#no reason to do all of this except for my own sake and entertainment

[greenlaut]

yusuf (son of the sea) — assassin's creed oc

(this oc is a persona of myself but as the son of altaïr and malik. for fun purposes ehe.)

backstory under the cut

cw: implied child abuse, violence

yusuf heralds from akka harbour in the middle district. he had a content and fulfilling childhood with his father (a sailor), mother, and two you ger siblings. however, when he was 7 his father got caught in a brawl with drunk sailors, thus causing a conflict that killed his family. yusuf survived because he was out fishing when it occurred.

as an orphan, he was thrown into an orphanage. the orphanage couldn't afford the upkeep and soon enough it was bought by a slaver who profited off child-brides. yusuf escaped again; he'd rather die in the streets than bound to gross men.

he was severely malnourished and cold when altaïr first found him. the master assassin just finished up a kill and was making his way home. altaïr wrapped him up in a thick scarf and offered some bread. when the assassin tried to take yusuf to an orphanage, yusuf slipped away. yusuf was not a master assassin, but he was small and quick—easily weaving in and out of crowds and wagons. it took altaïr an embarassing amount of time (an hour, longer than it should've taken him to hunt down a target) to chase down the child. at the end of it, altaïr was impressed enough that he brought yusuf along.

altaïr thought of taking yusuf to masyaf, then forgone it, and instead dropped him off without much explanation in jerusalem with malik (much to the da'i's shock, confusion, and annoyance) before he continued on his mission. malik was apprehensive at first and was about to leave yusuf in one of the orphanages in jerusalem if altaïr never return to pick up the child back. but yusuf was a nice company to have around (compared to most of the air-headed novices he had to face—the bar is low) while malik worked. the child was witty, blunt, and reminded malik of young altaïr there wasn't any formalities when yusuf got taken in by malik—he just was.

during his stay with malik, yusuf preferred to be referred as a boy or child and acted much like any other boy. yusuf was born and raised in his family as a woman, and whilst he was in the streets he didn't care much about how people view him than to survive. one day malik asked him—the da'i glanced at yusuf whilst keeping his hands on the open map before him—if yusuf would rather be identified as a man or a woman. yusuf replied that he (is) very much a boy without looking up from his needlework (he was stitching his torn pants). malik nodded and that was that.

years later, when yusuf was of age; malik took it upon himself to unearth a merchant who sold medicines for men ailed with impotency. the da'i upheld his reputation as the most feared rafiq with the exchange. since then, yusuf has had no problems with getting his (gender-affirming) medicines regularly.

then al-mualim happened and altaïr rose up as a grandmaster. yusuf stayed with malik in jerusalem until he was of age to become a novice. until that time, altaïr would visit jerusalem regularly to check in on his ward and his friend—and to escape the unbearable stuffiness that is grandmaster work. altaïr taught yusuf how to hone his strength in stealth and agility. malik taught him how to read and write. during this time, they discovered yusuf was nearsighted due to him being severely malnourished in the past (and it also stunted his growth). but yusuf was able to hid it for so long since he had been using his second vision to cover up for his nearsightedness. (altaïr was rather delighted to find someone else sharing his trait. they bonded over their shared dislike of people labeled as enemies in their eagle vision).

they keep this strange bonding activity far off into yusuf's adulthood. they sit together and view into their second vision to ruminate over people. malik would scold both of them if he catches them in the act, saying that it's impolite and dishonourable. but after one attempts too many on altaïr's well-being, he understands the need. and sometimes, he'll sit with them and ask for names. altaïr has learned how to avoid dropping names to malik. yusuf hasn't—and the assassin isn't going to try and find out what malik will do (or has done) to them.

when yusuf became a novice, malik half-jokingly told yusuf to keep an eye on altaïr for him. and so he did; whilst he worked under the tutelage of the mentors, he would check in (read: harass) on altaïr in his study. while yusuf was not the brightest novice; he kept altaïr sane and feeling human enough through the trials of leadership.

yusuf eventually finishes his training as an assassin (not master assassin). altaïr oversaw his hidden blade initiation personally out of fondness. he has no intent of becoming a mentor, and so he takes his time to loiter around masyaf and jerusalem to keep an eye for both of his pseudo-fathers. taking up available missions or errands to run without caring for ranks.

he excels in stealthwork and free-running. to deal with his eyesight, yusuf tends to find viewpoints from the highest landmark first to check with his second vision before dealing with his target. contrary to his fathers, yusuf's swordmanship is minimum. he avoids conflict when he can, and prefers to escape (by running or blending in) or stealth-kill when facing enemy soldiers.

fin.

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

hello! i’m love your post and arts so much! I look at your posts after a hard day and my mood immediately changes to excellent. can I ask a couple of questions?

which pairing with Ethan do you prefer?

and… can we get to know you better? a little biography?

Thank you for your time! I'll be waiting for new arts! (sorry if i made mistakes, my english is not so good. im russian)

i like basically every ship with ethan! it mostly depends on the mood im in, but if im being honest, mithan, winterfield, and wintersberg gets frustrating to think about because they all dont treat ethan well canonically... lethan is fun because they have never met and i can make my own assumptions!

i used to like wintersberg the most and i still do like it, i just have expanded my horizons to other ships as well...., its mostly like a punchline to me though. they have the funniest potential which is why a majority of their posts is just joke comics. i do not like how people try to erase how karl is arrogant and egotistical tho. thats like removing the flavor.... the way karl acts is just very funny to me, hes so lame in a good way and i like how everytime he talks to ethan it sounds like hes twirling his hair and kicking his feet. canonically speaking, karl was very much in the wrong for trying to use rose and not elaborating and i will die on this hill. ethan is not in the wrong for being disgusted and angry that karl would ever try and propose that in the deal. karl is very arrogant so when ethan says no to him it makes him mad and he tries to use fear to get ethan to take his deal (kicking his chair and warning him) i like karl, i like how messed up and arrogant he is but i dislike how people try to portray him as a nice guy. however, in a AU where everythings the same except he doesnt try to use rose i do enjoy the dynamic they could have, especially if the teamed up (not with the deal where they use rose. ethan wouldnt agree unless karl never involved rose in the first place). karl is just a very entertaining character and i like him a lot, hes funny and his personality can be extremely hilarious

mia and ethan is pretty tragic and thinking about it too much makes me a bit sad, imo in a reality where ethan survives re8, he needs to divorce mia. im not saying ethan needs to hate mia and never talk to her again i just dont think they should be so intimate together because of her behavior... please do not take this as anti mia. they loved each other dearly but it wasnt healthy. their relationship was kept afloat by lies and mia doesnt change even though she deals with the consequences of her own actions in re7. she actively tries to hide her past from ethan and is mostly focused on trying to move on and have a normal life even if ethan will have to live the rest of his life in the dark.

she loves her family so much, shes very afraid of them leaving her so she hides all the bad things in the hopes that they wont leave. its selfish, its human, its real, her character is so amazing and i love her. she doesnt learn from re7 and hides important information from ethan again. i geniunly think they should have gotten divorced after re8 if ethan had survived. its tragic and its sad but they love each other so much. it sad because they both geniunly love rose so much but they themselves shouldnt be together. its just sad to think about it. whenever i draw them it usually takes place before re7. they should have divorced on good terms and shared custody of rose.........

ethan and chris is also frustrating to think about... chris is a major jerk in re8, whenever i draw it, its under a unspoken AU that chris did not behave the way he did in re8. his weird behavior in re8 is probably for a meta reason imo. capcom wanted to set up a twist villian so they make chris very vague and unesscarily cruel. while its frustrating that they turned chris into a jerk for the sake of a twist, it still happens in canon and i will forever roll my eyes whenever i see him on screen. he did what he thought was best but imo, execution matters more than the intentions. same applies to mia. they both did things that hurt ethan because they thought it would be the best but in the end they just hurt ethan.

all the ships ive discussed with people ethan has met canonically just makes it look like i dont even like the ships... LOL ... ethan just has horrible luck with the people he meets i guess... but i do enjoy the ships and drawing them, but again all of them come with the canon baggage that ends up making me sad because everyone treats ethan poorly whether they had good intentions or not

which is why leon and ethan is the most fun to draw without getting stressed... LOL... they have never met but just drawing what i think their dynamic would be like is very fun.

please dont take this post personally, this isnt a post declaring why ur fave ship sucks, this is just my own personal preferences and in the end i draw all of them anyways

if i had to rank the ships based on drawing silly comics it would be

wintersberg

mithan

lethan

winterfield

wintersberg has the funniest potential just because of karl and mithan can be funny if u water it down to "i love my wife so much" and said wife comes home with suspicious amounts of hard cash

i enjoy making joke comics far to much

if i were to rank the ships based on how healthy they would actually be for ethan it would be

lethan

winterfield, mithan, wintersberg (no particular order)

sorry 😭

leon and ethan have literally never met but imo it would still be the healthiest because ethan gets to start new

the three other ships r all unhealthy in some way, at least canonically without changing much about the characters (i do like winterfield but just because of how chris behaved in re8 it knocked them down)

i cant even rank them on personal preference because my opinion changes so often 😭 it changes based on discussions i have with my friends or recent art i see that inspires me... me and my friends recently had a discussion about mia and ethans relationship which made me very frustrated and sad with mia so i defiently wouldnt be drawing them anytime soon... meanwhile i hvae been talking to a friend who really likes winterfield often so the conversations we have give me art ideas and i end up drawing it more. if a friend of mine really enjoyed wintersberg or lethan and talked to me about it often id probably start drawing it more, the joys of being a multishipper

it changes a lot based on how im feeling and if im in the mood to draw something funny or something serious

sorry u asked a really simple question and i responded with a essay

and a little bit about myself is that i go by crumb, i am 18 and i go by all pronouns and prefer it/its

im vietnamese and live in texas

i made this tumblr acc solely so i could post my ethan art and im a re7/re8 girly so if ur here waiting for me to draw the re1-re6 characters im sorry u should probably expect nothing

i also make personal animations sometimes which u can find here

thanks for the ask and sorry for the rant!

[blingblong55]

False god- Vladimir Makarov

A/N: he's so weirded out by emotions he apologises this way?! my dudes I need a man like that, like yes apologise to me with money

Based on a request:

HERE ME OUT. The lack of attention my babygirl Makarov gets has me crying. But hear me out on my request. Let's say during one of Makarovs mission he came across a certain individual, and it caught Makarovs attention, Makarov told his me to gather information about the individual, after he got the information turns out that reader(the certain individual I'm talking about) has there own task force and is the commander of it. Turns out that reader is oddly similar to Makarov. To similar. And this caught his attention. To test reader he decided to purposely raid her base and make a trap seeing if they could see through it which they did. And it obviously angered them causing them to become enemies, until Makarov decided to try and be Allies with them considering he needs there help on a certain mission and there the right person for it (idk what trope this would be.. probably an enemies to frienenies+ with benifits let's say Makarov had a slight crush on them 🙏🙏match made in hell basically..)

---- F!Reader, romance? fluff? soft!makarov?, established!relationship ----

Secret kisses behind closed doors. His hand was on yours when the room was dark. You and him never meant to be together, at least not in front of others. He failed at two things, meeting you liking you and falling in love with you. Does he regret it, no, definitely not. It's been a while since you have wanted to let everyone know that he is the reason you smile like a fool and tonight, as you met up with him again, the conversation came up. 

By the end of it, your eyes filled with tears. "But you have to listen-" "No." You hated how he had to have the last word in that but you'd let him, even if it meant to not voice your emotions for him. Soon later, he told you about some mission he did, his actions were wrong, and you knew that, so you called him out. A man like him will always deny such words and will not want to be confronted with the truth. That is when you two would clash. You were mad, of course, and he was too. So, you end up walking away. "Where are you going?" he follows behind. "I'm not going to entertain your shit-thinking tonight." You say without turning to him. Vladimir stops in his tracks and scoffs. "You're being a baby, R/N." Oh, that was it, no more contact, make him learn his lesson once and for all. 

If he really wanted to be better for you like he said months ago, then this is prime time to prove that statement. But he won't do it, not so easily. Hours after the conversation, he went home, waiting for your call but it never came in. He grew worried. You always called him to let him know you were home and safe. Three days go by and he is already anxious and scared. His men watch over you, giving him updates which keep him steady. Day 9 comes by and he can't help but try and reach out...except he stops before dialing your number. No, he isn't weak, he can't be the first to say sorry, that is not who he is. 

For fucks sake, he runs a group of strong soldiers, he is meant to be heartless...right? And if he is heartless then why does his heart ache anytime he thinks of you? Why does he get the urge to cry if you don't ever speak to him? God those lips of yours, that voice and the stare. He becomes a madman for you. You are a drug, one he needs to consume. So, for days he plans it all. He will talk to you, a speech he rehearsed which is nothing but the truth. The mirror knows that too. "Sorry...no...there has to be a better way through this," Makarov changed. He was confident in everything but without you there, what is he now? 

A mess, this is what has become of him. Damn it, why do you feel so close and still be so far? Idiot, fucking idiot. His office, filled with plans now empty from a clean spree he made while trying to not think of you. He knows you are around, knows you are at base playing a card game with your friends. 

Time passes and it is day 12. He hasn't been the same, why the fuck do you affect him like this. 

"No, no..." you laugh and he nudges you. Gosh, look at this view. Your legs over his snuggled on the couch as a cheap romance comes on screen. Cliche, all of it but it even makes him excited to experience it. He looks over at you, this is perfect. Your angelic face is complimented by the shades of the screen. He cups your face, "Kiss me, please," Vladimir needs this more than you. 

Fuck it. He knocks on your door. It's been 504 hours since he last held you in his arms. Kissed you, smiled because of you, laughed with you, made love to you. 504 hours of pure torture. Everyone at your base was asleep. His heart races as he awaits to see you. Your door opens and you stand there, confused. "Makarov?" Oh yes, say it again, say my name, he thinks. 

In his hand, a bouquet of your favourite flowers mixed with money. "I'm an idiot, I know. And...I'm sorry for not apologising sooner, for not acknowledging you calling me out on something I know now was wrong, I'm sorry...I'm sorry for needing you, I'm sorry for crying...but I'm not sorry for loving you," his eyes filled with tears. Fuck does he love you.

You may ask, what made him so emotional? That picture he took of you and him on Christmas. That day, he knew he loved you, he knew that in his miserable life, you were the only and last good thing he could have. That morning, he received the best gift. The first genuine 'I love you' he ever got in his life. You knew then that he was the one. It's why you now have him in your room, kissing him and cuddling him because, for 504 hours, you too missed him. 

"I love you, I love you.." Makarov repeated after every kiss he gave your body. You smile and repeat over and over, "I love you too." 

And so it goes that the cruel Vladimir Makarov, held the hand of his beloved as they walked down the aisle. Mr. and Mrs. Makarov, what a risky love this will be. 

Tags: @rowrowrowyourboat13 @thefragmented @selarus @kielsegur @shotmrmiller @liyanahelena @personwhosucksassatmath @iamashadows-blog @strangepuppynightmare @thesnailus @arialikestea @baldwinhearts @wack2000 @johfaam0 @goldenmclaren @moonsua1 @rvirienner @frazie99 @viomast @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts

[haine-kleine]

Fulfilling my quota of Touyadoomposting by going back to this theory and expanding it. This is mostly a crack theory except instead being funny everything is just horrible lololol

Ok so as silly as the Tenko's entire life being orchestrated by AFO pretty much since he was born reveal was, it also gave us the fact AFO used to have drinking dates with his father specifically for the purpose of making him as abusive to Tenko as possible.

Combine this with the weirdly OOC fact that Enji gave up on achieving the number one place at the ripened age of 20. Sure, Allmight's shining beacon of hope and strength may have been a source of great jealousy for a young and upcoming number two pro hero but come on now. 20 is still a teenager, why are you giving up without even trying.

Enji's admirable hero quality is determination.

No matter how insecure he secretly was, giving up at 20, with a perfectly healthy body, and putting all of his determination into making a kid with a quirk stronger than his own and making that kid achieve his dream in his place, is not even backwards logic, it makes absolutely no sense. Enji is not even one of the quirks obsessed characters, he has never been interested in anyone's quirk besides his own and his sons'. Despite his weakness (overheating), he is all about pushing through and overcoming it. To put this shortly, Enji is dumb as a shoe a very single-minded person. This is simply not someone who would entertain such concepts as perfect quirks or eugenics.

You know who does though? Yeah, this guy.

Enji is ruled by his emotions and has tragically low emotional intelligence. This makes him very susceptible to manipulations. And AFO is one hell of a manipulator. A villain obsessed with destroying Allmight and the number two hero who dreams of throwing Allmight off his pedestal. Why wouldn't AFO seek him out? If he saw that seed of self-doubt and carefully nurtured it, Enji giving up despite being so young would start making sense. Enji seeking out a quirk marriage would also make sense (I refuse to believe this man is the only one who came up with this idea in the entire manga). He clearly didn't know what he was doing.

Even choosing a Himura as a candidate for his little eugenics experiment would start making sense if it was actually AFO's suggestion. The Himuras are famous for their strong ice quirks, and Enji's goal was creating a heir whose heat tolerance would be higher than his. This is basic logic. Having babies with a woman who has an ice quirk and is vulnerable to heat won't land you any kids with a fire tolerance higher than your own. He set himself up for failure, they all came out like Touya

Granting Enji's logical thinking abilities the benefit of doubt, we look the other way and spot Garaki being involved in this case. AFO wanting to see what would come out of genetically combining strong ice and fire quirks just for the sake or his curiousity makes so much more sense than Enji being unable to comprehend his choice for the quirk marriage wasn't even fit for his goal. Touya did eventually end up in AFO and Garaki's child laboratory, which was the purpose of Garaki fronting as a quirks doctor for kids. And Enji was in contact with Garaki since Touya was 4 years old.

Also makes for such an evil irony that Touya's trauma stems from him seeking a reason for his existence and not finding one. And the entire reason for his very birth is just AFO being a cold-blooded quirkist manipulator

[msklassickilla]

Prada You Chapter 13

Summary:

In the summer of 1998, sparks fly between Nyeya and Jey.

Nyeya is an 18-year-old around the way girl. Jey is older, paid, and fine. He is also the leader of the infamous Prada Bois alongside his twin brother Jimmy.  The two have chemistry. However, Nyeya has plans outside of her attraction. With a birthday around the corner and dreams of living a good life, Nyeya sets her sights on enjoying the perks of Jey's money and hood celebrity.

But baby girl has no clue what it takes to really be down. Nyeya is about to learn some hard life lessons at the expense of her 'Prada' priced dreams.

Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya (Nye) Green (OC)

Author’s Note: This story is happening in an alternative universe. It features the current and original Bloodline members along with other WWE stars. So, the characters are themselves, but some things are switched around for the stories sake. This was originally written with all original characters, but I think it could work better this way. Hope you guys enjoy it and I actually finish it...

Warning: Please be advised that this chapter contains harsh/foul language, mentions of murder, and some toxic language.

Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

Want to read from the beginning? Click Here

If you wanna join the taglist for this story, just let me know! Taglist: @theusotwinzcom @nbanenefrmdao

Chapter 13: Crumble

The hum of the fan in the corner of my room couldn’t drown out the faint voices floating up from the open window. I was folding laundry, trying to distract myself, when I caught pieces of the conversation. It was the neighbors from downstairs, their familiar cadence unmistakable. I paused, laundry forgotten, as their words sharpened into focus.

“I’m telling you, it wasn’t about no money,” one of them said, her voice hushed but firm.

“Then what was it about? “Cause Melo wasn’t no trouble for them. That boy was tryna change his life around for his mama sake,” the other asked.

“Disrespect. That’s all it takes with those Prada Bois. You cross the wrong one, and it’s over. Carmelo must’ve pissed one of them off real bad. Probably Jimmy, you know he got some screws loose.”

I crept closer to the window, the knot in my stomach tightening with every word. Disrespect? That didn’t make sense. Carmelo wasn’t about that; he wasn’t the type to poke a bear unless he had a reason. But the more I thought about it, the more uneasy I felt.

“So crazy,” the second voice murmured. “Killing someone over something so petty. But that’s the Prada Bois for you. I wish the laws would do something about them, but I know ain’t nothing gone change until a war happen and it start affecting the right people.”

Their conversation faded, but the unease clung to me like a second skin. I couldn’t stop replaying it in my head, trying to fit the pieces together. If Carmelo had died over something as petty as disrespect, what did that say about Jey?

----

The next morning, I was in the kitchen making breakfast when Michael wandered in, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“You need to learn how to cook, dude. I can’t keep doing this,” I said, flipping a pancake onto his plate.

He mumbled something that sounded like an insult before sliding into a chair. As I turned back to the stove, he spoke up.

“Oh, damn. I almost forgot. That dude you cheating on Jey with gave me 50 dollas to give you something. Let me go it.”

My mouth dropped open, “I know you ain’t accusing nobody of shit. And how you even know about what me and Jey got going?” My hands were on my hips as he ignored me to head back to his room.

He entered the kitchen a minute later with a folded-up piece of paper in his palm. I walked over to grab it out his hands, but he pulled his hand behind his back. “I should charge yo’ ass but since you made breakfast I won't.”

I rolled my eyes, snatching it out of his hand. “Where’d you get this?” I asked, my voice tight.

“Damian. He rolled up on me yesterday while I was hoopin’,” Michael said with a shrug. “Pulled out a fifty for me to give it to you and not say shit about it. But if y’all gon’ keep sneaking behind Jey back I’ma need more money.”

“Michael, shut up. Ain’t nothing going on with me and him. And tell me how you know I’m in a relationship with Jey?”

He smirked, “Girl, who you think I am? I know shit and all y’all business out here anyway. I told you to leave his crazy ass alone but you gon’ learn.”

My face heated. I couldn’t believe Jey had me out here like this. And Michael was another loose end I wasn’t expecting. I turned my attention back to what was in my hands and unfolded the note, my eyes scanning the short, sharp message:

Meet me Downtown tomorrow night at 10. At parking garage by the train station.

My stomach twisted. Damian wasn’t the type to reach out. He went through the trouble of getting Kiyah number and calling her to paying Michael to give me a note. Whatever he wanted to say, it had to be important. My curiosity peaked.

“When you gon’ tell mama you messing with that old ass man,” Michael asked, his voice curious but laced with something else. I didn’t like it.

“When I’m good and ready to,” I lied, tucking the note into my pocket. “Just keep your mouth shut and we good.”

Michael gave me a look, “You ain’t got to worry about me telling her but the way yo’ business in these streets like pavement somebody else will.”

I walked back to the stove, though my appetite had vanished. He was right and I hated when his ass was right.

----

The sun was just beginning to set when I left the beauty supply store later that day, a small bag of items swinging at my side. The air was warm and heavy, the streets quieter than usual. I had just turned the corner when I heard the low rumble of an engine. I looked up to see Jey’s car idling at the curb.

“Nye,” he called, leaning out the window. “Get in.”

I hesitated, clutching my bag tighter. “I’m good. I’ll walk. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

I continued walking, trying to ignore him. I wasn’t about to argue with this man again in public. What Michael had said this morning stuck with me. I had to move smarter, control my emotions.

But Jey wasn’t taking no for an answer. He pulled up alongside of me, going the same pace as I was.

My annoyance with his antics was at an all-time high. I could feel tears pooling in the corner of my eyes. Not from sadness, just anger. We got a block down the road before my emotions got the best of me.

“What do you not understand? I don’t want to talk to you. I ain’t got shit to say and neither do you. I’m not getting in that car with yo’ looney ass. You done acted a fucking fool with me in public one too many times, Jey. Like go do that nut shit elsewhere.” I lashed, chest heaving.

Jey calmly put the car in park and hopped out. I stood there, eyeing him and street up ahead. I was two blocks from home. I could run but I couldn’t outrun him in no car. He must’ve sensed I was thinking about running. And slid an uncovered tatted arm around neck, holding me hostage.

I looked up meeting his eyes. “Let me go, Jey. I can walk home.”

His eyes darkened. “Nyeya, I ain’t asking no mo’. Get in the fucking car or I will help you get in the fucking car.” His arm had tightened around my neck as I struggled to get away.

We were so close I could feel his hot breath against my ear. “Nyeya, I will show my ass. You said you didn’t want that right. Cool. Get in the car. Now.”

There was no mistaking the edge in his voice. I knew better to push further so I stopped struggling. I opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. He shut the door behind me and jogged to the driver’s side, getting in. We pulled away, leaving the scene.

“Why you been dodging me?” he demanded, his grip on the steering wheel tight.

“I’ve been busy,” I said, staring out the window.

He scoffed. “Busy doing what? Thinking about how much I’ve done for you and how little I get back? Thinking about putting yo’ hands on me? Oh I see, you busy tryna leave me, huh. You done lost yo’ damn mind girl.”

That hit a nerve. I turned to him, my voice sharp. “You think throwing money around makes up for everything else? It doesn’t, Jey. Money don’t excuse your behavior. You got me out here looking crazy. I don’t how you get down with them other hoes, but I told you how this was gon’ go. You act stupid, I’ll act dumb.”

He slammed a hand against the steering wheel, the sound making me jump. “You don’t appreciate shit, do you? You think you can just take and bounce? Nah, Nyeya. I told you upfront what this was, and you sat your little ass right there making promises to be here. And you think I wasn’t gone hold you to it. Ain’t no leavin’.”

“I didn’t ask for this!” I snapped back. “Nothing about you said you was gon’ have me out here looking a fool. You making it hard to stay with your bullshit. Get it the fuck together and maybe I can keep my promise. I ain’t sign up for this shit if this is what it is. You got it. Fuck them promises.”

The silence was deafening. Jey gripped the steering wheel tight, his knuckles pale. His eyes never left the road.

“You think you can just walk away? Like this shit don’t matter?” His voice was cold, sharp.

I stared out the window, refusing to engage.

“You ain’t going nowhere, Nye. It’s me and you, baby.”

When he finally pulled up to my building, he leaned close, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m giving you 48 hours to get ya mind right. Answer the phone when I call. I ain’t asking, Nyeya. I’m telling you.”

I got out, slamming the door behind me. I didn’t look back.

---

The following night, Downtown was alive with energy. The city lights flickered, casting shadows that seemed to chase me as I stood by the parking garage. Damian’s car slid into view, headlights cutting through the dark. Without a word, he leaned over and popped the passenger door open. I slid in, and he pulled off without hesitation.

The hum of the engine filled the silence between us. Finally, Damian spoke.

“You good? After what went down on the Fourth?”

I hesitated. “I’m fine.”

Damian scoffed quietly. “Nah, you ain’t. But that’s none of my business. Listen, Nyeya, you need to leave Jey alone. For good.”

I crossed my arms, leaning back against the seat. “We just on the outs right now. Jey’s just been done wrong too many times. He’s guarded, but it’ll work itself out.”

Damian’s laugh was hollow. “It won’t. Jey doesn’t change. He just makes people regret crossing him.”

I exhaled slowly, the weight of his words pressing down on me. I stared ahead, unsure if I even wanted to ask, but the question clawed its way out.

“Did the Prada Bois kill Carmelo?”

Damian’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. His silence stretched thin.

“Damian. Tell me the truth.”

His jaw clenched before he finally spoke. “Yeah. We did.”

The air left my lungs. “Why?”

“Because Carmelo crossed a line,” Damian said flatly. “Jey doesn’t tolerate disrespect. It doesn’t matter how small it is. If he feels threatened, it’s over. Things get handled.”

I swallowed hard. “Are you saying Jey put that hit out?”

Damian stared ahead, unblinking. “I didn’t say that. But you know Jey. Nothing happens without his say-so.”

“No... Jey wouldn’t do that. Not to Melo. Perhaps, Jimmy did.”

Damian let out a frustrated sigh. “You really think he wouldn’t? Open your eyes, Nye. This is who he is. This is who you’ve attached yourself to.”

The city lights blurred past us, but everything felt distant, unreal. Memories of Jey’s cold stares, his possessiveness, his unpredictable rage swirled in my mind. The pieces were there, fitting together far too well.

But I couldn’t let myself believe it.

“You need to get out while you still can,” Damian muttered. “Before you end up in too deep. Unable to walk away.”

I turned to the window, my throat tight. The truth was suffocating, but denial felt safer.

And that terrified me even more.

[hiemaldesirae]

AU where *Vox* is the one who disappears for 7 years, and ALL of Hell suffers for it. The remaining 2 Vees end up with their souls contracted to Alastor, Carmilla and Zestial have to become allies and join forces-most overlords do by the time Vox comes back there ARE no solo Overlords left, except technically Rosie and Alastor but even they are 'allies' in the loosest sense. Everyone else is paired up and it all because of the madness of Radio Demon at the disappearance of his muse. He's shacked up inside of The Vees Tower, taking over Vox's floor as his own, adding a radio tower to the side of it.

And then, 7 years after his disappearance, Vox reappears and joins Charlie Morningstar at her hotel for rehabilitation of sinners of all things, with Angel Dust as her first client, and--

The very foundations of Hell shake.

OHHH this one is fun. yesyesyes im so onboard with this one!!! i think about swap aus very fondly no matter how many times i see premises where vox and al get their storylines swapped ill ALWAYS eat it up.

okay so i do have some questions i want to get over with first. did al and vox breakup before the whole. (waves hands) seven year leave thing. like did they fight before he left because that brings a wholly different dynamic to the table rather than 'oh vox just disappeared one day', which in fairness i can see driving alastor crazy in a much different way, but also if they'd fought beforehand and alastor had expected to see vox back with the vees the day after or something, only to find him missing with no one aware of where he was... hoo boy. and also- does alastor take over the entertainment district here? like, he's got val and velvette as contracted souls, so do they stop running the district because they can no longer hold the respect of those they were once under and just do menial tasks under al's servitude, or is there a completely different dynamic here that ive passed over?

anyway with that over with... (bashes my head into the wall) YES I NEED THIS. ohmuy god. the aus where vox is sponsoring the hazbin hotel because of a deal he made with lucifer or something have been haunting my head for weeks upon end and i cant help but imagine something similar here- i can just imagine how pissed alastor would be to learn of the fact that vox was back and didnt even think to go and SHOW HIMSELF to him first??? vox was HIS. his muse, his rival, his stupid, stupid picture box- and he went off to make a deal with that bright-faced, stupid little princess of hell? instead of going back to alastor? no, no, no, that cant do, absolutely not, VALENTINO, you have to get your oblivious little employee under control before i rip out both your throats-- anyway. i imagine al probably hates intearcting with either of the vees but he does to make sure theyre not dead or trying to kill him (its all for voxs sake. he wouldn't be glad to return and find his friends slaughtered, after all.)

sorry i dont really have any other thoughts to addonto this (theres a reason why i havent written/drawn a swap au with them and its because ive no idea how the story would change given all the different nuances that we dont yet know... so. yeah) except maybe that alastor would probably be pissed as hell at the attention vox gets when he returns- because he was a celebrity figure before he was gone, too, and his return is like the equivalent to a comeback on princess diana's revenge dress level. instead of being pissed that other sinners are paying attention to vox in a 'they should be looking at me' kind of way though he's more pissed in a 'no one should look at him except for me' kind of way which really weirds charlie vaggie and angel out who are kinda just going like... 'are you sure about that guy man' and vox just shrugs like 'well last time i was face to face with him we had a really bitter breakup fight so idek if hes sure about me tbh'

[absolutebl]

Given the wide range of BL you've consumed and analyzed. I am curious at your perspective when comparing BLs made/written by men and those that were written by women, in a different direction, comparing BLs directed by men in comparison to women.

If you could have the time and give your perspective in this two sources of BL , that would be great.

Hum, I'm not sure how to answer this. Except in a kind of avoidance way because I question the premise.

I think, in general, in most of the film industry, the original writing has very little to do with the final result, because so many new voices and povs are imposed on it the moment it begins to be adapted. After a BL leaves its author (predominantly female) it goes to script, a writers room, and eventually into the hands of director and team. All those people are different genders (predominantly male). And all of them have a significant impact on the end result.

Sometimes the author has unprecedented influence (mame for example) but that's pretty unusual.

Statistically speaking, the origin IP (whether novel or graphic) is most likely written by a female and the resulting BL most likely directed by a male.

There are always exceptions, of course.

Even putting aside all the other people, mostly script writers, in between the two primaries (which I just don't think you can) it would be statistically challenging to draw any commonalities amongst female directors (since there are so few) or amongst male writers (for the same reason). In other words, we have many many examples of really only 1 of the 4 possible combinations, and all those examples are muddied by the nature of the filming process (not to mention the nature of gender).

In other words, it would be challenging for me to say things are generally preferable in any one version of the pairings.

I have liked BLs written and directed by women, written by a woman directed by a man, written by a man directed by a woman, or written and directed by men (although those last two I would struggle to name any BLs).

However, I have also liked and then disliked BLs from the same general team and combination of genders behind the creatives.

For me, at least, there doesn't seem to be a reliable team or a reliable writer or a reliable director whose BL product I will reliably love.

I would hesitate to place a predictor on my BL taste (or anyone else's) based on the gender of any part of the team behind a BL. That seems..... weird. Especially when queers and 3rd gender etc are involved (and we have always been involved in artistic spaces for as long as humans have existed, I suspect).

But then I feel that way about most entertainment, from music to books to plays to comedy to fashion. I can be a fan of a director's style but not like some of their shows, just as I can be a fan of an actor's performance but not the character they're playing, or a fan of a pair's chemistry but not in those roles, and so forth.

I think what youth and influencers and the internet age has forgotten is that it's okay to admire a creative individual and not slavishly adore everything that they produce. (For fuck's sake though, don't tell them that, you absolute troll.)

Creatives and creative teams also have their own taste, and that may conflict with yours. Especially with newer IP where you might want the same old same old and they need to evolved. Consumers of entertainment are remarkably resistant to creativity, innovation, and change (so oxymoronic) .

It's okay, maybe you'll like their next BL, song, book, painting, performance......

I have no idea how I got here but:

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

I do have some stuff on a queer lens here:

[northlt03]

Once again trying to spread my Rosekiller RWRB agenda...

Bartemius Crouch Sr as the head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement, a household name, respected and feared by everyone. Everyone except his rebellious son.

Barty Crouch Jr, known for getting around and hating his father in general. Barty Crouch who grew up close with Regulus to the point they're both insanely inseparable. He's charming, he's carefree, he tries to actively make things harder for his father, the whole shebang.

In comes Evan Rosier, son of one of the wealthiest pureblood families other than the Blacks. His father is trying to get the position for Minister for Magic. Evan is as Prince Henry is in the book. Kind of lonely, kind of keeps to himself.

For reasons beyond his understanding, Barty hates him, absolutely loathes him. It's completely a one sided feud though and it all bubbles up at Narcissa and Lucius' wedding when they go sprawling in an insanely expensive cake. (For the sake of the story, lets assume the Malfoys are closely related to the Rosiers)

Cue Bartemius Crouch Sr and Rosier Sr demanding they pretend to be best friends for pr purposes.

They get pictures taken for the Daily Prophet, they have to go to St Mungos together and talk to little kids, where there's a threat so they get shoved into a broom closet and Barty reveals the real reason he never liked Evan was because of something stupid that happened in Hogwarts that made him instantly dislike him.

They kind of unpack everything, start talking a lot more. Evan has this really stupid dad joke type of humor that would be completely unfunny if it was anyone else, but Barty fucking cracks up every time.

They start sitting next to each other whenever they have to be present in the Ministry. Evan has to constantly try to keep Barty under control and entertains him with insane gossip and Barty just blurts out any impulsive thoughts he has like, "hey I should just push over a shelf in the hall of prophecies and watch all the balls fall, I think that would be fun" And Evan has to constantly deal with his ass.

Anyway, they become friends, sort of. Barty likes him because no one really looks at him the way Evan does, like there's something interesting about him. No one ever looks or tries to look at the person he is and not just his body. Hell, even his own father avoids looking at him if he can.

Evan is distant sometimes though, like he's dealing with more than he could possibly divulge. And Barty's great at distracting him, great at making him laugh, making him feel like they're the only ones in a room.

Barty always throws the best parties other than the Gryffindor graduates. For the New Years Party, he manages to convince Regulus to show up as well cause he wanted to reunite the whole Slytherin group.

Evan, surprisingly, shows up, even though he had told Barty he wasn't sure if he'd be able to make it.

The party is like a ritual for Barty. He gets wasted, he kisses a girl or usually more than one (that pisses off his dad so fucking much and maybe that's the reason he keeps doing it) then he wakes up the next day hungover. It's fun for him.

It's fun when he tries to drag Evan onto the dancefloor and tries to make him laugh with bad dance moves. It's fun when Evan keeps staring at him and only him. It's fun when he slips his hands onto Evan's waist trying to get him to loosen up, try to forget the pureblood upbringing. It's fun when they're super close and Evan keeps staring at him through his eyelashes like that.

It's fun when the countdown begins and Barty tries to look for a girl to kiss. It's fun when some pretty girl slips into his arms and they chant the numbers and lock lips.

It's not fun anymore when he looks up to see Evan absolutely devastated. It's not fun anymore when he sees Evan look like he's going to throw up. It's not fun anymore when he sees Evan slip out to get fresh air.

So he follows him because that's the rational thing to do. And he finds him under a tree.

It's kind of hard to look away from Evan ever since he started looking at him. It's kind of hard to give a shit about anything else when Evan is in front of him.

Barty knows he'll never know what it's like to grow up in a pureblood family, not in the way Regulus and Evan do. So when Evan starts blabbing about what he can and can't do, its all he can do to nod along.

He tries to be supportive, he really does. But its clear he's way too drunk for it.

So when Evan calls him stupid (that's kind of become his nickname) and kisses him before pushing him away and immediately bolting, Barty's mind kind of stops working.

Evan doesn't call, doesn't send letters anymore. He's laser focused on helping his father's campaign or something equally stupid that does not work as an excuse.

Barty's thought of guys like that before, but he never thought of Evan being into guys. He's not homophobic, but he's not gay either. He's been around Regulus enough to know the terms.

He ends up confiding in Regulus about everything that happened and takes his advice.

The next time they meet, it's at the ministry.

Evan looks positively ravishing. Barty almost leaps across the room to drag him away. He knows Evan won't come willingly. He bribes and lies but he gets his way.

And it's just the two of them alone in a room again.

This time, Barty isn't stunned or hesitant. This time he kisses the way he wished he'd kissed back when Evan kissed him.

And well, it may not be a very easy road, but they make it eventually.

[themotherofblood]

My dear author, I know your requests are closed, but I couldn't miss the opportunity so I'm going to try my luck… If you can make an exception, I can get an inspired imagine/oneshot Daemon x Dornish reader in "tabaah ho gaye" by Shreya Ghoshal, with a lot of anguish (breaks my heart) but with a happy ending, please? (feel free to ignore and if you can't accept it I completely understand)

yes!! i’m loving all the bollywood inspired chapters. I was hoping I could use this as a part of the dragon and the dancer since y/n is a dancer and she could be ripping a solo in the mirrored palace like madhuri. Also just for the sake of the story we are gonna pretend that these girls magically know the same choreo as Y/N because we are doing things old school bollywood

masterlist

Part 2 of The Dragon and The Dancer

Daemon Targaryen x Martell! Reader

There was much bustling around the Old Palace in the past fortnight, Qoren’s nameday was upon Dorne and the celebrations as usual were to be magnificent, the Mirrored Palace was brighter yet again, every candle burning anew as sweet jasmine filled the palace; coating its walls in the sweet aroma of the flowers. It had been ten years since this palace was used, there was no joy in using it other than when you spent your nights there.

Another reason to rejoice was thrust into your hands by the gods and you simply didn’t want to linger in the misery of your loss, you provided the Sand sisters with keys; under guise that they would be performing for Qoren, along with your younger cousins of nines and tens. You step daughter Rhaena amongst the little girls, you had gotten her ghungroos of her own, made of blue cloth and light gold bells of her ankles to adjust to. She had been running a muck in her chambers, the little bells jangling as she tested her newest trinket.

You had already been dressed for hours, dressing your little cousins as they could barely standstill for more than a few moments, Rhaena’s curls were put in a puff over her head with a stringlet of dahlias, in a beautiful gold ensemble that matched yours, Baela had gone out with her father to mingle with guests arriving from all over Westeros and Essos.

You had led her out, hand in hand as her eyes wandered over to the sea of guests, many ladies approached you; to greet the newly minted wife of the rogue dragon. Many wondered what you had that they didn’t, many frowned at your colour; scoffing at your exoticness. Your husband was rather easier to spot, his striking silver hair inviting you over from a crowded room of people. You shuffled your way to him, offering more polite greeting to whomever spoke to you.

Daemon had been scowling at an envoy, sent to sway your father about the fighting in Stepstones and side with Craghas Drahar; your father had another reason to remain neutral, he wouldn’t harm your husband’s prospects for your sake but refused to side with them for old time nemesis sake. You reached near him as you followed his path of vision to lay upon a much familiar man, a man you wished you would never see again when you left his court at six and ten.

“You are going to make my men and I very happy.” His grimy fingers held your cheeks as he presented you with your own ghungroos.

You immediately intertwined your hands with Daemon’s, almost slotting yourself behind him as the old master recognized your face and gave your a filthy once over before approaching you. Daemon hadn’t quite realized what the man was looking at until the old master stopped to greet them.

“Ah, sweet Y/N. Look at how you have grown,” He gestured at your body as you partially hid behind Daemon. Given where the man had come from, it didn’t take long until Daemon out the pieces together.

“Prince Daemon!,” The old man sneered “Are you here to entertain us with your dragon?” He japed, you could see a nerve bursting in Daemon’s head as he held your hand tighter.

“Here to celebrate with my wife actually, you know. The princess of Dorne.” He gestured at you.

“I wish- wish you good luck in convincing my father, old Ser.” You gave him a practised petty smile before letting Daemon drag you along to the main hall in the Old Palace. The old master’s eyes widened as he watched you embrace Qoren and he placed a fatherly kiss upon your forehead as you wished him a happy name day.

You had found yourself in the chambers were your sisters and cousins all lounged before the performance, you informed them of your withdrawal without any reasoning before stomping to your own personal chambers. Daemon had caught up to you as he found you angrily undoing the knots of ghungroos to free yourself of them. Daemon kneeled infront you, offering to replace his stable hand with your shaky one’s as he undid the knots as you ranted your reasoning.

“I re- refuse to dance for such perverse, his entire court has seen me much bare than I am.” You sighed angrily, “I really wanted to dance for Qoren.” You pouted. Daemon found your reasoning justified as he pulled you onto his lap.

“You have the world’s time to dance for him again, you should do it when you feel ready, not when the known world thinks you are.” He pressed a kiss to your temple.

That was weeks before Daemon Targaryen had decided to descend dragon fire into the Stepstones.

“Your niece’s husband has a dragon!” You reasoned in stress as Daemon prepared his dragon.

“This is the matter of my house, wife. I must fight.” He urged frustrated, hoping for you to see reason in his excursions but all you could picture was you being widowed.

“And what of me? Your daughters? Don’t you owe us your life too?” You bellowed, yanking his gloves from him. He now looked at you perturbed and the scene you were causing. He motioned you to return his gloves and you insolently refused.

“Perhaps if your father would have provided men, this wouldn’t have happened!” This time Daemon let his frustrations get the best of him as he yelled at you, yanking his gloves free from you hands.

“You know I tried!” You shook your head, hoping to fight the tears that threatened to spill.

“You should have tried harder! Or mayhaps your claim to his heart isn’t as meaningful as he poses it to be.” He snapped before existing the chambers. He too didn't want to fight this war and yet he wouldn't allow shame to loom over his brother’s name.

You followed the girls out to the beach mount, Caraxes remained idle as he waited for his rider to mount him. Baela began petting the red dragon, talking to it as if he understood every word. However Caraxes held an odd attention towards you as his giant nostrils flared as he kept sniffing at you. You couldn't quite place what he meant to do and yet pet his snout, hoping he would return your husband to unspoiled; regardless of how angry you were at him at the very moment.

Daemon embraced both his weeping girls, kneeling at their level as they pressed kisses on either side of his cheek before he kissed their foreheads. He looked at you with guilt, hoping to gorge his words from before down his stomach and hitting his head with a rock over how tactless he had been, he came to embrace you; leave you with a parting kiss and yet you pulled away. Pointing at his red dragon, demanding him to leave, he approached once more but you shook your head. Again aggressively point at his dragon.

Daemon’s guilt-ridden eyes gave the women of his life one more look as they embraced one another before Caraxes let out a shrieking whistle and whisked him to the orange clouds of dusk. Just like that he was gone.

Your anger simmered in the coming fortnight as letters began to arrive from the Stepstones, they were written in haste as stains of dirt adored the corners of the papers. He wrote for his daughters and you, making the war sound like an entertaining ballad for his daughters and yet you knew the truth of how ineffectual the dragons had been in this war. He was fighting by hand, starved and pained.

Perhaps the distance and stress for your husband began to claw at your health, you grew nauseous everytime you laid awake to brink of morning as you wondered what he would be doing, was he hurt; was he alright?

Then the universe japed at you as you sat with Maesters, your stomach could barely keep down anything you were eating and as of last fortnight, your handmaidens began behaving oddly up until when they dragged you to the Maester’s chambers.

“Mayhaps two moons princess,” He exclaimed as he washed his hands “Shall I call for your father?”

You shook your head as you rubbed your belly, shaking your head as you realized the night conception. Qoren’s nameday.

More letters were shared between Daemon and you, yet you hid your condition from him; you knew if you told him he would evade his sense of strategy and begin recklessly tearing through people to end the war, with no adhere consequence of his own mortality. The fighting turned dirty as more Velaryon men lost their lives.

You had confessed your pregnancy to your father as you lounged with him at the beach, he had been elated; far too ready to throw yet another extravagant feast and you refused. Urging for him to hold off until your husband returns and not to mention this to anyone else. Perhaps they would figure it out as your belly grew but for now you needed to tell Qoren just to alleviate the gnawing sense of doom in your heart.

Then the letters grew less frequent, muddier and rushed as he professed his love over and over again. Every time you would wish upon them and burn the letters, praying he be returned to you whole. Until a moon turned and his letters stopped entirely, within the three moons he had left, you had never felt the kind of dread you had felt in the moment when the Maester informed you of no letters.

You fought your hasty beating heart, quarrelling for it to stop, to let you breathe normally for just a moment. You rummaged through your chests, hoping to find your ghungroos. For just a while you needed to escape this fear, it was the only thing that would protect your child from yourself. You hurried towards the Mirrored Palace.

The doors had been wide open as echoes of girls giggling and talking were heard from within the main hall, you didn't care to usher them out. You just needed to dance. You had opened the palace for the girls to dance in, it was a shame to keep such a place locked away when it was built with much love for your mother.

Your sisters saw you approach looking troubled, they understood why and sympathized. Some of them caught onto your growing belly during the last turn of the moon. Others figured it out from how you refused to eat certain foods that were once your favourites. Many figured with the four months remaining of your pregnancy, any wife would grow paranoid about their husband’s absence.

“Care to join us, dear sister,” Aliandra spoke up, shushing all your Sand sisters in the process. You didn't say a word, just nodded as your handmaiden helped you tie the ribbons in your ghungroos. Your sisters, with Baela and Rhaena had spent a better part of an hour; arguing over which song to dance over. They knew a few pieces that your mother had taught them and yet everyone had their favourites.

You simply walked to the middle, shrugging your shawl off to not have it in your way, you needed to dance, free-hearted and unabashed. They all awaited, letting you pick the song out of courtesy in your distressed state. You let out a wavering sigh before tucking your right leg behind the left.

Your sweet voice let out the first line of the song, and the master of musical arts and his entourage immediately recognized the song. The strings played their part as a melancholic tune echoed the marble in the palace.

A war widow’s prayer, a macabre choice in tunes and yet far too fitting to portray what it is you were battling within. It called for the safe return of her husband, how she offered her life to the gods for the safe keeping of her husband. Your sisters looked at one another before joining you at the center, all of your ghungroos created a melodic jangle as you danced as one. Rhaena remained seated, still unaware of this piece.

The flute chimed in, calling for the joyous days between Daemon and you, you closed your eyes envisioning the afternoons you had lounged on a sailboat as his daughters swam in the sea. The second verse forces you to remember the sheer aura that drove you toward him, the adoration you held toward him that scared you to the core, praying that your own envy of his essence wouldn't reflect as ill will.

You turned, and so did your sisters; making your skirts flare out in unison. You had to stop for a moment, your singing choked in a sob, as the words whimpered out of your mouth. The colours of your sisters' dresses blurred within the tears pooling past your eyes, they kept dancing knowing better than to not let you feel the anguish you were in.

You recalled your arguement, you hadn't let him kiss you when he left. It couldn't be the last time you kissed him, it simply couldn't. You refused to let that fight be the last of your conversation; even if you had to travel to the Stepstones yourself. There was one thing evident in the last three moons is how incapable of pure joy you were without him. A piece of your heart, packaged in the belongings that he took with him.

Your feet began to ache, from the change in your body due to babe but also how hard you landed on the footwork. The last verse past the bridge echoed across the walls, the notes of your siren-like voice called for far more spectators as you laid your emotions out on the floor, he needed to be okay- he had to be okay. As the last beats of percussion led to the crescendo of footwork, a foot soldier stopped at the gates of the Mirrored Palace, whispering something in your hand maiden’s ear, Her eyes widened as she ran inside, looking toward your dancing figure.

You paused in the middle, everyone still finishing the piece around you, she whispered something to your daughters who ran out of the palace. The shock in her eyes filled your stomach with dread as you walked past your dancing sisters, the thud of ghungroos as you took hastily walked towards the main gates, rubbing at your swollen stomach; far too afraid that if you lost your husband your body would force you to lose this last part of him too.

“Please don't be dead.”

“Please don't be dead.”

You stopped right by the doors, far too afraid to witness what was behind them. You patted your tummy, taking deep breaths as the knights stationed by the door opened them at your approach. There kneeled Daemon, head buried between his daughters’ shoulders as he engulfed them in his giant arms, you stood atop the stairs as tears of relief replaced the ones of anguish from moments before.

You hurried down the stairs, stopping merely a few feet away from him, praying that he was real. He looked up, face still spotted with specks of soot and dirt; his hair chopped much shorter as he wore a crown made of bone. His lips widened in a smile, a soft smile as he took sympathy to your tears. You threw yourself at him, sobbing the moment his arms wrapped around your shaking body.

“I thought- I thought.” You stammered still sobbing as he held your face in his hands “Your letters stopped and there was no news Daemon.” He nodded, letting your emotions pour out of you “I thought you were dead.” You wailed. He lifted you hand to his thudding heart inside his chest

“See, not dead,” He wiped your tears “I’m here, I’m here.” He cooed as his daughters also wrapped themselves around you and him. You caressed Baela’s hair as you felt her rubbing your arm.

You finally calmed down enough to pull apart, most of your emotions were to be blamed on something Daemon was unaware of, until he pulled back to give you an adoring once-over. His eyes stopped at your middle, letting his hand trail to the soft yet firm swell of your belly. It was unapparent from the fullness of your skirt at first glance but his eyes shot to you, a thousand questions looming behind those purple eyes.

“Five moons now,” You informed him, still sniffling as you smiled wider at his shock.

“Healthy?” He asked, still unable to grasp that there was a child within you.

“Healthy.” You nodded, Daemon’s eyes remained fixated on your middle before he engulfed you once more, picking you off your feet and twirled you around. You shrieked.

Daemon had not only returned victorious despite his brother's shunning and misjudgements but also returned to become a father to three children. There was much preparation to be done since he planned to take his wife to the king's landing, and use the celebrations of his great victory as a momentous event to introduce his wife, and now oncoming child to the court. Just as he had his twin daughters.

That night a steaming bath was prepared for the prince to wash himself of the muck and grime from all the fighting. It has only been mere hours since he learned of your pregnancy and had already begun the chicken mothering, he insisted that you lay in bed until he was done, before that he scolded you for bending to untie your ghungroos and anklets, kneeling down himself to undo them. You, however, as little defiant as ever followed after him to the bath.

He dropped his robe, giving you a full view of his back and the newest burns coating his left side. You gasped making him turn and scowl at you. “What did I say about going to bed?”

You shrugged the subject entirely, frowning at the gashes and stabs of arrows on his body. Your feelings bubbled up to a precipice yet again as your bottom lip wobbled. This time you scowled at him, pushing him towards the bath before dropping your own sleep shift to the ground.

Whatever Daemon was mildly irked over just moments before absolutely abandoned his mind, his eyes took in your bare body, the swell of your breasts and your prominent belly. He had no choice but to cave as you joined him in the bath, shuffling to straddle his legs as you gently washed at his wounds. He hissed out loud making you flinch your hand away.

The frown on your face was all too adorable as he chuckled at your reaction, he had lost feeling to the burned side of his shoulder long before and yet the concern on your face for a devious man like him made him melt behind his demeanour. One thing he knew for sure, was that after this bath, with no mind to the injuries that still caused him discomfort, he was going to ravage your swelling body like a beast gone feral on a full moon.

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tags @inkednotebook @museandquill and @verdant-mainframe!

OC Interview Tag

Rules: Let your ocs answer the questions below

Because they're metaphysically inseparable, let's answer for Rel and Redacted. For context, Rel is an angel created to defend Redacted, the former god of wonder, in his dying moments. Rel failed to do this and was cast to the world below by Redacted's murderer. Redacted is now bound to Rel as a ghost, however, Rel cannot hear or interact with Redacted in any way. With that convoluted explanation out of the way, let's get cracking!

Are you named after anyone?

Rel: "I made my own name, actually! I like the way it rumbles on my tongue."

Redacted: "False, you took half of my name, kid. My name which was erased by my bitch cousin. See, look ~~~~~~. ~~~~~~! Fucking nothing. At least you remember part of it, even if you don't remember who it belongs to."

When was the last time you cried?

Rel: "My eyes were all wet when I woke up yesterday morning. Esie said I must've had a nightmare. I... don't know what that is, but it sounds scary."

Redacted: "I don't have eyes. I guess I had three when I was alive, but those were mostly just for show, you know? Most of when a god breathes or cries or laughs is just for human benefit. Your teeny little brains don't like us in our true forms, so we gotta... translate a little."

Do you have kids?

Rel: "Those are the tiny ones, right? No, I don't, but they seem cute! Esie says Jean, Shay, and I are like her kids sometimes. Then she usually goes outside for a smoke."

Redacted: "Kids? The closest thing I have to one is talking to you right now. I don't usually make angels - never more than one at a time. Other gods have whole hosts and stuff to do their dirty work, but I've always preferred to keep a more personal relationship with mine. Except I can't really do that with Rel as I am now...."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Rel: "I want to! It's very funny, I've been told. I just have to figure out why that is exactly."

Redacted: "Take a wild fucking guess."

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Rel: "There's just too much. I notice their eyes and their clothes and their smile and their shoes. The first thing I try to learn, though, is their name."

Redacted: "I don't know, probably their surface thoughts? I can't see into the depths of anyone's minds or anything - if a god tells you they can, they're bullshitting you - but surface thoughts are pretty noticeable. Most people are a lot hornier than you'd imagine."

What’s your eye color?

Rel: "A dark gold, like brass doorknobs. I only have one eye, though. If I had another, I'd want it to be blue."

Redacted: "The bottom two were blue. The one on my forehead was gold."

Scary movies or happy endings?

Rel: "I don't know. I haven't seen any plays yet. Happier seems like it would be better, though."

Redacted: "Either depend on how well they're pulled off. A happy ending can fall flat if there's no substance in it - if it feels like a consolation prize that doesn't fit the character or story. Tragic endings fall into the same pitfalls. If something's tragic for only the sake of being tragic, then why do I have any reason to be invested? Examples of each can be found-"

Any special talents?

Rel: "My friends say I'm very good at runes. It's just like reading, though, so I'm not sure why they keep telling me I'd need decades of training to be able to know what they say. I'm also a great drummer! Jean says my solos 'fuck nasty style.'"

Redacted: "I'm a god. Other than that, jigsaw puzzles."

Where were you born?

Rel: "...It tasted like blood, that's all I remember."

Redacted: "Yeah, we're not getting into that."

Do you have any pets?

Rel: "Ugh, I wish.... Esie says rats aren't pets, but why are they so cute if they aren't?"

Redacted: "...Does humanity count? You guys are pretty entertaining sometimes."

What sort of sports do you play?

Rel: "What's a sport?"

Redacted: "Yes, beach volleyball! ...Dumbass, I don't have a body, and even if I did, why the hell would I use it to run around and get all sweaty?"

How tall are you?

Rel: "6'0" but my leg is a little crooked, so probably more like 5'10", but I'm also usually wearing my platform boots, so I'll go with 6'3"."

Redacted: "...I'm over this shit."

What was your favorite subject in school?

Rel: "I hope I can go to school someday. I bet I'd love learning proper mechanics and stuff. Oh, and music! And probably science too."

Redacted: "Tell you what, my favorite subject to see Rel try his hand at would be literature. Knowing him, all those stories are going to fill his head like nothing else."

What is your dream job?

Rel: "I really like what I'm doing now. Being in Jean's band, tinkering for my neighbors.... What else is there?"

Redacted: "Well, being a god again is kind of a lost option. Without that, I guess just being there for Rel. I wish I could talk to him. I wish I could be a real parent for him."

Ah, unrequited parental love.... I'll tag @wyked-original-writing @leahnardo-da-veggie @quillswriting @finickyfelix @mysticstarlightduck and anyone else who wants in :)

Blanks under the cut

Are you named after anyone? When was the last time you cried? Do you have kids? Do you use sarcasm a lot? What’s the first thing you notice about people? What’s your eye colour? Scary movies or happy endings? Any special talents? Where were you born? Do you have any pets? What sort of sports do you play? How tall are you? What was your favourite subject in school? What is your dream job?

[mabzgonmad]

Agent Phoenix head canons (real not fake but cringe)

Hi tumblr. This is my first text post don’t make fun of my poor outlining 💔

ok so i feel i should section this i have a lot to say

hopefully this is entertaining..btw a lot of this is based on my own personal actions when playing as the Phoenix also I’m not completely set on a lot of these

Sections:

- kinesium and communication

-communication generally

-sexuality / gender

-appearance

-relationships (still not 100% on these)

Kinesium and Communication

We should note that Phoenix (gonna call him AP from now on for simplicity sake) is completely mute minus a few noises such as coughing or gasping.

Also note that Roxana Prism doesn’t even know the full power that kinesium can have when harnessed by a person such as AP. (We know this from her remark of shock at the very end of IEYTD 3)

The agency being full of people with kinesium in there head giving them the ability to use telekinesis means all of them are connected in a way. AP is able to use the connection of all the kinesium to communicate telepathically with anyone in the agency. The first time they did this is was to The Handler on one of their early missions. They had no idea they could do it and actually they were calling handler a bad name. Once the handler just heard a voice in his head replying to what he said to AP he thought he was going crazy. AP didnt know how they did it and they eventually sat down with handler and they figured it out. AP eventually was able to regularly reply to the handler during missions and communicate with more ease to fellow agency members.

Outside of people with kinesium in their brains, AP uses sign language. Though they will only do this if they absolutely need to talk to someone outside of the agency. When it comes to Zor members they will refuse to reply to them at all. They will make rude hand gestures or faces in response, no coherent replies to anyone.

This is with exception to Dr.Prism. They regularly tried to reason with or converse with her specifically in Mission KBOOM. Dr.Prism doesn’t have kinesium in her head (i think?) so they used sign language to talk to her. She would know ASL because i think id be agency policy for the sake of deaf agents and AP.

Example of AP using sign to communicate. (I think here, they didnt want handler to know their reply but wanted to reply… by thinking of responding to handler he accidentally let him know what they said.. lol)

Sexuality and Gender

I don’t think AP would care enough to consider labeling their own gender or sexual orientation.

But they know they don’t identify with any gender and are gender less but do not mind being called “he”

So in simple terms they use They/He pronouns

As for sexuality, they like someone romantically once in a blue moon, and even then they arent very expressive about it. They knows from his like maybe 3 crushes in their life, they like whatever and whoever as long as they fit his type (No clue what his type is!! Probably;y more masculine people low key. Men kisser.)

Appearance

They look like this to me 😍

Gorgeous ain’t he?

Relationships

Bullet points for here bc im getting lazy

-Handler

they’re bestie baes! Honestly best buds! They’d kill for each other !

-John Juniper

homosexual.

-Fabricator

any conversation between them would be full of “KYS” “NO YOU KYS!!”

-Dr.Prism

enemies to besties basically

-Dr Zor

violent and evil dynamic happening here. Nothing but hatred between these two.

I care not for thinking about anymore or any other characters!

OK TY FOR READING THIS IF YOU READ IT ALL SORRY THE IEYTD BRAINROT IS REAL LOVE YOU

[false-majesty]

PSA / UPDATE | Well here we are again, folks. And it’s been two years since I last wrote Aku…

With hindsight, I’d like to sincerely apologize for how I behaved on his blog previously. The two years I was offline, I’ve been in talk therapy, recently started medication, blocked people that weren’t helping my mental health, developed better boundaries, got into a healthy relationship and healthier living situation, and generally developed better coping skills so I no longer have to use RP strictly as an outlet — I can also use it as intended. For fun and entertainment.

That being said, I hope to make some changes with the way I write Aku and how I approach interactions on this blog in light of those mental health improvements, and in the interest of not starting off on too strong of a somewhat melancholy / regretful note, I’m keeping it to bullet points.

I’m changing Aku’s sexuality back to pansexual. I think I made him gay on his previous blog for the wrong reasons, in light of a traumatic ooc experience I had with someone who wrote a female muse I had been shipping him with, and that was totally unfair of me to do.

I’m going to take strides to be more mindful of people’s boundaries with violence and dark content this time. I realize there are those who might have been uncomfortable with some of the themes I’d write on his previous blogs, and I didn’t always ask permission nor communicate with them before springing those topics. And for that, I’m truly sorry and I promise I’ll be taking steps to do better. Dropping threads and communicating better ooc with people as needed, rather than selfishly forge onward for my own gratification without regard for how my writing partners might have felt about the topics I was writing.

I’m going to be more approachable, and generally less critical and judgmental. Particularly of my duplicates. I realize by being standoffish before, I was isolating myself when I should’ve been in the midst of a thriving community.

Fewer compromises with his character this time. I hated writing him so nicely before just for the sake of developing ships or keeping people writing with us. You’ll take him at his Worst, or not at all.

More crossovers! More types of relationships! Higher stakes plots!

Less ooc projection. More separation between my feelings and his.

LESS activity. I treated this blog like a job before, and forced myself to be active even when I wasn’t feeling high muse or mentally well-enough to write. I’ll write him only as I have muse to write him, and that’s final.

Retconning all relationships. Or at least breaking exclusives with most, and focusing less on Aku's thoughts about the people that used to be in his life. A lot of those people are no longer around, so there's no sense in him missing them or wasting time feeling bad about them if he can't see them again, you know? Same with dwelling on old relationships, platonic or otherwise, that didn't go anywhere. The notable exception to this policy is his former relationship with Rick, which has become a big part of Aku's character, his relationship with Morty @impenetrableshiiield as an adoptive grandfather figure to him, and his relationship with @heedingcalls Duke.

Maybe more stuff later? But that’s all I have for now. Thank you to everybody who’s chosen to write with me again from my previous 3 blogs for this guy, and let’s move forward in a positive way this year! 🥺🖤

[olderthannetfic]

Sorry to drag an old corpse out of its grave long after it turned to dust, but in hindsight, what bothers me about the Hogwarts: Legacy discourse is the language and tactics surrounding the issue.

I am a Disney boycotter. I don't purchase anything attached to the mouse and I do my best to inform the people around me about why it's not a good idea to give them more money. I vote with my wallet, and as little as an impact it may have, I feel good about not contributing to the company. However, if I see someone wearing a Disney merch item, subscribing to Disney+, or enjoying a Disney movie, it has never occurred to me to call them all sorts of heavy names that should be reserved for people who actually hold bigoted beliefs. I never felt the urge to end our friendship.

Enter Hogwarts: Legacy. I had no interest in the game whatsoever, but then it started trending. "Support this and you are a transphobe", plain out there in large quantities. "Support our bullying or you are evil. No, I'm not throwing trans people under the bus for my own gains. What are you, a transphobe?" I did my own research and found out that this is a product I would not buy either for the same reason that I don't buy Disney products, but much less money goes to people I do not want to support in this case than for Disney. The huge campaigns to bully people, take away their choices, and misuse trans people and jewish people for the sake of petty hatred of intellectual property and their love for discourse made me think so little of the boycott movement that I ended up watching a livestream of the game to check it out and found that it was not nearly as offensive as the people who got angry at it say it was.

The takeaway from this is that there are ways to protest without using oppressed identities as your shield and alienating your loved ones who are just regular people that like a piece of entertainment. If the H:L protesters informed people about the reasons why they shouldn't purchase the game but told them it's perfectly fine if they make the decision to buy it anyway, then the boycott would've been far more successful. Our job as boycotters is to offer people the information they need to make the decision that they don't wish to support a cause, not to make them so afraid they yield to us and end up following our demands out of fear of being targeted for something small. This tactic causes people to double down because no one wants to yield to bullies. Now, the boycotters will be remembered as those bitter people who made a stink about a video game but who didn't do anything except make people think trans people and jewish people are annoying nags when the majority of people who complained don't even care about those two groups, they just used them as a scapegoat.

Don't be like the H:L protesters. It hurts your cause. Daryl Davis is a good name to look up in this case.

--

[msklassickilla]

Prada You Chapter 3

Summary:

In the summer of 1998, sparks fly between Nyeya and Jey.

Nyeya is an 18-year-old around the way girl. Jey is older, paid, and fine. He is also the leader of the infamous Prada Bois alongside his twin brother Jimmy.  The two have chemistry. However, Nyeya has plans outside of her attraction. With a birthday around the corner and dreams of living a good life, Nyeya sets her sights on enjoying the perks of Jey's money and hood celebrity.

But baby girl has no clue what it takes to really be down. Nyeya is about to learn some hard life lessons at the expense of her 'Prada' priced dreams.

Paring: Jey Uso x Nyeya (Nye) Green (OC)

Author's Note: This story is happening in an alternative universe. It features the current and original Bloodline members along with other WWE stars. So, the characters are themselves, but some things are switched around for the stories sake. This was originally written with all original characters, but I think it could work better this way. Hope you guys enjoy it and I actually finish it...

Warnings: Please be advised that this chapter contains harsh/foul language, age gap

Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story. All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

Chapter 3: Youngin'

Bad ass kids chased each other with water balloons across the courtyard. I guess it was the best way to cool down in this heat. I sat out on our patio in a cut off shirt and blue jean shorts.

Michael was amongst those bad asses. Last night had been wild but worth the 40 I had to come off of. I took a sip of my grape pop thinking back on what happened after Jey left. I eventually met back up with the girls. They was too hype..

"You met who? Bitch I didn't think he was comin'!" Kiyah shouted over the music.

Jey was a big deal but that was to be expected. Prada Bois was a big deal. They couldn't believe he was just chillin’ in the cut with me. He was the more serious, quieter of the two brothers.

"Jey. The only reason I knew that 'cause I was ear hustlin' something serious," I stated.

The three of them beamed in excitement as I continued telling them what happened.

"You serious like for real? Nye that's a big fucking deal, girl," Natasha chimed in. Kiyah and Nataya co-signed.

"If y’all say so. I mean he fine but what that grown ass man want with me?" I inquired.

Jey had to be damn near 30. I was two months from being 19. What could I possibly do that these old broads couldn't?

"Bitch, do it matter? You act like you ain't all that and then some. You betta lock that old nigga down. Jey is paid," Kiyah reasoned.

The twins nodded in agreement. I appreciated the faith they had in me, but I was still unsure. I didn't think I was about that life.

------

"Nye, let me in," Kiyah yelled, bringing me back the present.

She was standing in the grass looking up at me.

"Okay."

I passed by my mama who was braiding hair in the living room to open the door. My mama did hair on the side to supplement her job at the hotel. She worked a lot, but we never went without.

"What's up, Nye? Hey, Ms. Green," Kiyah greeted as she stepped inside.

My mama and her chatted for a few minutes before she joined me on the patio. We took seats in the hot plastic chairs.

"Damn, this shit burn. It's hot as hell out here," Kiyah grumbled.

I laughed as she rubbed the back of her legs.

"Every year it seem like it get hotter," I commented.

"Hell yeah but let me put you on to what I found out this morning," Kiyah chirped.

She always had information. It wasn't nothing going on in these projects Kiyah ain't know.

"What's the word, girlie?"

"Well, you know how you said you met Jey, right? Tell me why my mama put me on to some you can use."

I was intrigued even though I still wasn't sold on the idea of inviting Jey into my life.

"Go on, heifa. Spill," I urged.

She grinned.

"Jey a big spender," she winked.

My eyes widened. I wasn't expecting that revelation. Most dudes that had money tended to be cheap, doing the bare minimum.

"Word? The head of Prada Bois be tricking off money, huh?" I said, more to myself than Kiyah.

"Mhm. Sure is. My mama say that's why all these hoes after him. Once he fall in love, you can get whateva you want from his ass," she said, snapping her fingers for emphasis.

Wheels started turning in my head. Think of a spinning slot machine reel. Oh, the possibilities.

"Ain't that something. Never would have assumed that about him."

"Well, it’s true. You know what that mean right?," she smiled, knowingly.

"What?" I asked her even though I knew what type of time she was on.

"You just found the golden ticket, bitch!" she hooted.

We both laughed, slapping fives.

⸺

Kiyah and I talked it up until the sun went down. She had been filling my head up with all the things we could do if I was to hook Jey. To be honest, I had been plotting while she was talking. My birthday was coming up and I was tryna have a dope ass time.

If I was with Jey, the whole hood would turn out for my shit. All I could visualize at the moment was the glitz and glamour of being the girl of a Prada Bois leader. By the time she left, I was sold on the move. Jey was gon' be my man at least until I got all that I wanted from him.

------

"Nye, walk to the corner sto' and get ya mama a brown bag. Take Michael with you."

I rolled my eyes, annoyed.

"Why I gotta take him? He gon' slow me up," I groaned.

"I ain't gon' do shit," he spat.

I flipped him the bird. I wished the sun was still up so he could be outside away from me.

"Don't be cussin' in my shit, Michael! And you-," my mama said looking at me. "Take him. I don't want you out going to that sto' by yaself."

I groaned inwardly, stomping off to get my shoes. Michael was already standing outside when I came back. Mama pulled some money out her wallet, handing it to me.

"Get you and Mike somethin'. Don't take too long. You know they be actin' a fool up there," she pleaded.

I only nodded, taking the money.

"Let's go, negro," I mumbled as I passed Michael.

"Little girl you gon' learn to respect me."

I shot him a heated glance. He got on my damn nerves. We made it to the store in no time due to us not arguing along the way. As usual, the store was packed. Cars was everywhere. The small store held a crowd, but they was mostly in line for the food.

Michael and I traveled through the store. I grabbed mama's preferred drink. A WKD which was alcohol and soda mixed together. I thought it was nasty, but she loved it. Michael met up with me with chips, candy, and a pickle in his hands.

"Oh, you about to spend that little 40 dollas, huh?" I teased.

"Nah, girl. I heard what mama said. She said we can get something so I ain't gotta spend my monies," he replied.

I was hoping he ain't hear that part, but I guess that was just my luck. I grabbed my usual which was some hot fries, gummy bears, and a pop.

The line was clear, so we walked right on up to the register.

"23.96," the clerk said.

I pulled the crumpled 20s out my back pocket.

"It’s on me, Ahmad. Keep the ya money, mamas."

My heart fluttered. Jey was standing right behind me. I bit down on my lip turning around to face him. He looked good, dressed in all black. The gold chain that read Prada Boi matched with the gold diamond encrusted ring on his pinky finger.

He was so damn fine.

"What's good, Jey?" Michael greeted, dapping Jey up.

Why wasn't I surprised. The way Michael ran around the projects it was a given that he had knowledge of this man.

"Yo, nothing too much lil uce," Jey replied back.

Ahmad bagged up our goods and pushed it our way. Michael beat me to it, swooping it up. I mugged him.

"So y'all related? You gotta be hell 'cause this dude is," Jey laughed.

I couldn't help but join him. It was true. As Toy kids we was known for our fly mouths and unique ability to find ourselves in trouble. Michael more than me though.

"Nah, I'm nothing like this dude," I lied.

"She a damn lie," muttered Michael.

I could've chin checked his ass right there. Jey laughed. A piece of me wanted to stand around and wait for him but I knew better than to do it in front of Michael. So, we started towards the door.

"Aye, don't go too far. I gotta somethin' to say," Jey called out, looking after me.

I only nodded continuing out the door. A few minutes later, Jey exited. A few dudes dapped him up but that was all he was offering. His attention was on me. I stood with my hand on my hip, tryna play it cool. Deep down, I was ready for him to come over and speak to me.

"What that old nigga want with you?" Michael questioned.

I sighed. I couldn't get my groove on with him around.

"Stay outta grown folks business," I chided, rolling my eyes.

He blew out an unconcerned breath, "Girl, please. Ya ass ain't grown. You still live with ya mama too."

I sucked my teeth in response. His ass was blowing me right now. Jey motioned for me to come to him. That shit was sexy as hell. I gave Michael a look letting him know to stay where he was.

"Just hurry up. My show about to come on," was all he said.

I nudged him out the way before walking over to Jey. He stared me down the entire way. I still had on the cut off t-shirt that exposed most of my stomach and shorts from earlier. He was doing exactly what I wanted. I wanted him to need me like the air he breathed.

"Why you ain't used that number yet?"

His voice had changed. It was deeper, laced with a hint of danger. My body was set ablaze.

"I was tryna figure out if I wanted too," I admitted.

He lifted an eyebrow with an amused look on his face.

"You must not know who I am."

He looked at me with a neutral expression. My palms was getting sweaty, but I held his gaze.

"I do. That's exactly why I don't if I want too," I answered.

He smirked. The dudes surrounding him shared a few chuckles. Jey clasped his hands together, moving closer into my personal space. Close enough that I could smell the Calvin Klein cologne he had on.

"You ain't gotta be scared of me. Use that number and don't let me see you until you do," he whispered in my ear in that same dangerous laced tone.

The hair on the back of my neck was standing. This man hadn't even touched me, but he handled me. Jey put some distance between us.

"Be easy, mamas."

Jey nodded in my direction, dismissing me. I turned on my heels, feeling something. Michael mugged me as I approached him. I pushed him along. Our walk was a quiet one. It wasn't until we reached the entrance of the projects that Michael said something.

"You betta leave that nigga alone, Nye. You might be crazy but that nigga crazier."

He ain't even look back when he said it. I was left wondering what the hell he knew that I didn't.

AN: Thank you all for the follows, likes, shares, and reblogs. Love y'all real bad.

[nironlex]

LOLLL i never posted for wanheda’s dagger week since it was unfinished but i probably never will so here it is :p

premise is canon lexa disrespects clarke during a clan meeting and clarke makes her remember her place or wtv (i’m pretty sure there was a similar work already written so thank you to the author for the idea)

Clarke’s current mood during the meeting can only be described as pissed. Here she was, offering sensible advice for rationing supplies between the Delfikru and Boudalan clans for the upcoming winter and Lexa comes in, not only rejecting the perfectly reasonable solution, but also disrespecting her in front of all the other ambassadors. She’s not the wide-eyed, impressionable girl most people first assume her as; she’s the Commander of Death for God’s sake, and she’ll make sure Lexa won’t forget that again.

Eyebrows furrowed and lips tightened, she sat back examining the room, deciding it was better to not say anything more unless mentioned. While ruminating on what to do about Lexa’s frankly, bratty, behavior, she notices the muse of her thoughts look to her with an apology written on her face while the Trishanakru leader ranted about whatever it was that ultimately didn’t matter. Deciding not to entertain her, Clarke breaks eye contact, giving herself some satisfaction and having to stop herself from smiling when she sees from her peripheral, Lexa trying to keep looking at her with even more concern than before, but ultimately having to be Heda again when pulled back into the Trushanakru leaders’s complaints.

For the rest of the meeting, it would be a lie to say Clarke was involved in any of the other discussions. All her focus was counting down the minutes until it ended, so she could finally punish Lexa. Once she dismissed everyone, Clarke walked to where Lexa sat, who had her head in her hands and eyes closed.

Hearing footsteps, Lexa exasperated, said, “I thought I told everyone to leave.”

“Is that really the attitude you want to have with me right now?” Clarke replied, Lexa’s head shooting up to see an annoyed Clarke staring down at her.

“Shit, I didn’t know it was you. I’m so-“

“Zip it,” Clarke, leaning closer so only Lexa can hear, “tell all the guards and Titus that we’re having a private meeting and to lock the doors because we’re gonna be here a while.”

Lexa both a little terrified and aroused, she stood up and when she was about to start walking to tell the guards, Clarke gripped her forearm, hard.

“Are you this desperate for a punishment, or are you just stupid? Where’s your manners?”

Lexa gulped, the wetness in her undergarment pooling.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I won’t forget next time.”

“You better not.” Clarke lets go, Lexa a little dazed but doing exactly what she was told, not wanting to anger her Mistress any more.

Coming back with the doors locked and everyone gone except them, Lexa starts to turn around and walk back when Clarke’s voice rings out.

“Strip. Then crawl back.”

Lexa looks up, hesitant.

“But-“

“Another word and you’ll have a plug in your ass in every meeting for a month with no cumming at all.”

Knowing they’re not empty threats, Lexa shuts her mouth and starts taking off her Commander garments. Even without explicitly telling Clarke, she knew Lexa got off on the dynamic of her being bare while her Dom was fully dressed. It brought her further into subspace, knowing she was giving all of her to Clarke to own and take.

Getting on all fours, she starts heading to where Clarke was, who at some point during Lexa stripping, sat on the Commander’s throne.

Once at her Mistress’ feet, she gets on her knees, arms behind her, and looks down.

“That’s a good slut.” Clarke praised, seeing the green eyed girl exactly how she wanted her with no instructions. Lexa blushed at the comment.

“But this won’t make up for the fact that you disrespected me in front of all those ambassadors, baby. Especially when you and I both know my idea was the best one offered.”

“I’m really sorry, Mistress,” Lexa apologized, feeling the effects of what she did to her lover.

“Then why’d you do it, Lex?” The nickname slipping.

“I don’t know, Ma’am.”

“You know that’s not a good enough answer for me. Spread across my lap. 15 slaps sounds good, don’t you think?”

Trying not to add any more slaps, Lexa replies, “Yes, Mistress. 15 slaps.”

As each slap was dealt,

but yeah that’s all i wrote i literally just copy pasted from my notes app LOLLL i’ll see if i ever revisit this

[sueske]

What’s your honest opinion on Itachi, Kakashi, and Karin? Including their relationship with Sasuke. I wish there wasn’t a word limit so I could say mine fully, but to keep it simple: I like Kakashi and Itachi, but I disagree with some of the things they’ve done. Karin is just straight up unbearable as much as Sakura and Hinata.

I think itachi is pretty. and dumb.... pretty dumb..... :) I really like his design, it's my fav, and I made a playlist for him here lol. Anw I've talked about itachi before somewhat, you can search my blog for itachi and the posts should come up, but in a nutshell: I have sympathy for itachi and the position he was put in. but that does NOT justify his actions and it does NOT justify how he manipulated sasuke his whole life, even intending to manipulate and force him into servitude towards konoha beyond the grave. edo tensei itachi admitted he made mistakes yet he has no regrets like boy.... I also don't like how other characters try to paint him as 'good guy' for willing to do that for the sake of the village. I have more to say about itachi's view of sasuke but I might save that for another post... but to sum it up I don't think itachi views sasuke as his own person. as for sasuke's view of itachi, it's complicated.... as a kid sasuke loved his brother dearly only to be betrayed by him in such a cruel way... and then when sasuke found out what konoha did and as he fought alongside itachi, sasuke was reminded of the elder brother he once loved so dearly... their relationship is so skewed but the love sasuke once had for his bother is still there, "even if I can forgive you", the line is blurred with hate and all those other conflicting emotions, but after everything... it's still there. 'who can grow me a new brother' etc etc etc. post-canon I think sasuke has a lot to work through in regards to how he views his bother....

I'm not fond of kakashi at all, I have an anti tag for him on my blog lol this moment I really didn't like in regards to sasuke and I spoke about kakashi in general in some more depth here, but there are other standalone posts you can find by going through the anti kakashi tag. he's just not my cup of tea.

I have sympathy for karin because of her past. she has bite marks everywhere (implying... you know), she was used by orochimaru and countless others, and latched onto the only bit of kindness she was afforded by a boy who saved her with a smile on his face with no hidden agenda towards her. I think her sensing ability is interesting, it would've been nice if we could've gotten more distinct descriptions of people's chakras except the 'oh it's dark, oh it's warm' to add more depth to it but whatever, her healing ability I think is more of a means to an end (oh a chakra bank that can be used to heal everyone how convenient....), anw she's an uzumaki and I liked when she bust out her chains, she's also smart and she puts that to practice successfully (like dispersing sasuke's scent in different directions). I don't like her overtly sexual advances towards sasuke since it was unwelcome from the start. I also don't like how she pretends to not like sasuke when there are other people around yet when her and sasuke are alone she's all over him. it's annoying. I think her banter with suigetsu is entertaining sometimes when it's back and forth and suigetsu gives back as good as he gets, but I really dislike violence for comedic relief, so it annoys me oftentimes when karin resorts to violence.

I don't like sasukarin either (sasuke is gay after all) but karin is marginally better than sakura, kishimoto at least wrote in a reason for her feelings for sasuke, she was useful as a kunoichi to him, and at the end she seems to have put her own feelings for sasuke aside which makes her look more mature than that other 'forever a girl in love'. karin also knows the truth about sasuke and to this day what sakura knows about sasuke is very debatable but let's not get into that. sakura stans that bash karin tho are so funny to me, like they call her a whore for her blatant coming on to sasuke yet they see no problem with sakura admitting to wanting to look at sasuke's dick while he pees lol. and her wanting to be sasuke's first kiss like it was hers to claim... karin is just a more useful and rated version of sakura whose feelings for sasuke come across a tad bit more genuine, that's all there is to it.