#not even gonna touch on the fact that the writers put more emphasis on the damage done to a land owner (Tom)

[the-maladjustedjester]

No but actually what was Whit thinking when he let Richard get on the bus and leave? If a guy comes back to his hometown and claims he wants to “make things right” with everyone he’s wronged, that guy is for sure planning on killing himself lmaooo that’s like one of the big red flags you look for 😭 dude is making peace and tying up loose ends? better fucking call a hotline and not leave his god damn side, that man is not planning on living through the next week 💀

[venusguks]

Unlike You

pairing : jeon jungkook x fem!reader

summary : As daydreamy and romantic as you are, you decided true love was going to have to wait for you tonight. That was because tonight, you were getting laid !! ...Your best friend doesn’t make it easy for you when he finds out why, though.

warnings : smut, dom!jk, sub!reader, unprotected seggs, fluff, bsf!jk, degredation, dumbification, possessive jk, jealous jk, fun sexy times, jk is whipped for mc, oral (fem receiving), body worshipping, jimin/reader but only for a sec

“A club?” Jungkook raised his brow.

He was incredulous and slightly displeased as he watched you pace around your room. It was rare after all, new to see you like this―in a black, satin dress with a slit high enough to make him upset. He didn’t need you catching anyone else’s attention, especially in a neon lit bar full of ravenous people.  “For the seventh time, yes, Kook,” You huff, jarring your mouth slightly to dab a dreamy red over your plush lips. 

You couldn’t recall the last time you felt so confident as you applied mascara and tickled a delicate pink over your cheeks. More than anyone, Jungkook couldn’t recall ever seeing you this way, this excited to be amidst a crowd of sweaty bodies. You honestly didn’t see why he was being so apprehensive, it wasn’t like you necessarily hated parties―you just always preferred the coziness of your home better. Huge social interactions were never your thing, and that was okay. Being an introvert wasn’t something to be ashamed of anyway, but staying in came with the everyday comforts of baggy sweatpants and sweaters.

So could anyone really blame you for your excitement? You just loved the way getting ready made you feel, missed it. You already knew you were beautiful with or without makeup, but damn did it make you feel confident.

“It’s just...” Jungkook furrowed his brows and ruffled his hair. “This isn’t like you, love. Did something happen? Are you okay? We can talk about it, if you want. Whatever it is, I’m here to listen you know.” 

You sighed exasperatedly at your best friend’s reflection through your vanity. His eyes were uncertain and full of concern as he watched your figure with crossed arms. “Koo, we’ve been over this so many times already. I’m nervous enough as it is, and you’re not helping at all. I want to do this, okay? It’s been awhile. Plus, I haven’t seen the others boys in so long.”

A part of you didn’t want to be annoyed at Jungkook for his incessant worrying, but it truly was hard not to sometimes. “You’re being such a fucking dick, you know that?! Can’t I just live my life without you being so fucking hysterical about it every time?! ” It was that winter a few months ago when you unleashed all your pent up frustration. Jungkook had always been overprotective, and you appreciated him for caring, but he just made it so hard for you to even breathe sometimes. It was the biggest argument you guys ever had when you started dating a boy a few years older. You ignored Jungkook’s calls and messages for weeks, but when you discovered that he cheated on you, Jungkook was the first to be by your side. You still remember the assurance and safety you felt in his arms; with his soft lips against your forehead, murmuring sweet consolations as you sobbed on his shoulder. After that day, Jungkook agreed to be less protective. 

“I just don’t get why it has to be a club. We could meet the hyungs anywhere else, baby.”

“Oh sure, maybe a strip club would do,” you said, chuckling when you see his shock. “I’m kidding, Koo.” Though that wouldn’t be such a bad idea...

Maybe you couldn’t blame him for being so appalled. You usually opted out whenever your friends went out to celebrate, which by the way, was rather often. Night after night, the few of them would call you, practically beg until they realized their efforts would end in vain. By the morning, notifications would spam your phone of their wild night; pictures and details that showcased hookups you didn’t need to know about. Now that you think about it, it was sort of ironic that you’d always grimace to the crude texts.

That was because tonight, you decided you were getting laid.

That’s right, to hell with sweet, wholesome love! If true love had to make you wait, true love would have to wait for you too! Your subscribing 48K readers have been expecting a new chapter of Spring’s Breath, an erotica series, which you’ve delayed for 2 whole months now. You didn’t exactly know when your writers block came, but by the fourth hour you stared at your blank screen, unable to come up with any other synonym for dick or thrust or moan; or how the overused dirty talk you wrote made you cringe―you realized the firecracker you had in writing erotica died out.

It was your dear friend, Hoseok, who suggested the whole ordeal. He was the only one who knew your secret, anyway. You had so much trust in him, so when he professed that maybe if you slept with someone, your spark would come back, you had truly considered it. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. After all, no cons would come out of it. It was just odd to think about.

You have always been such a huge romantic, your literature proved it. Jungkook nor you nor anyone would anticipate you hooking up with someone just to hook up with someone. The tenderness, the connection, the intimacy... you’ve always prioritized genuine adoration over whimsical one night stands. You were an honest daydreamer, and maybe that’s why your works would always take off.

But maybe... maybe it was okay to let go once in awhile.

When you mentioned Jungkook being less overprotective, you forgot to put an emphasis on less―because there he was, his hand possessively squeezing your inner thigh every time you even dared to look at a cute boy. You let out a frustrated sigh when he nuzzles his nose into your neck.

You tried not to mind it. It was just in his nature anyway―ever since kindergarten when he found you crying over your dropped ice cream. Jungkook left only to come back with another cone, rubbing your fat tears away with the palm of his sleeve. In elementary school, he peppered you with tiny kisses when you sobbed over the death of your kitten. You’ve only had him for a month, dedicated all your time to him and skipped play dates to care for your little serendipity―but just like that―he was lifeless. It was Jungkook who found him on the road. In middle school, he’d go through the enveloped confessions in your locker and rip them apart, saying you deserved better than any of them. You’ve always looked up to him througha lens of admiration. Everything he did for you, he did it out of thought and care. It was sweet.

It was times like these where you really started to mind though. 

You’ve been giggling with your friends for the past hour, catching up on every minuscule detail. You were sitting in a booth wedged in the middle of Jungkook and Hoseok, brimming with happiness to see Namjoon and Yoongi again. Its been so long, and your heart would swell to the stories you’ve missed out on.

The night was carrying on delightfully! ...except for the fact that Jungkook sent death glares to whoever even glanced at you. The countless of times you shyly returned someone’s gaze, only for them to rush away when they caught sight of your best friend left you agitated. When the boys were engaged in a conversation about a class they all shared together, you decided it was a good time to bring it up. 

Gulping a shot down, you let out a huff. “Kookie...”

“Yes, baby?” He whispered into your ear, his large hand grazing the access of your slitted dress.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what, love?” You sharply inhaled as Jungkook rubbed sensitive circles on your skin.

Immediately standing up, you squeezed yourself out of the booth. “I’m gonna go dance!” You yell through the loud music, avoiding Jungkook’s eyes, because seriously, the nerve of that man! The rest of your friends cheered, “We love to see you like this, y/n! Enjoy yourself, cutie!” Hoseok laughed when you blew a kiss to him. He made you feel so much more at ease, so much more confident. Okay, you got this! No use in sitting around. You couldn’t get anywhere tonight with Jungkook by your side, anyway.

Fluffing out your hair after you downed another shot, you strut your way into the dance floor. Your hips swayed in a rather alluring manner as you made your way into the crowd, your fingertips tracing seductive lines from your hips up to your waist, your neck and finally, into the air. The alcohol slowly took its effect as your confidence settled in, rolling your head back and moving your body fluidly to the loud music. 

Truth be told, you didn’t know what you were doing, just knew you must’ve looked good as hell doing it as you felt hands grip your waist. You gasped as a body pressed against your back, sticky with sweat.

“You’re so captivating, princess,” His dulcet voice was enough to make you weak...or was it the alcohol? Whatever the case, get your grip together y/n! It was just four words for star’s sake! 

“I, um, th-thank you...um! You too..” Your confidence from only moments ago dissolved with your voice. “So shy now, princess? How come? You were dancing so sexily just moments ago.” He chuckled lowly against your ear, nibbling it. You whimpered to his brazen touch, his hands guiding your hips with his. “Are you shy for me? Is that it? What a cute little princess you are... so beautiful, fuck.”

Annnnnnnnd you truly were fucked. You professed only hours ago that true love could wait, that you’d be a different woman tonight, yet you couldn’t help but feel bashful to the man’s praise. His voice and his nectar sweet words enough to make you feel wobbly.

“I’m Jimin. Can I know my princess’s name?” He pressed his hardened member against your ass, the silk thin fabric barely doing its job of coverage. “Ah Jimin,” you moaned breathlessly as he kissed your neck. “I...I’m-”

“―Mine,” a low, husky voice finished. Jungkook stood behind you, jaw clenched and arms crossed. The veins on his biceps protruded under the incandescent lights; His white shirt and tight, black jeans doing wonders to complement his physique. 

“Are you deaf? I said she’s mine so why the fuck are your hands still on her?” Jungkook had always been intimidating, even when he didn’t try―so in the rare times he did, even he scared you sometimes.

Much to your disappointment, Jimin immediately lets go, hands in the air, “sorry man, I didn’t know.”

“W-what? Wait, he isn’t my...!” Before you could try to reach for the pink haired man, Jungkook firmly takes your hand. “Y/n, we’re leaving.” You didn’t even have a second to feel shocked before he swiftly guides you through the ocean of bodies. Loud music reverberated with your disappointment, and by the time the night’s cold air stings your cheeks, you've processed what just happened―what you just missed. It’s when Jungkook latches your seatbelt on and drives that you feel anger simmer in your chest.

“Why did you...Why the fuck did you do that, Jungkook?” You were exasperated with your emotions. You just didn’t get it. You were finally having the time of your life, finally stepping out of your comfort zone, finally dancing with a guy who made you feel amazing―just to end up on a drive back home before anything could happen. “Seriously, what the hell is your problem? That was my..! He was..!” You groaned, too frustrated to conjure up words.

Jungkook scoffed, “what, y/n? He was what? Your soulmate or something?”

“I didn’t say that! And even if I think so, why does it matter?! I was having fun! I was having so much fun and you just..! (hiccup) I was having so much fun....” You cried into your hands. “I haven’t felt that way in so long, j-just for you to mess everything up. God, I can’t even muster up words right now. I hate you so much.”

“Love...” Jungkook finally sighed, shutting the engine off. You had cried the whole ride home. The anger he once felt diminished with your tears. “Baby, please look at me.” 

“F-fuck (hiccup) off, Jungkook.” You quickly unbuckled your seatbelt and opened the car door. Knowing him as long as you did, you knew he would take your chin to force you to look up at him―but you had enough of him for the night, and honestly, the whole week.

You were just so fucking frustrated at everything. At Jungkook for unnecessarily budging in, at your writers block, at your own sexual frustration left with Jimin. What did you have to offer your readers now? A heartbreak of a possible relationship that never happened with a shitty friend on the side?

You tuned out Jungkook shouting from behind you, striding to you complex and up the stairs.

It wasn’t long after you slammed the door shut that you heard it click open again. You had forgotten Jungkook had an extra spare of your keys. “Just leave me alone, Kook.” You groaned, storming off into your room.

You kicked your heels off and stomped to your bed, taking out your frustration on your pillow where your sobs were muffled. The bed dips down when Jungkook sits beside you, silent as he caressed your hair in the way he always did to soothe your nerves.

Deciding it wasn’t enough this time, he carefully lifts you up to sit on his lap, sliding his arms around your waist to pull you into his chest. Jungkook knew you long enough to know hugs were the best remedy for you, even at your angriest moments. He knew you wouldn’t push him away.

“You jerk...” You buried your face into the crook of his neck, sniffling. “I don’t get you, Kookie. Why do you always do this?”

“I...I just wanted to protect you, baby. People have bad intentions, I didn’t want to see you end up doing something you’d regret,” His voice was gentle, brushing hair strands away from your face.

“Stars, Kook, I knew what I was doing. Whether I’d end up regretting it or not, that’s for me to sort out. I didn’t need you to ‘protect’ me. I was really enjoying myself, something I haven’t done in a long time. A-and you just..! You ruined it for me.”

Jungkook scoffed, “so you liked it then, how he was touching you? You were just going to let him fuck you?”

“Yes, Kook!” You yelled. “He could’ve fucked me in the public bathroom or in his car―in front everyone for all I care! He was hot and we were in the moment and you just interrupted! I know you care for me and I’ll always appreciate you worrying but there’s a fine line where your protectiveness should be. I’m not a kid anymore, Kook.”

Jungkook was gritting his teeth, and the two of you only glared at each other before he let out a sigh. Despite him wanting to be mad, he didn’t like making you upset. If you were going to cry because of him, he wanted it to be for an entirely different reason. 

He gently cupped your cheeks, holding your gaze with tender, sad eyes. “You know I’d do anything for you, yes? That I’ve always done anything and everything I could to help you?”

You furrowed your brows, unsure of how that related to anything, but nonetheless, you nod. “Yes, I know Kook.”

“Then why didn’t you just ask me to sleep with you, hm? If you needed help so bad, why didn’t you just ask me, baby?” You stared, dumbfounded and mouth ajar as his thumbs brushed the remnants of your tears away.

“W-What are you...?”

“Was so concerned for my baby. Hoseok got drunk and told me everything I needed to know. Did you know how hurt I was? How Hoseok knew something about you that I didn’t? Especially that you were a writer, love. I thought I was your number one, how could you keep that from me?”

“O-Of course you are, Koo! You’ll always be my number one. I just...didn’t want to tell you because it was embarrassing,” you mumbled, glancing away. Damn it Jung Hoseok! After all these years, this is when he accidentally slips it out? “Nuh uh, baby, I’m not having any of that. Look at me.”

Jungkook pressed his forehead against yours, an act you were certainly no stranger to, but nevertheless making your cheeks warm. “Not only that, you wanted to go clubbing tonight just to find a stranger to help you, is that right, baby? Wore this tiny dress just so someone could fuck you? Wanted Jimin to fuck you? Wanted to write about him fucking you in the bathroom stall?” Jungkook was speaking softly, though his words were anything but as his hands left your cheeks to trace sensuous lines up your thigh.

Your hands weakly held onto his shoulders, gasping when you felt his bulge press against your sensitive core.

“What was that you said....In his car? Wanted him to fuck you in front of everybody? Wanted to be a dirty slut just for your readers?” You didn’t know how exactly this moment came to be, but his honeyed voice brought you to a daze as you grind your hips against him. You were desperate to feel more—of anything, of him—only to let out a whine when he forcefully holds you down, burying your clothed center into his bulge. 

“I don’t think so, baby. I don’t think you deserve it,” Jungkook’s hot breath tickled your ear. You whimpered as he bit it, hands squeezing your hips. “You used to be so good for me baby, used to come to me for anything. Used to be a good little girl and depend on me. I would’ve helped you, baby. Instead, you became a dirty little slut, let another man touch you. Is that what you are now? A fucking slut?”

“N-no Kookie,” a new bundle of tears welled in your eyes at his harsh words. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sh-should’ve, ah, went to you,” you felt your body succumb to his touch. His nose brushed your jaw, placing warm kisses all over your neck before he glided his tongue down to your collarbone. “Please forgive me, I-I’ll be a good girl for you now, p-promise.”

“Yeah? Wanna be a good girl for daddy?” Jungkook licks the base of your collarbone before sucking it. “Yes..ah, yes daddy. Gonna be so good for you.” 

“And yet you weren’t,” you cried as you felt teeth sink into your skin. “J-Jung― ah, Kookie stop! Please i-it hurts!”

“You deserve this, fucking slut. You know how much you hurt me tonight? You’re secretly just a desperate whore, aren’t you? Missed your tiny cunt getting fucked so much that you’d let a stranger do it for you, hm? Answer me, slut.”

You felt tears drip down your eyes, embarrassment washing over your face. “What? You’re not going to speak now?” You shook your head in desperation. You couldn’t. How could you? It was too shameful.

You yelped when Jungkook picked you up by your waist and turned you over so your face was smushed into a pillow. “Ass up, now. Don’t make me repeat myself.” He snarled, and you immediately obliged. Jungkook was on his knees, eyes lidded to your position as he rubbed slow circles on your bare ass. “My slut is voiceless now, hm? Begged to be daddy’s good girl but can’t even answer when I talk to you. Why are you being so disobedient tonight, baby?” It happened so fast you could barely gasp as your body lurched forward to the slap. It repulsed through your skin as your right cheek stung with a faint red.

“J-J-Jungkook, ah!” You cried as another slap came, face burying further into your pillow. “I’ll be obedient from now on! s-so please! I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry, daddy!”

Jungkook’s lips pulled to a smirk, grabbing a bundle of your hair before pulling you towards him. You whimpered and he bent down so he could see your face, tisking. “Oh, my poor baby. Did that hurt? Want to be a good little girl for daddy now?” You nodded ferociously, “p-please yes daddy! I-I’ll be so good for you. Please let me be good for you!” 

Jungkook’s dick felt constrained in his tight pants. He licked his lips to your messy, desperate state. Your eyes were red and puffy, lips just the same as heavy tears streamed down your eyes. Fuck, what Jungkook would give to fuck you senseless right then and there. But no, he needed to wait, needed to be patient. You deserved this.

“Make up your fucking mind, slut. If you want to be a good girl, then take your punishment like a good girl,” Jungkook pushed your face back into the pillow before slapping your ass once more. 

You didn’t know how long it went on, only knew the room was filled with your sobbing and the alarming sound of the contact that met your bruised skin. It hurt, it hurt so much. Your thighs were trembling and both your cheeks were a lovely shade of red and purple. But no matter how much you screamed your endless arrays of i’m sorry’s, Jungkook didn’t fail to notice how your juices soaked your underwear and spilled down your thighs

“Already making such a mess baby,” He groaned to the sight, palming himself to his creation. 

“P-please....hurts so bad...please let me l-lay down daddy, can’t hold myself much longer, please,” Jungkook adored the way you sounded for him, the way he corrupted you. You were perfect there, so perfectly powerless under him. 

“Mm, keep begging baby and maybe I’ll let you,” he unbuckled his pants and discarded them, his cock throbbing to your feeble pleads. “Please, please, p-please, please daddy... please. Hurts so bad, I-I can’t... please i-i’m a good girl. I’m a good girl for daddy. I’ll do anything please.”

“Did you learn your lesson, then?”

“Yes, I-I did, daddy!”

“You’ll be a good girl and obey daddy from now on?”

“Mhm!” You nodded vigorously, and Jungkook chuckled to your desperation. He peeled your soaked thong down, lifting your limp legs momentarily to pull it off until he set you back. You were so tired you felt your thighs give up on you right then, but before you could submit to your exhaustion, Jungkook lifted your ass up higher, arching your back deeper with one hand.

“Mm I don’t think so baby. Obey daddy and keep your ass up like a good little girl.” A gasp left your quivering lips when you felt Jungkook’s breath on your throbbing core.

“You smell so sweet baby, so fucking wet for me,” Jungkook hikes your dress up and glides his tongue up your inner thigh, wiping your dripping juices clean. “Kookie, mm, please,” he trails delicate kisses over your skin, nibbling it. “Yes, baby?” 

“P-please...please Kookie..!”

“Use your words, baby. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want.” Jungkook smiles against your thigh as he hears your soft sniffles muffled by the pillow. His poor baby, always so shy. It was true he loved to tease you, tempt you, and loved making you cry for him—but more than anything, he wanted to take care of you. “Please touch me, Koo, please.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” A sharp shiver crawls across your skin when your pleads are obliged, moaning as Jungkook stuffs his face into your cunt. He kisses your clit softly. One, two, three times before sucking it with his plush lips. His hands were the only thing keeping you up now because you practically melted to the touch. The way his tongue rolled over your sensitive bud already having you see stars. “Ah...feels so good, Kookie.”

“Yeah? Would it feel even better if I do this?” He easily slides his middle finger into your slippery hole, slowly pumping in and out. “O-oh...oh my god, more please.”

“Anything for you baby, but first,” a whimper escapes your lips when you feel him leave you, that is until Jungkook swiftly but gently flips you over so you’re finally laying on your back.

Jungkook’s breath hitches to the sight of you below him, frozen for a moment to the aching pull of his heart.

“You’re so pretty baby, so pretty,” Jungkook’s voice was sweet and smooth as he helped you undress. Fuck, did you know how much you pained him? How much he held back for you, all these years, in this moment? It was so hard not to take you right then, to kiss you until you couldn’t breathe, to touch every single part of you with his lips.

Jungkook has fantasized about you ever since he could remember, but you truly went beyond his imagination. You were so fucking beautiful. 

“...so pretty here,” he kisses your cheeks and your jaw, down to your neck. “And here,” he kisses the valley between your breasts, his hands trailing down your curves. “And here,” your stomach...and finally, taking your clit back into his mouth.

“The prettiest cunt baby, dripping so much for daddy,” he murmurs. His tongue rolls around your clit, pumping two fingers in and out of your slick pussy. It was all too much, the sensations overwhelming your senses as ungodly moans escape your mouth. You felt fuzzy and almost light headed, reaching down to hold Jungkook’s curls.

Your back arches and tears stream down your eyes from the intense pleasure exhausting you, his fingers curling into your sweet spot mercilessly. “Do you like this baby?”

“Love it so much, Jungkook,” You moaned breathlessly, looking down at him through your tears and ... wow. 

Jungkook’s brows were creased as he focused on his tongue devouring your wet cunt, plunging his two fingers steadily in and out of you. His bangs were sticking to his forehead, glossed with sweat while your hands curled around the rest. 

You were taken aback with your emotions. Was it strange, how timid you felt then? Doing this with him was supposed to be sinful, yet for some reason, it felt anything but at that moment.

It was the fact that Jungkook looked so intent, so concentrated in making you feel good. How Jungkook showed his care for you, how he always did, how he was doing right now, cherishing you with his best effort. He wanted to give you the best experience he could, wanted nothing more than to make you feel good.

It was unbearable how much your heart swelled for him.

A knot tied in your stomach, and as if noticing your stare, his eyes flutter open to look at you.“Hm, does baby wanna cum now? You can do it love, cum for daddy.”

With that, you came undone in Jungkook’s mouth. Your cries filled the room, and Jungkook opened your hole wider with his fingers, devouring your cream. The sound of slurping made your cheeks heat with an impure red. “That’s my girl, so good for daddy. So sweet for me baby, so beautiful.”

When you went limp in his arms, he gives your lips one last sweet kiss before standing on his knees. Jungkook smiles at the sight of you, already so fucked out even when he was no where near finished with you. 

He crawled forward, his forehead resting over yours once again. “Did that feel good, sweetie?” You nod shyly, your chests heaving up and down together. With rosy cheeks, you weakly bring your hands up to trace his jaw. “Jungkook?”

“Yes baby?” You melted to his dulcet voice, keeping his loving gaze. It held so much affection, so much adoration for you, you wondered why you never realized it.

“Kiss me, please.”

Jungkook smiles warmly. Without hesitation, he takes your lush, sweet lips in his. It was gentle, a kind of kiss that was so tender it made you warm with reassurance. You were kissing Jungkook—your silly, annoying, bratty, and all the while, lovable best friend of 20 years. It was strange and odd but more than anything, it felt so, unmistakably right.

You took Jungkook by surprise when you deepened the kiss, your hand squeezing his hair. He chuckled softly, pulling himself back momentarily to look into your eyes. “I love you,” he whispers.

Your cheeks heat up, but you fight your timidness as you smile back, “I love you too, Kookie.” 

With that, Jungkook delves back into your lips. A kiss that wasn’t so delicate this time. Rather, untamed and furious, as if Jungkook wanted to show you how much, how long he’s wanted this all this time.

You moaned into him as his hands groped your breasts, fingers twirling your perky nipples. “Jungkookie,” you hold your breath, feeling his clothed cock press against your core. “Fuck me please. Please, I need you so bad.”

“Yeah?” He lowers himself to take a nipple into his mouth. “Tell me how much you want it baby.” He flicked, swirled, and sucked it with his tongue, alternating with the other.

“W-Want it so bad daddy. Please, n-need you to fuck my wet pussy mm, daddy please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he grins and sits up, pulling his shirt over his head, discarding his boxers and...

Oh.

Your breath hitched, blinking at Jungkook’s huge, painfully hardened cock. His tip was pink with sticky, white precum dribbling down his long member. It slightly pretruded up and its veins throbbed as if it’s been aching. And truly, he was. He’s been aching to feel your walls wrap around him for so long. You have no idea how hard he’s been trying to hold himself back for you. How painful it was to—and now, seeing you there, perfect and pretty, so shy and red just for him, Jungkook wasn’t sure he could anymore.

Jungkook needed you. He needed you getting stuffed full of his cock right now.

“I-Its so big...” You gulp as he centers himself in between your legs. “I know baby, so big and ready for your tiny cunt. Can you be a big girl and take it for me baby, hm? Let daddy fuck you until he’s satisfied? Let him use you like the little cock slut you are?”

“Y-yes daddy,” you whimper as he rubs his slick tip against your soaked, smooth cunt, sliding it back and forth. “I’m yours so please, p-please just use me daddy!”

“So good for me baby, such an obedient little slut for daddy, fuck,” Jungkook groans, slipping his tip into your lush walls. You cry as he stretches you all the way out, leaving no room for you to breathe with his tip poking your tummy. Your mind felt dizzy, mouth ajar with drool slipping out even when he hadn’t even moved yet. 

“Shiiit you should see yourself baby. Such a fucking whore for daddy’s cock. Can I move, baby? Or can this tiny little pussy not take my big cock?”

“I-I..mm, please, I can take it! Please fuck me daddy!”

“That’s my girl.” Jungkook starts off painfully slow but just as painfully hard, pushing your knees to your chest. He completely draws himself back so he can see his glistening, twitching tip before driving himself back into your core. “Shit baby, your pussy’s so, fuck, tight.” Jungkook moaned to how your breast bounced up and down every time he shoved himself in.

You were sobbing by the time he quickened his pace, the intense sensation having you light headed. Jungkook loved the way you looked under him, eyes rolled back with buried balls deep inside of you. “You like this baby? Love my cock filling you? Answer me.”

“L-love mm love so m—ah, Kookie..! f-feels so....g-good daddy.”

“Look at you, baby. Can’t even talk with daddy’s cock stuffing you. Such a dumb slut for daddy, so fucking hot baby.” Jungkook moans, juices spurting everywhere and dampening the sheets with every thrust.

“I-I’m not d-dumb..!” You whimpered, fat tears streaming down your eyes. Jungkook smirks, licking his lips.

“Aww, of course you are baby. Just a dumb little cock slut for daddy. Can only think of daddy’s cock, can you?”

You can’t bring yourself to answer, your mind too scrambled with each and every thrust. Jungkook was going so fast, so hard, you felt so full.

“That’s what I thought baby. My sweet girl, fucked dumb for daddy. You only need daddy’s cock, nothing else.” Jungkook positioned your legs over his shoulders, clenching on to them to drill deeper into your tummy.

“Oh, o-oh my god, ah d-daddy...! ‘m your slut...love your dick so m-much...love being stuffed with cock.” Jungkook groaned to your sinful moans, feeling his stomach tighten.

“Just want daddy to cum inside you, don’t you? Want daddy to fill you up until you’re dripping with my cum, baby?”

“Y-yes, please daddy! Want daddy’s cum so bad! Please give me cum..!” Jungkook shoves his thumb inside of you plush lips, and god, he’s so proud of his work, so proud of you. You were taking his thumb like a good girl, sucking it as if it were his cock.

Jungkook felt his dick throb inside of you, aching for release. He pulls his thumb out with a pop of your wet lips, coated with saliva, and rubs figures over your clit. You scream, gripping onto the sheets. it was so much, too much for you to handle. Your back arches as he abuses your clit and sloppily fucks your hole.

“J-Jung–Jungkook, ah, please! Kookie! I-I’m..!”

“Its okay, baby, its okay. Gonna cum with daddy, hm? You can do it baby, sweet girl, cum for me,” Jungkook cooes, attempting to soothe your nerves, but his words are breathless and ragged. He thrusts in and out one, two, three, four more times until he burries himself deep inside you, spurts of thick cum filling your womb.

Jungkook groans as your pussy clenches around him, and you’re a sobbing, moaning, wet mess as you milk him. “Fuck, my sweet girl. Taking my cum like a big girl baby. So good for daddy, so fucking good for me.” With his praise, you feel yourself release soon after. Jungkook continues to thrust in and out of you, helping you ride out your high.

When he feels you falter in his arms, he pulls out and lays on top of you. Both of you stay like that for awhile, exhausted and in a daze.

With your moist bodies tangled with one another’s, you shut your eyes. You can hear Jungkook’s heartbeat hammer against yours, you short-winded breaths, and the soft whirring sound of the air conditioner.

Moonlight filtered in through your windows, casting a luminescent glow on Jungkook’s skin when he pushes his upper body up, his shoulders resting on either side of you.

Jungkook had spent the whole night cherishing you, telling you how pretty you were, and yet there he was—so ethereal under midnight’s grace. How could he be real?

You bring your hand to caress his cheeks. You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

In that moment, so intimate and sacred, His doe, gentle eyes that you could get lost in—that hold all the lost stars of the night sky, tell you all you need to know.

You yawn, stretching your arms high up. “Here’s your order maam,” two porcelain cups of matcha are placed in front of you, steam following it’s every movement. You mumble a thank you, smiling before your eyes drift to the man at the other side of the cross walk.

He’s wearing all black as per usual, revealing the beautiful tattoos that adorned his tan skin. His hair was tousled and he looked sleepy—after all, he’d just gotten out of class—but as soon as the crosswalk lights up with green, you chuckle when he sprints across and into the shop.

The bell that hung by the door didn’t even finish ringing before he runs to you, sweeping you off your chair and into his arms. “Kookie, let me down!” You giggle, but nonetheless wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I’m so proud of you baby,” he nuzzles his nose into yours. “You finally published it right? The twenty second chapter?”

a / n : ahhhhh its exactly 3:01am and i have class in the morning which is why the middle ending is super rushed sorry ! i truly wonder why i do this to myself.

this is my first smut fanfiction so i’m not sure how i did , but if anyone ever reads this , i hope you enjoyed ! i dont think im cut out to write smut, i truly did have headaches thinking of synonyms for thrust and dirty talk . i really admire smut writers ,, writing smut is not as easy as it seems !!

anyways , sending love abundance and happiness your ways. you deserve love, you’re worthy of love, and you are love.

stay safe and healthy starlights <3

[reginarubie]

I could dm you about this but I guess this topic deserves to be brought up publicly. Apparently you are the first writer I came across who made a focus on Aemond's chronic pains caused by the trauma (in fact, he's a disabled person and it upsets me how everyone seems to ignore this aspect). Of course, he could be so stressed after facing Rhaenyra but I view it a bit differently and still wanna thank you 🌼

Ciao Anne!, (@wildfieldz)

This is so sweet, thank you!, You're gonna make me blush!

I was talking about this matter with @maddiethefashionista when I was working on the chapter, as she's my support system and helps give me confidence when I need a boost of it.

I don't understand why the show never showed us the consequences of what these people faced not only emotionally but also physically (they failed utterly on both things tbh). The books do, though I still feel like all the rest takes the precedence over the emotional and physical trauma these people endure; which is what happens in real life and what ends up creating even more trauma and problems.

One of the reasons why I love Sansa so much is that she's solid, despite all the trauma (physical and emotional) she endures she still remains true to herself, she still steps up, steps out in the snow field and still she cares for her cousin like she cared for Bran and her siblings, she still let herself be held and never rejects touch, she never rejects emotionally anyone, she offers herself and still wears her heart on her sleeve as a conscious decision and faces the consequences. Bran is the same, he never folds to his own disability — he is Bran the Broken, but he is also the heir to Winterfell and to Robb's crown, the prince of Winterfell and he remembers both in the same breath, that's endurance. That's the kind of resilience people have and I would've liked to see it more in the show as well — but I digress.

Aemond is a disabled person who worked his ass off to be as efficient and proficient as an able-bodied person (despite his missing eye he becomes a great swordsman; he studies and acquires the competence to lead and to understand the world around him despite his young age and remains loyal to his brother) but still a disabled person he is. He adorned his eye to put something beautiful to cover the marring of his eye, but you can't convince me that didn't have consequences (we're always talking of a gem put inside an empty eye-socket) on top of the consequences people who lost their eye suffer through.

It's human of him to suffer from migraines and also Aemond of him to shoulder through them with gritted teeth. You chose to read it exactly how I wrote it.

There's a reason I keep putting emphasis over Sansa's knees bothering her and her joints having become more fragile after what she endured — the rationing and the almost frostbite — and putting emphasis over Aemond's eye bothering him, the phantom pain of it and the migraines that come from it as well.

I'm not a doctor so I don't know if the symptoms I have described are actually ascribable to the pathology (having lost an eye or almost dying of frostbite) but I've tried to put emphasis over the fact that these people are still human, they get worked up and their health acts up not only as a result from the stress but also of the trauma they endured. But I've seen people living with the consequences of their physical traumas other than emotional so I think that's an aspect that gives depth and truthfulness to the story so thank you for remarking on it.

As always sending all my love ~G.

[austarus]

Harrison Wells (Eobard Thawne) x Reader - Integrated Revelations (1/3)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me.

*I attempted a thing where I try to get back into the groove of writing for my murder speed husband... It’s probably shit, but here goes nothing. Sorta another theory I’ve had and had all these scenes connect together. I’m a shit writer so... Also, I’m dying and crying. Hahaha. I literally am dying. My uni work online is being ridiculously overwhelming along with my work hours for school. I really need a week with no deadlines or work just to get caught up with three weeks of work for certain classes. I really need to take a break. But I can’t, started to loose sleep. Can’t even have time to write or play Pokemon Reborn. Anyway, that a bit of an update from me. I wrote this back in July, hoping to have written a fic a week (which turned out to not happen, but hey, I tried) until October to post things. Also this most likely has grammer errors. I’m sorry. Once again, a shit writer. Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

Word Count: 3584

Part 2  Part 3

“Well...” Eobard’s raspy voice didn’t seem to alarm the two speedsters that had phased into the Time Vault. The futuristic speedster had sat with a leg crossed over the other, and elbow resting on the arm of the chair. “Things just got a lot more complicated, didn't they?” Eobard pushed from the chair, standing up and taking a few steps forward. Nora and Barry looked on, one adorned a look of uncertainty and the other masqueraded his rage and pain through the years. “Barry Allen.” Barry nodded along, gauging the black-haired man’s façade. “But which Barry Allen? Clearly, you're… from a lot later than this one.” Eobard maneuvered his body and pointed to the unconscious form of an earlier Barry Allen.

“Way later.” Barry simply answered, looking indifferent.

“Way later,” Eobard echoed the response, putting emphasis on the word ‘way’. The scientist nodded along, pursuing his lips as his electric blue eyes flickered to Nora. Before anyone could speak, could even move the Time Vault door dematerialized. Nora watched as an earlier version of yourself entered the Vault hurriedly and out of breath. You had entered looking over your shoulder with a tablet in hand. You had been scanning for the supposed Time Wraith that had attacked Barry, but not your present time Barry.

“Eo, I traced-” You froze in place as you turned your gaze forward. Fear crippled your heart as you saw a version of Barry, much older through the years, and a woman not too far off his from his age. You swallowed thickly, clutching the tablet tighter. There’s three Barry Allen’s now?? Who the hell decided to break time? A small throbbing sensation erupted at the back of your head, but you dismissed it. Eobard had swiftly moved to stand in front of you. His eyes connected with yours for a moment.

“You knew?!” The young woman spoke up, stepping forward towards you which caused Eobard to hold out a subtle arm out to the side to keep you behind him. “All those years.” The older man narrowed his eyes at what the female had called out to you. You frowned at her words in confusion. Who is she? An image flashed through your mind of the woman, smiling proudly at Barry while wearing a dark purple and white suit with a yellow emblem. She clearly knows who I am, but… What even happened? Are they from a different future? You pushed away the image to the back of your mind. “How could y-”

“If you even think about touching her, either of you, then you’ll regret ever running back here,” Eobard steely replied. You took a step closer to your speedster boyfriend in case something were to happen and he needed to speed you away to safety. Not that you needed saving, but you were still working on defending yourself via your lessons with the futuristic speedster. So, they’re from the future, and I’m guessing far off from this other Barry, but not too far for him to age too much. You spared a small glance to the cuffed and unconscious Barry Allen on the ground. It hurt your heart to see him vulnerable like that, but Eobard had confided to you his suspicions regarding this Barry Allen. One Barry Allen problem at a time. Taking a breath in, you remained silent and studied the two speedsters that confronted your speedster.

“Let it go.” Barry grabbed onto the speedster’s shoulder, holding her back. Oddly enough, Barry’s words coldly cut through you. 

“Now,” Eobard’s cocky attitude returned to him as he established the safety of your presence. He had that kind of affect, putting himself on the air of superiority and intellect with his attitude and words to belittle the person in front of him rightly so to get the desired reaction he wants and anticipates. Eobard knows how to tug on Barry’s strings. “Who's your friend? Let me guess. Jesse Chambers- No. Maybe Lawrence. Wait- Danica Williams-”

“-It doesn't matter who she is.” Barry cut off Eobard’s rattling of names.

You eyed Eobard’s deceptive small smile as he held Barry’s gaze then turned to the young adult. The female remained silent, avoiding Eobard’s icy eyes. “She's your daughter.” You scrunched your face in confusion before the neurons clicked in your head after a few seconds. Lemme guess, she’s a speedster that ran back in time and met a younger version of her father. Weird flex bro, but whatever. You do you. If I was a speedster, I’d do things differently. Obviously not up to scale what with the tampering that Eobard likes to do with the timeline to get his way with things. “You've brought me your daughter.” Your eyes flickered back to Barry before taking another look at the female and seeing a bit of resemblance, other than the fact that she was a speedster like him. Then the article Eo’s been obsessing about did reveal something true. Barry does take Iris as his wife. The West-Allen family. “It's, um... Dawn, if I'm not mistaken.”

“Nora.” The young speedster forced out after briefly glancing at her father.

“Nora. Oh, that's nice.” Eobard turned back to Barry with a smirk, “At least you still have one.” That’s cruel, Eo. “What- Nora- time travel's so weird-”

“Why did you come here?” You found the nerve to speak up, moving to stand beside the man masquerading as Harrison Wells. I’m not going to be afraid; I can’t always cower behind Eobard if something unexpected happens. I need to take things in my own hands. Even if they do find out about- You cleared any evidence of distress at their sudden appearance from your throat, “What do you want?”

“I need him to fix this for me.” Barry held up a broken tube-like device in his hand.

A thought hit the genius scientist instantaneously, his blue eyes widening. Turning your body, you saw Eobard take a few steps backwards, “No...” The headache didn’t go away, instead intensifying slightly by the second. Negative emotions flooded your system at Eobard’s crippling composure. He shook his head at them. “No, if you're here...” Eo turned to face the unconscious Barry, cuffed to his motored wheelchair, pointing to them and him. “And he's here... that means-”

“-You don't get home.” Barry simply stated. Your heart shook, terror and dread feeding into your system at his words. Uncertainty of the future- your future with Eobard- plagued you. How does this all end?

“I get home!” The yellow speedster whipped his head around in agitation, his voice raising with every statement. Barry smirked cruelly as he shook his head. You held your breath at Eobard’s spiking wrath, you hadn’t seen him this angry since General Eiling’s interference with The Flash and Plastique. Even then he’d mask his resentment to pull the strings in the game strategically. “I get home. I go home! I get everything-”

“-You don't go home, Thawne.” The Scarlet Speedster halted the Man in the Yellow Suit. Eobard clenched his jaw. You reached out a hand to rest it on his arm in an attempt to calm him. His eyes met yours for a fraction of a second. You felt the tension hang heavily in the air. “Unless… you help me.” Barry held up his broken device once more, mockingly this time. Your eyes flickered to the ring on his right hand. Similar to Eobard’s. A future version of Cisco must have been able to figure out how to use microtech to compress Barry’s suit. He’s the greatest mechanical engineer that I know. Eobard’s shoulders sagged a fraction as Barry held his ground. Turning around, the genius scientist rubbed his face before kicking the spare Barry in annoyance. Barry, all clad in black, winced because he probably ended up feeling that kick. You and Nora remained silent, eyeing the exchange between both speedsters.

Eobard shifted his body back, hands on his hips and fueled hatred present in his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Like I said, you're gonna fix this for me.”

“To do what?”

“Drain dark matter.”

What could Barry possibly need with Dark Matter? Hasn’t it done enough damage? “Whose dark matter?” You crossed your arms with the tablet close to your chest, a frown on your face as Eobard stepped beside you once more.

“None of your business.” Barry sneered at you. You narrowed your eyes at his demeanor, the young man who you gradually grew close to and considered as another brother like Cisco.

“Barry-”

“-It is our business.” Eobard retorted, taking your hand in his tightly. Both men were frustrated at the others persistence.

“No, it's not.”

Eobard started, letting go of you and rounding heatedly on to Barry, “There's no chance that I help you-”

You reached a hand out. “-Eobard, don’t-”

- It's none of your business-”

“-Cicada's!” Nora blurted out. Silence filled the room between the four of your, outbursts settling. You blinked a few times, taking a step back and resting a palm against your temple. Grimacing, you cast your eyes down as images of a half-masked man in green stood with a dagger. A glowing dagger with a look of emptiness and death in his eyes. That man looks dead to the world, as if willing to kill for an estranged purpose. It’s so cold. You shook your head subtly and stood your ground, unwilling to show weakness, but you saw Nora’s eyes shift when she looked at you. Barry eyed his daughter with a sort of incredulous look while a calculating and analytical look flashed through Eobard’s eyes.

“Cicada's.” The name seemed so familiar to Eobard as it easily slipped of his tongue. The hushed tone in Eobard’s voice expressed a calm before the storm. A deceptive man full of secrets and knowledge of many, many years to come. Especially when it came to The Flash. “The one who got away. You want to destroy Cicada's dagger, don't you?”

“We want to save lives.”

A cynical laugh leaves your speedster’s lips as you pursed yours, trying to tease out the logics from Barry. “You want to save lives.” Eobard chuckled mockingly at Barry’s response. “I bet you do. I bet you do. Especially your own, right, Barry Allen?”

“Look, that me,” Barry pointed to the other version of himself in the room, “he's gonna wake up soon. He sees me standing here, your whole timeline is gonna be blown to hell. You're never gonna get home. You know that's true!”

“I know! I know!” Eobard sighed, his facial expression contorted, and his eyes held a different motive as he flicked his gaze to Nora, who hadn’t stop taking glimpses of you. “Where are my manners? Can I get you a cup of water?” You rolled your eyes at Eobard’s ploy.

***

The four of you had moved to the small lab, far from the Cortex in avoidance of Caitlin and Cisco. The timeline was a fickle thing to speedsters, Eobard had told you that. But oddly enough, when it came to Eobard it seemed to be malleable to his every whim. Tools and spare wires littered along the desk your speedster boyfriend was working at. The monitor held a camera feed of the Time Vault where Barry’s unconscious younger version was still unconscious.

How hard did Eobard hit him? Like, how the hell is he still asleep even through all that yelling and seething??

“Here,” you handed Nora a bottle of purified water.

“Thanks,” she quietly spoke, you nodded at her. You really didn’t know what to think about someone who knew you in the future, yet you had no idea who she would be until a few years later. Would I even still be in this time period by then? Or would Eobard had kept his promise? … Nothing’s making any sense right now. You felt frustrated for not really being part of their conversations. You were… just there.

“So, who made this?” Eobard examined the piece of teach as he started working on it.

Barry answered with pocketed hands, “Someone smarter than you.”

“I doubt that,” You snorted as Eobard laughed at Barry’s statement. Leaning against the dark blue beam of the side lab, you crossed your arms avoiding Barry’s gaze when he glanced over to you. You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “If so, then why come here? Why go through all the trouble to come here when you can get help from the person who made it? Why then would you need Eobard’s help?”

“We-”

“It’s… complicated,” Barry sighed before Nora could finish saying anything, pocketing his hands.

“I think that’s an understatement to the type of trouble that seems to find you, Barr.” You crossed your arms. “At least a Time Wraith didn’t follow you this time. Which I’m still having trouble tracking down.” You nodded to his former self on the monitor. Barry rolled his eyes at you.

“You know, Allen,” the yellow speedster wheeled around, electric blue eyes meeting Barry’s green gaze, “for your plan to work, you're gonna actually have to have his dagger in your possession...”

“We've got that covered.”

The villainous speedster raised an eyebrow at the forensics scientists. “You got that covered. How’s that?” He humored them.

“With this.” Nora pulled out a dark piece of metal, holding it out for you and Eobard to observe momentarily.

“What is that?” You piqued up, causing Nora to look over at you. An odd emotion flickered in her eyes. Eobard reached a hand out to it only for Barry to pluck it from Nora’s grasp. Your eyes flickered between the two then back to Nora. She didn’t seem to be cautious around you and Eobard at all. Revealing the reason for aid and showing Eobard exactly what he seemed to want to see. You weren’t a genius, but you obviously saw the pointed looks that Barry subtly gave his daughter. The cogs were turning in your head as well as in Eobard’s. He masked his growing speculation about the two speedsters.

“Is that-”

“It's a piece of Savitar's suit, yeah.” Barry stoically responded, since Nora had already shown Eobard the metallic piece, to Eobard’s oncoming question before he could even finish. Barry knew Eobard recognized the object, shaking his head that that cat was out of the bag for this secret too.

“Savitar?”

“Savitar. The Future Flash and the self-proclaimed God of Speed, kitten,” Eobard simply explained as he worked. Images of a metallic suit flashed through your mind as it hummed with energy; a familiar face shrouded in shadows and a hauntingly course voice. “A twisted time remnant of the man you know to be your friend. Another big bad that Barry’s had to face in the future, primarily due to the mistakes of his growing unhappiness. Isn’t that right, Flash? The pain you’ve caused the people around you just for you selfish wishes.” Barry rolled his eyes but remained silent.

“Eobard, play nice,” you scolded the older man, “they’re still guests here after all.”

“Hmph. You know what's funny about your dad, Nora,” the futuristic genius caught her attention, “is he hates me. Hates me with a passion, and yet a version of him, this Savitar, is a much bigger jerk than I ever was. Did you see the face?” Eobard gestured to his own face, primarily to one side of his face while snickering “Did you- did you see the, like, pizza face-” Nora awkwardly stepped from foot to foot, looking away.

“-Pizza face?-” Eobard Tiberius Thawne you owe me so many fucking answers when we get home because these images aren’t making as much sense as they should.

“-Can you hurry up?-”

“-Yeah, I'll hurry up.” Eobard smugly nonchalantly threw the tiny screwdriver onto the desk. He picked up a different on. “I gotta tell you, Allen, using Savitar's suit, it's a smart idea.”

Barry tilted his head to his daughter. “It was hers.”

Eobard gave her a hard look. His eyes flickered towards you then turned around. “Clever girl.” You picked up an odd indication in his tone. The speedster narrowed his eyes at the tech as he ignited it, illuminating in his hands to signal its functioning aspect. On the monitor, the four of you noticed that the other Barry was coming to consciousness. Eobard inhaled silently. “Oops.” Eobard swiveled his body around to hand them the piece of tech. “Gotta go.” Barry narrowed his eyes, quiet hatred behind them as he took the tech from his nemesis. “I still look forward to seeing how this all pans out. Nora. Kitten, make sure they see their way out,” Eo glanced at you one last time before speeding away in a torrent of red-lightning to the Time Vault. The three of you watched as the villainous speedster reclaimed his rightful place, crossing his legs once more. An analytical look across his features.

You spoke before the two speedsters sped away in a torrent of lightning. “Cicada’s the one with the lightning-shaped dagger, the one that glows ominously? Heartless eyes? Breathing problems?”

“Yeah? How did you…?” Nora trailed off. Barry figured that your powers were still manifesting themselves and it seems that their run back in time has triggered sporadic post-cognitive images to be revealed through certain key words.

“It doesn’t matter how-,”

“Your powers are still developing,” Barry interjected, pocketing the tech safely. “It seems that our visit has amplified what you can do. Let’s just what it doesn’t shift anything else”

He knows about my powers… Right, time travel. “Just be safe. I-I don’t know too much and I’m not sure what the future holds, but whatever trouble you two have run into just be cautious. Not for me, but for the ones you love. The past will always have some sort of domino effect to the future. I may not be able to time travel, but Eobard has taught me a thing or two about it.” You stopped, looking off to the side while rubbing your arm. “Barry?”

“Hmm?”

“Just answer me this one thing.”

“… It depends.”

“I know, timeline and speedster stuff. But…” You took a breath in, “Is he safe?” The speedster avoided your eyes. You swallowed thickly, moving your gaze to Nora. “Does he live?” She opened her mouth a fraction, moved by the desperation evident in your eyes

“I can’t answer that.” Barry whispered without hesitation, an alien emotion behind those eyes, replacing the kindness and warmth the Barry you knew had. It was bitter. “Nora, it’s time to go back to the night it all began.” Barry flashed away to the pipeline. Nora remained.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, your body felt numb at the absence of answers. You turned back to the monitor, running both hands through your hair before picking up a spare tool and frustratingly throwing it at the wall. Picking up the tablet once more, you ran some algorithms and diagnostics privately on your powers as you made you way to the Time Vault.

Eobard’s head perked up in question at your entrance. He remained seated catching your troubled look. You only whispered, “We need to talk after this is over,” before leaning against the wall and tapping at the screen of your tablet. He hadn’t missed the embittered look in your eyes, the prominent frown on your face. A peculiar emotion hidden behind those lovely eyes of yours when the speedster had been so accustomed to seeing lights and twinkling of stars within your irises.

Eobard rubbed his wrist as he attained messy hair due to Barry and Nora’s revelations. You speculated he had been running his hands through it in thought as he tried to decipher the truth and what his next plan of action would be. King vs King. Eobard and Barry. It was a dangerous game and it’s clear that Team Flash are Barry’s pieces to move while Iris was by his side. From the future’s perspective. But you… at this point, you hazard a thought of what Eobard saw of you as. Queen… or Pawn. Pursing your lips, you shoved those thoughts away as your mind reminded you of all you and he had gone through since he had revealed himself and his truth to you. But right now, you were feeling so conflicted and insecure at how everything would play out. He promised to take me home with him… That we could start a life together. I don’t want to be used up and thrown away again. I’m tired of being broken and alienated.

The restrained Barry shifted once more in abrupt confusion as he found himself slumped against the cool metal of Eobard’s motorized wheelchair. A prop to his act. His mind felt foggy and arms felt heavy, particularly his right hand. You stopped tapping and eyed him indifferently because you really had no idea how to feel, but you realized you need to be cautious with how you act and what you say until you and Eobard clear things up from earlier events.

Barry’s eyes darted rapidly to the seated, smirking speedster in front of him then to you then to the metacuffs before lingering back to Harrison. The Scarlet Speedster assessed the guarded expression on your face. You saw this Barry feign confusion, eyebrows raised as he eyed the metacuffs and Dr. Wells. You cracked your neck as Eobard did a little hand-wave gesture to Barry. The young speedster looked baffled, probably at getting caught, as he opened and closed his mouth.

“Now, who are you?”

[cosmicheromp3]

let’s talk about snowbirds don’t fly for a second, shall we: the arc where roy’s addiction was first introduced, and how it actually affected the relationship between roy and ollie.

people’s perception of snowbirds don’t fly and the events surrounding it is so... weird, to the point where it often makes me wonder whether they’ve actually read the comic (and roy’s appearances right after, but i realize those might be less known) or whether they’re just going off a few very specific panels and inaccurate recounts – usually from people that will twist anything in their favour to call ollie a bad guy.

because, if you pieced together what most people seem to think happened – and this is what i was expecting to find once i decided to read it myself –, in snowbirds we should see: roy, not yet an adult and still under the active care of ollie, starts using drugs, and oliver’s so caught up in himself and negligent that he doesn’t notice what’s happening. when he finally finds out, he lashes out, hits roy and kicks him out of the house, leaving roy without a home. this makes their relationship crumble, and roy starts hating ollie because of it. they don’t speak to each other, and leave in awful terms.

and... in many aspects, that’s so far from the events you'll see if you actually go read green lantern #85 (snowbirds don’t fly) and #86 (they say it’ll kill me... but then won’t say when!). i’m assuming a lot of misconceptions happen because of a) writers with a grudge against ollie who retroactively, and unfairly, painted him in a bad light, and people took this at face value, and b) retcons that came with the new 52 reboot – but, i'll be honest, i don’t care enough to go read that mess even for this post. in general, i’m pretty sure we all agree that we ignore out of character comics; let’s not make roy and ollie the exception to that, yeah?

first i want to get something out of the way, that i feel like i need to mention even though there’s probably people that have talked about it better than i could. when we analyze this comic we should keep in mind that the characters in the story were meant to fill specific roles for the sort of... PSA comic that dc was trying to make, and in the 70s, at that. considering this, both roy and ollie are plot devices.

the creative team behind the story (o’neil and adams) have said that they chose roy to be the average “good” teen who fell into drugs – as a way to say “this could happen to anyone, even to this reputable superhero”. ollie was the caring but imperfect parent who missed the signs – not abusive but distant at the moment, he was meant to be more like a nudge to parents to pay closer attention. it was written to play as a sort of “this could happen to the best of us” situation. and in that context, ollie is made to react in a way that is at most "not ideal" for the standards of its time: he hits roy, and denies to himself that roy’s addiction is a real problem that needs to be dealt with delicately. this is used to send the message of “don’t react like this”.

that isn’t exactly the point of this post, and i don’t want to downplay the harm ollie did with his reaction or absolve him of any blame. the point of this post is: people seem to think that’s where the storyline ended, that was ollie’s final reaction, and those are the terms in which ollie and roy parted; which is just not true.

instead, ollie hitting roy happens in the very first page of green lantern #86 – we have an entire issue in which ollie is faced with his initial reaction and made to confront his mistake (which is more than we can say for, um, other father superheroes that have hit their children. i won’t name names.) the only moment you could read as him “kicking roy out” – which is the phrasing i’ve seen applied to this – happens the very next page, where ollie tells roy to “get out”.

the thing is, roy was not living with ollie at the moment. there was nowhere that ollie could kick him out from. “get out” means just that: get out of this room (and ollie didn’t intend anything more than that with his words.) the comic makes a point of stressing that roy is, by that point, independent, and old enough to be living without a guardian.

ollie, right after roy leaves, thinks: “but he shouldn’t need attention–at his age”. ollie is in the wrong here because of his close-minded view of addiction and because he’s not considering that, though a legal adult, roy is still young and needs care, but it still shows that roy was largely on his own by then. ollie’s reaction is definitively negative and a rejection, but can’t in any way be seen as “kicking roy out”, because it isn’t. (note, also, how ollie’s first thought is that he failed roy, but his denial and stubbornness get in the way and he shifts the blame. he’ll eventually have to get over this and change.)

we see that ollie plays the role of the father that reacts poorly, and he is directly contrasted with the adults who do take responsibility for roy – hal at first, and dinah after, are the ones who play the role of “this is how you should react.”

hal finds roy without knowing what happened between him and ollie, and his first reaction is to take roy to a doctor; he immediately recognizes that what roy needs is help – and will later say so to ollie. when roy refuses, saying he wants to kick the addiction on his own – to prove himself to ollie, because even though he doesn’t think ollie was right he still values his opinion and their relationship, but i’d say there’s something he’s trying to prove to himself, too –, hal recognizes that he doesn’t know anything about drug withdrawal or addiction, and he’s receptive to roy, asking him questions and listening without judgement.

so he takes roy to dinah, who is the one that (very kindly, might i add, because dinah and roy weren’t that close at the time) cares for roy while he goes cold turkey. roy, possibly rather unrealistically, though i’m no expert, kicks the addiction in the span of a few pages. before the ending of this arc, roy has already gone clean.

there’s a one week timeskip there, where we assume that out of the characters featured in this story, roy only interacts with dinah, and ollie’s been with hal. then, before the conclusion of this story, roy is given a place to confront ollie and call him out for his mistakes. roy calls him out for turning his back on him, and he gets to tell him – and show him, punching him in a scene where it’s implied that ollie completely deserves it, unlike the opposite situation that this issue started with – about the pain he’s been in. we are given, in text, a moment where roy can express to ollie what he’s been going through, what he did wrong, and how it affected him.

(this is a moment where the intentions of the comic are very clear, not only because roy practically turns to the camera to deliver the PSA, but also because of the wording: roy told ollie that he turned his back on him, and in the same page he talks about society turning its back on drug addicts, same wording twice. ollie and roy are both meant to represent something other than just themselves, even if this happened in continuity and ended up affecting their characters in the long run.)

and ollie – unlike in that first page, now ollie is shown to listen and understand. he’s not in the same place or mindset he was in when everything started. in the beginning, ollie thought that there must be something inherently bad about a person who does drugs, in a reflection of society’s – and parents’ – views of the issue. and that shows in his initial denial and reaction: ‘how could my son, who’s a good person, do this?’ then, in this scene, when roy tells him he beat the addiction, he answers “good boy” – roy immediately rejects this notion, and emphasizes that there’s more to it than his own goodness: what’s important is the help he received, namely from hal and dinah, and a caring environment. ollie, at the very least, begins to understand this, and in doing so understands very clearly what he needs to change about their relationship if he wants roy back.

this means that ollie starts undergoing character development in this one issue alone. the thing about ollie, in regards to his relationship with roy, is that he has made mistakes and the narrative acknowledges it; but, when well written, he realizes and admits it, making a point of learning from his mistakes. roy knows that ollie has fucked up, too, and doesn’t let him off the hook for it, but he also recognizes that he makes an effort to be better. especially after snowbirds, this informs their relationship a lot.

by the end of the issue they’re not hugging, and roy is leaving on his own, but that’s completely of his own accord. and these are the last panels in the entire issue:

the whole original comic, but mostly these panels specifically, is what makes me wonder about people’s perception of these events, and the misconceptions i previously mentioned – because i really am confused as to how you could reconcile these two opposite readings. unless, you know... people are speaking without ever touching the original comic. (i don’t want to blame anyone for not reading older comics, but please, if you’re gonna speak, especially if it’s to shit on a character or call them abusive the way people do with ollie, do it in an informed way.)

so, right after the events of snowbirds, because roy was allowed to speak up and ollie was made to listen, at least as much as can be expected through his stubbornness, they’re in much better terms than people usually think. if you look at roy’s chronology, he interacts with ollie in his next few appearances (barring the teen titans ones), teaming up as they normally would, with the one difference being the emphasis that’s put into the fact that roy has grown away from ollie – in the same way as any young adult would grow away from a parent. there’s also roy’s resentment for ollie’s actions, but this resentment is portrayed as deserved and it doesn’t turn their interactions into something negative. it’s still clear that they both care for each other, and there’s certainly no hate.

[from action comics #436/2]

this first one takes place a few months after roy goes his own way. roy is in the middle of working a case when ollie gets involved, and they work on it together. green lantern #100/2 is their next appearance and has a similar plot, this time with dinah working with them as well. in both of these, they still work well together, are able to communicate in action and have each other’s backs.

in the action comics issue, ollie insists that roy is still welcome by his side, and that he should still feel free to ask for help whenever he needs it. roy refuses in the way that’s shown in the panels above – saying that he needs to “be a loner for a while” and build a life of his own (though it’s not an exact parallel, because ollie is ollie and takes “loner” to a whole other level, the wording here reminds me of the way ollie tends to leave on his own whenever he feels like he needs to find himself). you’ll see that these interactions aren’t hostile at all – quite the opposite.

world’s finest #251/3 might be the one where their interactions are the most tense, and that’s mostly just in the end. when they’re done with the usual superhero team-up, ollie shows willingness to talk to roy:

“i can’t help out. roy’s back, and, well– we’ve got a lot of talking to do.” through these issues, we realize that ollie has learned: his previous mistake was not paying enough attention to roy, and not showing him that he could always count on ollie (both in noticing roy’s addiction, but also before, in not taking enough care so roy wouldn’t get to that point). he tries to make up for it every chance he has, but it’s always on roy’s terms. everyone is aware that ollie is the one who was in the wrong, and it’s up to roy to forgive him or not, but no one ever pressures roy to do so. when roy doesn’t want to stay and talk, ollie accepts it.

ollie atones again and again, and their relationship isn’t magically fixed and they don’t go back to being close without effort – effort which rightfully has to be done, again, mostly on ollie’s part. but they never, ever go so far as to hate each other.

then, in green arrow (1988) #75, ollie feels so bad about what happened between them, about the way he screwed up, he essentially says to roy that he wouldn’t fault him for wanting to shoot him. “so go ahead. god knows, you’ve got plenty of reason.” roy has been brainwashed here; he breaks through it because of ollie’s words. 

and, after this whole ordeal is done, this is how they part ways:

by this point, roy already has lian and a life of his own. he’s gone back to being speedy and then arsenal, he’s in the titans again and he will become a renowned hero in his own right. he might have forgiven ollie a long time ago, but now that he has found himself – like he set off to do at first – he seems more prepared to make amends and see where he stands with him (maybe i’m attributing more consistency among these issues, that happen years apart, than we should actually give them credit for, but i can’t help trying to find the common themes.)

after these, which are the most immediate interactions after snowbirds, we have multiple instances of them being close again. it’s in every small moment they have together, really, but off the top of my head, a couple that are illustrative for their relationship are green arrow: the archer’s quest and justice league of america (2006) #7, even though they don’t directly interact in this last one. i was gonna include panels from both, but this is getting long enough; i urge you to read them, especially if you followed along reading the issues i’ve mentioned, because they’re great. what i am gonna include, cause it’s amazing, is this panel from justice league of america wedding special.

in my opinion, these misconceptions around ollie and roy not only are a disservice to their characters but also mean that people are missing out on what i think is a really interesting relationship. it’s almost rare to see a relationship evolve in a way that feels so organic in comics, not only because the interpersonal conflict here is shown to have real, tangible consequences but also because the characters are allowed to grow in a way that is gradual and natural and even satisfying.

ollie and roy's relationship might have never been the exact same after snowbirds – but which father-son relationship stays the same after the son grows up? and i think it's a testament to the strength of their bond that without ever ignoring these events (because, as i’ve shown, they’re very much acknowledged again and again) they not only never stop loving each other, but are also able to keep building something meaningful going forward.

[girlsluvbot]

MATCHMAKER pt.1

pairing: roseanne park × fem! reader

genre: fluff, angst

about:

matchmaker /ˈmatʃmeɪkə/

noun

a person who arranges marriages or initiates romantic relationships between others.

"an enthusiastic matchmaker who continually tried to pair off the difficult bachelor with unattached ladies"

a/n: i'm back!!! hehe this goddamn thing took so long to write, i both despise and adore it with every fibre of my being. enjoy my blood, sweat and tears in the form of a fic.

You loved your job. Very few people are lucky enough to be able to relate to that statement, and you were thankfully one of them. Hell, not only did you love your job, you were extremely good at it.

Since you were a little kid, writing nas always been your biggest passion. Wether it was writing short stories, poems or essays about the french revolution, you were always happy when you were able to put your feelings and thoughts onto paper. This was the main reason why you became the manager of your local newspaper during middle school, high school and eventually even university.

You've won multiple writing contests and even people who had no idea what your name was knew one thing about you: you were an amazing writer.

Years of practice, your impeccable set of skills and a recommendation letter from your university professor secured you a job at Vogue almost immediately. After all this hard work, you finally achieved everything you were looking for. You were truly happy.

Until this very moment.

"Well, I don't know," the woman sitting in front of you made a disgusted grimace, "it just lacks any emotion whatsoever. I've quite literally never read something so stiff and akward."

And here they were. The first words of criticism you have ever recieved. You were so used to everyone praising your work, you didn't know how to react or respond.

Three months ago, you would have never gotten into a similar situation: simply because there was nothing about your work to critize. But a lot has changed in the past few weeks, and not exactly in the good kind of way.

When you first joined Vogue, you were the head editor and journalist of the spread dedicated almost entirely to interviews. Thats what you did, talked to celebrities and wrote about them. And that's what you were good at, almost too good.

Just a year after working in the magazine you got promoted. You were still the head editor, but now of a completely different part of the journal: one dedicated to a single topic. Love. This was bad news, very bad news.

Why, you ask? The reason was fairly simple but no less embarrassing. Even as the head editor of a spread all about love, you've never experienced it yourself. In other words, you've never been in love. And how are you supposed to write about something you know nothing about?

Your boss looks at you and shakes her head. She reaches for the stack of papers on the table in front of her and starts reading, "For example; 'His lips brushed against mine. They were soft. The kiss was short but sweet. I loved it.' What the actual heck? I kiss my cat more passionately than this." she took off her glasses and started massaging the crook of her nose.

"Listen, Y/N, I've read your previous pieces and they were simply wonderful. But this? I don't even know what else to say without hurting your feelings."

"I'm so sorry. I know, it's just that I dont have much experience in said area." you don't finish the sentence, hoping she somehow gets the memo. She doesn't.

"What area?"

"Love. I dont have much experience with love." you blurt out the words that have been on your mind nonstop since the day of your promotion.

"Oh, you poor thing" she leans back in her chair, her eyes scanning your every move, "Isn't that unfortunate."

You nod your head slowly, trying not to get offended at her words full of pity.

"How are you supposed to write romance stories then? This won't work." the woman grabs a post-it note

"Are," your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, "Are you firing me?"

"Are you crazy? Of course I'm not," she hands you the piece of paper with a phone number, "We just have to improvise for the time being. Do you know Roseanne Park? She's the manager of our Matchmaker spread. You can be her assistant for the next few months, help her around, learn a thing or two. Hopefully your writing wont be so...bland after."

To be completely honest, you didn't handle changes well. Maybe that's why you were standing in front of your new, and hopefully temporary, bosses office, trying to build up the courage to knock on her door.

One of the reasons why you were so nervous was that Roseanne Park, the manager of the Vogue Matchmaker was insanely attractive. Admittedly, you did some online stalking the night before- okay, a lot of it. Here's the thing; you were a planner. Whether it came to your career, writing or even relationships, you liked to beprepared.

That's why after a few hours spent on the internet, you knew everything. The name of her sister (Alice Park), if the had a pet (yes, a fish named Joohwangie) and who her favorite band was (The 1975).

You weren't usually like this, so head over heels for a girl you haven't even met. But your writing, the reason you were here in the first place, didn't usually suck so after all, some things really do change easily.

Just as you reached for the dark wooden door in front of you, it opened before your hand could even touch it's sleek surface.

"Oh!" the tall woman stopped in her tracks. Thanks to your thorough internet digging, you instantly recognized her. Roseanne Park. Your new boss. A 'matchmaker' if you will.

"You must be Y/N! I've heard that you're going to be my assistant for a bit." your cheeks heated up for no apparent reason. Did she know the reason why you got transferred here so quickly? Every molecule in your body wished and prayed to every possible god out there that she didn't.

"Yeah, that's me!" you finally composed yourself enough to speak, but that didn't mean your voice didn't sound like one of a twelve year old boy going through puberty- high pitched and squeaky.

You examined her face more in depth, and realized quite a few things:

She was somehow even prettier in real life. How? you had no idea. Some people just really won the genetics lottery, you thought.

Her hair was red. Like undeniably, undoubtedly red. In all of the pictures you found yesterday it was either brown or black, so this change caught you off guard. You couldn't complain though, because this girl looked like a hotter version of Ariel with a much better sense in fashion (and music).

"Have you been standing out here for too long?"

"Oh no, I just arrived." lying has never been so easy.

"Great! I'm gonna go downstairs to grab a package but you can look around the office while I'm gone," she opened the door a bit to let you walk in.

You did as she told you and entered the room. The door closed behind you without you noticing, the only thing you could focus on was this girl's office. It looked just like you would imagine heaven to look like- full of light, white furniture and expensive looking leather couches.

There were pictures everywhere: a dozen of four young girls (one of them being Roseanne), a few more of her with famous celebrities and one of a familiar looking face- her sister.

You carefully walked towards the table in the middle of the room, not wanting to damage anything. You noticed quite a bit of unexpected clutter, and above everything a print of the brand new Vogue issue. A woman on the cover flashed you a beautiful smile as you picked it up. The headline stated: Kim Jisoo talks acting, NYFW and love.

You flipped the glossy magazine pages to find the spread dedicated to said interview and noticed just what you were looking for: the author of the article. The credits at the bottom of the page revealed a nice surprise- Author; Roseanne Park.

"Well what do you think? Is it a good article?" your soul almost left your body when you realized who was standing next to you. You quickly put the magazine down, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to touch your stuff. I just saw the cover and..."

"Oh my gosh, are you kidding? That's completely okay, I don't mind." she pointed to the journal, "That interview is actually one of the favorite pieces I ever wrote, and not just because it's about Jisoo. Plus, my friend took the pictures, so it was extra fun." She opened the spread again and pointed to a name credited right next to hers, Photographer; Lalisa Manoban.

"Oh wow. I've seen her pictures before, they're really good. I with I could take photos like that. Seriously."

Here's one thing to note: when you're nervous, you ramble. Like a lot. Some people would say its better than staying silent, but let's be honest- it's like stepping into a puddle instead of mud. Not a disaster, but there's still plenty to complain about.

Thankfully, Roseanne only giggled, "I know exactly what you mean. I hope you'll get to work with her someday."

You both stared at the magazine spread for a second before Roseanne broke the silence.

"But now, let's get to bussines. Sit down please, this might take a while," she pointed tkwards one of the leather couches you noticed earlier and took a seat at the other side of the table.

"So, as you probably already know, my name is Roseanne Park. As a manager of Matchmaker, my job is to read these letters," she grabben a handful of papers for emphasis, "and respond to them, give advixe basically. The title 'Matchmaker' comes from the fact that the majority of the letters talk about love. Any questions so far?"

When you shook your head no, she continued, "As my assistant, your job is fairly simple. You're going to sort and read through the hundreds of letters I recieve weekly and pick the most interesting ones for me to feature. And occasionally, you might accompany me to a few interviews. Sounds good?"

You slowly nodded, processing all the new information. Letters, answers, interviews and a hot boss. That doesn't sound so bad.

"Great. So Y/N," she suddenly stood up, "Would you mind going with me to Subway? I'm starving."

By the time you were finished with lunch, you had a new point to add to your list of realizations about your new boss:

She loves food, and by loves I mean LOVES.

The moment you arrived at the restaurant, food was the only thing she would talk about. She told you about what she had for dinner and breakfast, what kind of snacks she hid in the office and what kind of salad she was getting alongside a baguette.

After she actually managed to get a bit of calories into her system (thanks to a foot-long chicken turkey sandwich) the conversation finally got more interesting.

Don't get me wrong, you could listen to this girl talk for hours, no matter the topic. But after listening to a thirty minute long monologue about why pineapple pizza is the best thing ever invented, even you have reached your limit.

"So," you start, in an effort to break the ice, "how long have you been working at Vogue?"

She squints at the toast in front of her, trying to remember, "About five years? Yeah, it's gonna be five years in May."

"Oh wow, that's impressive."

She tilts her head, "Is it? I mean, when you work as often as I do, time just goes by. I don't even remember the last time I went out with my friends to discuss something that wasn't work related."

You pout, regretting the choice to ask her about work.

"But at the same time, I love what I do so I can't really complain. What about you though? Why did you decide to become a journalist?"

"Oh, I started just a year ago. And I studied literature, so I guess becoming a journalist made sense."

"Why did you study literature then? There's so many other better paying jobs out there."

"I don't think anyone works in such a field for money, that's for sure," you try to lighten the atmosphere, "Well, my mom wanted to become a writer, but she got pregnant before she could finish her book and she's been pretty much busy ever since. I guess her love for books kind of rubbed off on me."

Roseanne nods, to let you know she's listening. "I'm glad you and your mom have such an important aspect of your lives in common. My mother wanted me to become a lawyer, I doubt she's ever read even a single fiction book in her entire life."

"What does she think about your job now?"

Her lips tighten and she crosses her arms. "I don't know. I haven't talked to her since," her eyes seem empty, their signature spark gone. You can tell you struck a nerve. "I haven't talked to her since I moved out."

"Well, I'm sure that she's proud of you," you can't help but add.

Rosie lets out a dry laugh, "You don't know my mother then," she slowly pushes her plate away, "I think I'm full so I'm gonna head back to the office."

Sometimes it's better to keep your mouth shut. You learned this the hard way.

You head back after your lunch break ends, alone. Even though Roseanne walked you through everything she expects you to help around with, you know that your job doesn't start and end with sorting through letters.

You softly knock on the office door before heading in. She's already sitting there, behind her desk. Without looking up from her laptop, she scoffs, "You're late."

"It's just five minutes," you shrug, not taking her tone seriously. Finally, she raises her sight to meet yours. Even without her saying anything, you understand. Do not play around with fire.

You mumble an apology and quickly run to the small hallway at the other side of the room which leads to your own (significantly smaller) office.

"What makes you think I'm done?" Turning around, you notice that her eyes are piercing through your back. Unsure of what she expects you to do, you walk back in front of her.

"While you were out there doing god knows what for two hours," you resist the urge to roll your eyes, "I already did your job and sorted through the letters. You're welcome."

She walks around the table and pushes a thick stack of papers against your chest, "That means you'll be doing my job and write replies to them. Can you handle that?"

You try not to show her how terrified you are. You? Giving relationship advice? Sounds like a recipe for a royal disaster. Instead, you rise your chin and smile, "Yes ma'am."

She visibly winces at the formal title, but still nods and returns to her seat. You take this as a sign to head back to your spot and do your job. Well, her job for now.

You sit down calmly and shuffle through the papers, trying not to look too freaked out. What the heck are you going to do now?

A quick peek at your boss reveals that she's either busy with work or just flat out ignoring you.

Trying to remain collected, you pick out the top letter from the pile. The first paragraph reads:

Hi Rosie! I'm a huge fan of your Matchmaker spread :) I never thought I'd be the one writing you a message but here we are hahaha. (Let's hope this gets featured!)

You roll your eyes but continue reading,

Me and my boyfriend have been dating for just about two months and I would describe our relationship as 'lowkey'. We first met at a bar a last year but we surprisingly didn't immediately hit it off.

With a raised eyebrow you skip over a page full of sappy descriptions and relationship stories, before getting to the end of the letter.

So what should I do? He's really sweet but I'm not sure if I'm ready to meet his family just yet.... please help! Love, Courtney.

You fold the paper back to it's original state with a quiet gulp. What on earth did you get yourself into?

[cryptidsandcatacombs]

What If I Killed Someone For You

Rating: absolutely postively adult for violent yandere content. Anyone under the age of 18 better go away. No reading allowed for anyone under the age of 18. Plus there's like one adult joke in here so no one under the age of 18 allowed for that reason either.

Summary: This is literally fueled by my love of yandere content #nojudgingcringecultureisdeadandikilledit. Noe better watch himself because he's been my muse lately. Anyways uuuu idk yandere stuff here so you know someone's getting stabbed. We should probably do something about that, but we're not gonna. Thems the rules chief. No, you can't stop it either you total fucking killjoy. I'll start stealing toes if you do. What will I do with said toes? Black markets are a lucrative business and I need the money cause I'm broke fam. So really it's the economy's fault that I'm chopping toes. Say thanks late stage capitalism. This is brought to you by idk the monster under your bed who chops off the toes for me. He gets paid by the hour so try no to run too much ok.

Oh and this fic contains lyrics from If I killed someone for you by Alec Benjamin. Yes I'm inserting song lyrics into a fic like it's the early 2000s.

I'm packing up my things and I'm wiping down the walls I'm rinsing off my clothes and I'm walking through the halls I did it all for her So I felt nothing at all I don't know what she'll say So I'll ask her when she calls

Would you love me more? If I killed someone for you

Oz was considered by most a laid back sort of guy. Never angered easily. He can get frustrated like every other person, but not so easily angered.

However, despite his laid back nature, he had a vice. Jealousy. One that he was very self aware of. He often tried not to let it get the better of him, but there it was. A beast clad in green with eyes of emerald staring him directly in the fact tempting him with its siren song.

The siren song came in the form of Noe Archiviste and....whoever this girl was that was hanging all over Noe right now. She had a voice as sweet as molasses and brown curls that fell down her shoulders like waterfalls. She would run her hands over Noe and look at him with her doe eyes. She was a cute on overall. Couldn't blame Noe for taking interest if it was there.

He seemed to not the mind the attention he received from the lady...nor the frivolous compliments....nor the blatantly flirty way she seems to be touching him with every caress of his hands into hers and the way she wraps her arms around his neck.

Oz's eye twitched. Oz could have stuffed down all this rage and envy that suddenly sprouted from the ether, but jealousy was truly Oz's vice. One he wasn't planning to fix any time soon. He wanted to sit there and be happy for his dearest Noe. Stay to the sidelines and be happy for his good fortune for love is one of the greatest things you can find.

However, there was another urge. One just as strong.

"I want her to die," cried Oz's thoughts. "I want her gone. She can't take Noe away from me. She can't. I know him and I aren't together in a romantic sense, but...I don't want her taking away my chance either. She has to go"

"Now now Oz," said another voice in Oz's head, "You know that's wrong. You can't go around getting rid of anyone you see as a competition or obstacle towards someone you care about."

Oz was prone to scolding himself at times like these. He always held himself to high moral standards. Sometimes too high. To the point of self-loathing. Impressive if you ask the writer. Self awareness? Bitch please for shame. This isn't a call out post for myself. What is it you may ask? Hey, we're getting off topic you little trickster. You're supposed to be a reader. Not breaking the fourth wall.

"Yes yes I know I can't do that. I'm not going to. That still doesn't save me from any form of feral urge to wring her neck and ship her body down the river and hope and have her loved ones pray she can be identified by her dental records. Fuck does she even love him. What if she's out to hurt him or worse just wants him for his body? Look at him! He's gorgeous. Who can blame her? What if she doesn't love him like I do," said Oz's internal thoughts.

"Oz you're being dumb. She might love him unconditionally too and he deserves that for himself," Oz argued internally with himself back.

"I know I know, but I'm just saying what if. I just don't like the idea of him getting hurt nor the idea of her taking him away from me. I'm entitled to that feeling aren't I," Oz continued to debate with his voice of reason.

"Fair, but lets just wait and see. He's a big boy and can handle himself," Oz's voice of reason stated.

"Yeah a big boy in more ways than one I bet," said the third internal Oz voice of being horny and all around slutty that constantly lives there.

"This is getting us nowhere," Oz himself decided to just cut the internal argument off before it turns into a blood match to the death. This was disturbing his routine of stalking Noe for ...research purposes.

Oz looked over to now see them sitting down at the nearby cafe. They were seated across from each other. Oz noted Noe might be enjoying his usual coffee or tea. He liked it extra sweet either way. The man has one hell of a sweet tooth.

"Yeah I bet that brown haired hussie doesn't know that, but I do," Oz thought to himself smugly.

Oz looked back at Noe's companion to see her touching his arm and doing the egregious crime of looking into his magnificent purple eyes. Wait....was she now touching his face?

"You lucky bitch," Oz thought to himself this time with anger brows drawn on the words for dramatic emphasis.

Oz ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Damn it! How long is this date going to last? I hope it stops before I puke up a lung," Oz thought to himself this time internally rolling in pain.

Hours passed and Oz with surprising tenacity had stayed there all day following Noe around with the clever disguise of wearing a hat and ya know some shabby clothes. Truly no way he could be recognized. Yep, he's got it all figured out.

Oz decided to follow them home from a fair distance. Oz looked up to see the sunset. It was starting to get dark and Oz hated the dark, but he hated certain people who might harm those he loves even more. A little nyctophobia isn't gonna hurt.

Oz followed quietly until he noticed they stopped in front of a flat. It was her flat. Noe escorted her to the door like the gentleman he is and waved her good night. Oz had found a nice dark alleyway to hide in so he wouldn't be spotted.

Noe headed towards Oz's direction which caused Oz to hide deeper into the darkness. Oz bit his lip from the anxiety of being found and having some explaining to do. Like who was he kidding? This disguise was paper thin!

Noe looked like he was passing by Oz, then stopped. Oz froze. Oh god had he spotted him?

Before Oz could register what happened next, Noe had gone in a flash. Oz knew he was fast, but he couldn't see where he went.

It was then a grunt and the sound of what seemed to be something getting bashed against the wall behind Oz. Oz slowly turned to find Noe whose hand was pressing something against the wall.

It was then he grabbed whatever he was holding and slammed it again. Oz stared into the darkness to see his eyes glowing red to match the blood on his gloves.

After another slam, the clear sound of bone cracking from the impact could be heard. Noe dropped, what Oz could assume, the now lifeless body of the person he just killed.

Noe turned to see Oz and Oz froze. "Ok ok maybe he doesn't know it's you," Oz thought to himself. "Oh I know."

"Aye top of the morning to you," Oz did in his best Irish accent that he could muster.

Noe leaned down and inspected Oz. Oz could only look at Noe confused as Noe lifted Oz's arms and looked over Oz's face and the rest of his person.

Noe then gave a sigh of relief. "Good, I was afraid he had hurt you Oz," Noe said putting a hand on Oz's shoulder.

"Wait, you knew it was me," Oz said face turning hot.

"I mean, I'd recognize you from anywhere. You're not hard to miss," Noe pointed out.

"Oh uuu so what happened exactly," Oz asked now curious about the now lifeless elephant in the room.

Oz went to look at the supposed body only for Noe to yank him back and shook his head no.

"You're squeamish," Noe said taking his bloody glove off, putting his now bare hand on Oz's face,"I wouldn't look."

Oz shuddered taking Noe's advice.

"The man had been following you. I know of him. That vampire right there would have killed you where you stood if I hadn't done something," Noe said honestly.

Oz batted his lashes in shock taken aback. "I...almost died," Oz asked.

Noe nodded. "Fortunately, he doesn't kill in broad daylight, so I had to wait til night. I had just noticed him following you today. I don't know how long he's been doing it for, but if I had noticed earlier, he would have been dead on the first day," Noe nearly growled out. "I'd rather not have killed him in broad daylight either,ut if I had to, I would have," Noe wanted to point out. "If he had attacked you, I absolutely would have."(edited)

Oz turned pale. "W-wait, when did you notice I was...," Oz said not knowing how to word his next question.

"Following me," Noe asked for him, "Since I left the house. You're not exactly subtle."

Oz blushed. "Oh uh sorry I was just curious as to what your daily routine was like and then I noticed you had a female companion, so I was trying to see if you were safe," Oz said nervously.

"Her? She was lonely and needed company, so I obliged. She's a bit friendly, but so am I," Noe pointed out.

"So are you...interested in her? Dating her even," Oz asked getting to the point.

Noe shook his head. "Not in the slightest," Noe said heading towards the body making effort to cover it up. "I'll dispose of the body in a minute. Let's take the back ways so I'm not caught soaked in blood. I need to get you home," Noe said quickly leading him back.

"Wait what if someone finds it," Oz asked fearfully.

"This will be quick," Noe said picking up Oz and speeding off.

Oz could often forget how fast this unstoppable force of a man was.

A few minutes later, Oz was back on his doorstep. Oz rubbed the back of his neck looking towards Noe wondering what Noe was going to do now.

"Now, go inside and don't come check on me. I don't want to have to hide more bodies this evening should more make the fatal mistake of coming after you," Noe said waiting til Oz got to his door.

"Ok ok," Oz said opening his door.

Oz waved Noe off as he sped away to do the dirty work.

Later that night, Oz flopped over into the bed still registering the fact he just saw Noe Archiviste straight up body a man. The sweet, gentle lamb of a man just increased the body count this evening. The man was now a statistic in vampire based deaths. Truly mystifying.

Oz wanted to stay up and see if Noe was going to be ok. However, sleep took Oz before Oz could make any quick decisions. It had been a long day.

As Oz slept, Noe crept in with any blood soaked clothes supposedly disposed of. Noe bent down and ran his fingers through Oz's hair.

Noe's fingers drifted to Oz's pulse on his neck. Long has Noe fantasized about marking Oz's neck. The thought made him shiver, but he couldn't. He couldn't bare to do it with him possibly not consent as marking someone like that is a big deal.

Noe pressed a little more of the pulse of Oz's neck. The beat made Noe's heart race and what Noe could swear was drool. To be so intimate with Oz to the point he trusts Noe to drink his blood. It was enough to make him shiver.

Noe shook himself from these thoughts. He couldn't give in. Not without Oz's permission.

Noe got up quietly and shut Oz's door bedroom door behind him as he left. He couldn't bare to kiss Oz's face good night as he was afraid it would trigger something in him.

Noe fled out the door into the dead of night towards his place. He wouldn't let any harm come to Oz. Even if that danger was himself.

[wollymalfoy]

Jealousy

Blaise Zabini x reader

Description: Blaise flirts with many girls at Hogwarts and you can no longer hold your jealousy in...

Writers note: I enjoyed writing this I hope you all enjoy it! I’ve wanted to write something with Blaise since there’s not a lot of fics on him and I think he’s v underrated so yeahhh

The common room was booming with sound as the Slytherins celebrated their win against Ravenclaw. You sat legs up to your chest on the couch next to your best friend Gregory Goyle. You and Goyle had been friends since a very young age, your mothers were best friends so the two of you had a lot of play dates. You was the only one to know what Goyle was really like, to others he just seemed like a stupid oaf but to you he was everything but that. Both of you spoke about the match as he devoured an assortment of sweets, ‘that last goal was very impressive’ he said spitting bits of food on to the floor in front of him, ‘yeah it really was! And don’t tell Draco this but I really didn’t think he was gonna get the snitch’ you giggled. Goyle began to reply but your focus was else where, On Blaise Zabini. Surprise, surprise he was flirting with a Slytherin girl. one arm rested on the wall and the other traveled to moved a peice of hair behind the girls ear. Your heart began to beat so hard you thought it would break through your rib cage. You looked away, staring at the floor. Goyle noticed this and asked if you was okay but you couldn’t reply. Him asking this simple question made tears push their way out. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked softly dropping his sweets to place a hand on your shoulder. You nodded, you could tell Goyle anything and you knew he wouldn’t judge you so you had no issue In telling him. ‘Let’s go somewhere quieter then’ he said standing up and holding out his large hand. He led you out of the Slytherin common room and you both began to wander the halls. You didn’t need to worry about being caught because it was only 8pm. After a moment of silence you began to explain the reason for your sudden change in emotions ‘I hate seeing Blaise flirt with other girls, it makes me so mad!’ You said putting emphasis on the word mad. ‘Maybe you should tell him how you feel, Y/N’ he asked still looking forward. ‘I can’t! What if he doesn’t feel the same, I would of just made a fool of myself’. ‘But what if he does, you’ll never know unless you ask’ he said stopping to turn to you. ‘Listen, I hate seeing you upset just tell him and I’ll be right here if he doesn’t feel the same’. You had tears in you eyes as you listened to your best friend, he did have a point. ‘Thanks Goyle’ you said sniffling and he brought you into a hug.

The next morning you went down for breakfast and saw all your friends where already there. Goyle waved as you walked over and you smiled widely at him. ‘Good morning everyone’ you said sweetly, everyone replied brightly except Draco who was writing on a piece of parchment clearly puzzled. ‘Oh sorry Y/N, good morning’ he said looking up at you and smiled, this smile was very small but was sincere. ‘Where did you go last night Y/N?’ Blaise questioned taking a bit of toast. ‘Oh I umm, went for a walk’ you said not looking at him. ‘Didn’t like the party huh?’ He laughed. You ignored this and began eating your breakfast.

Care of magical creatures was usually your favourite lesson, however today’s lesson was ruined by the same thing that ruined your mood last night. Blaise sat smirking at a girl as she played with the collar of his shirt. Enraged and without a second thought you waved your wand and hair began sprouting from the girls face. The girl gasped and her hands clutched at her face as a way to conceal the hair. Blaise looked puzzled as he watched the girl run from the class. This hair grew very rapidly and before she’d even taken a few steps away from the class the hair was down to her knees. You smirked to yourself and turned to see Draco and Goyle staring at you. Your smile dropped, they had seen you do the spell but to your amazement they smirked and gave you high fives.

You, Goyle, Crabbe and Draco walked into the common room, you listened as they laughed about how they’d just been teasing Colin Creevey. You rolled your eyes, you didn’t approve of them teasing student but whenever you said this they seemed to shrug it off and continue their teasing so now you had just given up trying to reform the three boys. You all sat on opposite couches, you and Goyle on one and Draco and Crabbe on the other. ‘You boys are cruel there was no need to smash his camera’ you said shaking your head. ‘I know but it was awfully funny’ Draco said laughing and looking at the other two boys for a reaction and they began to laughed in unison. ‘I don’t th-‘ you stopped what you was saying as you looked over to the fire where Blaise was sat with arm wrapped around a different girl. Your heart raced again, your breathing began to increase in speed and power and you clenched your hands in a tight fist. I’ve had enough you thought, I’m sick of him being a huge man whore! Blaise then moved closer and placed a kiss on the girls cheek. This ignited a flame in you and the next few seconds where all in slow motion. You stood up and grabbed at your wand, pointing at the girl ‘STUPEFY!’ You yelled and tried to run toward the girl. Goyle stood up and grabbed you preventing you from doing any more damage. Blaise stared at you in shock. Oh no you though, now he’s going to think I’m a lunatic. Goyle let you go but you didn’t move, you stood and stared at Blaise, frozen. You turned and ran to your bedroom, tears flowing from your eyes. Why can’t I handle my anger? you though.

You didn’t remember falling asleep but the room was dark and your roommates were fast asleep. You lay in bed repeating the scene from earlier in your head over and over again. You came to terms with the fact that you wasn’t going to sleep again, you couldn’t, too many thoughts swam through your mind. You decided you should go get some warmth by the fire so you crept down to the common room. It was empty and dark the only light in the room came from the fire. You sat down and sighed loudly raking your fingers through your hair. ‘You okay?’ You heard a deep raspy voice say and your head whipped around to see who it was. It was Blaise. He stood there in his silk pyjamas gaping at you. You stared into his eyes searching for any emotion on his face but you couldn’t detect any. ‘I couldn’t sleep’ he said changing the subject due to you ignoring his question and made his way towards where you was next to the fire. You nodded and turned to stare into the fire. ‘I’m guessing that’s why you’re here too’ he said as he slid down to sit next to you. You still didn’t say anything. ‘Listen about before-‘ ‘I like you’ you spat out quickly like it was going to be the last thing you would ever say. You wasn’t sure why it came out but you had said it now and there was no turning back. He couldn’t even respond since you began to speak again ‘I don’t know if you feel the same, what am I kidding you clearly don’t feel the same, you’ve always got some girl by your side’ you said shaking your head tears making another appearance. ‘You don’t even need to say anything, just go if you don’t feel the same’ but he didn’t move he grabbed your face and kissed you, it was soft and you melted into his touch. The kiss felt like It lasted for hours even though it was only a matter of seconds. He moved away and looked into your eyes ‘I do feel the same, Y/N, I’ve liked you for years I was just scared of telling you’ he said looking down. ‘But why did you always flirt with girls if you liked me?’ You asked and your voice cracked, god damn it you though to yourself what a way to ruin the moment. ‘I was too scared to tell you so I just distracted myself, none of those girls mean anything to me’ he admitted grabbing you hand, ‘I like you Y/N Y/L/N’ he smiled at you as he said this. These words made your face flush with heat Blaise noticed and he moved his hand to caress your cheek. ‘So, will you be my GF/BF?’ ‘Of course!’ You practically jumped at him and gave him a passionate kiss. ‘Now don’t go attacking anyone else’ he joked as the kiss ended.

[lunatic-fandom-space]

Comparing RWBY and YGO DM: The Handling and Evolution of Themes

Hey! Its been a hot minute since I last posted anything RWBY-related but Im laying in my bed right now and Im sick and bored so I guess we're doing this. Today I will do my best to analyze what I percieve to be the main themes and messages of both of these shows, or more specifically, how theyre handled narratively. Im mostly focusing on that part because, while these series do have similar themes and messaging, they are still a few things in which they are wildly different. And with that, lets start with this essay-post-thing!

1. Theres something we need to adress first

Okay so, before we can really talk about this, theres something I feel the need to clarify here: Neither of these stories was "planned from the beginning".

Now, I dont think a story being planned from the beginning or not nesscessarily makes the story any better or worse by default, however, it is still important to acknowledge because the way the story is planned is going to affect every facet of it. Things are not going to be foreshadowed properly, things are gonna be set up only for nothing to come of it, the story might drastically change directions, characters might act differently, etc, etc.

And, this is bit off-topic but, it's much better to just admit that the story was not planned than trying to pretend that it was. Like, there are a lot of reasons why I tend to be so forgiving towards YGO even though its not very good, but one of them is definitely the fact that, as far as Im aware atleast, the guy who wrote it isnt pretending to have had this big master plan all along and neither is the fandom. With RWBY on the other hand... yeaaaah, its kinda the opposite. From what Ive seen of RWBYs fandom, there seems to be this pretty popular narrative that everything was planned even though it clearly wasnt. Thats pretty bad and honestly lowers my opinion of the writers so much more than if they would just admit to not having a proper plan.

Like, I initially consumed YGO like this: Yu-Gi-Oh Duel Monsters, Yu-Gi-Oh (aka Season 0), like, a quarter of the Yu-Gi-Oh manga (I still havent finished it)

In all three of these we have the character of Yami Yuugi, or just Yami. Broadly speaking, he is an ancient egyptian gamer spirit who lives in a magical puzzle that has not been solved for 3000 years until this highschooler named Yuugi Mutou comes along and solves it, thus setting him free and allowing him to possess Yuugi and have access to the vague magical powers of the puzzle.

In Duel Monsters he's perfectly fine most of time, morally speaking. There is an instance of him almost murdering a guy and its a bit unclear what exactly happens to those he mindcrushes but overall he's very much a pretty good guy. In Season 0 most of what he does is set up these games for bad people, where they will go insane no matter what they do. From how I understand this whole Shadow Game, Penalty Game stuff, if you lose a Shadow Game, you get violent and intense hallucinations and you will always cuz yknow, gamer spirit. But if you try to cheat, which most of the bad people do in this show, you get violent and intense hallucinations as a punishment.

Since the two anime are generally considered two different continuities, its perfectly fine that Yamis characterization is wildly different in both of them. But in the manga both of these characterizations appear, basically one after the other with no real arc or consequences, for that matter. Why is that? Simply put, someone thought it was a good idea to try to turn an episodic, very slice of life-y light-horror manga into a more traditional, more plot-driven battle shounen. From what Ive heard, it was apparently largely because of network interference or something, but the point is, it changed directions incredibly drastically with little planning and everyone knows this and I can understand that for the most part.

In RWBY we have the character of Blake Belladonna, who, in the first 3 volumes/seasons atleast, was this aloof, more toned down loner-type character with a pretty strong sense of justice. She's an in-universe marginilized racial minority and she clearly cares about racial injustice. The way its initially framed makes it seem like she had a very hard life and no stable support system, which is what eventually pushed her to join a Civil Rights group/Terrorist organization (good god, the Faunus subplot is so awful, I could write a whole essay about it but Im already de-railing rn so I'll just save that for later).

Then, in volumes 4-5 it turns out her father is actually like, the mayor or chief of this island-place called Menagerie and she grew up in this big mansion with multiple guards/servants. Oh and also, apparently "space is a commodity" on there, so theres that. She still retains large parts of her personality but she's kinda like, worse somehow I think. I cant really describe it in a meaningful way but I hope you get what Im saying anyway. Then in Volume 6 she confronted her emotional abuser Adam (sorry for not mentioning him sooner but yeah, he was like, her abusive boyfriend, which is something that a lot of people disagree with but I wont really say anything about it either way because I dont really feel any specific way) with her friend, Yang, and ended up killing him.

After all that, she pretty much lost the rest of her personality, as well as her arc about all the Faunus stuff. She just kinda became the meek, generically nice, recovering abuse victim. Why? Well, the actual reason is that they didnt plan out shit and are just kinda flying by the seat of their oversized clown-pants and if they and the fandom just admitted it, I would have less of an issue. I still wouldnt be as forgiving towards RWBY as I am towards YGO because the crux of the issue, for me, is just that I dont particulary like RWBY but also like. Do you really expect me to take MKEK seriously as writers after admitting to not have a timeline because iT wOuLd CaUsE pLoThOlEs?

However, since they want us to believe that everything was planned out from the beginning, the explaination would be.... Idk, they deliberately butchered one of their main characters?? Because.. they hate her?? Maybe????

So yeah, that was quite a detour however, I would like you to keep this mind going forward.

2. Themes of the Early Series'

First, what do mean by 'Early Series' for both of these shows respectively? Well, for YGO that would have to be Season 0 or if youre reading the manga, everything pre-Duelist Kingdom. Basically, the part of the series thats a episodic, very slice of life-y light-horror series.

For RWBY that would be the first three Volumes, also known as the Poser-Era. Back then it was just kinda an action series that took place at Anime Warrior Academy (also known as Beacon) with some pretty bare minimum worldbuilding, character-driven plots and developments but now its more of an epic high-fantasy story with more of an emphasis on plot as opposed to just action.

The themes and messages in Early YGO are kinda vague, very confusing to me and if you were to follow any of it literally that would be pretty bad. For now Im just gonna say the main themes are Friendship and Identity and mostly focus on the Identity aspect.

Now, it took me a little while to figure out RWBYs deal but I think the main themes for Volumes 1-3 are also Friendship and Heroism. Once again, I'll mostly focus on Heroism and touch on Friendship more briefly later.

I dont have much more to add to YGOs themes right now, so I'll briefly go over Heroism in RWBY.

In RWBYs setting there are these man-eating monsters called Grimm that have basically infected the planet. In order to deal with that, they have people called huntsmen and huntresses that kill them and protect people. Theyre trained at special academies like Beacon and go on missions there and stuff like that. Our four main characters, Ruby, Weiss, Blake and Yang, are training to become huntresses and one day they go on this mission to clean up a grimm infested city block with one of their teachers. Obviously, that takes a long time so they have to camp out in one of the empty houses. Weiss, Blake and Yang cant sleep because theyve been thinking about this question that their teacher asked them when they were fighting grimm: "Why do you want to become a huntress?"

They have a heart to heart and we find out about their motivations; Weiss wants to bring honour back to her family, Blake want to distance herself from the White Fang (that terrorist organization I mentioned earlier) and as an extension from Adam, Yang wants to have a life of adventure. They also talk about why Ruby wants to be a huntress and it turns out that she judt wants to help people. Unlike the others, she has no motivation besides that. We're meant to listen to that and look at her as a sort-of personification of Heroism: kind, but not naive, strong and most of all, selfless. The others on her team are not portayed as bad for not being like Ruby by any means but we are clearly meant to admire her the most out of all of them.

Okay, now comes the part Ive been looking forward to the most:

3. How did these themes evolve in the Modern Series'?

Alright, before we can really delve into the way they evolved in YGO I'll have to give you a brief summary of the character progression. At the start of DM, during the Duelist Kingdom arc, Yami Yuugi is just that; A darker Yuugi. Hes more confident, bolder, his voice is deeper, hes somehow taller, more ruthless, all that good stuff. Notably, he doesnt actually seem more skilled than Yuugi even at the start of this story, but he's still dependent on Yami. Yami on the other hand, has no identity of his own or even hints at one at this point. He's just The Other Yuugi.

Then during the Battle City arc, they find out that Yami was actually a pharao prior to being sealed in the puzzle, he just didnt know because of amnesia, I guess. So now they need to find out his real name and then send him to the afterlife because hes meant to be dead, but not before saving the world from being swallowed by darkness, which is also a thing they have to do now.

Then we finally get to the Memory World arc, where Yami, Yuugi and the rest of the gang astralproject to ancient egypt via puzzle magic. Yami is trying to figure out what the hell is going on and who all these familiar people are, while Yuugi & Co are trying their best to help him. Then some weird shit happens and it turns out that all of that is not just Yamis sealed away memories, but also a giant D&D Shadow Game that will destroy the world if Yami loses. So now theres Pharao!Yami who is still clueless on the metaphorical and literal playing field and Player!Yami, who is kinda controlling himself now? I guess?? Yamis opponent, The Spirit of The Ring, has something similar to that going on where hes both controlling and properly participating in the game. So Player!Yami is now fighting against Player!TSoTR, Pharao!Yami is now fighting against Thief King Bakura (who is like, the human, ancient egyptian version of the Ring Spirit) and Yuugi is now fighting against Yami Bakura (who is like, the human, modern japanese version of the Ring Spirit). Yuugi gets Yamis real name, he and the gang go over to Pharao!Yami and tell him his name, meanwhile Player!Yami is also somehow helping as well and they defeat the Ring Spirit, thus saving the world. Then they travel to modern Egypt, the Ceremonial Duel happens and Yuugi wins, sending Yami to the Afterlife where he can finally rest and that was the series!

I originally wanted to recount the stuff that was going on with the Ring Spirit and his host as well because they parallel eachother, but this summary is already far too long and I think youll get the point without me needing to explain any more.

My point here is, that the story went from being vaguely about Identity, maybe? to being very clearly about Self-Discovery and Learning to Be Independent. I think this is a very good way to evolve the messaging of your story. How does RWBY track on that?

Well, uh... its not great. I will acknowledge that they have tried to introduce new themes and ideas since, even though I wont really be talking about them in this post. But yeah, the whole Heroism thing really regressed.

Like, I didnt explicitly say it when I was explaining grimm earlier, but theyre not going away. The grimm have always been there and people who sign up to become huntsmen and huntresses are effectively signing up for a job that will never truly be done, no matter what they do. Characters like Ruby and even more minor ones like Phyrrah have shown us that that doesnt matter when youre a hero. No life isnt worth saving, no grimm isnt worth killing, no criminal isnt worth arresting. Then, in volume 6 they find out about Salem. Salem is the Big Bad of the show, shes immortal, controls the grimm and is supposed to be very powerful.

What do our heroes do? They give up. Sike! They were just mindcontrolled by monsters or some shit, of course they didnt give up their mission (which is to bring an Important Macguffin to a city called Atlas, sorry I didnt mention it)!

But then they arrive in Atlas (which is llike, a city thats floating over another city called Mantle) and yknow, they do some plot stuff thats not really important right now until the city gets invaded by Salem and this big grimm army she has.

What do our heroes do? Well, Ruby, Weiss, Blake and some side characters are chilling, drinking tea in a mansion and Yang and the B Team were actually trying to do something, but even those efforts seem incredibly minimal.

Oh wait, I also forgot to mention that Ironwood (a fairly minor, vaguely antagonistic character up until now) wanted to lift Atlas even higher to save Atleasian civilians from danger while leaving Mantle vulnerable to Salems invasion.

What would be the most heroic thing to do?

A) Let Ironwood lift Atlas, get as much support as they can down to Mantle and save as many Mantle civilians as they can from the invasion

B) Prevent Ironwood from lifting Atlas but then split up in order to protect both Atlas and Mantle civilians

C) Prevent Ironwood from lifting Atlas and then dont do anything else

Congrats! If you choose C, you think exactly like the writers!

And I just

This is so mindboggling to me, I feel like I shouldnt even have explain how this is bad. And like, it wouldve been so easy to actually make them seem herokc through their actions, to make it seem like they did try but no.

I have never seen a central theme be this botched, how in the world did they do that? Why did they think it was a good idea for Ruby "The Embodiment of Heroism" Rose to sit in a mansion doing nothing, no planning, no organizing just ..... God, how are they this bad? Like, this doesnt even have anything to do with it being planned in any way, this is just straight up incompetence

4. Very briefly touching on friendship

The friendship is awful and its not solely because they all have the same opinions. They barely interact with eachother outside their designated pairs which leads to it all feeling incredibly hollow. Theyre also practically indistingushable from one another now, which is a shame because it wasnt always like that. Like, I dont think the characters were that well-developed in earlier volumes but they were very well-characterized. But now we've gotten to a point where you can literally copy and paste one characters dialogue onto another and literally nothing changes, it really sucks.

5. Some closing words

Damn, this took way longer than I thought it would and now Im pretty exhausted. I have no idea how yall always write these but props to you! I feel like this ended up a bit rambly but overall, Im pretty proud.

Please let me know what you think of the points I brought up! Id also really appreciate some tips on how to get better at these longer posts because I am planning on writing more in the future (not the near future, probably but yknow).

Thats all I have to say for now, thanks for reading!

[irrelevantwriter]

Daddy Isn’t In Charge

Pairing: Negan x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, daddy kink (majorly), oral sex (female receiving), dry humping, unprotected vaginal sex, Negan being submissive (bc why not?)

Word Count: 2.8K

Summary: Negan upsets you and now he has to get back into your good graces.

A/N: This is a request fulfillment for the lovely @pirateking289​! Thank you for being so patient! I loved the concept and I had a lot of fun writing it, despite my untimely writer’s block lol. This is based off a very memorable scene from the movie “Wolf of Wallstreet”. I’ll add the gif into the story to give a visual. I hope I did it justice. Enjoy and share with your friends!

*Masterlist in bio.

**********************

You smiled softly as you fingered the wide grins plastered along the picture in your hand. The image was of you and Negan on your wedding day, the smiles you both wore a testament to just how special the day had been. Despite your current frustration at your husband, your heart beat faster at the sight of his attractive face. You cursed his enchanting abilities, even in photographic form.

You thought back on that day seven years ago and your whole body started to tingle. Negan was your soulmate, your clichéd other half. You were meant to be from the start. It might not have been a fairytale story, there were definite bumps in the road, but you’d have it no other way. But from your current spot on the floor in your spacious walk-in closet, you were cursing the man you’d entered into matrimony with.

The night before had been your annual Christmas party. The holiday was a favorite of yours and the party was a staple amongst your social circle. It had become a party described by many as “the event of the season”. You always went all out and Negan encouraged you. He knew how much it meant to you, which is why he always made an effort to put work aside and be there in support.

That did not happen last night.

The night had been running smoothly. The drinks were being poured, the food was being eaten. The music was echoing off the well-decorated walls. Your expansive home was quickly becoming filled with guests. It was perfect.

Until Negan received a call on his cell phone.

You knew he’d have to go. You knew there was no amount of begging or pouting you could do. Negan ran his own company. He was constantly busy, which had become a point of contention as of late. The man worked 364 days a year. He was a workhorse. And while that was admirable, you were ready to start having more of your husband to yourself. You’d expressed that sentiment to him recently and he’d made a conscious effort to try, but this night was not a night you felt like being forgiving.

“Doll?”

You were pulled from your thoughts by your husband’s voice calling you. Before you could reply, his figure appeared in the doorway. He was all black leather and denim. His hair was slicked back, his facial hair neatly trimmed. He was grinning at you, dark eyes managing to entrap you from across the room.

He looked devastatingly handsome.

Son of a bitch.

“Why’re you sitting on the floor?” He eyed your bare legs stretched out in front of you, the hem of your dress sitting high on your thighs.

You probably did look odd sitting in your closet in full dress and heels. You’d been getting ready to head out for lunch with the ladies when you’d taken a detour. You’d spotted the trinket box you kept near your shoes and decided to go through it, memories washing over you like rain. You’d been so wrapped up in them that you hadn’t even heard Negan come home.

“Can’t I sit on the floor in my closet?” You countered somewhat rudely. You’d barely seen him all morning, but you’d been sure to make your mood noticeable when you did cross paths. Negan caught on, but had yet to comment.

“You can do whatever the fuck you’d like in your closet, my dear.” He goaded, that intoxicating smirk now adorning his lips.

“So sweet of you to give me permission.” The defiance was alive and well, and you could tell Negan was enjoying it far too much.

He chuckled, rubbing at his beard growth. “You’re still mad about last night?”

You moved the photos back into their box and set it aside, freeing up your lap. You crossed your arms, staring up at him with your own wicked smile.

“Oh no, I’m not mad. Not anymore at least.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope.” You popped the “P” for emphasis.

He started to move closer into the room, brow raised in doubt. “Well, you still seem pissed.”

You decided to stay silent, see if Negan dug his own grave. He would no doubt. You knew the man better than he knew himself.

“You need Daddy to make it up to you?” He said lowly, eyes bright with that predatory gaze he wore so well.

You shook your head and laughed, though there was no humor behind it. “Oh no. No, Daddy doesn’t get to make anything up to me. In fact, Daddy doesn’t even get to touch me. Not for a long time.”

Your words and tone made him stop in place near your legs, your ankles crossed to hide your modesty. His features turned dark at your words, the mischief gone from his eyes. He suddenly didn’t find your mood so funny.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said.”

“Look…I said I was sorry, doll. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Negan said softly, the desperation in his voice apparent.

Your shrugged. “I know. Doesn’t mean Daddy doesn’t get punished.”

He went to protest, but you stopped him.

“It’s gonna be nothing but short skirts around the house.” You pulled your legs up, enjoying the way his eyes stalked your body.

“And you know something else Daddy?” You didn’t wait for a response, continuing to relentlessly tease your husband. “I am just so sick and tired of wearing panties.” You whined with an exaggerated sigh and roll of your eyes.

“Really?” He grunted, face impassive. His body was taut with tension already. His breathing had started to accelerate, his arousal mixing with his irritation. You knew the reaction well.

“Yeah. In fact,” You brought your knees up as you leaned back on your hands, your gaze luring him in like a shark to blood. “I’ve decided to throw them all away.” You emphasized your statement by spreading your legs, exposing your bare self to him.

Negan’s reaction was instantaneous. He fell to his knees in front of you, eyes glued to his favorite spot to worship. You could visibly see the effect your words had on him, the want and desire already spewing from his pores at just the thought of being prohibited from touching you.

“So take a good look, Daddy. You’re gonna be seeing an awful lot of this around the house.” You added with a smirk, enjoying the way his face crumbled.

He went to crawl towards you, but you shot a heeled foot out, catching him on his forehead. You gently pushed him back and away from the place he wanted to get to the most.

“But no touching.” You demanded, keeping him at bay with your outstretched leg.

“Fuck…” He cursed, clearly under distress from being denied. He let his face fall into the carpet, his muted protests filling the room.

“What’s wrong Daddy?” You teased with a faux pout.

Negan looked up, a strand of misplaced hair now in his face. He licked his lips, eyes flitting to your exposed pussy. The action made your walls flutter.

“Come on, baby. Lemme make it up to you. Let Daddy make you feel good.” He practically pleaded, long fingers now trying to wrap around your ankle.

You went to pull away, but he charged forward, splitting your legs open wider to make room for his hulking form. He took an exaggerated breath in, inhaling your scent. His eyes were closed, as if you were the best thing he smelled since apple pie.

“Goddamn I want you…” He said against your now throbbing pussy, lips and beard grazing your sensitive skin.

“I said no touching.” You repeated, hoping to gain control of the situation again. His nearness was throwing you off, his barely there touches affecting you more than you’d like.

He laughed, somehow finding your protest humorous. The action made you angry, not pleased that he wasn’t taking you seriously. You decided to use another tactic, something just as torturous, but pleasurable for you.

You stopped him from going any further by poking him in the cheek with your finger, gaining his attention. He was grinning up at you, feeling as if he’d made you crack. He did not.

“I want Daddy to use his mouth. And only his mouth. No hands.” You demanded, face impassive and tone cold.

Negan’s eyes shifted again, his jovial mood disappearing at your words. He didn’t make a joke or snide remark. He simply licked his lips again and nodded, accepting the challenge.

“Alright, doll. Whatever you say.”

He maneuvered his body so that he was propped on his elbows. The position of his body kept him from using his hands on you, something the man loved to do. Negan loved to use every single goddamn sense when fucking. He loved touching, tasting, smelling, and hearing the various aspects of sex…he loved to be consumed by it. He always gave himself over completely. The loss of his hands would kill him, you knew it.

You watched as he moved in slowly, taking his time. He was attempting to tease you in revenge. You smirked at his stubbornness, but shook your head at the powerplay. You were the one calling the shots and you were going to make sure he understood that.

“Don’t dawdle.” You ordered, the sternness in your voice making his grin widen.

He relented and without warning licked his tongue fully along your swollen lips. You jumped at the sensation, fingernails instinctually finding their way into his thick hair. He buried his face into your folds, his nose nudging your clit. His tongue sought you out immediately, tasting your flavor as he massaged your walls. You could see the enthusiasm behind his actions, his eagerness to make you forgive him almost comical. He may be unbelievable in bed, but he wasn’t about to think he’d made you surrender.

You pushed his face into you, throwing your head back and moaning when he sucked at your swollen clit. His tongue was trying to penetrate deeper, but without the use of his hands, he couldn’t gain purchase.

“Fuck, I gotta touch you. Lemme touch you, baby.” He practically begged, chest rising and falling in quick pants. His hair was mused from your hold, his facial hair and face soaked with your essence. He licked his lips, savoring the taste of you.

“On your back.” You demanded softly.

The pulsing between your thighs was getting worse, the role reversal between you and Negan making you wetter than you’d ever remembered being. Negan was a natural take-charge kind of guy. That attribute carried itself into the bedroom, not that you complained. You loved being dominated by your husband. But there was something about seeing him desperate and near delirious for you that made this so much better.

Negan didn’t question your words. He did as you said, lying back on the beige carpet. You shifted to your knees above him, eyes taking in the impressive bulge beneath his jeans. Your pink nails danced along his erection, making the flesh visibly twitch. He hissed at the action, his hands forming fist at his sides. You smiled at his effort to obey you.

“Looks like Daddy wants me. Bad.” You grasped his cock, rubbing the appendage slowly but with pressure. The gesture made Negan’s hips jump off the floor and into your hand, his head thrown back in barely tamed desire.

“Fucking shit, doll…” He growled as you straddled him and rubbed yourself against him. The friction made you whimper, the movement almost enough to make you cum.

You felt his hands on your thighs and you swatted them away, glaring down at him. “No touching, Daddy. That’s the rule.”

The vein in his neck was pulsing, his forehead beading with sweat. You picked up your pace, dry humping his clothed cock with lustful anger. You dug your nails into his chest, pleased at the grunt of pain he made in response. You could feel the fabric of his pants become damp with your juices, the clothing most definitely ruined. Then notion only fueled you, knowing that was at least what Negan deserved for the night before.

You used him for your pleasure, rolling your hips faster as that crescendo intensified. You could feel Negan’s eyes on you, but you were too busy with chasing your own end to notice. You threw your head back as a sudden jolt overtook your body, your limbs tensing as you shook with overflowing desire. You felt Negan thrust his hips up to meet yours, his orgasm close but not yet upon him.

“Doll, I gotta cum inside you.” He groaned, body stiff beneath your now pliable form.

You recovered from your orgasm and slide up his body, capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss. You could taste remnants of yourself on him, the mixed flavors of you and him making you hungry for more. Your lips moved to his neck and ear, leaving bruises behind as you marked him.

“Are you sorry, Daddy?” You breathed against his neck, feeling him shiver in response. His fingers were digging into the carpet, his threshold lowering against your repeated torture.

“Fuck, yes…I am. I’m fucking sorry, baby.”

You placed a wet kiss to his neck as your hands moved to his belt buckle. He moaned in relief as you undid his pants and pulled him free. He was a deep shade of red, the flesh hot and solid. He pulsed in your hand, cum dotting the tip eagerly. You swiped it away with your thumb and used it to ease up and down his cock. His hips met your hands, trying and failing to encourage you to move faster. You enjoyed seeing him suffer far too much.

“What does Daddy need?”

You situated yourself so that your bare pussy was level with his cock again. You moved against him, flesh sliding against each other. Negan reacted instantly and gripped your thighs as he threw his head back. You decided to let that indiscretion go.

“You. I need you.” He hissed, fingers digging into your flesh.

His thickness nudged your sensitive clit and you jerked away from it at first. You worked slowly, pushing Negan’s limits and your own. You smeared yourself all over his cock and his balls, never quite taking him in. His hips were trying to angle in such a way so that he could enter you, but you stopped him every time.

At what felt like the hundredth pass of him outside your opening, you slipped him inside of you. He slid in easily, both of you soaked from your arousal. He forced you to shift your hips so that he could fully enter you, his size always needing accommodation. You both released gasps and moans as you moved atop him, using his chest to keep your balance. His hands moved to your ass and pushed against you, urging you to increase your pace. You stopped moving altogether when he did that.

“Keep going.” He said between ragged breaths, dark eyes daring you to stop.

“Don’t get impatient, Daddy.” You began to move again as his hold loosened. You moved your hips in an up and down motion rather than rotating, feeling his cock banging deliciously against your cervix. He slipped out of you as you sped up, the slickness coating you both now obvious and obscene. You hurriedly slip him back inside you, the teasing now ceased.

“Fuck, right there doll.” He praised, neck now craned so that he can see you taking his cock. You give yourself over to the sensations, your game momentarily ended as a result.

Negan’s hips were meeting yours and you let loose a litany of moans as the dam burst, your body taking hold of him and spasming. He clenched his jaw and gripped your ass as he came with you, holding you to him. Your seizing body caught his spendings, your insides feeling immediate warmth as he coated your walls.

“Jesus Christ,” You panted, your heavily beating heart finally starting to slow. You collapsed on his chest, his softening cock still encased within you.

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it.” Negan chuckled, his hands caressing your back.

You rose and fell with the motions of his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Your eyes started to feel heavy, but you fought the pull of sleep.

“We actually need to talk about this, Negan.” You whispered, feeling him stiffen slightly.

He sighed, arms embracing you. “I know, doll. I’m working on it for you. I promise.”

The baritone in his voice made you feel warm and tingly, reminding you of those nostalgic thoughts you’d been swimming in when he’d found you in the closet. Even though he’d promised such things before, you believed him.

“I love you, doll.” His lips rested against your hair, his hands still stroking a comfortingly pattern along your back. You smiled at his words, unable to not react.

“I love you too. Daddy.” You teased, enjoying the way his chest shook beneath you with laughter.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?” He asked hopefully, hands wandering back down to your ass.

“Not a chance.” 

[whitetrashjj]

i think it’s so fucking funny that even when you have similar setups (as seen in your recent gifset) bellamy/clarke look so much more like an actual couple who love each other than b/cho

That’s the whole ass point though isn’t it? I’m certain that if you showed that gifset to someone who knew nothing about The 100 and asked them which were the couple and which were the friends, they would at the very least hesitate before answering, if not answer Bellarke. It would not be possible to answer bec/ho without doubting it. 

And the fact is that it appearing that way is a conscious choice. Those scenes put the couples in very similar situations and show how they interact with each other and the truth is bec/ho do not stand up. Each choice; the timing, the framing, the focus, everything. was designed, written, shot and edited to be like that, it went though multiple channels, starting with Jason, then going though the writers, the directors, the actors, the editors and back to Jason, and that was all approved because that was what they wanted the audience to see. 

I know you didn’t ask for it but I’m gonna analyse those scene for a bit because I’ve been wanting to do it so here is the perfect opportunity. (this gif set if no one knows what I’m talking about)

So here we have the first one. Originally, this gifset was going to just be comparisons of how far apart bellarke stood in comparison to bec/ho so this was my starting point. These scenes were from the same episode - happened on the same day I believe. And first up we have bec/ho:

Not obnoxiously close but not far apart either, nothing worth calling out as a problem until you observe bellarke a couple scenes later:

These idiots are standing so close that Bellamy is actually on an angle so his arm/shoulder can go behind Clarke’s. Because simply standing arm to arm isn’t enough they actually have to over lap. Now to be fair - because I believe in trying to be objectively fair when making comparisons and not taking things out of context to prove your point - Bellarke had just hugged and bec/ho are simply standing in a crowd watching a speech. Now, I don’t know about you but after I hug my friends I usually step back at least one step if not a couple, I do not linger in their personal space the way I would if I was interested in someone. 

Compare this to bec/ho, who of course aren’t engaged in a one-on-one, but are in unfamiliar surroundings,  surrounded by unfamiliar and possibly hostile people and there is nothing, they aren’t lingering close, have a protective hand out to reassure the other, not even a look to check up on each other. Just looking at these two gifs side by side, it seems off... A little odd but not damning evidence? Let’s move on then. 

Comparison #2 looks at the comforting shoulder touch. Bellamy has just left behind his sister, the one person he has shouldered the burden of it being his responsibility to keep safe, and it’s more than likely that she will die. Clarke has just written a list on 100 people to save from praimfaya, damning 300 of her people, and thousands of other people, to death. In these scenes Clarke and Bellamy are in very similar emotional states, riddled with guilt, weighed down with an impossible burden, and emotionally distraught and exhausted.  So the person witnessing this does what they can to try and comfort them, place a hand on their shoulder to show their support, that they don’t have to do this alone and they are there for them.

We can see here that Bellamy barley responds to the touch, does not lean into is at all. He does look at E/cho briefly acknowledging the support and her attempt to comfort him, but he does not linger on her, quickly looking away and continuing to look dejected. This shows that while he appreciated the gesture it does very little to actually help him feel better. 

Compare this to Bellamy and Clarke:

Bellamy place’s his hand on Clarke shoulder to support her. Instantly we see the relief this creates for Clarke, her tense shoulders slump, her eyes flutter closed, not only does she then bring her own hand up to cover his but she leans her head on him. This shows how much his simple touch helped how, how it helped ground her and how he helped shoulder that burden without having to say the words. She not only leans into his touch but leans on it, she needs it, needs him and can’t get close enough to it. Not buying it yet? More comfort to come...

Once again we have comfort for similar situations. Bellamy found out that Clarke, one of his closest friends is dead. Clarke finds out that she can not say goodbye to her mother who she won’t see for 5 years, with a possibility of never seeing her again. So when Bellamy tell’s E/cho this he is searching for someone, something to make him feel better:

There are so many things to unpack here - for fairness some frames have been removed to remain under the size limit - but let’s start with Bellamy initiates the hug. Bellamy has continuously shown that physical contact, particularly hugs, is a big thing for him in terms of comfort. What he needed in that moment was a hug but E/cho makes no move for it - this is not shock related because she already knew that Clarke was dead - this proves that she doesn’t know what Bellamy wants or needs. And then the hug last for a grand total 5 seconds (with very generous start and finish times) before Bellamy pulls away again showing that it didn’t help ease his pain or make him feel better otherwise he would cling onto her as long as possible.

Let’s compare shall we:

There is a reason this is my favourite bellarke hug (we don’t have time to unpack it all right now). Compared to the hug above, however, it get so much better. First we have Bellamy instantly going to Clarke his arms open wide welcoming her in, knowing exactly what she needed in that moment without Clarke needing to say anything. Then we have the camera zoom in on Clarkes arms circling around Bellamy, clinging to him, signifying how much she needed him in the moment and how comforting it was for her. Clarke sobs into his shoulder being completely venerable with him and Bellamy closes his eyes grabs onto her and gently rocks them back a forth, showing how comfortable and how immersed in the embrace he is. This hug last’s for 15 seconds, and they only break apart because they were interrupted, otherwise there was no end in sight, even after that they linger clinging to one another for a further 4-5 seconds (times vary as it’s hard to say when hugging starts, and then finishes and lingering begins). Ultimately there is no comparison in these scenes, and the fact that they were shot this way with the much time taken for them is so telling, remember nothing you see on scene is an accident, everything has been designed that way.

Lastly let’s ring in the post with little reunion run and hug. In fairness Clarke thought Bellamy was dead, and Bellamy only thought Echo had been in enemy territory with no contact for a day or so - interpret that how you will. 

But here we have bec/ho:

They run to each other, they get to each other as part of a wide shot incorporating many other elements, they stop short of each other and say a quick hi, and finally they hug and kiss as out of focus shapes in the corner of the scene. A truly heartfelt, iconic and important reunion. 

The we have Bellarke:

We have Clarke sprinting at Bellamy, jumping on him, wrapping her arms around him, the only thing stopping her from getting to him was his body, we have Bellamy wrapping his arms tight around Clarke, and then multiple back and forth shorts of their smiles, them tucking their heads into each others necks, and closing their eyes in relief.

I don’t know what else I can say for this one other than, the emphasis put on the impactful reunion of two characters and what this means for their relationship, vs the emphasis put on the reactions of other characters (other character who simply hate having sun in their eyes) - speaks volumes.

I mean - if I wanted to I could find countless other similar comparisons, if I needed to but  I don’t think I need to. The 100 is a show with a high casual viewer ratings, this means you should be able to know the relationships by watching one episode and well, there is proof right there, Jason said himself someone would be able to start this show at s6 and know who loves who. Do you think anyone with has only watched Season 6 could reasonably put Bellamy’s feelings for E/cho above Clarke from only what they have seen on screen? I doubt it. 

[pass-the-bechdel]

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Avengers: Infinity War (2018)

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

Yes, once.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Nine (25.71% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Twenty-six.

Positive Content Rating:

Three.

General Film Quality:

For a movie which is pretty much wall-to-wall fight scenes...I love it. I always start out going ‘maybe I overrate this movie, maybe it’s not as good as I remember’, but by the end, I’m right back in there.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

Wanda apologises to Natasha for lying. It’s a close call.

Female characters:

Pepper Potts.

F.R.I.D.A.Y

Gamora.

Mantis.

Wanda Maximoff.

Natasha Romanoff.

Okoye.

Nebula.

Shuri.

Male characters:

Ebony Maw.

Thanos.

Thor.

Loki.

Heimdall.

Bruce Banner.

Stephen Strange.

Wong.

Tony Stark.

Peter Parker.

Ned.

Peter Quill.

Rocket.

Drax.

Groot.

Vision.

Steve Rogers.

Sam Wilson.

The Collector.

Thaddeus Ross.

James Rhodes.

T’Challa.

Bucky Barnes.

Eitri.

Red Skull.

M’Baku.

OTHER NOTES:

Heimdall had proven himself too much of an MVP in previous films to be allowed to live in this one. Bastards.

Heimdall and Loki, both dead before the opening titles. That’s how you know this movie means business, it’s not faking at high stakes.

I also am from space and have come here to steal a necklace from a wizard.

“Mr Stark, it smells like a new car in here!”

“All words are made up.”

Not gonna lie, when I saw this at the cinema and I realised that Captain America had arrived? My heart LEAPT. It was intense.

Depressed Thor is a great touch - after all previous films with Thor had him so bland, and then Ragnarok made him funny but essentially glossed over any of the difficult emotions it was dredging up, I’m glad to finally get something real and meaty from the character. If characters go through all manner of Hell and don’t show any signs of labouring under that weight, you’re doing character development wrong.

Nice callback with Red Skull.

The sacrifice of Gamora on Vormir is a really well-balanced piece; it was asking a lot, to make the emotion of it land despite how little of Thanos we’ve seen before, and without genuine emotion at it’s core it’s just the killing off of a female character for shock value. I feel like they got the pitch just right (most thanks to the music).

As much as I enjoy Thor and Rocket’s bantering, the side-quest for Stormbreaker feels like an unnecessary and over-the-top distraction in an already stuffed-full film. Easily the weakest part of the plot.

The fact that Quill fucks everything up with defeating Thanos on Titan because he can’t keep himself under control for two seconds certainly does not endear him to me in the slightest. Like ok, you’re upset, but if you can’t stop yourself from getting violent that’s on you, that makes you a dangerous person with serious issues, that’s not normal and it’s not ok. Also, literally half of all life in the universe was at stake. So there’s that.

Listen, I’m very susceptible to heroism (and that’s why superhero movies work for me), so every time someone comes to someone else’s rescue, I have feelings. 

I had convinced myself that somehow, Thanos wouldn’t succeed with his whole plan in this movie, that he would get all the stones but that he would like, go to a special place or something before enacting his plan, so that the good guys would have a chance to regroup and race to stop him before it was too late, all that jazz. So (even though Thanos had already snapped at that point), when Bucky Barnes disintegrated before our very eyes, I was SHOCKED. That got me like a smack in the face.

Considering I’ve never really been a fan of Tom Holland’s Spider-man, it’s a credit to his work that Peter’s death scene is so effective. That’s acting.

So, what makes this movie work despite being so heavy with bombastic action? The short answer is: it’s because the good guys lose. I’ve made no secret of being a fan of the ‘hour darkest before the dawn’ in storytelling, so this is playing to the sweet spot for me there, but it’s not as simple as just making everything miserable and hopeless. In this case, specifically, the lead-up to that ultimate failure is key; it’s gotta still feel like a superhero extravaganza, even as it takes an increasingly dark turn. The action works because it’s part of what we signed up for (the best camouflage for subversions of the traditional model), and it works because it’s all carrying the story forward - the Infinity War is comprised of multiple battles, and because of the way the pieces of the narrative are separated, the characters don’t know how any of the other battles are turning out; everyone is just trying to fight what’s in front of them and defend the stone in their midst, they don’t have the option to sit around doom-and-glooming and restrategising as news of each defeat comes in. Rather than dragging us wholesale from Point A to B to C in ever-escalating stakes and complications, the writers have had the good sense to spread things out and let things fall apart for our heroes (and the universe) in multiple smaller pieces until they reach a cumulative critical mass. Consequently, instead of feeling as though we’re sitting there watching things go from bad to worse, the audience forms this false sense of security in the action; it’s a superhero movie, after all. We expect them to work it all out in the end, to build toward a moment of apparent hopelessness (a darkest hour before the dawn), and then to rally triumphantly for the big win. As such, we perceive small victories (i.e. the defeat of Thanos’ various ‘children’, the creation of Stormbreaker, the way things draw out in the battle on Titan) as if they are more significant, as if they are signs leading us to that big win; without those small, expected victories, the ultimate failure would not hit as hard, because after two and a half hours of watching the good guys get wrecked without a chance, what surprise would there be in the snap?

Of course, plenty of viewers knew about the snap already or expected an ultimate failure of some sort based on the fact that we pretty much all knew that this was the first half of our grand Avengers finale (my mother, who is not a superhero movie fan, did not know what she was getting into and was...very shocked), so it’s important that the film still works to engage us on a character level so that the good guys losing in the end can hit like a ton of bricks even if you knew it was coming (and even though you no doubt expected to get the big win eventually, once Endgame came out). After all the fighting and the bantering, all the usual stuff we expect to see our heroes go through in the course of an average adventure, having them then watch their beloved friends/allies/whatever literally disintegrate before their eyes in a quiet, drawn out scene of devastation is a magnificent piece of cinema, communicating the shock not only of the event itself, but of the complete disruption to the superhero status quo. It’s not just that good guys don’t lose like this, it’s that they don’t lose with a whimper instead of a a bang. It’s not only that the cost of failure has never been this high; it’s also that they have never been forced to watch it play out with such inevitability; they have never before been rendered so powerless. If the entire film had the tone of the last ten minutes, it wouldn’t work so well, it’d just be a drudge and the audience would be desensitised by the end. By the same token, if the rest of the film had not planted the seeds of the finale so thoroughly in all its smaller losses and smokescreen victories, the ending would not be so horrifically fitting.

Neither, of course, would the ending be so affecting, if we were not as attached to the characters as we are. We have many, many films worth of history with most of them, or at least one solid encounter in which to become attached, and even in a movie chock-full of more characters than any other before, everyone gets a chance to show their personality and remind us why we care if they live or die. I’m not going to argue for this being an incredible character piece (nor is it pretending to be one), but it plays its very large hand very well, putting emphasis where it needs to be without overloading or unbalancing the story. As I noted above, I was particularly impressed with the way Thanos was handled, considering our exposure to him previously was very minimal and it was left up the this film to build his ethos as well as his relationships with his ‘children’ almost from scratch, creating complexity and simplicity without falling into the trap of trying to make the villain sympathetic; Thanos isn’t necessarily relatable (nor does he need to be), but he is understandable in that we’ve all probably encountered at least one person who holds the same limited worldview and is somehow convinced that they could ‘fix’ everything, given the power. Thanos isn’t actually aiming for universal domination in the traditional sense, and it makes him more disturbing and more realistic as a villain, because his evil is not nebulous or purely self-serving; he is a true believer, and his delusions have an all-too-familiar ring about them, so as we watch him lumber and pontificate around the story, we get a clearly-drawn image of someone possessed of such basic and humble flaws that he is - again, without being treated as sympathetic - quite significantly humanised, despite all of the non-human elements that make up both his character, and his situation. Even as it planet-hops and draws upon cosmic magic, the narrative is grounded by a centrepiece of plain, ungodly fallibility. 

Now, I recognise that in all of this praise for the way this film was executed, there isn't really anything to be said for it regarding the purpose of this blog; on the female representation front, it's not really doing anything (the fact that it juuust manages to pass the Bechdel and juuust over a quarter of its cast is female does not win it brownie points; its better than not having either of those things, but that's not a genuine achievement). The two female characters who were more prominently positioned in this movie are Gamora and Wanda; Gamora largely in context of her relationship with Thanos, and Wanda as Vision’s significant other and the means of his destruction. Notably, both women’s arcs are accessories to the arcs of male characters, which is not what we’re aiming for in good representation, though it does not exclude the possibility of quality content; Gamora’s role may have a lot to do with Thanos (not least, after he kills her), but it is still distinctly her own story, rich with emotion and coming to a surprising and depressing end which I felt struck the right chords to be compelling rather than an enraging disposal of one of the few female characters around (more on this after Endgame). Wanda’s presence leaves less of an impression, in terms of screen time, plot complication, and audience engagement, but all things considered I don’t think that was a terrible choice; Wanda and Vision’s relationship had been a somewhat sparse subplot in previous films and the chemistry was not strong, so I don’t think it would have been to the film’s benefit to try and expand on that relationship further than they did. As it was, there was enough there to sell the emotion, and nothing extraneous, and as much as I enjoy this movie, I wish I could say better things for its female representation than that. It is stuffed-full, and definitely not perfect, and space could have been made to pump up some of the other female characters’ roles more (the Earthbound characters get the least attention in the movie, and since basically all my faves are there it is a testament to how well this movie works for me that I enjoy it so much anyway, but a little more attention there would not have gone astray, especially since that’s where most of the female cast is). That said...I still really enjoy it, man. As far as popcorn action goes, this is top shelf.

[rainforestgeek]

Ok I'll hit you. #1-20 please, if you're up for it :)

1. who is the hardest character for you to write?

Hmm. Maybe Pidge. She’s a challenge because she’s an emotional person but she’s not in-touch with her emotions.

Okay, actually the HARDEST is Allura. She and I are such unbelievably different people and it’s so hard to get inside her head.

2. who is the easiest character for you to write?

Lance. For all that he’s wonderfully complex, he’s so external that he’s just not difficult to write. Unlike Pidge, he knows when he feels all the things so I don’t have to hide his motivations from him, if that makes sense. He usually knows why he’s doing what he’s doing - even if it’s dumb as hell.

Also, I get to pour all my stupidest, weirdest jokes into his dialogue! I don’t have to think “is that funny enough to include?” If it’s funny, great! If it’s not, it’s still totally in-character for Lance.

3. How do you know if your writing is “in character”?

Part gut feeling, part review. There have been times when I wrote a scene and thought “this is contrived,” so I take a closer look to see what’s bothering me.

I put a lot of effort into understanding the characters’ psychology. Most of the time, before I write a conversation, I think about what mood they’re in and what subconscious stuff might be driving them unknowingly. That last one is actually a great source of conflict.

Once I’m really in tune with a character, it’s like they’re making the decisions and I’m just the conduit. I once wrote a Plance scene that was just supposed to be a straight confession and getting together fluffy moment, but Lance and Pidge were like “nope, gonna fight,” and boom, the fic was another chapter long

4. Where do your story ideas come from?

Thin air.

For real, it depends on the story. Sometimes it’s “but what if this happened instead?” and sometimes the idea pops up out of nowhere and I jot it down to expand on it later.

5. Do you tell the people in your life that you write fics?

I’m very particular about whom I tell, but yes. My family and closest friends already know I’m weird as hell, and when I get an especially awesome comment on a fic I want to tell my mom and say “that’s the good part of the internet!”

6. What has been the hardest fic for you to write?

Lemme scroll through ao3 for a sec...

Prompts are challenging for me, don’t know why exactly. In another way, smut can be hard (ha) because I don’t want to rewrite the same sex scene each time so I gotta come up with new acts, descriptors, turn-ons, etc.

Oh, like specific fics? Those ones are unfinished and unpublished.

7. What fic of yours makes you the most emotional?

Either Smile the Brightest or Teenage Soldier. They both deal with some hard and controversial topics and I have no idea where they came from, they just kind of happened. 

8. What is a scene you wrote that you are most proud of?

Most of my battle scenes. Those are tricky, took a long time, and I like how they turned out!

9. Is there one character that you refuse to write? why?

I can’t think of any hard no’s off the top of my head. There are probably some.

10. When you write fics, how much of canon are you willing to ignore/skip over?

If it’s a canon thing that I severely dislike, or if it’s canon that aired AFTER I started writing it. For example, If you lose your strength to stand was started after season 5 of Voltron came out. There was no way I’d just scrap the story I had in mind because season 6 decided to be hella weird, and eventually it became a fix-it of sorts?

Small things may be done away with if they’re inconvenient.

11. Do you prefer to be cold or hot when you write?

If those are my only two options, then cold, definitely. I’m a cranky, bitchy piece of shit when I’m hot. 

12. What is your ideal writing area?

Somewhere quiet and alone. I need to be able to groan in frustration and pace and mutter to myself in peace.

13. How do you come up with your titles?

I’ve started doing the thing where I steal song lyrics. Often I try to match it to a theme in the story.

ONCE, I had the title first, that was Smile the Brightest

14. How do you come up with chapter titles?

Usually I don’t. Sometimes I use song lyrics. Sometimes I try to think of a catchy phrase with minimal success.

15. At what point in writing a fic, do you decide to quit?

At the point when I’m tired of writing and think it’s good enough to post. I have a habit of posting first and proofreading later.

16. How much of your personal life do you put into fics?

Small aspects here and there. Mostly to do with emotional stuff. I have a few where there’s an autistic character or a depressed character, and with that I pour a lot of myself into it.

17. What is the most supportive comment you have gotten?

“I just want to say that you are an amazing writer. Not in a pervy way, although that smut was great, but just in the way you write. The comedy and little bits of dialogue made me laugh so many times, and you captured the relationships these characters had to eachother super well. A m a z i n g fic. Definitely write more.”

“Damn whenever you update the chapters, I just want to read more HAHAHHAJSJS thank you so much for writing!! I really love the emphasis you placed on each character’s developments and relationships as well as the real-time consequences of actions instead of like, y’know, making a big wrap-up to the show while it’s still tangled with unused storylines and character potential >:(( ahshdhjd but anyway, thank you so much for writing this and i hope you have a great everyday!”

There are some other very lovely ones but they have spoilers in them, soooo...

My favorites are when they say I did the characters really well.

18. What is the most negative comment you have gotten?

I haven’t gotten much in the way of negative comments. I’m very happy about this fact.

19. How do you handle negative comments?

I engage. I don’t recommend it as a solution.

20. What story that you have written makes you the happiest to re-read?

Hmm...I gotta go with If you lose your strength to stand. I’m really proud of it.

[thewhiterabbit42]

The Key

Pairing: Gabriel x reader

Summary:  Sometimes it takes more than weapons and magic to survive a hunt when things go sideways.  

Word Count: 1437

Warnings/Tags: angst, imprisonment, restraints, implied torture, realized feelings

A/N: This was inspired by all the RSJ gifs from Criminal Minds: Beyond Borders flying across my dash, so you can thank @rich-a-day for this one.  

This is also an unbeta’d drunk “drabble”, and I blame all my mistakes on the vodka.

“Gabe?”  It’s not the volume of your words that cuts through the quiet so much as your uncertainty.

He doesn’t hesitate in responding, the timbre of his voice as strong and steady as if you were both back at the bunker.  “Yeah?”

You swallow, and for a moment you almost back down from your confession.  “I’m scared.”  

His presence immediately stretches across the small dungeon, flooding it from wall to wall until there’s nothing but him surrounding you.  “It’s going to be ok, sweetheart.  I promise.”

Only he can’t promise these things, not now that he’s so powered down he’s practically human.  

“C’mere.”  He motions you over with his free hand as the other hangs level with his head, secured to the wall in enochian engraved cuffs.  

You look at him a moment.  “I can’t.”  

The rope around your wrists pulls tight as you raise them, reminding him that you, too, are a bit tied up at the moment.

He simply arches a brow.  “Since when has a little rope and metal ever stopped you?”

Any other time you would have responded with touche or an equally smartass remark, but the screams down the hall distract you, sending your heart rate into the stratosphere as another round of adrenaline courses through your veins.  

You’re going to die here.  It’s all you can think about.  Sam and Dean don’t have a clue where you are, neither you nor Gabriel know enough about your location to send any hints to Cas, and the agonizing shrieks that echo through the underground chambers never stop.  

It’s only a matter of time before your captors come for you.   

“Don’t give up on me yet.”  The command drags you back from the depths of your mind, and when his face comes back into focus he’s more serious than you’ve ever seen him.  “You’re one of the smartest people I know, and with these in play,”  metal rattles against stone as he shakes his bound hand at you,  “We need all the brain power we can get.”  

He needs you.  You.  And the revelation is enough to shake you free from your fear, if only temporarily.  

You glance up at your bindings.  The material itself seems pretty sound.  The fibers are smooth, wound tight, without signs it’s beginning to dry out or fray.  

Next, you inspect the steel eyelet that’s keeping you tethered to the wall.  It’s relatively new, hardy, without any chips or rust.  The stone it’s embedded in, however, is another story.  

There are cracks where the metal’s been hammered in, and when you run your fingers around the edges a few pieces break away and fall to the floor.  

Bingo.  

You set to work, jamming the meat of your palms against the hook.  It hurts like hell, though eventually your hand begins to numb beneath the constant onslaught.  Your efforts pay off though, as slowly the area continues to crumble into dust and small pebbles that faintly clatter to the floor.  

“You got this, sweetheart,” Gabriel tells you, continuing to throw encouragement your way in what you suspect is an attempt to drown out the ongoing misery in the background.  

Eventually, you stand, hoping you’ve made enough headway to just pull the damn thing out.  You raise your leg, planting your foot against the wall as you brace with the other.  You steady yourself, taking a deep breath before you use every ounce of strength you have to try and pull yourself free.  

Within thirty seconds your sent tumbling to the ground, landing with a grunt as you manage to twist yourself onto your side so your arm and shoulder absorb the brunt of your impact.  

“Atta girl!”  He cheers as you push yourself up.  “Now get over here.”  

He’s close enough so you don’t bother trying to walk, awkwardly shuffling the few feet on your knees before dropping down into his outstretched arm.  

You don’t know the Gabriel from before; the trickster.  You don’t know the one who only plays games and makes snarky remarks.  There’s an echo of the archangel you’ve heard tales about, but the one you’ve met, the one who tucks your head beneath his chin and embraces you tightly is genuine in ways you’ve never expected.  

“It’s going to be ok,” he repeats, his voice a low rumble in the ear pressed against his chest.  

You smile, the gesture only partially forced.  “When you say it like, I almost believe you.”  

You allow your senses to be flooded with him, his scent filling your lungs as the heat of his body helps chase away the dampness that’s seeped beneath your skin.    

“You’re freezing,” he realizes, his hand trying to rub away the goosebumps on the bare skin of your arm.  

“Well, it’s pretty fucking cold,” you deadpan.  “And I am human.”  

It adds to your discomfort, sure, but in a way it’s not so bad.  It’s a reminder that you’re alive, and you’re happy to take as many of those as you can get.  

“I promise you, I’m going to get you out of here.”  

You can tell he wants so badly for that to be true, and that fact he’s so desperate for you to believe it makes you wonder who he’s trying to convince more.  

“Stop, Gabe.”  You swallow back on the dread forcing its way up through your chest as an eerie silence falls across the dungeon before footsteps begin to move toward your cell.  “Whatever’s gonna happen is gonna happen.  I just…”  

You can’t say the rest.  It’s a card too close to your chest to play, even now.  

By the way he deflates, all breath leaving his body, he not only knows, but feels it too.  

It shouldn’t surprise you.  Nobody wants to die alone, but the thought of someone like him being just as vulnerable as you are is as sobering as your own mortality.  

“You’re going to be ok.”  He places all the emphasis on you’re, and it takes you a few seconds to read between the lines.  

Your head pops up, pinning him beneath your stare.  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Sweetheart, for someone so smart, you really can be daft sometimes.”  The smile he gives you is soft and sad as he brushes the hair away from your face, his fingers lingering longer than necessary along your cheek.  

Your eyes widen.  “Gabriel –”

“You don’t need to say anything,” he cuts you off.  “It doesn’t change a thing.”  

Only it does.  It changes everything, no matter what the outcome might be.  

You sit up, pulling away from him just enough for his brows to pull together in concern.  

“You listen to me, feathers,” you begin, an urgent undercurrent running beneath your tone.  “Whatever you have planned right now, forget it.”  You try to pack as much into your stare as possible, willing him to grasp what it is you’re saying.  “The only way out of here is together.”

Everything gives way to a heavy sadness, as if he just can’t believe what you’re saying is possible, and you realize he doesn’t.  

Regardless of why, it breaks your heart.

“Do you understand?”  You ask, grasping his hand between yours before pressing it against your face, desperate for him to really hear what is you’re saying.  “The only way I make it out of here is with you.”  

A second passes, then another, and as the silence stretches on you start to think that he’s the daft one of this duo.  Until his features finally fall, and his brows shoot straight to his hairline.  

When he speaks, he’s so quiet you almost don’t hear him.  “Do you really mean that?”

There’s nothing you could say that would convince him.  So you don’t, at least not with your words.  Instead, you decide to put your mouth to better use.  

He’s been waiting for this moment, lips moving forward, more eager than anything to finally join yours.  The kiss is more intense than any you’ve had before, the threat of death still hanging imminently over your head, but there’s a tenderness that cuts through it all, tempering desire into something much more sweet.  

By the time you pull away, you’re out of breath, chests moving in equally erratic rhythms as you lay your forehead against his.

You never could have known it, but you had just handed him the key to your survival, one you’d had with you the entire time: a reason to live.  

“Together,” he promises, his energy spiraling outward, creating the first light you’d seen in days as the warding on his cuffs began to glow.  

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@girl-next-door-writes​ @fand0maniac​ @feelmyroarrrr​​ @lucifer-in-leather​ @blondecoffeecake​  @tistai​ @room-with-a-cat​ @authoressskr​ @revwinchester​ @flufy07​ @tardis-is-mine​ @tangle-of-ivy​ @luciferseclipse @mrswhozeewhatsis @protectivedestiel ​ @angelofwinchester17 @phantomwarrior12 @jeanjeaniethings @wontlookaway @copperseraphim @fandomsrourlives @archangelgabriellives @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mizzezm @disneymarina @zpandaqueen @idabbleincrazy @katekvnes @han68000 @brokencasbutt67-writer @crashdevlin @klinenovakwinchester @bofa-deans-nuts @sherlockedtash88 @lovelyhexbag

Gabe Squad:

@bloodstained-porcelain-doll​​ @lacqueluster​ @baritonechick @samikitten​ ​ @kazosa​ @nobodys-baby-now​ @acarpouschimerical​ ​ @cipherwheeldecoder​ ​ @megasimpleplan4ever​ @azlinh​ ​ @fruitypieq​​  ​ @koithings​ @booknerd1324​ @the-kryomancer​ @karichanarts @archangelashiah @calamity-chaos @erisunderthemoon @hankypranky @missihart23 @curious-trickster @gabegirrl86 @trickster-emissarie @crazyevilninja-is-tired @sweetmisseddreams2002    @bun-dpdbny @greeneyedtrickster @marichromatic @ourloveisforthelovely

@a-wing-and-a-pen

[obsidiancreates]

Prompt: death follows me everywhere except

(Alcohol tw!)

Mary wasn’t usually one for drinking. She had to stay sharp, stay alert, able to kick demon ass at any moment.

But after her latest encounter with that tragedy demon and it’s… and that woman it had gotten to marry it, she could only think of soothing her frustrations with a glass of whiskey. 

Demon blood still covering her hands, her own blood dripping down her face and her arm, she walked to the nearest bar and threw the door open. She ignored the stares that her dramatic entrance had gotten her and went up to the bar. 

It wasn’t busy, but wasn’t empty. Sparse, she decided, was the best word for it.

She sat down on one of the bar stools. “Whiskey, neat,” she told the bartender.

“Any specific kind or-”

“Just whatever’s strongest.”

He eyed the blood on her face. She glared at him. He poured her drink. “You… need any help with anything?”

“Not any you can provide,” she said matter-of-factly. “Except for this,” she said, taking a drink. The whiskey burned as it went down, and she had to hold back a cough. She rarely drank at all, much less anything so strong. But she kept drinking, as though washing down the taste of her failures.

He frowned, and set down the cup he’d cleared from the spot next to her. “You… seem like you’ve got quite a story to tell.”

Mary gave a short laugh. If only he knew.

If only he knew…

“Ah, fuck it.” She knocked back the rest of the whiskey, wincing as it went down. “I do, and I’m tired of no-one knowing it.”

The bartender shrugged. “I’ve got time.”

“Good.” She peers at his name tag.  “… Averly?”

“Avery.”

“Avery. Listen close, Avery.” She looks him in the eyes. “I’m a demon hunter. This, all over my hands? Not ink. Demon blood. And I’m not supposed to tell anyone about this, but I’m tired and pissed and so I don’t give a shit about that fact right now. Before I go on, please refill my drink.”

Avery blinked at her. “W-what?”

“Demons exist, and I hunt them,” Mary repeated, slower. “Now please, more whiskey.”

Avery opened and closed his mouth a few times. Then he shut it, refilled her cup, and waited for her to go on.

She drained half the glass. “I’m the best demon hunter. My whole family, it’s all we do. And I’m the best. I’ve killed thousands of them. Been doing it for years.” She drank the rest, and tapped the glass. Avery refilled, looking at her with concern. 

“Are you serious?”

“Completely.” She took a smaller sip this time, her head already buzzing. “But there’s one-” she held up a finger for emphasis, “-one demon who I can’t kill.”

Avery stares at her. “Like- like, it’s invincible?”

“Nope!’ Mary laughs bitterly. “Not even! It’d be better if it was, honestly! No, the fucker has a lady under his sway or some shit, she married the thing and won’t stop protecting it!” She swirled the whiskey in the glass. “She’s got some kind of magic necklace or something, keeps fighting me with fuckin’ magic glowy daggers and things.”

The whiskey bottle has slipped from Avery’s hand a bit, and is dripping on the counter. “Is this a book you’re writing? I- I’ve gotten cosplaying writers in here before but that… that blood looks…”

“Real. Yeah, no, not a writer.” Mary scoffed. “I’ve been training as a demon hunter since before I could walk.”

“Oh,” Avery said, staring at her black stained hand as it raised the glass to her lips. “O-oh.”

“He’s my white whale. He’s unatt- unattinible-”

“Unattainable?”

“Yeah.” She shook her head. “Yeah, that.”

“Okay…” Avery put the bottle of whiskey down. “You’re starting to slur a bit.”

“That’s what I was goin’ for,” she says. “So, I’ve been huntin’ it for months now. It’s- I don’t even know what it did to that girl, gettin’ her to love it like she does. No magic, that’s not part of it’s powers, unless it’s some kinda new mutant demon or something.” She put the glass down and pushed it towards Avery. “I’m not drunk enough for you to cut me off yet.”

“Getting close though.” He reluctantly poured her some more. “I… you really belive all this.”

“I believe it because it’s true.” She glares at him. “What, you think I’m lying?”

“… I think… people believe a lot of things.”

Mary snorted. “Yeah, we’ll see what you believe when a demon’s askin’ you to give it your soul for fame or some shit.”

“I don’t want fame.”

“No?”

“Nope.”

“Mmm. Good for you,” she says, half sincerely, half mockingly. “Point is, death follows me everywhere. It likes me, you know? I give it what it can’t claim for itself. But this one demon, this one demon!” She slams the glass down, cracking it slightly and getting whiskey all over the counter. “This one keeps escaping me!”

“…Is that a knife? On you belt?”

Mary rested her cheek on one hand, and waved the other hand in the air. “Ah, I have like five on me. The whole point of this story has been that I hunt demons, dude.”

“Right. Right. Yeah, I’m gonna cut you off now.”

“Why, because of the knives?”

“Yeah.”

Mary sighed. “Fine. Guess I’m walkin’ home now.”

“Let me call you a cab.”

“Don’t trust ‘em.”

“Wh- why?”

“Mom says the demons run them.” Mary got up and walked, a bit unsteadily, to the door. 

“Wait, is- is that a joke?” Avery said. 

Mary smirked. “Maybe.” She opened the door. “See ya soon,” she said.

She meant it. She was going after Malum again in less than a week, and the ranting had felt really good.

Avery watched her leave, and looked at her glass. Cracked, covered in what was allegedly demon blood, and absolutely terrifying to even think about touching. Terrifying, like she had been. Like her words had been, good god. When he got home he doubted he would be able to sleep, not with the existential crisis he could feel looming over him.

But…

He did hope she would come back. 

[theangrypokemaniac]

Ma adopts the classic pose of a Lady by gathering her hands together, for that speaks of breeding. Look at Renaissance portraiture and you'll find many a predecessor doing alike.

When at ease, Pa puts his hands behind him, as they teach a gentleman to behave. Prince Philip also follows the rule in part thanks to the hard discipline of a naval career.

On Ma her waist is a deeper red, as that's the shadow cast by her...blessings.

In a similar fashion, the ideal build of a man is a flat stomach and broad chest, and Pa's pecs extend so much the rest of him is thrown into darkness.

I told yer it was gym in the dungeon!

Let me make a comparison with Sinnoh's version of this scene.

Original picture:

You're too far away. I can't see properly.

Instead of staring out of the French window, maybe more concern ought to paid to the demonic apparitions in the background.

What's this, a party for the Beings Between Dimensions?

I kept thinking the second one is Angela Lansbury, busy blending in to solve another society murder.

This explains why James is confined to the immediate outside: well within observing distance but not too close, in case one of the guests consumes his soul.

How bloody evil is Sinnoh Ma there?

Look at her nasty face: she's like a furious mint imperial.

Her head is imploding under its own gravitational pull.

Even Sinnoh Pa's trousers are an affront to me. Gone is the proud protuberance and in comes a material arrangement implying he's trying not to soil himself whilst also hiding the truth, both in stance and spillage, hence turning his back to the crowd.

Worry not, Sinnoh Pa, you're wearing those special pads aren't you? Very absorbant.

I know the berks who wrote Sinnoh held Team Rocket in contempt but does that extend to their relatives too? Is there any reason why Sinnoh Ma and Sinnoh Pa have suffered the Palsied Touch Of Death wiping 'em down with its slimy appendage?

Perhaps it befell the pair on this very evening, so the boy was locked out for his own good.

Too late, his head's already had the sniff of it, that's why he resembles a midget version of his older self.

As I've commented previously, every single scene of The Treasure Is All Mine! featuring James's parents was lifted straight from Holy Matrimony! because the 'artists' are too busy picking their own arses to come up with anything new.

Why not? The plot's a copy, so might as well do the same with the animation. Flaunt those recycling credentials!

Some are exactly the same pose, albeit in poorer quality, but many are reversed, as if that disguises it, and when a picture is flipped, it seems twisted and misaligned, as shown above.

Yet even that wasn't enough, as their rendering of it is even worse, and given a scowling expression.

What are they trying to say? You think a wizened old dog like that could ever entice Pa's lust?

As if! Sinnoh Ma is blatantly older than him! Why would he put up with that?

He's rich! He can pull underwear models!

Sinnoh Pa would, because he's desperate. Appearances don't matter so much when you're in dire need of a bed bath.

I tremble with the fear that one day the writers might recall Ma and Pa's existence, and reintroduce 'em, as going by this progression the third showing will be even more shrivelled:

Next thing you know we'll be dealing with Link's nan from The Wind Waker!

What is this thing in anime when anyone over forty suddenly resembles a friendly walnut?

What colour is Sinnoh Ma's hair meant to be there? Mauve?

Mauve?!

Since when was she bloody mauve?

Her actual shade somewhat depends on where you get the image.

Google:

Serebii:

Both of these match the old cassette copy I cherish.

What's up with yer screen shots, Serebii? Did you take 'em through one of those blurring toilet windows?

Pokémon T.V. Crapp:

I can't trust it. Each update produces a slightly different version of the same scene. I don't know whether I'm coming or going.

What is it, claret? Maroon? Aubergine?

Hey, T.A.P. isn't on intimate terms with exact hues and all their airy-fairy appellations. In my day reciting the contents of a rainbow was impressive. Doing it in order ranked one as a genius.

It certainly isn't mauve. Apparently Sinnoh Ma wasn't withered enough, and required something to really wash out her complexion, implying greyness but not quite.

I'll tell you of what this reminds me:

Hey Arnold!

If I remember it correctly (and that's not guaranteed) there was an episode featuring a go-kart race, though I don't believe they really exist, as I've never seen such a spectacle.

Sid (the one with a penis for a nose and a nose for a penis) called his The Dark Avenger, whereas Eugene (the grinning one with ginger frizz) had The Mauve Storm.

After a mishap they were obliged to share an makeshift vehicle, but rather than combining names to form The Dark Storm, Knobnose got well annoyed as Pubehead insisted on christening it The Mauve Avenger.

You could call Sinnoh Ma that.

Well there's some bloody mauve avenging taking place tonight, though I don't deserve this insult.

Fun fact: mauve is entirely synthetic, invented by accident during the Industrial Revolution.

Well there you are then.

God is so opposed to the concept of Sinnoh Ma's barnet He refused to even make it possible, because God hates mauve, refusing to allow it in nature. 'Twas forged from the diabolical furnaces within those Dark Satanic Mills instead, emphasis on the Satanic.

But I thought you liked purple and all it's many varieties.

Quiet you. It's the principle.

Where was I?

The reason why Sinnoh Ma has the fan surgically grafted to her person is it makes an easy flat surface to draw, rather than having to bother with her beads, brooch and folded neckline.

Her bony exterior evokes female slebs who foolishly imagine being as thin as possible adds youth, when in fact it's deeply ageing.

As for Pa, none of his colours have been followed, and that waistcoat on Sinnoh Pa has a most angry cut.

His general dodderiness gives the impression his pockets are peppered with furry Werther's Originals, as pensioners love sucking a Werther. Everyone knows that.

But they break yer teeth!

S'okay. Sinnoh Pa has none.

Now what about the physiques?

Notice on Pa little red is visible, with his blazer hanging straight down for meeting no impediment, even drawing inwards at the end of chest.

You can see a lot more red on Sinnoh Pa, and the blazer has to part the further down it goes to accommodate the belly. The shadow is absent because this area exceeds the top.

They've warped Pa from being a fella who cared about his body enough to keep it trim, to one who let himself go.

How people deal with weight tells you about their personality. He can't be busy sweating it off and also not give a toss!

What, is Ma gonna tolerate the possibility of a conjugal crushing as it rolls over?

No way, she's got standards!

Why would she touch that when there's plenty of sexy beasts ready to snap 'er up?

Sinnoh Ma would. She needs a big container to store her favourite tipple of blood.

Bear in mind that Pa is the character when James is grown up, and Sinnoh Pa a recollection from childhood, meaning the old, fat, grey, decrepit vision is the younger incarnation. Make sense to me.

Sinnoh Pa ate all the pies, man!