to attack your neck with kisses.

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group A Round 4: Do It Yourself!! vs RIN-NE

#A2: Do It Yourself!!

Girls do DIY together, but after a new industrial revolution

#A3: RIN-NE (Kyoukai no Rinne)

Girl who sees ghosts meets poor shinigami. Comedy ensues.

Details and poll under the cut!

#A2: Do it Yourself!!

Summary:

This series takes place after the Fourth Industrial Revolution. Serufu and her childhood friend Miku/“Purin” both applied to an elite school, where advanced technologies are incorporated into the curriculum. The tech-savvy Purin is accepted into the school, but accident-prone Serufu is rejected and enters a traditional school instead, driving a wedge into their friendship.

On her way to class one day, Serufu encounters Rei, who has a passion for old-fashioned crafts and is the head of the school’s Do-It-Yourself (DIY) Club—which is in danger of closing due to a lack of members. Realizing that this may be her chance to repair her relationship with Purin, Serufu joins the club in hopes of creating projects that could bring them together once more.

Propaganda:

It’s just a really feel-good series with some great characters. I adore all of them and their dynamics with each other, especially the main dynamic between Serufu and Purin as it develops. I’m a really big fan of the show’s angle on stuff such as do-it-yourself crafts following another industrial revolution, just because it does frequently bring up the question of “What’s the point of DIY if in a year or two/maybe even now a robot could recreate the exact same result?” through characters like Purin (who is the major character with the lowest opinion on these kinds of crafts at the start, since she’s in the technologically advanced school and has beliefs more in line with the efficacy of technology rather than the joy of human creation), with the short answer largely being because it’s just fun!

I first watched this show before I saw a lot of AI stuff intruding upon art and rewatching it after sure was fun, because I love its ideas on the worth of doing stuff that machinery could do much faster. It’s not super complex or emotional, but that largely goes in its favor, because it really doesn’t need to be those. It’s just a fun little anime about a bunch of girls having fun together through one shared hobby that some of them had from the start and some of them adopted. I also love the opening, and the ending is a massive comfort song for me. The series can also be very funny at points, and is usually super heartwarming.

Trigger Warnings: None.

#A3: RIN-NE (Kyoukai no Rinne)

Summary:

Rinne Rokudou has bigger problems than going to school—namely, helping spirits pass over to the next life. Because of this responsibility, he often finds himself short on money and struggles to buy his necessities: food, clothes, and exorcism tools.

Sakura Mamiya has been able to see ghosts since she was little. She hoped she would outgrow it, but even after starting high school, nothing has changed. To make matters worse, the first time her ever-absent classmate, Rinne, shows up for school, only Sakura can see him. She assumes, as anyone would, that he is a ghost. However, to Sakura's surprise, Rinne proceeds to attend school like normal the next day.

Propaganda:

This is one of Rumiko Takahashi’s underrated works (mostly getting overshadowed by Inuyasha due to her releasing this series after the fact), and I don’t see a lot of people talk about it often. While it’s not my favorite of her works, it’s one that I still like because of the way she portrays the characters. Plus, it still has that classic Rumic comedy and feel to it and I really love the animation with her artstyle. Anyways, if you like supernatural comedies (with a hint of romance) then vote for Rin-ne!

Trigger Warnings: None.

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form with your revisions, and I’ll consider adapting those changes.

New: Starting round 5, screenshots will be included in the poll post. You can submit screenshots through the form linked above, or through here, via ask or dm.

Guidelines in submitting screenshots:

No NSFW or spoilery images.

Pick some good images please. Don’t send any blurry or pixelated ones.

You may send up to 9 screenshots, but not all may be used.

[cannedcrow]

Arbitrary Darkness (Hermitcraft Monster Hunter AU) Part VI

A/N: Been a while, but I still harbour a deep love for all my fics and I've been writing again recently! Enjoy this chapter and expect more updates very soon! <3

Part IV - AO3

~ please rb if you enjoy! ….〆(･ω･。) ~

TWs: blood, violence and self injury referenced.

Grian awoke a few times from his unconsciousness. His brain pled at him to stand, get up and hide before he was found, and irony twisted a knife in his heart as he remembered Tango's bitter words: If you think you’re like them, then go - take off your cloak and gloves and wait for their gratitude. He was vaguely aware of the leaden weight of his limbs, new from the exhaustion that already weighed him down - Scar's venom was already trickling through his muscles, and he felt the deadly finality settle upon him with the rain. He didn't know how long it was before he blacked out again.

But he did awake again. He cracked stubborn eyelids and was greeted by a small, dingy apartment, rather like one that might be above a shop. It was, he reflected, rather like Grian's own apartment - rickety tables and shelves crammed to bursting with all manner of teacups, pots, bottles, metal instruments, books, quills and papers, all placed with madman's-deliberation. The bed he reposed in was a simple, relatively comfortable affair, warmed by the nearby hearth. He heard a scrape and looked to see a man with his back to him, working intently at a desk. He appeared to have blended in so well to the disarray that Grian had passed right over him - a hunched figure in stained clothing, dark hair sticking out at all angles. He suddenly moved to the pot on the fireplace to fill a syringe, and Grian saw what he’d been working at - a half-dissected strider egg, matte black and oblong.

But when the firelight caught the strangers face, panic flitted through him, though he didn’t immediately recognize him. The man was rather short and stocky, dressed in a badly stained shirt and trousers. His dark hair was tousled and split by a forelock of green.

Just as the man looked over at him, it clicked - the alchemist who’d made a horrific face at Grian from across the room at The Eighth Circle.

“Morning, sunshine,” he greeted dryly, “you look awful.”

Grian was frozen, trying to assess the situation. He wasn’t a monster, which was good, but on the other hand, he ran in the exact same circles and didn’t appear the most empathetic ally.

The man clearly sensed his wariness.

“Settle down lad, who do you think gave you an antidote? You’d have been found and strung up on a wall by now if it wasn’t for me. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Grian frowned. “Thank you. So how did you find me? Why?”

Joel shrugged. “Pity, I guess. Or curiousity. I tracked you home. Never seen anyone do something so unimaginably, extraordinarily stupid in my life - and I spend my time running around bastions sifting in lava for strider eggs.”

That certainly stung. It was true though, wasn’t it? Grian reflected. “Well, leave it to the only human to show a scrap of emotion,” he muttered.

Joel looked flabbergasted. “God, you’re even more of a moron than I thought. And for the record, I already think you’re the biggest moron I’ve ever met. You waltzed in there ready to have every one of them hanged, were treated with nothing but decency - as one of their own - then called them all monsters. Did you really not learn anything?"

Grian scowled, then faltered. "Guess I was asking for it huh?" he conceded begrudgingly, sitting up stiffly with a wince, "But don't pretend they're perfect, they set me up."

Joel stared at him for a moment before rolling his eyes, "That'll do for now I guess. Want summat to eat?"

Grian welcomed the change of topic, assenting eagerly.

Joel's cooking was awful, which evidenced that his talents were better spent on the morbid experiments that took up most of his time, but Grian welcomed it all the same, spooning chunks of mystery meat from a thick stew. Vaguely, he had a nasty suspicion that Joel wasn't particular about which pots he used for experiments versus cooking. Nor his ingredients, for that matter.

"I'll not impose on you any longer," he said decisively when they'd finished, standing and gritting down a wince of pain as he accidentally flexed his injured wing.

Joel eyed him sternly, "I don't think so. I want to keep an eye on you for a bit, and not just because of your injuries."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you've not put me in a very good spot to be honest. Or rather, I haven't, by not letting you bleed out in a stairwell. Curse my wonderful heart," he folded his arms. "Anyway, I don't trust you not to fuck up the good situation I have going."

"You're ... holding me hostage," Grian concluded.

Joel looked mildly offended, "Would you call it imprisonment for a doctor to order you bed rest?"

"You're not a doctor," Grian scoffed.

Joel eyed his dressings pointedly, "I'm as good a doctor as a monster like you will ever get."

Grian's feathers prickled in annoyance at the jab, which didn't go unnoticed by Joel, who smirked.

"Never seen anyone get so offended by being called what they are. Doc calls me a crooked alchemist; that's what I am. I call you a birdie, that's what you are, and you can't change it," He paused. "Not even with a knife."

Grian tensed in horror as Joel continued, "Yeah, I saw the scars."

He flushed, furious humiliation building at Joel's transgression into such a private part of his past.

For once though, Joel didn't look teasing, merely sympathetic - which was even more infuriating.

Joel turned away mercifully, "I've got business to attend to. Don't bother trying to leave; you won't be able to."

"Mumbo will come looking for me," he called defiantly after Joel.

"Ok," he heard the casual response from the hall, as though he'd just informed him that a guest was coming to tea.

Grian scowled as the door slammed, rubbing his wing joint without thinking.

Even Mumbo didn't know the steadily stoked, boiling pit of self-hatred that had driven Grian so many times in his youth to rid himself of his monstrous extremities, leaving his wings, tail and claws riddled with jagged scars from desperate attempts to brave the pain and end his distinction once and for all.

He'd failed miserably each time, of course, ending always in a wretched bloody heap of feathers and yet deeper misery. It was a scar that ran deeper than any of his physical ones - everything about his existence was a humiliation in that way. His species, his desperation to be human, his hatred for those like him, and then his career.

He clenched his hand, claws sinking into the mattress savagely.

As if it comes from nowhere, he thought savagely, as though I have no reason to feel the way I do. To hate them.

Grian spent the afternoon examining his surroundings, poking in drawers and noting ways out. Somehow, he didn't think Joel was planning to lead the monsters to him - why would he have saved him if he were only planning to throw him to the wolves? Joel didn't strike him as sadistic, whatever else he may be. He hadn't any real grasp on Joel, similar to Scar - though admittedly, he'd spoken less to Joel (this wasn't saying much, being that Scar had been toying with him). The two were deeply enigmatic - and deep down, he was fascinated by the savage, gregarious being that was Scar - though at least he could understand Joel's motives. He could tolerate and even hold level with Joel, while Scar was a beast through and through whom Grian wouldn't even trust to pass him a plate.

Then again, I felt the same about Tango. If one thing had made itself clear, it was that Grian couldn't longer trust his intuition.

He resolved to remain courteous with Joel, make himself less of a threat, go free, and root up the Eighth Circle from the outside.

A brusque "Oi!" serenaded Grian out of sleep in the early evening, signalling Joel's return. He sat up with a jolt and scowled upon seeing Joel taking off his cloak, humming something discordant as he divested himself of his array of pouches and layers.

"Shirt off, birdie," Joel instructed blithely, retrieving a jangling box from a cabinet.

"I - What?" Grian replied, lost.

"I need to change your dressings."

"Oh, right." Grian pulled his shirt over his head and examined the soaked bandage on his forearm. He hadn't even had a chance to see the injuries properly. He gritted his teeth as Joel slowly peeled the fabric away, revealing a jagged wound lined by neat black stitches.

"You're lucky Etho didn't rip your arm off," Joel commented, wiping antiseptic on the wound.

"He made a valiant effort," Grian hissed in pain, "So did Scar, for that matter."

Joel laughed, as though this were merely a fond anecdote, "I once got drunk with Scar and them and 'e bit me for a laugh," he tied off the bandage and began unwrapping the patch on Grian's shoulder.

"Yikes, yeah, look at that. Burns, huh? It'll hurt more on this one though," Grian looked down at the slightly neater bite wound on his trapezius, coloured like a bruise and leaking a foul purple discharge.

He grimaced in distaste, then yelped as Joel applied his various ointments again.

"Anyway," he continued conversationally, evidently unaware of Grian holding back tears, "Obviously I carry roughly 10 million different antidotes on me at all times so it was easily sorted and he bought me a 'sorry-for-nearly-paralysing-you-for-fun' drink. Great company, he is. You'll come to like him if you stop trying to kill him."

Grian fell into stunned silence. Joel was talking as though Grian was planning to ingratiate himself into the monstrous underbelly of the city the next day. Not to mention ... Like him? Scar? The bastard who'd lured Grian like a lamb to slaughter, baited, humiliated, and finally tried to kill him? Sure, Scar was handsome. So was Lucifer. Joel really must be a bit mad. He bit his tongue regardless as Joel wound bandages around his shoulder.

"So where'd you go?" he asked when Joel had finished tending the bite on his wing and began to work at another odd meal.

"Work, mate. We can't all laze around in bed all day," he teased, "Then I had a well-earned drink with the boys."

"At the Eighth Circle, you mean," Grian replied flatly.

"I have human friends too," Joel said reproachfully, "... But yeah. And no, don't get your feathers in a twist, I haven't sold you out. They reckon you bled out in a gutter. Toasted to it, actually ..." Joel's cheerful air dissipated rather suddenly, replaced by an expression of disgust as he went to search in one of his bags, finishing, "Don't blame them."

Caught off guard by Joel's odd turn, Grian simply asked "What?"

He withdrew a crinkled newspaper and tossed it at Grian, "That'll please you," He said bitterly, turning back to his task.

Grian unfolded the paper, wondering what he'd find. This copy of the New Hermiton Evening Gazette proclaimed proudly:

A BEAST IN SEVILLE SQUARE!

In the late hours of last night, residents of the quiet café district Seville Square were awoken by a commotion when a monster was sighted in the silent street. Mrs. Thatcher (72), the owner of the Flagstone Teahouse, reports she was letting her cat out when she sighted a beast skulking in the square. "It was huge, the size of a carthorse, with the face of a human," She tells reporter Clarence Ripley, "but with horns like a devil. Four legs, a tail and all! Most frightening thing I ever saw. And an evil face. I slammed my door and shouted an alarm. Don't know what happened then."

The Hermiton Police Department were called to the scene, but other residents took up the call in the meantime, cornering the beast with makeshift weapons. We spoke with one Mr. Crawley, one of those who took up the protection of the town. "Woke up as soon as old Mrs. Thatcher cried out, I did," He says, "Saw the monster out the window, grabbed a lantern and me fire poker and ran out sharpish. Few others there with me and we went for it. Thing tried to gore us plenty of times but we tore it up pretty good,"

For all their valiant efforts however, the group did not manage to kill the beast. "Naw, we got it on the ground for a bit and did our best. Then the thing reared up just as me neighbor Jon tried to slash it's neck. Fire in it's eyes, I tell ya, taller n' 3 men. Plunged down on us and drove a horn through a guy's neck - tossed 'im 20 feet. Them hooves hit hard, they do," (He grimly displays a gash on his shoulder.) "E' died. The man, I mean - didn't know 'im, but he bled out right there as we tried to save him. The thing charged off and some of us tried to chase it, but it vanished into the dark in a trail of blood." Hermiton Police arrived on the scene soon after, but rain had washed away the trail ...

Grian tossed the paper aside, feeling ill, and noticed then that Joel had been watching him, looking grim.

"Impulse," He offered flatly, though Grian already knew.

"Let me guess, he was sent to hunt me down?"

Joel flared, "He didn't know anything, idiot. He saw you appear covered in blood and run, and he followed out of worry for you. Guessing he didn't find you," He turned away again, "That bloodthirsty mob did though, and they did their very best to tear him apart."

Guilt was beginning to reach insistent hands around Grian's throat. "I - I'm sure he's killed his fair share of innocent people," he said bluntly, looking away.

Then a sharp blow to the head sent him reeling sideways on the bed. Joel stood over him, fists clenched, "He's a bloody bovaur. A bull-human. Do you know any cows that eat people?" he'd yet to see Joel so furious and cowered, "His job is to chuck out drunks and protect the others. He's probably killed far less innocents than you."

He glared down at Grian in disgust before striding away, rubbing his fist.

"He's ... alive then?" Grian murmured quietly.

"Somehow. Etho tracked him down in an alley bleeding out. They had to wait 'til everything quieted down a bit to get him home. It's a death sentence to be outside for most of them, but they stayed with him. He's a mess."

Silence descended like a funeral shroud as Grian dwelled and Joel continued his preparations.

"I'm sorry," He murmured finally, a nauseous sense of responsibility welling in him, "I really am."

"Yeah, me too."

Joel didn't seem inclined to say more, and their meal was spent in tense silence. He eventually poured them both a healthy measure of a cloudy lilac chorus fruit liquor of his own making before retreating to sit in front of the fire, scribbling distractedly on a ledger.

The next few days passed in relative calm as Grian and Joel fell into a comfortable rhythm. They spoke no more of Impulse, Scar, or the Eighth Circle. Joel was rarely in the house in the day, working in the shop downstairs, trading at the Eighth Circle, or off on his exploits - often returning at odd hours with hoards of peculiar items and new injuries. Clattering piles of ravager tusks, bolts of strider skins, guardian spines, and once, a large dripping bag that ended up being packed with slimy white ghast tentacles (accompanied by a severely burnt Joel, whom Grian had to play medic for under strict instruction).

Grian's wounds were healing relatively well, promising new scars for his array. He fell asleep most nights wrestling with his convictions about the monsters of New Hermiton, though he didn't tell Joel this. That evening, Grian was watching as Joel chopped and stewed one of the ghast tentacles, hoping against hope that this wasn't meant to be supper. The table dripped with the ghast's watery pink blood as Joel began to wipe his hands on a towel, looking satisfied.

"So, when are you gonna get out of my house, birdie?"

Grian continued staring absently at the fleshy lumps of ghast flesh, feeling rather ill. "Eh?"

"You gonna leave or what? Thought you had someone waiting for you," Joel continued casually.

Grian finally tore his gaze away, "What, you're letting me leave?"

"You're not a prisoner mate, I told you I ordered bed rest," Joel sounded rather offended, all things considered.

Grian blinked. "What's the catch?"

"Christ, Tango did a number on you. There's no catch. You seem fine, so off ya pop," Joel paused before saying generously, "If you like, anyway. Otherwise, I could always use a taste tester for my famous ghast sausages."

To Grian, this seemed a worse threat than anything he'd faced thus far. With nothing else to take (Joel, it transpired, had surreptitiously collected his cape and a few of his weapons from the Eighth Circle) Grian went through the usual ritual of snugly hiding his wings and tail, pulling on gloves before opening the door.

Joel followed with all the grace of a host escorting his guest to their departure.

"I - Thanks for everything," Grian said, only slightly grudgingly.

"My pleasure. Don't count on it again," Joel said pleasantly, before grasping Grian's forearm tightly, looking at him sternly.

"Listen and take my advice if you've learnt anything from what happened. Back off. If you want, I think you can even make amends with the Eighth Circle patrons, but if you ever threaten any one of them or me again, I'll watch as Tango and Scar tear you open and eat you alive, literally. They'll make it slow, and I won't intervene," He grinned savagely, "Harpy talons are valuable."

Grian pulled away as a chill twitched his skin and set his feathers prickling uncomfortably. He nodded stiffly, eyes lingering on Joel's before he spun around and strode up the street.

"Oh, Grian?" Joel called.

He turned briefly.

"Ghast tentacles make great jerky, too!"

[perenlop]

Aim to be a Pokemon Master! Episode 9: Rocket Revengers

Sigh

Honestly I feel bad for how low I’m ranking this one because I know I’m that jackass who hates Team Rocket when they’re so beloved. And coming at the episode from a fanservice angle, it’s perfectly fine. I liked the callbacks and the james and mime jr dynamic returning. It was really awesome to see the sinnoh gang especially because I associate Jessie more with her Seviper than I did with Arbok.

But man….. god does that ending just spoil the whole thing for me. Not even just the ending, the “””plotline””” it sets up for Team Rocket in the last two episodes… where they disband the team and are gonna go their separate ways (for realsies this time!!) Ignoring how we literally just got an episode like that in Journeys. And then they set it up like it’s gonna be important… and then it isn’t. They have one scene where they’re apart in the next episode and then they’re back together immediately for the finale (because oh my god we gotta get the clickbait article subject- I mean FAN FAVORITE PIDGEOT back in the show!!!) and then they do the exact same thing they’ve always done and hunted Pikachu.

It’s like…. why? Like, Team Rocket fans, were you at all satisfied with that? Having this episode meant to celebrate them end off on such a meanspirited note? Have them barely feature in the next two episodes and having no character development? I feel like a sentiment I saw a lot was that Ash and Team Rocket were gonna have a conclusion to their series long rivalry- they’d have one last showdown and then part ways permanently as Team Rocket disbanded their trio and set off to become better people and become truly happy in life. And they’d look at Ash with undisguised pride. Nope!!! They’re just gonna keep doing what they usually do and we’re gonna hammer that in with the most half assed bullshit you’ve ever seen.

Like… I dunno, even when I did like the TRio, I always thought their appeal had mostly to do with their capability to be fantastic people, but their unfortunate circumstances leave them in a shitty position. And if the show ever ended, they’d be free from that and open up the restaurant of their dreams or become actors (or hook up with Ash’s Mom). But… they didn’t do that. They didn’t imply any sort of conclusion or improvement for these characters. All you get is a weak rehashed plotline thats been eaten and spat out and eaten over and over and over again, and then told to just forget about them. It feels so insulting. And that’s why I’d personally rank it as low as I did. All the stuff before is pretty ok but it also feels… kinda weak as well in a way I can’t really put down in a comprehensive way? Like it’s fine but not great. It definitely wasn’t enough to save it from the ending.

(Also can I say I find it funny how Morpeko is barely in this one. It’s like once JN ended they realized “oh we cannot bring that gacha or rodent back can we” because the fandom despised them so much)

[vorpalmusings]

This is an excellent summary of the problems with AI Art beyond even the legal issues of copyright- though it indirectly addresses them as well- and especially points out why the comparisons between human learning and the algorithm “learning” only show a deep ignorance of the human process— and why relying on the algorithm will create nothing but stagnation.

From Christopher Doehling:

“I’m often accused of not understanding how gen-AI works. Nahh. I understand. Counter: a lot of tech people don’t understand human creativity or learning. I have backgrounds in all three. But mostly in art and creativity. Check my LinkedIn profile.

Before you come at me with “computers learn/create like peoples do” consider: it may be you who are in a strange land. Not me. Before you go running into the jungle, you might want a guide.

For example, ever wonder why it took us so long to learn how to draw and paint "realistically"(to make images that look like what we see)? It's because by default, our brains learn concepts, not visuals. For most, our eyes are used to recognize, not replicate.

It's like our mind throws away the visual information that is explicit, and exchanges it for understanding. I quickly know a cat from any angle I see it. I know that they are furry quadrupeds that purr when you pet them unless they scratch you. I know a cat when I see one.

My eyes also help me quickly understand the 3d space the cat occupies, so that I know where it is in relationship to my body, so that I can pet it or avoid it. My eyes help me understand "cats". Can I draw one? Not easily, because my brain, by default, doesn't care about that.

Unless... I want to care. I want to make images that represent or communicate my understanding of "Cat". Early art is more abstracted/symbolic because we expressed concepts first before explicit visuals. 4 lines= 4 legs. Shape language tells the story, with an arresting style...

Even if the exact visual (what my eyes saw) is not transmitted. Its not that we didn't want to. We didn't know how, any beginning artist experiences the same problem. Your brain wants to express what it knows conceptually, not what the eye sees.

But over time, our concepts and understanding grew to include things like optics, math, color theory. Tools we could (with great effort) apply to our artistic expressions as well.

Filippo Brunelleschi (re?)discovered linear perspective not just by looking at the world around him or at other art, but by application of those concepts. and then, finally, we could (again?)draw and paint what we saw. We could also make others see what we had only imagined.

So, we draw what we know, about what we see. Even if what we see is other art, even if I do a master copy, It comes from a place of concept. We are seeking to understand technique, another's experience, another's knowledge, not just absorb a visual for later source material.

evidence: If you have not gained at least some of the same conceptual understanding that the master did, you probably will not be able to copy their work, at least not convincingly.

"Generative" Ai (as it is) is not only unlike humans in the way that it learns, it is the polar opposite. It can copy what it sees. it can combine what it sees. But it does so without any understanding at all. About anything. At all.

A computer does not know what "cat" is. It may have some pixels->patterns that are keyworded "cat" but that is all it has. It can denoise from those latent images/parts of images, but it will only do so as instructed by our keyword requests and/or randomly seeded math, etc.

The only concepts delivered into an AI gen image are those given by the original artists or photographers. If you see a cat, its because someone else (or many someones) gave you cats to see. All the Ai did was serve it up, blindly combined.

The uniqueness of each of us, our experiences, and the concepts we learn and teach are what makes art evolve. If Ai had "taken over" for us at, say, the medieval period (in Europe), Art movements would have ended there too. Renniassance, Baroque, Impressionism, Cubism,...

Etc. they never would have happened. because no matter what prompt you gave, all you would get would be remixes of Medieval paintings, or anything previous to that time period. Ai doesn't make anything really new. not the way we do. It only (blindly) combines what's already made.

That's what's at stake here. We are on the brink of handing our creativity over to something that isn't creative. Why would we limit ourselves like that? If you think it makes art easy, it doesn't. It's an illusion. All you have is the art made up to this point. and no more.

If you want to be an artist, be one. No matter what your skill level, it's better than this. You are contributing of yourself to the world. You are contributing. period.

P.S. it’s not that Ai doesn’t have valid uses as a real tool. But when we get the idea that it’s a pet pro artist that “does the dirty work for me”, that’s a dark path. The dirty work is what moves us forward. it’s also the fun part, and we are the only ones who can really do it.”

Original post:

https://twitter.com/dolimac/status/1635286958330224641?s=46&t=MInooHF4e3-CHmlyx2cj8w

[golden-songbird]

bully

i

—

The floor was such an interesting thing to look at. Why didn’t people pay attention to the floor more often? Previously bright white tiles had been stained with age, and they made way for a more creamy ivory. Dirt and dust had made its way into the miniscule cracks between each square, showing a more distinct seperation between them.

Oh, the things one notices when they look down to avoid what is ahead of them.

Looking into his icy blue eyes froze Roman’s bones, leaving his joints painfully inflexible and his skin still as stone aside from his fingers, which shook violently with every thump of his ever-pounding heart. The cold coursed through Roman’s blood in a terrible surge until he was rendered numb and useless. A pathetic statue of cowardice.

Hearing his voice, a honeyed, adenoidal dulcet that almost convinced Roman that this was all in his head, was like being hit by a strong wind after standing under a rain shower. Affronting and shocking, as a shivering body sways and is knocked to the damp ground. It didn’t feel right, and it didn’t feel real.

Florian, Charming, Phillip, Eric, Adam, Aladdin, Li Shang, Naveen, Eugene, Kris-

“Roman! Did you hear me?”

Roman’s head snapped upwards to meet Mr. Diaz’s steady gaze. He watched his teacher’s brow furrow with worry as he noticed Roman’s pale face and trembling bottom lip.

“Ro, are you okay?” Mr. Diaz asked delicately.

“Yeah,” Patton said, causing Roman to flinch where he stood. “You don’t look so good.”

Anger clawed at Roman’s chest, and his body refused to turn and face Patton. How dare he act like his every movement didn’t send dangerous voltage through Roman’s bones and scorch him and ruin him where no one would be able to see the scarring? It wasn’t fair how Patton was such an expert on pretending, primping and preening to make Roman look like the idiot.

To make Roman look like a dog chasing his own tail.

Patton let out a perfect, unsuspecting giggle that killed something inside Roman’s head, and he could hear everything in his mind go unsettlingly quiet.

Hot, splotchy wetness itched at Roman’s eyelashes.

He opened his mouth to speak, but found himself unable to. As he realized that curious stares bored into his skull from all angles, Roman managed a quick nod to curb any wandering concern that appened to form towards his well-being. Roman despised the idea of everyone knowing; everyone worrying.

Roman was supposed to be reliable. Reliable people aren’t afraid of something so disgustingly juvinile as the presence of another person.

“Okay,” Mr. Diaz nodded, turning back to the class and addressing them. “Thank you, Roman and Patton, for talking about Gay-Straight Alliance. I hope some of you join if you need a safe space without bullying or judgement.”

How Roman wished he could be without bullying and judgement.

The bell rang, and as the class scrambled to their feet, rushing to leave the classroom as quickly as possible, Roman’s heart hung painfully with the weight of the secret. A childish piece of Roman wished for Mr. Diaz to call him over to his desk demanding honesty, so Roman could crumble and cry. If Mr. Diaz knew, maybe he could fix things. Maybe he could make everything go away.

Or, he could get mad at Roman, coldly accusing him of immaturity and deceit, of getting washed away into the inferior current of teenage drama.

Mr. Diaz trusted him. Roman couldn’t risk that.

And as Roman slowly packed his things and left, Mr. Diaz exchanged nothing with him but a cheerful goobye. It was for the best that he didn’t know. Maybe if Roman pretended for long enough, it would go away on its own.

The hallway was a place of routine. Roman went the exact same routes every day and saw the same friends every day. Quick hellos were exchanged as they went their seperate ways, and sometimes, just a shared smile was enough. There were many benefits to going to same route every day, and the most prominent one was that Roman knew that he wouldn’t run into Patton. He had crafted his path carefully, ensuring that there was no chance of being in Patton’s line of sight for too long. Every second that Roman spent in Patton’s company was a danger, especially when there wan’t an adult around to witness anything. Patton acted insufferably innocent in the presence of adults, but at least that meant that Roman was a little safer when they were around.

‘Hey, Princey.”

Roman smiled as the familiar voice pulled him out of his disgusting misery. Virgil’s touch was warm and healing, and his hand on Roman’s shoulder thawed some of the ice that remained in his bloodstream long after Patton’s exit.

Princey. Virgil’s beloved nickname inspired Roman to hold his head up high. He could be brave. Just like Florian, Charming, Phillip, Eric, Adam, Aladdin, Li Shang, Naveen, Eugene, -

“You okay? You seem a bit tense.”

And Kristoff.

“I’m okay,” Roman reassured, “Mr. Diaz just had me and Patton present the GSA board together. He kept interrupting me, and laughing at me when I tried to speak. It’s not fair.”

“Aren’t you president of the GSA?” Virgil asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, but Patton’s vice president,” Roman muttered, “Basically the same thing.”

“No it’s not,” Virgil scoffed, “You should put him in his place. Or better yet, I’ll beat him up.”

Roman knew full well that Virgil would never hurt a fly. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“Who are we beating up?”

Remus slid beside Roman, stepping in time with him in an attempt to make his brother laugh, but Roman could only muster a weak chuckle in response to the gesture. Remus huffed, dissatisfied with Roman’s reaction.

“Who do you think we’re beating up?” Virgil said, “This has gone too far. Roman’s fucking terrified of Patton.”

“I’m not terrified,” Roman protested.

“Dude, you’re shaking,” Remus said, “Didn’t class end, like, five minutes ago?”

“I’m a prince,” Roman said, “I’m not afraid of anything. It’s not like princes are afraid of anything.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, “Princes aren’t afraid of anything, which is why they do stupid things and almost die all the time. You’re smarter than a prince.”

Roman glared at the floor, and Virgil let out a quiet sigh, taking Roman’s hand and carefully squeezing it.

“It’s okay to be afraid. But you shouldn’t have to be dealing with this every day.”

“Yeah,” Remus chimed in, “You should tell Mr. Diaz. This isn’t even the worst he’s done. The shit he says behind your back…it makes me so mad.”

Panic spiked in Roman’s system, but he forced it down.

“I can’t tell Mr. Diaz,” Roman said stiffly, shoving his hands into his pockets and walking a little faster. “I don’t want him to think I’m starting drama. He expects more out of me.”

“It’s not starting drama,” Virgil reassured, “You didn’t start any of this. Patton did. He’s bullying you, Roman.”

Roman shook his head, feeling the immediate urge to deny. This couldn’t be bullying. Bullying was shoving people into lockers and stealing their lunch money. The idea of saying the things that Patton did out loud was ridiculous. What would he even be able to say?

‘Patton laughs at me when I make mistakes.’

‘Patton tells people not to be friends with me.’

‘Patton teases me about my body.’

‘Patton embarrasses me to make me look bad.’

It all sounded absolutely pathetic. Roman was being too sensitive. That just had to be what was going on. So he shook his head again and walked to class.

Talking was hard. Roman wanted to sit down and listen to Disney music. Things were easier when he could close his eyes and pretend that he was Prince Phillip, wandering through the forest and following the voice of a girl from long ago. As he moved to his desk and opened his English notebook, Roman started to imagine what it might be like to succeed after fighting a dragon. Seeing the fire from its mouth die down, and knowing that it took nothing but a strike of a sword to the heart for the kingdom to be safe again.

If only Patton was a dragon. Roman knew how to defeat a dragon.

—

Drama club was a disaster.

Roman hated how his fear tainted his livellihood. He couldn’t stand how his hands shook, and how his eyes darted in the direction of Patton’s delighted giggling whenever Roman made a mistake onstage. It started to grow overwhelming, the feeling that dangerous eyes were always on him, waiting to find something to whisper to others about. Patton’s obsession with Roman was unnerving, but did that mean that Roman was just as strange, fixated on Patton’s whispers and shifty smiles, reeking of paranoia?

“Roman, you’re on!” Mr. Diaz called out from the director’s table. “Your entrance is stage left.”

“Hurry up! Chop chop!” Patton groaned in exasperation. “Pay attention to the script, everyone’s waiting on you!”

Roman’s face burned as he rushed onstage, signing an apology as he rushed through his lines in a desperate attempt to make up for his misconduct. Roman didn’t know what was wrong with him. He was just giving Patton material at this point. Did Patton’s teasing matter if Roman was the one making mistakes to begin with?

“Maybe someone who can actually pay attention should be playing the lead,” Patton whispered, “Just saying.”

Roman stammered over his words as he heard Patton’s remark, feeling a brick lodge in his throat. His vision flashed, and for a moment, everything went black. It was just words. they didn’t matter unless Roman let them matter. If they stayed in his head, that was no one’s fault but his.

The giggling and whispering continued from behind Roman, and they grew bigger and louder. The sound surrounded Roman like a suffocating blanket, creating an uncomfortable cloud of humidity that he couldn’t escape from.

It hurt. Everything in Roman hurt, and he couldn’t think. People were laughing with Patton. They were agreeing with him. That meant that Patton had to be right. Roman didn’t deserve to be playing the lead.

The rest of the rehearsal moved in a haze of sound and speech and blobs of color that Roman struggled to discern. His shoes hit the sidewalk in a startling echo as he ran home as quickly as he could.

Who was Roman kidding? He was no prince.

He was as shriveled and pathetic as a defeated dragon.

[zalrb]

I saw a DE say that Stelena only had chemistry when there was external influences. but like?? isn’t that literally Delena? 😭 They also went on to say that Kevin + Julie only saw chemistry between them because they were shooting and that they didn’t have them in a plain room reading off of a script.

I remember seeing a post from you where you said the exact same thing about Delena needing music, lights, etc to generate chemistry.

So, what's funny about this is me and the DErs are not saying the same thing about opposite ships. The DErs are misunderstanding what JP and KW were saying. This:

They also went on to say that Kevin + Julie only saw chemistry between them because they were shooting and that they didn’t have them in a plain room reading off of a script.

is the definition of onscreen chemistry. What's being described is what Gina Rodriguez was saying about scene partners:

“Those are special people you find where you just explode with […] but you don’t get them very often where you just feel like as soon as they ‘action’ just everything comes alive and the world exists and your heart is right up in it.”

because that is what JP and KW were saying. Once they were Stefan and Elena, they had the chemistry they needed:

“It’s the scene where Elena was running in the cemetery. And he’s there, out of nowhere. And the sun is just hitting him so perfectly and his eyes are so beautifully green and he’s just staring at her and she’s staring up in him… Kevin and I both went “He is our guy, oh my god he is our guy!””

— Julie Plec

“She looked at Stefan in the graveyard when she first met him, when he reached over and took the leaf off her sweater, out of her hair. I thought they were electric.”

— Kevin Williamson

WILLIAMSON: I love the moment where Stefan and Elena first meet and he picks the leaf out of her hair. I think they have beautiful chemistry when she says, “We have history together.” I saw it in the monitor and I went, “If this show works it’s going to be because they have chemistry.”

and it's actually something Nina spoke about because she originally did what the DErs did, which was assume that onscreen chemistry happens offscreen:

DOBREV: I read with a lot of guys and I had different experiences — good, bad, indifferent. It’s not that one person was perfect for it; everyone was just so different. But I remember that Paul was the only one who didn’t speak to me unless we were speaking on camera. Everyone else was trying to schmooze with me and flirt with me because it’s a chemistry read, and that was my first-ever chemistry read so I thought that’s what it was supposed to be as well. I was trying to get a vibe: who did I have the most sexual tension with? And because Paul didn’t speak to me, we had the least sexual tension.

What I'm saying about DE is that they didn't have it onscreen and that's why they're manipulated with music and angles etc.