#oh and i wasn't really assuming you're still reading all this at this point

[slimyenemy]

ok damn that's sad

[nightlyrequiem]

I just got an idea of Valeria trying to court a painfully obvious and slow reader. I was reading your bimbo hcs and just thought of it. All I can think of for reference is Adrien Agreste from miraculous. The reader would unintentionally friendzone Valeria, making it seem impossible for Valeria to succeed. Do with this information what you please :p ^_^

-💋xoxo

I love love love the oblivious trope. Adrien's level of obliviousness was definitely something else. Especially with the wax statue scene...

I just think it's super fun when a character has to really work for that relationship. Like yes, show me you're truly committed. If they aren't willing to be unknowingly rejected five times, then I don't WANT IT!

also since you mentioned the bimbo headcanons then I'm going to assume you wanted Reader to be similar here. I like this idea so much I might write a little one-shot for it someday

Valeria and Oblivious Reader

Valeria absolutely ADORES you. Even if you maybe aren't too bright. You and Valeria met because you worked at a clothing store. She just happened to stop by one day to check it out and saw you very enthusiastically styling some woman.

Suddenly Valeria had no sense of style and needed you to help her out. She approached you confidently and was pleasantly surprised to find you not intimidated by her. In fact, you gushed over her tattoos and touched her arm. You also loved her 'super cool haircut.'

Valeria proceeded to show up whenever she could. Chatting you up and befriending you. It wasn't hard, you were so friendly and eager to talk to her. Unfortunately, you didn't pick up on flirting. At all. At first, it could be excused, she was being subtle and testing the waters but one time she told you how kissable your lips looked, and you just replied with all the lip products you used. Valeria did not care about the brand of lip-gloss you used. Although she did go and buy some. She'd put it on her lips and pretend she just kissed you.

Bless her heart, she was doing her best. You took her compliments on your figure as friendly bantering.

Valeria was very generous with her gifts and money, too. Always showing up with roses. Jewelry. She even paid for your rent a few times and always paid for your dates hangouts. Oh, you like that dress but can't afford it? Valeria will get it for you. You just have to give her a kiss first. You laughed off her silly words.

When flirting didn't work, Valeria tried to make herself seem more physically attractive. Tighter shirts to show off her chest and arms, taking extra care into styling her hair. Valeria was proud of her physique and would often flex for you, hoping to get a compliment. She tried out eyeliner, but you had to wipe it off and fix it for her. Not that she minded of course. You had your hands on her face and were practically staring right into her eyes.

"Just a few inches and we'll be kissing." She said. Her voice was serious and low, hoping you'd take the bait and close the gap. You just giggled, and she left feeling defeated.

She even tried confessing at one point. She sat you down one day and told you how much you meant to her. How happy she was to have you in her life. When you responded by saying you knew exactly how she felt and that you felt the same, she got so excited thinking you two were finally going to become an item. Then you spoke again, shattering those dreams.

"You're such a good friend!"

Valeria just stared at you before forcing a smile onto her lips. She agreed then left.

She had attempted to ask you out numerous times, too. She figured taking you to a fancy restaurant outside of the city would be self-explanatory. She even dressed up for the occasion. You were thoroughly impressed and yet somehow still missed the mark. Referring to the date as a 'hangout.'

She'd boast about her wealth and achievements in hopes of attracting you. Valeria makes so much money, she could take care of you. She actually just had her bathroom remodeled, didn't you know? The bathtub is big enough for two people, you should come over and join her for a nice warm bath and some wine. She just got a new bed too and it's so comfortable but too big for just her. She needs someone to come keep her warm at night. She'd love to cook you breakfast in bed sometime. Oh, and she saw this beautiful sheer lingerie set. You'd look gorgeous in it. Incredibly obvious flirting and you somehow, SOMEHOW thought she was being friendly.

"Oh, I've never shared a bath with a friend before."

Valeria wanted to rip her hair out.

Things were looking hopeless. She was beginning to think you did pick up what she was laying down. That you were just friendzoning her on purpose. She invited you to her house one day and made you dinner, listening to you ramble. After you were finished eating she invited you to sit with her on the couch and once you were sat, she grabbed your thigh and got up in your face.

"I want you to be my girlfriend."

She made sure she was very clear this time. No room for interpretation.

"In a romantic way. I want us to sleep together and wake up together. I want to live together and go on romantic dates."

You gasped, all surprised. You totally didn't see this coming. Why didn't Valeria give you any clues?? Of course you want to be her girlfriend. It took a year and a couple of months but you finally got the hint.

[imnameimswrld]

╰┈➤ ❝ [𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐚 || 𝗠𝗩𝟭 ꒱꒱

━━ ❪ . . . max x driver!reader ❫

━━ ❪ . . . description : in which a simple can of cherry cola changes the whole dynamic of a pair of rivals relationship ; ❫

━━ ❪ . . . rivals-to-lovers imagine ❫

━━ ❪ disclaimers : fluff, kissing ❫

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

past...

"Hey Max, could you grab me-"

"The day I bring you a Cherry Cola, L/N, is the day I succumb to your charms," my brows drop at the twinkle in his baby blues that always appears when he knows he pisses me off.

"And that day," his smirk causes an annoyed eye roll to feature in my gaze. "Is not today, Y/n."

🍒 🍒 🍒

present time...

"Hey, where's Y/n ?" Mick all but rushes out to one of the engineers in the Alpha Tauri paddock, Charles right behind him, both boys sporting deep stress lines in their foreheads.

Although highly confused, the engineer still points to the back with his spanner, and in a flash the two boys are sprinting through the ruckus. By the time they shove opens Y/n's door, both are panting, Mick using the door for support as Charles leans against the doorframe beside him.

Tired, but the sight of you, in one piece with a cup Ramen in hand as you lounge on the sofa in your room, rains sweet relief over them.

"Oh merci mon Dieu," the one in red looks up with his hands clasped in thanks, trudging in with a huff as Mick shuts the door behind them.

You furrow your brows and hit pause on the Netflix show playing on your laptop. "Uh...hi ?"

Mick and Charles flank your sides, the former removing your laptop so he could sit a little closer. Their gazes feel strange today, as if inspecting you, trying trying read whatever could be running through your head. It was making you lose you appetite.

"Is there something wrong, guys ?"

"Not sure, you tell us Y/n." Mick counters, tilting his head at you, making you reel back and into your leather couch.

"You guys are being weirder than normal-"

"We hears about the announcement Y/n !" Mick shoots Charles a look, their plan of coaxing the situation out of you now long gone. "You're going to Redbull ?!"

Now your appetite is completely gone.

Setting your half-eaten cup of ramen in your lap, your drag a warm hand through your hair, sighing heavily. You assumed everyone on the grid knows now, instead of just the few people that attending the Redbull meeting just a few minutes ago. The news only hits the public next week, which gives you some time before the heat packs on from fans. Everyone will most probably be stunned since most people thought the person that would be at the current Wordl Champions side would be someone like Alex; who's won more races in their F1 career.

Instead, they chose you. Why, Christian hadn't been all that specific except for "Your potential is a striking quality you possess, Y/n,".

"So what's got your two so worried ?" you ask, a slight accusatory hint to your tone. Not that you'd think they would, they're your best friends, but there's always that underwhelming feeling of the guys on the grid not respecting you as much as they would a man.

"We were worried Max got to you first."

"Thought he would chew you out for going from his rival to his teammate." Charles adds, his fingers sweeping a few strands of your hair from your eyes and behind your ear.

Max...

He's been your rival since your Karting days. Every race you'd be neck-in-neck with him. That only really changed when you joined F1, and since then you've been far behind since his car was just always better. The rivalry turned bitter when he'd rub his success in with smirks and taunts. Then, bouncing from Haas to Alpha Tauri, your chances were looking up. Your car wasn't as fast as Redbull's, but it gave you a fighting chance. Still, you were always just short of a podium, everytime.

But something changed. Last week, you stood on the P3 podium, your first ever in your Formula 1 career, and the cheers... it was all so surreal. In the celebrations of spraying champaign that momentarily hindered your vision as chunks of droplets coated your lashes, you felt a pair of strong arms round your waist and spin your around. Charles laugh reached your ears and you joined, before he set you down and pulled you in for another tight embrace.

It was then, for the first time ever, that you caught sight of a smile on Max's face over Char's shoulder. A real smile. And it was for you. You'd never received anything but smirks and verbal jabs, and vis versa really, but a genuine smile ? You could've sworn you imagined it – until later that day, when you were alone in your room in the paddock, toweling your damp, sticky hair. There was a soft knock to your door, and you granted access, still widely attacking your hair with the towel.

"Y/n."

You froze. There was an unrecognizable tone in his voice, not his usual mocking one. Dropping the towel, you stare at the blonde, blue-eyed man in your doorway. Max's eyes flick up, and there's suddenly a humorous glint in them. You then realise how outrageous your hair must've looked.

Bringing a hand up, an embarrassing tint painting your cheeks, you do your best to smooth down the chaos. A strange noise leaves Max's lips, and when your eyes whip to look at him, he's...laughing.

Another thing you've never seen before.

"Uh, earth to Y/n."

A knock following Mick's words pull you from your deep thoughts, and all three of your heads turn to stare at the door.

"Come in."

Slowly, the swings open, the hinges groaning slightly. The doorway reveals a oddly nervous looking Max.

You could feel the boys on yours sides stiffen, and Mick sits forward slightly, his shoulders tense as he stares down Max. It's quiet, no one saying anything, and you take the opportunity to roam your gaze over him. It always annoyed you how drawn to his looks you were. His baby blue eyes always shining in the light, his blonde hair always seeming so soft to touch.

Dropping, you eyes widen at what his hands hold. A soft, almost inaudible gasp leaves your lips.

"Y/n, can we talk, please ?" Max's voice is the softest you've ever heard it. It's impossible to deny.

"Yeah," Mick rounds his head to stare at you the same time Charles does, but you send them both reassuring smiles. Nodding in okay, both boys stand, still very hesitant. You do a better job smiling this time, showing that you had no problem being alone with the Dutch. That seemed to make their shoulders less tough, and slowly, they make the leave. You don't miss the skeptical glare Mick hands Max on his way out.

Once gone, Max closes the door behind him, and you indicate with a hand towards the empty spot next to you. His smile doesn't reach his eyes like that day on the podium, but obliges. The feel of his presence so close makes your breath stutter, and your heart beat just a little faster.

You do your best to meet his gaze, but the glossy red can in his hands just steals all your attention.

Max doesn't seem to know what to say, as if he just came here completely unprepared. His thumb tags softly against the can, and the action allowed you to read the words on the can.

Another gasp, and your gently pulling the can from his hold. Turning the cold can in your hand, you fight back a smile.

Cherry Cola.

You look up, and your breath catches when Max is a lot closer than he was before. His eyes shine with nervous, pupils bouncing between yours, and your parted lips.

"Max..."

His gaze burns into yours at the sound of his name being so softly uttered from your lips. A nervous bundle of your own settles in your stomach, so you break his gaze as you open the can of Cola in your hands. You can feel intense eyes follow your every move, all the way to while you set the can against your lips and tip it for a sip.

The sweet, sugary cherry taste coats your tongue, and a delighted hum sounds in your throat. Max's eyes are fixated on your now wet lips, staring eagerly. You're too afraid to cross that line yourself, and you sit still, silently praying that Max takes that leap for the both of you. He's hesitant, until the urge is just too strong and he can practically smell the cherry on your breath.

He needs a taste.

Your breath gets stolen completely when a pair of soft lips enclose around yours, tongue prodding for entrance in a instant. Wrapped up in all that Max is you grant entrance, and the way his tongue dominates your mouth, tasting everything it has to offer, an involuntary moan escapes.

If it wasn't for the same sound Max let's out, you would've been embarrassed.

Strong hands grasp your cheeks, warm on your skin, and no part of you wants to pull away, until a thought pops into your head. Max's lips are chasing yours when you pull away, the smell of cherries thick in the air between the two of you.

"I thought you hated Cherry Cola."

Max's stares at your lips for a moment, before gazing up into your eyes. The softest look you've ever seen in them now lives there.

"And yet, trust I'll be drinking it more since it'll be reminding me of this moment."

[loverofpiggies]

Oh, you watched Fiona and Cake, great!

I am curious, what were your thoughts about like Winter King or first opening? Or like about overall more mature stuff than in og adventure time

So now that I'm doing a huge rewatch of the OG Adventure Time, I will say I adore both in their own ways.

It was really cool seeing the more mature stuff in Fionna and Cake, sort of like the show 'grew up' with the audience, you know? And do NOT get me started on how much my heart was destroyed by Simons entire plight through.

See I never managed to finish the first show, mostly just got distracted, but on my rewatch I can tell I at least got through six seasons. I like how spaced out the original show is, and it makes the really sad shit with like the Ice King hit like a ton of bricks when it happens. It really feels like you're watching all these wacky people live their lives, and occasionally the horror of the Mushroom War reminds you of its effect, through Marceline, and the Ice King, and every character who was forced to live through it. I don't know, it's really nice!

Okay I'm gonna ramble so I'm putting a read more!

I was wondering if on a rewatch I'd get frustrated the way later seasons of Steven Universe made me get frustrated, but it never felt like that at all. It's just been... fun. It's just Finn and Jake on adventures, occasionally having to set down their fun and recognize the horror of things around them, and it's just. DAMN it's just done so well.

I just got to the episode where Finn meets Prismo and makes the wish, and accidentally ends up wielding the power of the crown, and all it did was break my heart. Like I was sitting there, and for a split second I was like 'wow that crown corrupted him really fast!' and then I remembered.... he was like 13 when he got the crown. He was still a child, and when Simon got the crown, he was what, in his 40s? He was just a kid, and couldn't possibly be able to handle or combat the crowns power. It just punched me in the gut.

So I very much enjoy how spaced out and silly the original Adventure Time is, because its such a unique world I love seeing more of it, and I feel like it makes the heavy scenes hit so much harder. With Fionna and Cake, I love how tight the story is and how structured things are. They're both SUCH good shows, with different ways of writing and different vibes and I adore them equally at this point.

ALSO THE WINTER KING, holy shit don't get me started, but I will rant about this mofo

(These are keychain designs but I decided to put them together on a little canvas)

Firstly, I fucking LOVE the Winter King, and I'm really sad we didn't get more of him. I do wonder if the fact that Fionna's universe wasn't 'canon' during all the universe hopping, that if somehow the multiverse will reverse some things and 'repair' the damage. I'm not even saying that because I want to see the Winter King again, it just absolutely sounds like something that could happen in Adventure Time. Hell, look how they made Fionna and Cake just-- real! Thanks Prismo you're a cool guy.

But in terms of the Winter King as a character, and in terms of his universe? I want SO much more detail. Where is Finn, where is Jake? Marceline either left the Winter King or got killed, so I'm curious there too. The juxtaposition of genuine confidence and whimsy, and the mans incapacity to feel remorse or even real deep sadness (him saying 'Oh! The dead one?' when Simon asked about Betty was... holy shit) he was just an EXTREMELY interesting character, and I so badly want to see more of him.

Also dude was just funny. The fact he straight up admitted he thought about kissing his alternative universe self was so fucking funny, and plays heavily into his narcissistic behavior and tendencies.

On TOP of that, the idea of how he ended up cursing Bubblegum specifically would be so interesting. I read online people assuming when the Ice King did his spell, it was more like "I want Princess Bubblegum to love me, so I'll do a spell so she can understand what I'm feeling and then she'll marry me!" but then the 'understand what I'm feeling' is actually just... "Hey, I feel absolute madness, here, take it off my hands!' and might have just been a huge accident. We certainly can't trust Winter King's words about it.

I don't know. He was so fascinating, and the way he put feelers out to see if Simon would feel the way he does (Specifically talking about making an Ice Betty, then realizing Simon was disturbed so he shrugged it off with a laugh, being like 'no thats immoral obviously haha') and the fact that he was so cautious and smart about avoiding telling Simon how he conquered the crown? Like he would be glad to help and teach Simon how to keep his sanity AND his power... but obviously would have never spoken his secret the more he realized Simon would morally object to it.

I dunno. This character was in the show for 20 minutes and he was so fucking interesting I almost feel robbed. I hope maybe we can get some Adventure Time comics about the guy at the VERY least!

[elyxir1zz]

★ — Between the lines - part 2

A/N ; okay im gonna warn you guys for this chapter, my writing it very diffrent then the last. i spent 2 days on it and the previous chapter i wrote when i was...stoned

CW ; angst - mentions of; alcohol, drugs, self harm (not this chapter) - modern au - melvika - love triangle

previous part part 1 rewritten

All week. All week sevika has been…bearable. To say the least, she's stopped making herself obstacle, Stopped making out with people in front of your locker, pretending you're not standing right there telling her to move. Mr wilson didn't move your seats, even after vi and sevika beat the shit out of each other

You've noticed sevika doesn't really have patience, she just goes into things with no sketch and no preparation. Then gets frustrated when it doesn't look like what she imagined. Mr wilson has asked you to help her in response to this 

“No sketch first then start painting” And, as if helping her wasn’t enough punishment, you found yourself agreeing to meet her in the art room during lunch The faint smell of paint and turpentine making sevikas head hurl “seriously? It's a child's craft. Why do i need a sketch for something we learned in..elementary school” 

You rubbed your temples, trying to ward off the headache that Sevika’s attitude was bound to cause. She could tell you were about to walk out so she rolls her eyes and picks up the pencil. Your eyes widen a bit, she actually listened to you? You smirk and as if she could read your mind “im not listening to you..just dont want to fail” sevika grumbled 

Her eyes linger on your face, the pencil hovering just above the page as if she forgot what she was doing. You pretended not to notice. “I assume you have an idea of what you want it to look like” you say softly. “An idea…” she repeats. Sevika hesitates before starting the sketch, her usual confidence faltering for a moment. It’s small, but it hints at a deeper side of her. Seeing her actually trying is kinda cute. “You need to work on this” you point to the lobby hill she drew

“this is kid stuff, why do i need a sketch” sevika whined. As much as she hated drawing, there was something somewhat likeable too it. “Because right now, this looks like something I’d put on my fridge when I was five.” you say tilting your head, making eye contact with her. She has an amused look on her face “bunny has teeth, make sure to warn your girlfriend about that” she teases

Your stomach drops a bit. “For the last time she isnt-” you pause when idea pops into your head “what if she was?”

 you smirk Sevika’s amused smirk faltered, her eyebrows knitting together in a mix of confusion and something else—was it unease? “You’re messing with me,” she said, her voice low and measured. But her eyes betrayed her, darting quickly to your face and then away.

“Am I?” you leaned closer, your smirk widening as you crossed your arms. “Maybe I’m just trying to make you squirm.” You could tell your words were getting under her skin; the subtle twitch of her jaw gave it away.

Her pencil paused mid-stroke, hovering above the paper. “You’re not serious.” She said it like a statement, but there was the faintest hint of doubt in her tone.

You leaned back in your chair, still smirking. "What if I was?" you teased, your voice light, though your heart was racing. It wasn't as if you didn't find Sevika attractive-who wouldn't?-but a part of you only wanted to see how far you could push her.

She set the pencil down and turned toward you fully, her expression unreadable. Her dark eyes scanned your face, like she was searching for any sign that you might be joking. "I don't think you could handle someone like me," she said finally, leaning back in her chair with a cocky grin, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her.

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow, leaning forward this time. "Is that a challenge?"

She snorted, though her voice was quieter now, as if she was suddenly unsure of herself. "It's not a challenge. I'm just saying, you and Vi are a better fit or…whatever."

You leaned your head to the side, fascinated by the drumming of her fingers on the edge of the desk. "You keep bringing her up," you said, voice softer now as the teasing fell away. "Why?"

Sevika tensed up slightly, and for the first time, she seemed genuinely caught off guard. "I don't— " she started, but her voice trailed off. Her gaze fell to the sketch in front of her, like she was focusing on anything but you. "I guess she's always around you, that's all."

You didn't miss that her hand clenched into a fist for one brief second before she picked up the pencil again. The atmosphere suddenly felt heavier between you, almost charged with something. "You know," you said with a slow deliberation, resting your elbow on the desk, "if I didn't know better, I would think you are jealous.

Her pencil stopped midway and her head jerked up; her eyes slitted. "Jealous?" she scoffed, heavy on the disbelief. "Don't flatter yourself."

You grinned, though inside, the pulse in your neck quickened. "You don't deny it, though.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. That playful energy turned into something else, which neither of you wanted to name just yet. Sevika broke the silence first, grumbling under her breath as she went back to her sketch. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"And you're stubborn," you retorted, leaning back toward peeking at her drawing. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've been drawing for years." You stood and snatched up your bag. She eyed the actions. "I really must go. Promised Vi I was gonna help with her painting".

She watches you walk to the door "wait-" she stutters. You turn back around to look at her "hm?" you tilt your head

"Theres this party-" sevika stopped to scoff at herself "tonight. It would be cool if you came." 

"Ill have to think about it." you smirk and turn back around to leave

"Holy shit," Sevika muttered under her breath, letting out a sigh of relief as she rested her head in her hand. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to gather her thoughts. "She's so—"

"Pretty?"

The word cut through the quiet, and Sevika's head shot up. Her eyes landed on a figure leaning casually against the doorframe. "Mel—" Sevika stammered, her voice faltering as her gaze swept over the girl.

Mel raised an eyebrow, pushing herself off the doorframe with an elegance that felt both effortless and deliberate. “Hey…” she said softly, her voice carrying just enough edge to make Sevika tense. She crossed the room in a few steps and slid into the seat next to her, the same seat where you’d been moments earlier.

Sevika’s eyes darted away, focusing intently on her sketchbook. The pencil in her hand felt heavier than it had a moment ago. “Is there a reason you’ve been ignoring my calls all week?” Mel asked, her tone even but pointed.

Sevika closed her eyes briefly, wishing she could escape this conversation altogether. She knew it was coming—it had been inevitable from the moment she stopped responding—but she hadn't expected it to happen now. Not here. Not with you still lingering in the back of her mind.

"Busy," Sevika mumbled, her voice unconvincing. She scribbled something meaningless on the edge of the page, anything to avoid meeting Mel's gaze.

"Busy?" Mel repeated, her lips twisting wryly as she leaned backward, her eyes sliding to the opened sketchbook resting across Sevika's desk. "You don't like me… do you?"

It had sounded sharp and cut clean; out loud, an accusation. Her eyes flickered to the incomplete sketch Sevika had been drawing, as though in hope the lines would tell her what she sought from Sevika's face.

Sevika's hand paused, frozen mid-air. "What?" she said, a note of defensiveness edging her voice, almost surprise.

Mel's gaze didn't budge from the page, following the lines in quiet intensity. "It's a nice sketch," she said, her tone implying that that wasn't at all what the comment was about. "But it's not about me, is it?"

Sevika swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. She hated how exposed she felt, like Mel could see right through her. “You’re overthinking it,” she said, her voice gruff, trying to dismiss the weight of the moment.

“Am I?” Mel asked, finally turning her attention back to Sevika. Her dark eyes locked onto hers, unyielding and steady. “Because it feels like you’re avoiding me. Like you’ve already made up your mind and you’re just waiting for me to figure it out.”

Sevika clenched her jaw, gripping the edge of the sketchbook. “It’s not like that.”

Then what is it like, Sevika?" Mel pressed, leaning in an inch or so. Her voice lowered, but underlying was no mistaken frustration. "You can't keep dodging this.

The room was quiet for a moment, save the scratching sound of a pencil on paper. Sevika kept her eyes on the sketch but was focusing on a storm in her head that she tried to keep contained.

 "I don't know what you want me to say," Sevika finally muttered under her breath.

"I want you to be honest," Mel said, leaning back and crossing her arms. Her voice was calm, but the tension between them was palpable. "If you don't feel the same way, just say it. Don't leave me hanging."

Sevika hesitated, a riot of thoughts racing through her mind. She was thinking of you-of the sound of your voice when you spoke to her and how that would linger on even in your absence. She thought of the growing knot within her chest, which got tighter with each look at Mel, realizing she could not give her what she wanted.

Finally, Sevika set the pencil down and breathed out. "I didn't mean for this to happen," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mel tilted her head, her expression softening just slightly. "Didn't mean for what to happen?"

Sevika hesitated, running a hand over her face. "I didn't mean to hurt you," she said finally. "But I… I can't give you what you're looking for.

The admission hung in the air, heavy and raw. Mel stared at her for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded, more to herself than to Sevika.

“Thanks for finally saying it,” Mel said, standing up and brushing off her pants. Her voice was calm, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Guess I’ve got my answer.”

Sevika did not say a word but continued staring at the sketchbook lying on the desk. The soft shuffle of Mel's footsteps across the room to the door, and then the quiet click of it closing behind her, were all she heard.

For a long moment, Sevika just sat there, staring at the lines she'd drawn. The room felt emptier now, the weight of the conversation settling heavily on her shoulders. She let her head fall forward onto the desk with a sigh, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Shit," she muttered to herself.

And for once, the silence didn't feel like a relief—it felt like a reminder.

—

The screen of the phone lit up on her bed, the message staring back at you as if it was taunting you.

"See you soon?"

Sevika… You didn't answer. You hadn't even opened it up, but the notification was there, bold and insistent, like it dared you to make a decision.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against the edge of your bed, your fingers gripping the edge of your phone. You unlocked it for the fifth time in the past ten minutes, stared at the message, then locked it again.

"Just go," you muttered under your breath. "It's not a big deal. It's not… anything."

The second the words were out of your mouth, your chest tightened, the lie heavy in the back of your throat. You ran a hand through your hair, letting out a shaky breath as you glanced toward your closet. It loomed in the corner of your room, half-open, with a tangle of clothes spilling out like it was mocking your indecision.

What were you even going to wear? Did it matter?

You get up suddenly, pace a few steps to the closet, and stop short. Your hand hovered over the door, but you hesitate. If you started picking an outfit, it meant you'd already decided to go.

And if you went…

You shook your head, stepping backward. No, it wasn't that deep. It was just a casual thing, not some declaration. Nobody's asking you to make a big deal out of it, so why was your stomach twisting in knots?

"Ugh," you groaned, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes like you could block out your own thoughts.

Man, this was hard. You usually aren't this indecisive. What if it is awkward? What if it is not? What if you just go out and you've got the wrong thing to say? Or worse-what if you went, and it was so damn obvious how much overthinking you've done?

You sat down again on the bed edge, your stare listless to the floor. Maybe you should not go at all. It will be easier like this, isn't it? Just bypass the whole circumstance altogether; it'll keep things plain easy.

"Just go", you hushed again, this time feeling almost as if to plead to yourself.

You sigh and look back toward the closet. Slowly, reluctantly you stood up and pulled the door open. You were going to drive yourself crazy if you didn't just stop thinking about it already.

—

You are greeted by the sprawling house, feeling out of place for the kind of party unfolding inside. The manicured lawn and pristine exterior suggest a bright future for whoever owns the place, but the muffled bass thumping from within and the rowdy voices spilling out into the night tell a different story.

You hesitate at the door, looking back down the street to where your car is parked. The urge to turn and run claws at you, but before you can act on it, you notice the door isn't even closed. It's propped wide open, as if the house itself has given up on decorum.

You steel yourself and step inside. Immediately, the warmth and the noise hit you like a wave of chaos that makes you wonder why you came in. The air is thick with mingling scents of alcohol, sweat, and whatever someone's attempting to pass off as a "vape flavor."

You push through the crowd, ducking and weaving to avoid the elbows and arms of taller bodies that seem oblivious to your presence. At your height, you’re practically invisible unless someone is looking directly at you—or accidentally spills their drink on you.

The fellow with the beer oversloshes his mug on a swooping move too close to your shoes, and you sidestep in time with an apology he never heard amidst all that shouting and laughter, so you forge ahead deeper into this house, every footfall reminding you of how far the current scene feels alien.

The kitchen was somewhat less crowded than the rest of the house, but not by a long shot. The countertops were strewn with empty bottles and red cups; someone had spilled beer on the floor, which made it sticky under your shoes. You grabbed the first drink in sight—a suspiciously bright red punch in a cheap plastic cup.

That was a mistake, the first sip. Chaotic, the taste mixed sour fruit and cheap vodka, burning its way down your throat. You winced and pulled the cup away-like it'd offended you personally.

"That was hilarious," a voice said from behind you, tinged with amusement.

You turned to see a girl leaning casually against the counter, her dark eyes locked on you, her lips curled into a smirk. She held her own cup with the kind of effortless confidence you'd never mastered.

"I don't usually drink," you admitted, setting your cup down like it might bite you.

"I figured," she replied smoothly, pushing off the counter and stepping closer. "First-timer vibes."

You blinked, trying to place her. She was gorgeous in a way that didn’t even seem fair—polished, poised, and wearing an outfit that looked like it had been pulled from the pages of a magazine.

“I’m Mel,” she said, extending her hand like this was a professional networking event rather than a chaotic high school party.

You hesitated for a second before shaking it, mumbling your name in return.

Her smirk widened. "I know who you are."

That threw you off. "You… do?"

"Of course." She shrugged, taking a casual sip of her drink. "You're kind of hard to miss these days."

Your confusion must've been obvious because she tilted her head, elaborating. "You've got two of the school's star hockey players practically falling over themselves for you. That kind of drama doesn't go unnoticed.

You coughed hard, choking in the air and waving a hand before your face. "What?!"

Mel chuckled, set down her cup, and yanked a napkin off the counter to give to you. "Relax," she teased with a lighter tone. "It's not terrible. Just… interesting."

You scrubbed furiously at your mouth, burning under the heat and unsure of a response. "They're not— I mean, no one's—

"Sure," she said, stretching the word out with a knowing glance. "Keep telling yourself that."

She leaned back against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other. Her gaze lingered on you, weighing. "So, what are you doing here?"

"I…" You stopped, suddenly feeling so out of place. "I was invited."

Mel raised an eyebrow; her smirk softened into something closer to curiosity. "By who?"

"Does it matter?" you shot back, more defensive than you intended.

Her grin was back, sharper this time. "Guess not. But by the way you're standing like a deer caught in headlights, I'd say this isn't your scene."

You frowned, crossing your arms. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," she said, leaning closer, her voice dropping just slightly, "you're too interesting for this."

The statement hung there, unexpected and unsettling. Before you could respond, Mel grabbed her cup and straightened up. "See you around," she said casually, brushing past you with a final glance.

You stood frozen, her words playing over in your mind. What did she mean by "interesting"? And why did it feel like she'd seen right through you?

The party around you suddenly seemed louder, the noise pressing in. You reached for your abandoned drink, taking another sip hesitantly. It still tasted awful, but this time you forced it down.

Mel was gone, swallowed up by the crowd, but she'd left something behind-a knot of uncertainty in your chest.

Your name is called out from across the jumbled hum of the party by a familiar voice. You stop mid-sip, the booze still on your tongue. You turn toward the sound, and then you see her-Vi.

Your stomach does the roller coaster flip-and-drop thing. You are shocked; you sputter. You immediately spit out the sip of suspect vodka punch you'd just taken. The burning liquid sprays onto the counter in front of you, earning a few judgmental glances from nearby partygoers.

“Violet!" you stutter, still trying to recover as you wipe the back of your mouth with your hand. A nervous smile stretches across your face as Vi steps closer, hands in her pockets and her signature smirk playing on her lips. "What-what are you doing here?

She raises an eyebrow, seemingly entertained by the flustered look on your face. "I could ask you the same thing," she said, her eyes running across your features before flicking down to the cup in your hand. "You don't really seem like the party type.”

You laugh awkwardly, trying to ignore how her gaze seems to pin you in place. "I'm not," you admit, holding up the cup as if it explains anything. "I just… needed a change of scenery tonight, I guess."

Vi tilts her head, studying you. "A change of scenery, huh? And yet here you are, hiding out in the kitchen, drinking." She looks at your cup with mock suspicion. ".whatever that is."

"It's punch," you say, defensive, even though you know you deserve it.

"Punch," she repeats, plainly not buying it. Her smirk grows and she leans against the counter, relaxed. "How's that working out for you?

You roll your eyes but can't suppress the small laugh that escapes you. "Terribly. I think I might've just poisoned myself."

Vi chuckles, the sound warm and honest, and for a moment, the noise of the party fades into the background. You grip your cup a little tighter, trying to find your ground as the weight of her attention settles on you.

"Hey, I needed to talk to you- do you want to find a quieter space" There is a shift in tension between the two of you. Your heart skips for a second, and you look down "uh

"Sure- i have to go use the bathroom- really quickly-" your words are broken up as you step away- actually technically you run away. You push into the crowd, it reminded you of a corn field as your squished between bodies

Your almost out of the crowd when somebodies ankle trips you. Strong hands catch you before you hit the ground. "You okay?" your eyes remain on the ground as you already know who it is 

You sigh looking up at sevika. her smirk was infuriating and her grip was steady.

"Fine" you stand up straighter and pull your hands back. She has a look of disappointment on her face as you do

You size her up, and down she ws wearing a leather jacket with a tank top and a pair of jeans. "Nice jacket" you say in a sarcastic tone. It was a nice jacket it hugged sevikas muscles snuggly.

She chuckles deeply "Thanks, babe" she crossed her arms. Your face flushes with the nickname, honestly not knowing if she meant it literally. With the so called rumors she could mean it literally.

"Didn't think I'd see you here, doesn't seem your kind of scene" she laughed squeezing the red cup in her hand, looking down at it.

"Oh my god why is everyone saying that" your eyes widen as you hold your head. "Hm?" she tilts her head. ".there was this girl- in the kitchen- actually it wasn't just a girl- it was mel" sevikas stomach dropped at your words

"Mel? Wh- what did she need?" sevika was.nervous? She stuttered over her words and her palm grew sweaty. You were worried mel was messing with you cause she was salty over what went down between them

You laugh and tilt your head "she just teased me about drinking" you chose not to bring up the rumor since you were still worried mel was just fucking with you

"Was that it?" sevika looked around periodically. Almost nervous about the people standing around. You narrow your eyes

"What's wrong?" you look up at her. There were moments like these between the both of you where there wasn't any teasing or sarcastic comments. Your hand rests on hers. She looks down at your hand, heart dropping a bit

'I have to go find mel' sevika thought to herself. She smirked laughing "im fine, peach. Ill be right back" you sigh as she walks away from you

–

The hallways are full; the crush of bodies pushes against you while the air grows thick with the nauseatingly sweet combination of beer and weed. It clings to your senses, making your stomach turn queasily as you struggle through the mess. The music booms from the living room, the low throb of the bass vibrant in your chest. Your head suddenly throbs, overwhelmed.

Finally, you find the bathroom door behind which its peeling white paint stands in vivid contrast to the dimly lit hallway. You pause a moment, looking back at the party crowd. A pang stirs in your chest. Maybe you should just leave. But instead, you push the door open, slipping inside.

With the soft click of the door shutting, the din is reduced to a distant hum, and this tiny room now feels almost like a haven from outside chaos. You let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the sink and bracing yourself against its edges. The cool porcelain is calming beneath your fingertips.

The mirror reflects your image-messy hair, slightly flushed cheeks, eyes that give away your unease. You frown and brush a strand of hair over your shoulder; maybe if you fix your appearance, it will somehow fix everything.

"Why are you so weird…" you whisper to yourself, barely audible over the muffled bass of the party outside. Your voice breaks slightly, weighted down by self-criticism.

You hold your gaze in the mirror, the fluorescent light casting sharp shadows across your features. The reflection feels foreign, like someone you don't quite recognize. You sigh again, closing your eyes for a moment as if shutting out the world will help you reset.

You rub your temples, trying to ease the headache that's forming. "You could've stayed home," you mutter to yourself. "Netflix, snacks, no people…"

Your reflection doesn't respond, but the silence in the bathroom is heavy, as if the quiet is some judgment against you. You shake your head, annoyed at yourself, and glance around the bathroom. There's a faint chemical smell from the cleaner someone half-heartedly used earlier, clashing with the residual scents of beer and smoke seeping through the walls.

You straighten up, brushing off invisible dust from your shirt, as if to ready yourself for stepping back out there. But your hand lingers on the sink, and your stomach twists at the thought of walking back into the noise and heat of the party.

You can do this, you mutter, but even you don't sound like you believe it. You take one final deep breath and run your fingers through your hair before you force yourself to turn toward the door.

—

You work your way back through the living room, weaving past the people scattered around. The music is louder now; you feel every bass note like it's a second heartbeat in your chest. You smell stale beer and smoke- heavy in the air-and the space spins for a half-second before straightening again. You finally spot a spot on the couch open up, so you make your way there, collapsing between the two worn cushions as it envelops you.

You lean forward, placing your elbows on your knees and pressing your fingers against your forehead, closing your eyes. The cacophony of noise and the movements around you are overwhelming, but you try to block out the party and breathe deeply to center yourself.

For one long moment, you contemplate returning to Vi—maybe she'd make you feel less foreign—but you toss the notion aside. Later. You just need a moment to yourself.

"Edible?"

The voice snaps you out of your haze. You open your eyes to a girl with bright blue hair standing before you, holding out a small container of gummies. She is wearing an oversized band tee and some ripped jeans, her eyeliner just a little smudged, like she has been in this place for hours. Her expression is casual, almost bored, but there's a flicker of curiosity in her gaze as she looks at you.

You hesitate, eyes darting between her face and the container in her hand. "What?"

"Edible," she repeats, shaking the container slightly; the gummies inside shifted with the movement, their bright colors catching the dim light.

You straighten up a little and study her for a second. She's casual, her body leant a little sideways, as if she's done this a hundred times before. Something about the way she holds herself makes you feel that she might be sizing you up to gauge whether you're the kind who'd say yes or no.

"Uh… sure," you say, leaning forward and reaching for the container. Your fingers brush hers briefly as you grab one of the gummies. It's red, shaped like a little bear, and feels sticky against your skin.

The girl smirks faintly, crossing her arms as she watches you. "First time?"

You pop the gummy into your mouth and chew it slowly. The overly sweet artificial fruit flavor hits your tongue. You swallow before responding, feeling a bit self-conscious under her gaze. "No," you lie, your voice even.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but says nothing more. "Cool," she says simply, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "It's a good batch. Just… pace yourself.” You nod, leaning back into the couch

The music, somehow, isn't as loud, or maybe your perception is adjusted. You aren't feeling as weighted; the weight of the night slowly begins to lift. This party may just not turn out to be as bad as you thought it was.

"Im jinx" she sits down next to you. You say your name holding your hand out for her to shake. She laughs and shakes it, your face flushes with embarrassment. "Sorry." you look down 

"Jinx, go away," Vi says firmly, the tone sharp and leaving no room for argument. Your eyes widen at the sound of her voice, and instantly, you feel a pang of awkwardness. Why does it have to be Vi now, of all times? You shut your eyes tightly, willing this all to just disappear. Finally, you look over, and there's Vi, standing, her face unreadable, while Jinx is grinning like she's just been handed the most entertaining show of the night.

"Whatever," Jinx says with a shrug, utterly unconcerned. She stands and smoothes out her jacket but leans down one last time. "Come find me if you ever need to wind down." Her voice carries that now-familiar teasing lilt, and she punctuates it with a wink before strolling off.

You chuckle softly despite the tension, following her as she bumps Vi's shoulder playfully. Vi doesn't budge, wordless, waiting until her sister exits.

Then, she sits down beside you, taking Jinx's now-vacant spot. Immediately, the atmosphere shifts. You can feel it in the way Vi settles next to you-careful, almost hesitant.

"Are you all right?" she asks, leaning into your space enough to catch your eyes. Her voice is softer now, gentler, and her eyes search your face like she's actually concerned.

"Yeah," you say-too quickly. You run a hand through your hair, trying to appear more composed than you feel. "I'm fine, just. needed a break from everything."

Vi nods but doesn't seem fully convinced. The weight of her stare lingers onto you, and your chest tightens. For a moment, neither of you says a word; the muffled sounds of the party fill the silence between you.

"You seemed kinda off earlier," she finally says, her voice careful but firm. "I just wanted to make sure you're alright."

"I'm fine," you repeat, forcing a small smile. But Vi isn't buying it. She shifts slightly, turning more toward you, her knee brushing against yours.

"You know," she begins, her voice quiet and almost tentative, "I've been thinking about a lot of things lately. About us. About. you."

Your heart skips a beat, and you glance at her, unsure where this is going but terrified you already know.

"Vi—", you begin, but she interrupts you now, the words spilling out as if she's afraid she will never find the courage to say them.

"Listen, I know this might be the worst time, but I need to tell you. I care about you. More than friends do. I've been trying to figure out how to say it, but nothing ever feels right."

Her confession hangs in the air, heavy and unshakeable. You feel your stomach twist, a mix of emotions bubbling to the surface-shock, guilt, and something else you can't quite name.

"I. Vi, I don't know what to say," you stammer, suddenly hyper-aware of how close she is. Her eyes are on you, hopeful but guarded, waiting for a response.

You get up hastily-the motion almost too quick-and Vi looks up at you, taken aback.

"I have to-um, I have to go to the bathroom," you mutter, turning away from her, taking a step back. "I'll be right back, okay?"

Vi frowns, opening her mouth like she wants to tell you something, but doesn't. Instead, she nods slowly once, expressionless.

"Yeah," she says now, voice softer. "Take your time."

You turn and weave through the crowd, your heart pounding in your chest. You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you need to put some distance between you and Vi, at least for now.

Your looking at the front door of the house, it felt like it was haunting you, the house music made it hard to think as you look behind you, making sure vi isnt right behind you. You sigh and leave the house. --

tag list: @vyvvycg part 3

[genericpuff]

hey gen p! i was reading a post of yours where you mentioned LO's age rating and briefly mentioned that minthe was verbally abusive during sex which surprised me bc i didnt really remember her being accused of doing so outside of the slap/havent come across any other accusation since, so i've been defending her against abuse allegations, maybe mistakenly, bc i stopped reading the comic at some point. is it too much to ask for some instances where she *was* abusive so i can correct my outlook?? thx! :3

oh so it's really just one scene and it's waaay back in Episode 8-

like i'm gonna assume this isn't a consensual kink play thing LOL but also like. I wanna make it clear also that people don't necessarily defend Minthe as not being abusive, many people who defend her are well aware that she's done abusive shit. They defend Minthe because 1.) she has a lot more potential for well-written character development than Hades and Persephone (as she's actually genuinely flawed as per the narrative vs. Hades and Persephone who are flawed but we're still expected to believe they're perfect, so unlike H x P Minthe actually has potential to do better and grow like characters should!) and 2.) a lot of Minthe's abuse towards Hades isn't necessarily justified but is a lot more understandable when you really analyze Hades and realize that he is, in fact, a piece of shit LOL

like don't get me wrong, I don't think Minthe was in the right by treating Hades like shit and escalating it to the slap, there are FAR better things she should have done... but I and many others defend her on the basis that she doesn't have the self-respect or resources necessary to look out for herself in a more productive way, much of which was facilitated by Hades trapping her in a financially abusive relationship. When you're worried not only about losing your partner, but also your house and your job with it, that's gonna turn into some unhealthy coping mechanisms and responses like physical and verbal abuse as we see in Minthe. She's someone who's not in control of her situation but is trying to maintain her control through unhealthy means.

Hades, on the flipside, has no excuse when he assaults people or acts like an asshole - he's just able to get away with it through the narrative, its characters, and the readers, because he's the rich and powerful main protagonist.

Minthe is an incredibly flawed person who was self-aware enough to understand what she was doing wasn't right but not equipped enough to do better. She's lower class (according to Rachel, all the nymphs are considered lower class compared to the gods) and was originally written as someone with untreated BPD, which Rachel later retconned (note: the episode where Minthe slaps Hades is literally called Splitting, which is a symptom of BPD, like it's not some assumption or misinterpretation, Rachel literally wrote BPD into the script and then tried to quietly backpedal on it later through Discord.) Hades is an incredibly flawed person who is self-aware of what he's doing, but doesn't see it as wrong and therefore doesn't see any reason to do better. But we're expected to root against the former as an irredeemable villain who can't do better and root for the latter who is an actual monster whose actions are justified and excused by the narrative and its creator.

So yeah, that's why a lot of us defend Minthe. She's not perfect, she's done abusive shit, but unlike Hades and Persephone, she has the capacity to grow and change for the better.

[farmhandler]

lil prompt: wade gives logan and laura (and himself ofc) an at home spa day bc god knows they could both use it. (optional: with vanessa's help)

“I’m not good at this. Why do you keep making me do it?” Logan asked.

Wade sighed explosively, as though Logan's utter lack of interest in painting Wade's nails was a personal failing.

“Laura needs a role model now more than ever. How will you help paint her nails if you can’t even paint mine?”

"I think I could do a better job with my eyes closed," Laura said. Her eyes were, in fact, closed due to the cooling mask Wade had forced on her first thing when they'd come over. "Why do I have this on?"

"Your eyebags could give mine a run for their money," Wade said.

“She’s fucking eighteen years old," Logan said. "She doesn’t need my help painting her nails. And I'm pretty sure our 'eyebags' are genetic.”

“Then what about me, daddy?” Wade said, fluttering his lashes at Logan. Logan kicked his leg under the table.

Wade wasn't to be deterred. He wiggled his fingers imploringly, waiting, and Logan decided, fuck it, and he tried. Genuinely, really tried to paint Wade's nails, and paint them however he liked.

"Painting outside the lines," Wade said as he watched him make no attempt to try and keep the paint on his nail. "Your technique intrigues me, Peanut."

"Shut it. I've got this," Logan muttered. He finished painstakingly drawing a little star on each nail and then scraped away the paint around Wade's nail afterwards with tissues. He figured cleaning up this way was better than trying to be precise on the first try and failing anyway.

Wade kept a straight face the whole time. Then he lifted his nails and bit his lip, hard.

“Oh my god," he breathed. "What are those?"

"They're stars. The blue background is a night sky." Logan pointed the bottle at him. "You fucking do this shit with this tiny ass little brush. I'm not made for precision."

"You're telling me, sweetie. The edges of my nails are awful. They’re so bad. I love them,” Wade gushed. He smiled at Logan with genuine glee, and Logan felt warm all over in a way he fucking hated, because he'd been feeling it a lot more lately.

Then Wade’s phone rang.

“Can you answer that for me, sweetums? I’m currently very wet and trying to harden up.”

Shaking his head, Logan leaned forward and answered the call without looking. It was Vanessa, letting them know she'd found the LED lamp for the nails Logan had bought not knowing they needed a stupid lamp to work. Why they asked him to do this shit when he obviously didn't know what he was doing, he'd never know.

When she showed up, she also had a bunch of other shit Logan didn't want to have anywhere near him either.

"Sorry I took so long. I had to go to a couple places to find the lamp." Vanessa swept past Logan after tugging him down for a kiss on the cheek by the door and set her bag on the table. "You started without me?"

"Just some nail painting. And giving Laura's eyes a rest."

"My eyes are freezing," she said from the couch.

Logan sat down next to her, because it felt safer to do so. Laura hated this stuff as much as he did. Or at least he assumed she did. He'd never asked.

"You have any idea what all this is?" he asked her, once she lifted the mask from her face. Laura hummed.

"Some of it." She handed him one of the samples Vanessa had dumped from wherever she'd gone. "You should use this."

"Nighttime eye cream?" he read aloud. "And this is supposed to do what?"

Wade was sitting waiting for his nails to dry, so Vanessa walked over and ripped open the packet. She then dabbed the cream under his eyes and rubbed it in. When Logan tried to yank his head away, she grabbed his chin and made him sit tight.

"Come on, put up with it for five seconds," she said. "Trust me, you'll like this one."

The scent wasn't overpowering, which was a plus. Still strong, but that was most things. The cream had a surprisingly soft texture. Once she was done, he wasn't going to admit it felt kind of nice, but he didn't need to. Wade grinned at Logan like a loon.

"You don't have to look so fucking smug about all this," Logan muttered.

"You lost the bet, so I don't even need to pretend," Wade said cheerfully.

"Because you cheated," Logan hissed.

"And I didn't get caught!" Wade clapped his hands together, apparently deeming them dry. "All right, now let's get serious."

About half an hour later, Logan really was regretting letting Wade get away with cheating.

He had an itchy mask on his face, his hair was pinned back by a headband with kitten ears on it, and Wade could not look any more pleased if he tried. Logan had assumed the nails that needed a lamp to cure them were for Laura or Vanessa, but everybody insisted on putting them on him. So he sat there while these sparkly pink nails dried, and the facemask did whatever it was doing on his face.

Logan hated it, but Laura...Laura was laughing. She's been laughing. She thought Wade was funny, but Vanessa and Wade together really set her off. Logan had never seen her laugh so much.

Logan exhaled. Maybe regret wasn't the right word. And maybe he didn't hate it.

"You ready for your mud bath?" Wade asked, sitting down next to him.

"You'd better be joking, bub."

"Only slightly. I do have a hot tub that's been bath bombed with your name on it. And all the supplies I need to work on your feet while you do. Don't worry: I have fully and mentally prepared myself to pick the fungus out of your toes."

"Ew," Laura said to their right. Vanessa was in the middle of pulling her hair back to join the face mask crowd.

I'm not doing that, Logan almost said, and then looked at Laura, and Vanessa.

If he let the night end now, sure, he'd be more comfortable, but...well, he didn't hate all this.

The candles were nice. Wade had picked really subtle scents, and nothing too fruity or overly clean. They reminded Logan of his cabin, the one he hadn't visited in years. After a rain, when the forest surrounding it smelled heavy and sweet in a way he couldn't explain to anyone who didn't get it.

"Yeah, all right," he said. Wade looked surprised.

"You okay?" Wade asked, inexplicably. He scooted closer to Logan and touched his knee. "I really won't force you into it, if it's that bad."

"It's not." Logan touched his hand. Their nails looked completely mismatched, especially his. On his gnarled hands, the pink stood out badly. He lifted them into the light for inspection. "I could use a bath. You coming in with me?"

It was both a tease and a genuine question. Wade laughed, startled, still grinning that shit-eating grin.

"And fondle your toes directly? Absolutely."

Logan thought back to that kiss on his cheek. So he kissed Wade's cheek, and when Wade made a soft sound of surprise, Logan shifted his mouth a few inches over to Wade's.

Now Wade looked stunned. Someone cleared their throat behind them.

"No fondling," Logan said, rising to a stand.

"A little fondling," Wade said, finally recovering enough to speak. He leapt up and followed Logan.

[phoenixyfriend]

Hey have a fun AU I came up with the other day after reading a bunch of fics with related tropes

It's a raised Sith AU. Anakin was found by Sidious well before he was found by Qui-Gon. He was raised by the Sith, is a classically horrible monster stalking about TCW to be Vader (mask and all, just as an intimidation factor instead of life support) while Ventress and Grievous and Dooku do their own things in a different section of the war. He's got a Really Fucking Weird dynamic with Obi-Wan, mostly attempting to kill him etc.

At some point, Palpatine allows Anakin and Padme to meet. The romance that blooms is one that Sheev decides is useful to him, so he lets it happen.*

Padme gets pregnant. Sidious arranges for her death. Anakin loses his entire shit and tries to kill Sidious. Obi-Wan is off trying to save Padme, unaware of Anakin getting his remaining limbs cut off by his this-universe Master. (This is important, because Anakin does remember Obi-Wan trying to save Padme.)

So we have Anakin, who was raised Sith, and just lost the only things that have mattered to him since his mom died when he was a kid, and Palpatine has pushed him further into the Dark than he ever has. Anakin… knows more about the Sith Secrets in this universe.

Anakin finds a Sithly Time Machine. Maybe on Malachor. There's an owl? Whatever.

Anakin, someone who's been Vader for the vast majority of his life, wakes up at age nine. Maybe even younger, like six. His mother is already dead at Sidious's hands. He's already roommates with Maul. He's already being trained as a baby Sith.

Anakin, being a 20 year old war veteran, is much better at escaping than Sidious has planned for. He reprograms a medical droid to take out his slave chip, steals a ship, etc. All the stuff that Maul wasn't very good at, and Anakin was too young for, so Sidious didn't have the preventative measures in place for yet.

Anakin heads for the one place and person he thinks he can trust: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(Obi-Wan is still a padawan. But this Baby Sith just declared him Adoptive Teen Dad, so.)

@lizasweetling (all indented bits from here will be hers):

Because Sith. Bad for mental health of the user and generally bad for their environs But also baby. And if hes dragging Maul around no doubt the dude is constantly himself confused why he is here Like yeah, Sidious sucked, and this 6-9yo is way powerful and knowledgeable on the dark side (?????) But why are we going to the Jedi? And not even trying to kill them apparently?????

Anakin is very much being affected by Baby Brain and Baby Endocrine System. He cries a lot more than he should.

I WASN'T THINKING OF HIM BRINGING MAUL BUT YEAH. THAT'S. THAT'S A POSSIBILITY.

Jedi Council trying to decide if this is more "Adult Sith got shrunk" or "child got evil man's memories." Vader wants to know why it even MATTERS. (He didn't actually plan on telling them, but he has very little self control right now.)

The first Good Act he does is tell them where to find Ventress and Ky. (In the original timeline, he viewed Ventress as like. Cool older cousin.)

Vader's right, that distinction does not matter Aaaw, she deserves that, that's nice Maybe she will be like 20% less homocidally traumatized

Anakin is furious when Maul and Obi-Wan pick him up under one arm like a package. He is a GROWN MAN he is an ADULT he was a SITH LORD and about to be a FATHER, he is TOO OLD FOR THIS.

They point out that he is Baby.

😂 sorry lord of evil, you're too baby, have a nap and maybe your feel better. Assuming the crisis on Naboo is still happening, and as such the vote of no confidence is right now, it might be a great time to report Sidious as a Sith lord. Post-escape from Sidious, both he and Maul definitely will need a nap. It's that kinda place.

Oh, it's probably at least a year before. Anakin keeps trying to sneak off to kill the man himself, but the Jedi are more ready for his Sneaking than Mustafar was, so he keeps getting caught before he can reach the Senate.

At one point he tries to just CHARGE the place and you get Mace and Obi-Wan sprinting after him. The News captures videos of this very small child getting chased by an older Padawan and a Master and they are mostly yelling for him to PUT DOWN THE SABER.

(Sidious might see him but what's he going to do? Might cause too many problems for Sidious to be aware of Anakin's presence with the Jedi, though. Best not.)

It's probably more expensive on average to hire an assassin on a child, just in general But on a jedi youngling??? If he can even find someone to do that, it will be so very, ridiculously expensive And likely 70%+ upfront payments

Ahsoka definitely seeks him out. Toddler baby child. She adores him for reasons unclear to anyone and everyone.

!!! Baby has baby!! Vader's probably a little thrown by this. Been a while subjectively since someone just loved him. And not even for like, a reason. Baby Vader coerced into sitting obediently for nap by tired kiddo: [The council liked that]

The number of times that vader could only be convinced to nap by Obi-Wan grabbing him, caging him in his own lap, and forced to Sit Quietly until he just fell asleep like that...

He has things to do, he's not tired 😡😡😡💢 (He's 9. Distances are between 150 and 195% longer when measured with steps, he's hungry (subjectively) all the time, and has only middling coordination He so is too tired)

Anakin doesn't know Qui-Gon at all but he keeps getting stuffed into the man's top because he's just. Small enough to fit.

Like the bomb boobs gif, but it's a small child.

the indignity

You just. You can't let him get too self-important.

Vader is Disgusted every time the pediatric healers try to talk down to him like they do to other 6yos.

The difference between this and other "Vader goes back in time to the Jedi" AUs (like Force of Many Sights) is that this Vader has never been a Jedi, and doesn't know anything about them except how they fight when he's trying to kill their friends.

Also Maul's there.

Because even he has a hard time taking himself seriously when hes so easy to manhandle Rest of the time; I am fear, I am death personified As luggage child: I am so small. The tiniest. I crave violence He's probably very annoyed they keep taking away his saber And hey! Obi gets practice not losing his! Woooo!

Something something Anakin clinging to Maul's back (piggy back ride) and chewing on his head or something stupid like that. Perfect height for head biting.

You know, the classic anime head bite

Maul probably has been nominally talked into this because this 9yo is a powerful darksider But he is also the world's most annoying tiny kid Maul would've thought his phenotype would make him immune to this ridiculousness He was wrong At least the teeth are a bit less pointy than his other little brothers'? Appreciating the little things

tfw your unwanted little brother drags you to what you think is a cult but actually they're way less culty than your last two places so you just stick around to keep an eye on the little shit

Anyway. ObiMaul for this one.

They're peers They're tired They just want to sit down and not have to chase this weird little murder child They have a lot in common 😊

They are all just a little bit stupid, I love them.

Qui-Gon is a Cool Mom (throws condoms at them and books it).

Yeah, that's about as much involvement as would be appreciated They probably did a lot of sparring before the tension broke Which did not relieve said tension, generally made it worse (Competence, athleticism, sweat-) Vader is confused, but probably doesn't mind He's probably glad they're distracting each other from stopping assassinating a certain someone (Which- that is 9yo hubris. He would need help to do that)

I still can't decide where on 6yo-9yo he falls but somewhere in there

Babies means easier hiding in shirt, teenie Ahsoka, and longer for him to convince the Jedi council to do a Sith hunt before the Naboo situation

Also longer for Maul and Obi-Wan to faff about being all Tension

* Vaguely inspired by the backstory of Rulebreaker/Wildheart, which is great but significantly more of a romance fic than this.

[genderqueerdykes]

Having read what y'all have said, I'm going to add a few things.

1. You're right, it's not all cishet men, it's specifically the bad ones that I hate, I do however, have a distrust of specifically *White* cishet men (though at this point I feel like most people do) who have declared themselves to be just that, which brings me to my next point -

2. It's only the people who have flat out said they identify this way that it effects for me. I'm actually married to a non-passing trans woman. I see her struggles, mostly with, you guessed it, white cishet men, and white cishet women. I love her a lot, so no, I don't immediately just assume.

3. Aro, Ace, intersex, Etc are all Lgbtq+ last I checked, no? I personally wouldn't group those folks in with cishet folks, but I do appreciate this take as well. For me, in my opinion, being aro is enough to be queer if someone wants that space. If they tell me they don't, I won't force it, but I've yet to have someone say "oh no thanks" being so fr right now, Even if they are Cis, and Hetero, they are still Aromantic. They are still Asexual. Those are still valid identities in the community. So is being gay? Intersex by default means you're not cis, unless I've been misled on that. So.. No I'm not including those groups when I say I hate cishet men.

4. I know it wasn't you who brought this up, but I'd geuninely appreciate a deeper explanation on how hating white cishet men (or, Bad cishet men specifically) is racist? Idk maybe I'm an outlier here but I'm way more comfortable around cishet men of color than I am white cishet men. I just didn't think it would immediately jump to "You're racist anon" or I would've clarified that intially.

The reason for all of this, is personal. It is because of hurt. But it is also because 97% of women. Statistics back that right now, in society, the most dangerous people are also the ones who try to take up the biggest space. Who shout the loudest. Who punch down most often. So yeah, I do hate them. Would I say that I hate someone who is Amab but hasn't flat out identified that way? No. Would I say I hate white cismen's socialization more than them? Yeah absolutely. I absolutely challenge how we raise our kids on the whole because look at how that turns out.. and that's just the numbers we have. Would I say that I hat every white cishet who's proudly proclaimed that to me? Yeah. Honestly. I think I would. Whether they have personally wronged me, or not, their socialization and actions are a part of them, one they could change if they wanted to, but the stastics don't lie. The people who cause the most damage are, cishet, white, men. I recognize maybe that makes me bitter, but.. I can't really afford to be sweet, with how much hurt I've been put through, my wife has been put through, my friends and even just strangers get put through.

If they're not white, and they admit they're cishet, I'm still cautious. But I don't automatically jump on the hate train without getting to know them.

I don't go up to children still trying to figure things out and loudly proclaim that I hate them because.

Hell I don't even do that to adults. My feelings are my own, and my responsibility. I just make a point of being precautious, and I do my best to protect my wife, where I can, and others.

It's all good and dandy to make room for cishet men, queer men, men in general - and I definitely think it needs to be done more on the whole, and advocated for, but at the same time, aren't we allowed to be angry about how things have been? About how difficult to bring that change in is? (Note, because other things got misunderstood, Being angry /=/ Attacking other people. Hatred for me, at least /=/ Attacking other people. It's not outward. Those are actions. Not feelings.)

I'll stay to see any responses if this is answered, because I do think open dialogue is the only way to learn and to challenge one's views (which I'm not opposed to doing. Maybe one day I'll realize y'all were right or maybe even after the response to this who knows right?) Because that's how growth happens. That's how real change gets started. But, I think in general, me sticking around would probably make you feel uncomfortable, which is valid, so I'll take off afterwards & bear in mind that it *does* include me for others going forward. I do appreciate an answer on that, even if it seems like we have different opinions and perspectives. Maybe I just wasn't clear enough? Maybe this'll be seen as worse not better. Idk. Either way. Thanks for giving me an answer, and for the emotional labour that went into the initial replies, and any replies if they happen to this. If no one is willing to put more into this, I do completely understand that too. I'm not gonna push. It's a lot, and it can be exhausting and cause burn out so like. You gotta take care of yourselves too.

I probably won't feel the need to respond again, but, I might if I see y'alls point more clearly. Otherwise, I don't want to cause any more problems for anyone so I'll take my leave!

no, your hatred is not justified, and it never will be. no part of that is justified whatsoever. what you hate is patriarchy, not cishet men. you hate the system that we've built around cishet men and how we force everyone to uphold it. your talking points are heavily steeped in rad feminist ideals and i highly recommend trying to divorce yourself of that. it's always bad praxis to hate an entire group of people.

you said you specifically hate "cishet men." aro cishet men are cishet men. ace cishet men are cishet men. genderqueer cishet men are cishet men. intersex cishet men are cishet men. cishet men can be queer. insinuating that "cishet man" means "not queer" is dangerous thinking. of course these people are queer.... but they're still cishet men. you don't get to rob a cishet man of their cishet manhood just because they are also ace, aro, intersex, and so on. that doesn't just erase the fact that they're a cishet man and automatically make them 'safer' to be around than any other cishet man.

i would highly recommend on not talking about intersex identities until you learn more. being intersex doesn't make someone inherently trans, it's actually very intersexist to state that being intersex makes you basically trans. there are loads of cis intersex people out there, so you were right in not being informed well on that issue. this spits in the face of every intersex person who has fought to be seen as cis to insinuate that being intersex makes you trans. these wouldn't be two distinct experiences if they meant the same thing.

also i never called you racist. the comment made about racist behavior was from another blogger. no one ever called you racist for saying you hate white men. please re-read this portion of the addition:

you have been hurt by specific men, the general concept of cishet men. to automatically assume someone is dangerous just because how they identify will lead you down a path of extreme isolation. random cishet men walking down the street aren't hurting you. random cishet men in the same community as you aren't hurting you.

i'd recommend giving my initial response a re-read because a lot of this is totally out of left field. it's your choice whether or not you interact with me! you're not obligated to follow my blog if you genuinely think and feel that you need to hate cishet men in order to survive. keep in mind that hating men will not keep you safe from being hurt again in the future. you will never be completely safe from abuse by pathologically avoiding and hating men

shift your hatred to patriarchy, not cishet men who have not hurt you. many men are chewed up and spat out by patriarchy for not being a perfect man. it's not racist to talk about how men of color are treated horribly by patriarchy and how certain racial traits are seen as more "manly" by whites than others. this part of the discussion is extremely important to talk about. no one called you racist, they called the behavior of stereotyping certain physical traits as masculine racist. racist behavior can be changed

i'll leave you with this: you've been hurt by cishet men, but you've also been hurt by cishet women. you cannot in good faith say you have never, ever been hurt by a cishet woman. whether directly, or by virtue of having a cishet woman in a position of power over you, such as an employer or governor, you have been hurt by a cishet woman in some point in your life. people really love to downplay how much cishet women can hurt people.

this question is for you, not for you to ask me, or respond to: is it okay to hate all cishet women because of the likes of JKR? chew on that for a while. women are not inherently incapable of abuse. by asserting that men are inherently abusive, you are asserting that women are inherently defenseless and can only be abused and never hurt anyone else.

hope that gives you a few things to think about. good luck out there

[peapodbond]

tease tidbit tuesday

but once again it is a full part and ah, thanks to @leashybebes for saying that she's kind of lowkey obsessed with this, because so am i.

that was us part five

who decided the first wedding anniversary gift should be paper? what do you even get for that?

it's paper or clocks, depending on the list you look at.

clocks are better?

depends. if you think of them as keeping track of all the time you've spent together, yeah.

god, you're such a romantic.

abby spends the rest of the day sending photos of watches to tommy. they immediately nix any watches that are skinny or square; abby's never seen sam wear one and they all look sort of… industrial. she bets it's exactly the type of watch that his firm would give out for the big anniversaries.

tommy vetoes a few companies because they're ripping off their designs from someone else. when abby asks when he got into watches, he tells her that jordan has a collection.

that's interesting. tommy had dropped jordan's name a few months ago, mentioning that he'd met a guy at the bar and they'd been on a few dates, but not much since. she's assumed it was going well because there was no text about them breaking up, and she and sal haven't been recruited for another bachelor style grindr lineup, but it's nice to know it didn't just fizzle out after a few dates.

now that she's got a watch picked out, it's time for her to do a little digging on tommy's new beau. even sal has been tight lipped, which has meant problems in the past — mike, for one, but there was also colin — though, to be fair, a lot more had been wrong with colin than just the fact that he didn't like tommy's best friend. in the list of crazy exes, colin was definitely at the top.

what's sal think of jordan?

they get along, abby, relax.

how well?

they're at the race track together right now, actually.

sal's into horses?

no, they're both into go karts.

aren't those for kids?

go karts, not bumper cars. they can still go pretty fast.

oh brother.

yep. gina and i are going to have dinner while they're out.

say hi to gina for me! it's been a while.

she says hi, and you still need to tell her what you thought of the time traveller's wife.

talk to you later, tommy!

do you two think eight months is too soon to move in together?

tommy, no, that's a reasonable amount of time.

it's kind of slow, actually.

sal, you asked gina to move in three months after meeting her.

we never officially lived together but sam asked me a few weeks after our six month anniversary.

aside from her questionable taste in supernatural movies, haven't regretted it once.

you watch twilight every year on her birthday.

sal, that's adorable. tommy, if you want to ask jordan to move in, you should.

she watches them, i read. and yeah, you should ask him. i think you have a good shot at landing the guy.

i hate you.

what happened?

abby, two days ago i walked in on those two in the middle of — well, let's just say it wasn't a pg rated movie.

don't exaggerate, sal. besides, you were the one who came in without knocking.

tommy! don't you lock your door?

i have a key. which i am debating returning.

that'll teach you to wait for someone to come to the door.

he's got a point, sal.

i'm leaving you weirdos now. gina and i have plans.

chicken shit!

i have to run too tommy, i've got to pick the girls up from the barn. just ask him! it'll be great.

thanks, abby. no thanks to you, sal.

jordan's out.

sal's text comes in just before a flurry from tommy, and abby scrolls through them curiously. ah, home renovation questions. once they'd started talking again — really talking, not the quick catch ups at bar nights — tommy had told her that most of the changes he'd made to the house had been done between relationships. she wonders if he's clocked why he does it that way, but she is very much not a therapist. she's also not going to get into that with her ex-fiancé.

he wants to know if she thinks a pale grey could work in the downstairs guest room (study, she'd suggested when he bought the place, even though neither of them had had an office job) or if it would clash with the yellow she'd picked for the living room. abby checks the time and gets him on a video call, making him walk her around the house. they decide that the grey will work, and abby reminds tommy again that he's been meaning to get rid of the tile and wallpaper combination in the laundry room.

sal is busy sending abby a rundown of everything that's happened in the last twenty eight hours. it's — a lot. tommy and jordan had gone out to dinner, some little indian spot that was jordan's favourite, and right before tommy could ask jordan to move in, jordan had told him that he'd gotten a promotion that meant he'd have to move to sacramento.

they'd argued — mostly about the fact that jordan hadn't mentioned a move and a promotion was a possibility, but also about the fact that jordan had suggested, once tommy said that he'd wanted him to move in, that tommy come to sacramento instead. tommy had asked if jordan expected him to give up his seniority in the fire department, his house, to follow jordan to sacramento, and jordan had said that he'd probably be moving again in a few years so it wasn't as if it was permanent —

and tommy had come home single after dinner instead of planning a day for jordan to move in.

i mean, it's not like i can blame him for taking the promotion, tommy texts later, when abby manages to get him talking about it. i knew his job was important to him. we just never talked about what that would mean. he didn't even talk to me first. not that he had to, but—

it would have been nice to have been asked.

if i'd known he was approaching la as an expiry date, i wouldn't have hoped for so much in the relationship.

that's just the kind of guy you are, tommy. one day someone is going to want that as much as you do.

yeah, sure. any chance you and sam want a platonic third?

i need someone to help me with the girls' show tack in two weeks, but we're good. besides, since you don't want to move, you should really ask sal and gina that.

[notreallysorryxx]

#"King"

You're being good for your king.

Characters: RiiKami (vtuber)

Warnings: suggestive themes, implied sexual content, um... yandere-ish (it's riikami so duh-), not proofread (didn't wanna bother my friend this time 😭)

Notes: This is from before I started actually getting into RiiKami. Even now, I'm still fairly new to this. :/ Also this was very much inspired by his song "Worshipping Desires". It's literally my favourite song and AH. If you didn't know, at one point you hear "here" and "good", so I took that and wrote something for my friend from it. I guess this is kind of a more modern royal au(?)

Words: 1.3k

With a flick of his wrist or a snap of his fingers, you were at Kami's beck and call. Though he never forced you to do anything you didn't want to. He was respectful in that sense. But somewhere, deep inside your mind, you wanted him to use his power to do... anything really. There wasn't a thing you wouldn't do for that man, honestly.

Ever since you had met him and pledged your life to him, you'd felt a magnetic pull. It reminded you of the books you used to read about soulmates. Unrealistic scenarios, you thought. But what if- You pause in what you're doing, almost falling over the person in front of you like dominoes. As you look up to see the person you ran into, your heart skips a beat. Without even seeing his face, you can tell. It's Kami.

"I'm so sorry, you're majesty-!"

Kami tilts his head, smiling, "It's fine. You didn't purposely run into me, right?"

You blink. Is he... oh, he's teasing you. Wait. Teasing you?!

"Ah- I... um no. It was an accident. I swear," you place your hand over your heart.

Whether I was to calm your racing heart or to show your sincerity, you're not sure. Kami stares at you for a moment more before he turns and walks away. You let out a sigh of relief, slouching.

=☆=

Later that day, you relax in your bedroom. Your own bedroom. Unlike the rumours about the King, he was benevolent. Especially to you. Well, according to the other staff. In your opinion, he treated you the same as anyone else. You frown as you look at the letter on your nightstand. It's addressed to you from your parents. Earlier, you had read the contents. They were expressing their disappointment at how your life had gone. At a young age you had refused to be married off. This wasn't medieval times, you had argued. It was modern day. And it wasn't like marrying you off to anyone would help your family financially.

They were in debt, deep debt. Nothing could possibly help them now.

But you were wrong.

Kami had made an offer. You work for him, he paid you generously. And who were you to deny such a beautiful man.

Originally your parents tried to dissuade you, claiming he was too dangerous. That he'd surely kill you or something worse. But he hadn't. No, he had been nothing but kind.

A smile forms on your face as you think of it. The smile quickly vanishes as you blush at the memory of something he had said to you.

His obsession, he had called you. What did that mean? Were you delusional or was he-

You shake your head. There was no time to think of that, you needed to rest for that night's ball.

Getting dressed into a classy yet simple outfit, you take your first step up the stairs from the staff quarters.The first thing you see is the king himself.

"Your majesty, what are you-?"

"I was waiting for you," he cuts you off abruptly.

"For me?"

Kami nods, offering his hand. He raises his eyebrow.

"Well...?"

How can you refuse him? As he grasps your hand, you can feel the warmth seep through his gloves. It makes you feel giddy, but also nervous. It's embarrassing. Not because you're with Kami. But because Kami is with you, a simple servant.

The both of you step into the ballroom and all you can think about is how strange it is that he chose you to accompany him tonight. Isn't he ashamed of you. His servant. But he called you his obsession..."Are you feeling okay?" he questions, walking towards what you assume is his assigned seat.

"You don't have to be here if you don't want to."

You're quick to reassure him, "No no! I'm alright. I can tend to you, your majesty.

"Kami struggles to stifle a laugh, "Tend to me? In what way?"You swear his voice dropped an octave.

"A-Any way..." you manage to choke out.

He smirks, "Then maybe you can tend to me privately from now on... after the ball, yes? Don't feel pressured. I won't make you do anything weird. You can just change my sheets and stuff like that if you want to."

"I said anything- I'm not against anything."

Kami makes a sound of acknowledgement, looking away. He spots a few familiar faces, telling you to stay put as he goes to greet them.

However, staying still was not your strong suit. You wander around the room, eventually spotting people that you recognise. But they're not people you want to talk to, they're just old bullies. As fate would have it though, they call you out.

"Over here!" one calls. He's grinning as if he's found a new toy.

You're not a child anymore, but you still can't help but be scared of them. And so you comply with them.

They're quick to start jabbing you, both physically and verbally. They joke about your family's financial situation and how you're probably miserable working for Kami. The entire time, you're silent, spacing out.

You're snapped out of your trance when you hear a booming, but comforting, voice call out for you. It's Kami, once again saving you. At this point you might as well give up your life to pay for all of his help.

Kami grabs your arm, pulling you back into his chest. He glares at the group of bullies.

"Scram. I won't have you insulting a future monarch-"

You're speechless. A future monarch. A monarch... that's only possible through heredity. But you're not of the royal bloodline so what does this mean.

While you're thinking back on everything, the troublemakers sprint out of the ballroom. Shocked faces and gasps are heard around you as you're pulled away from the crowds. When you don't fully comply, Kami throws you over his shoulder. You offer no resistance, laying slack in his arms.

He opens the door to an unfamiliar room. The rooms lavish, adorned with tons of purple accents and fabrics.

Kami let's you down, steadying you before he speaks."Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine..." you mumble.

He sighs, sitting down on his bed. "Did I say something that bothered you? I assumed you wouldn't be opposed to marrying me. You gave me no reason to believe you weren't infatuated with me."

You feel your face heat up, "Your majesty-"

"Just call me Kami, please."

"Kami," you start again, "That's unprofessional. We're two worlds apart. You're a king and I'm just someone who's working in a castle to pay of my parents' debts."

"Who cares about that? What does it matter? I see the way you look at me. Surely this love isn't one-sided."

"Is it not? I thought my feelings for you were unrequited-"

"They're not. I feel as much love for you as you do for me. Maybe more. But I'm not about to make a contest out of it," Kami laughs. "I thought you had picked up on it. Haven't you heard me call you my obsession at least a hundred times?"

You reluctantly nod.

"So? Nothing to say in return?"

"In return for what?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe something to say about the fact that I just confessed my love for you. And the fact that you feel the same?" he teases you, a hand languidly stroking your cheek.

"What is there to say if you already know how I feel?"

Kami grins, cooing at you,

"Oh, darling. My obsession."

He pulls away, eyes tracing over your every movement.He pats his lap, voice dropping an octave once more.

"Here."

You're quick to obey. He holds power over you. You wanted this and you're finally getting it.As you plop down in his lap he smiles. It's a Cheshire like smile.

"Good. You said you'd do anything to tend to me, right? Make good on your promise, yes?"

You know you're in for a long night.

[fkinkindagauche]

Jesus Died For Somebody's Sins, But Not Mine

Rating: Explicit | WC: 3,581 | Tags: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Vampire Steve Harrington, Human Eddie Munson, Sub Steve Harrington, Dom Eddie Munson, BDSM, Blasphemy, Bondage, Oral Sex, Deepthroating, Wax Play, Slapping, Impact Play, Choking, Daddy Kink, Hair-pulling, Come Marking, Come Eating, Facials, Dirty Talk, Aftercare, Blood Drinking, Vampire Bites, Human/Vampire Relationship, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Summary:

Steve opened the box. It was, indeed, full of religious paraphernalia. A bunch of crucifixes (why would someone need that many?), a couple of statues of the Virgin Mary, some vials of water (presumably of the holy variety), rosaries, and a couple of candles with creepy pictures of Jesus or Mary on them.

"You think they'd hurt you?" Eddie asked.

"I don't know," Steve mused. "I guess there's only one way to find out."

Notes:

Happy New Year everyone! Welcome to 2025 with this highly blasphemous bit of erotica.

This little PWP addition to my Vampire Steve universe was inspired by this Tumblr post by @dr-aculaaa, with much encouragement and beta-ing by @dame-zoom-a-lot.

The blasphemy goes HARD here, my friends. If that's not your thing, maybe skip this one.

Assuming you're not a vampire and his bonded human with accelerated healing capabilities, I would highly recommend you NOT use random religious votive candles of questionable provenance for wax play. Get a candle specifically made to be safe for wax play.

Title from "Gloria", originally by Them, but the Patti Smith version is what I love.

This fills two of my @steddiebingo Round One 2025 prompts - daddy kink and bondage.

You can also read it on AO3 if you'd prefer.

"Stevie, babe," Eddie called from the living room. Steve was sunning himself in the den under a UV lamp in front of a fake window. The solarium set up had been a gift from all of his friends to help him deal with his newfound vampirism. He spent most of his free time there. "Why do you have a box full of religious paraphernalia?" Eddie continued.

Steve set down the book he was reading and frowned. "I have no idea what you're talking about!" he yelled back out to Eddie.

"There's a box of, like, crosses and shit in the coat closet." Eddie's voice sounded muffled, like he'd stuck his head in the closet.

"Well it's not mine," Steve insisted. He wasn't even sure if Eddie could hear him, but he refused to get out of his chair. He'd turned it into something of a nest, piled high with all his favorite blankets and pillows. When he got himself really situated, fake sun on, it was nearly impossible to leave.

Steve heard a loud thud followed by a curse, then Eddie walked towards the den. He came in with his thumb in his mouth, holding a small box in his other arm.

"There was a bowling ball in there, too. It rolled onto my thumb," he explained with a pout.

"Oh, poor baby!" Steve teased. Eddie didn't seem seriously injured. "Why were you rifling through the closet?"

Eddie shrugged. "I was bored. Feeling nosy."

He set the box in front of Steve's chair and sat on one of the arms, leaning into Steve's space. "Watcha reading?" he asked, picking up Steve's book. "Dune? Nerd."

"I took it from your bookshelf, Eddie," Steve pointed out.

"Yeah. I'm a nerd."

Steve leaned forward, dislodging some of his many blankets.

"How is it not just a sweat lodge in there?" Eddie asked, poking at the blankets.

"I don't get hot, Eddie, for the millionth time. I just like the way the blankets feel."

"Oh, right."

Steve opened the box. It was, indeed, full of religious paraphernalia. A bunch of crucifixes (why would someone need that many?), a couple of statues of the Virgin Mary, some vials of water (presumably of the holy variety), rosaries, and a couple of candles with creepy pictures of Jesus or Mary on them.

He looked at them warily, not touching anything. He'd been inside a church once, early on in his vampirism when Dustin was still trying to experiment on him. But he'd refused to touch anything, not wanting a repeat of the burn he got from the sun.

"You think they'd hurt you?" Eddie asked.

"I don't know," Steve mused. "I guess there's only one way to find out."

Steve slid out of his chair and onto the ground next to the box. Eddie fell into the space he'd vacated with an "oof" when he could no longer lean on Steve.

"Vampire tests without Dustin?" Eddie asked. "He might never forgive us."

Steve rolled his eyes. "He'll survive." He bent over the box, deciding what he wanted to start with.

"Be careful!" Eddie yelped, grabbing Steve's wrist when he made to plunge his hand into the box. "You remember how bad those burns were from the sun, and they didn't heal right away."

Steve glared at him, tugging his wrist. "But they did heal eventually."

Eddie wouldn't let go of his wrist. It didn't look like Steve's words were helping. "Let me do it. You have a tendency to go all in too fast with things and hurt yourself."

Steve smirked. "You just wanna be the one hurting me, don't you?" They'd been exploring pain play lately, and Eddie was definitely up for hurting Steve.

The corners of Eddie's mouth twitched up as he tried not to smile. "I know how to keep you from being permanently damaged."

"Eddie, I'm a vampire. I don't know if I can be permanently damaged."

Eddie waved a hand dismissively. "Just let me have this."

Steve snorted. "Alright, fine. Hurt me with these fine religious objects, Daddy."

Eddie pulled the box back closer to his feet. He stayed in the chair while Steve knelt on the ground in front of him, a familiar position for them at this point. "You've got a little bit of brat energy going today, don't you?" Eddie asked, voice low.

Steve shrugged. "Maybe."

Eddie smirked. "Okay, then. Clothes off. On your knees in front of me."

Steve scrambled to comply, already half-hard in his sweatpants just from Eddie's Dom voice. He stood up, throwing his sweater to the side of the room and shimmying out of his sweatpants and boxers.

Eddie's eyes roved over Steve's body as Eddie palmed his own cock, making Steve blush. Eddie reached down to move the box to the side of his legs, placing a pillow on the ground between his feet. He beckoned Steve closer with a finger.

Steve sank to his knees on the pillow, putting his hands on his thighs and bowing his head.

"Such a pretty boy," Eddie cooed, running his fingers through Steve's hair. He brought his fingers to Steve's chin, tilting his head so Steve was looking up at him. He brushed a thumb over Steve's lips, gently pressing it into his mouth for a second before removing it. "I'll start small for you, baby."

Eddie reached to the side, shifting around items in the box. He pulled out a kitschy little crucifix decorated with rhinestones. "Doesn't look very holy to me," Eddie mumbled. He leaned forward and touched just the tip of it to the skin of Steve's left pec, quickly tapping then removing it.

All Steve felt was the quick pressure. No pain. No burning. Eddie watched his face closely during the process, then studied Steve's skin. It was unblemished, not even red. Eddie pressed the crucifix fully to Steve's skin for a second. Still nothing.

"Doesn't seem to do anything," Eddie murmured. He dragged the crucifix over the skin of Steve's chest, going from one side to the other, pausing on his nipples. There was no pain or any other unpleasant sensation, just the feeling of something being dragged across his skin.

Eddie threw the crucifix to the side and dug out a different one. This one was bigger, and made mostly of wood with a creepy dying Jesus cast in some kind of metal. It looked more official, but still had no effect on Steve. Not until Eddie smacked the skin of his pec hard with it, leaving a red mark.

Steve hissed at the sting, feeling his cock twitch. Eddie gave him a few more sharp slaps with the crucifix. "Makes a passable paddle, but I'm not getting holy vibes from it. You?"

Steve shook his head. Eddie threw that one to the side as well.

Eddie pulled out one of the vials of water. There was a tag attached to it which he read aloud: "Holy water from Lourdes." Eddie made a skeptical humming noise. "It's just, like, a handwritten label." He uncapped it and sniffed. "Doesn't appear to be poorly disguised alcohol."

He tipped the vial to get a few drops on his finger, then grabbed Steve's glass of water from the side table. "In case it's legit and I need to wash it off," Eddie explained. He leaned forward and tapped his wet finger gently to Steve's chest. Nothing happened.

"Definitely fake," Eddie proclaimed, throwing the vial to the side and setting the glass of water down.

He went through several more bottles of water of questionable provenance. All fake.

After that, he grabbed one of the candles. "Do you think the wax would be holy?" he asked Steve, a devious grin on his face. Steve swallowed audibly. They'd done wax play a couple of times before. Steve really liked it.

"Well? I asked you a question, Stevie."

Steve shook his head, trying and failing to remember what the question had been.

Eddie tsked. "Ah, Stevie. You get so dumb when you're horny. I asked if you thought the wax would be holy?"

"D-dunno, Daddy," Steve mumbled. He knew Eddie didn't actually think he was stupid. Eddie told him all the time how smart he was. But something about the way Eddie belittled him during these scenes really did it for Steve.

"Only one way to find out." Eddie dug into his jeans pocket, pulling out his lighter. He grabbed a candle with a lovely painting of the Virgin Mary on it out of the box, and lit it.

Eddie set the candle on the side table and turned his attention back to Steve. He cupped Steve's chin in one of his hands, giving his head a gentle shake. "You're being a very good boy now. All I needed to do was get you on your knees to make you behave?"

Steve nodded. "Yes, Daddy." Steve was completely hard now. Eddie's hand was rough against his chin, guitar calluses scratching Steve's smooth skin. The scent of wax from the lit candle surrounded them. Steve relaxed as his focus narrowed to Eddie and the candle, the rest of the room and the world fading to fuzzy background.

Eddie pressed two fingers against his lips and Steve opened his mouth, sucking them in. Eddie pushed down on his tongue, fucking his fingers into Steve's mouth as Steve sucked.

He let Steve suck on his fingers for a few more minutes, Steve thoroughly enjoying the feeling of having something of Eddie's in his mouth. They tasted salty, and very much like Doritos at first. Steve would have continued sucking on Eddie's fingers for much longer, but Eddie eventually withdrew them and reached for the candle.

Eddie blew out the candle with a whoosh. "It's most likely paraffin wax, which should melt at a safe temperature, but I'm gonna try it on my arm first to be sure." Steve almost protested that they should test it on him, the supernatural being, but he knew Eddie would ignore him. And Eddie did heal faster now that they were bonded.

Eddie dripped a little wax on his own forearm. He let it harden, then picked it off of his skin, checking for damage underneath. It must have passed his test.

"Lean forward for me, baby," Eddie commanded. Steve complied, pressing himself forward to rest his head in Eddie's lap, so close to where Eddie's cock was straining against his jeans.

Eddie pushed Steve's hair to the side, exposing his upper back. Eddie shifted, and Steve felt the first drips of wax on the skin of his back.

It burned, making Steve hiss in pain, but it felt the same as any other candle they'd played with.

"What do you think?" Eddie whispered. "Holy or not?"

"N-not holy," Steve stammered into Eddie's jeans.

"Hmmm. Want more?"

"Yes, Daddy," Steve begged.

Eddie poured a little more wax onto Steve's back, dribbling the wax lower. A pool collected in the divot above his hips.

"You'd let me do anything to you, wouldn't you?" Eddie asked.

Steve whined and squirmed. His cock was aching, desperate for friction.

"I asked you a question, baby," Eddie warned. He accompanied the sentence with a sharp smack to one of the clean portions of Steve's shoulder.

"Anything!" Steve yelped. "I'd let you do anything to me."

Eddie rumbled approvingly, dripping more wax onto his back. Steve was getting antsy. He needed more. He needed something of Eddie's inside of him somewhere. He rubbed his face directly over Eddie's cock, nuzzling into it.

Eddie grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked hard, pulling Steve's face out of his lap. "Did I tell you you could do that?" he demanded.

"N-no. I'm sorry, Daddy. Just wanna taste you. Please?"

"No," Eddie barked. "I'm not done experimenting."

Steve managed to suppress his annoyed groan, but he was sure Eddie could see the impatience in his eyes. He gave Steve a light slap on the cheek, then let go of his hair to reach back into the box.

He had several rosaries clasped in his hand when he sat back up. He dragged the beads of one rosary over Steve's skin, watching Steve's face for any pain. When he got no reaction, he draped the rosary over Steve's neck so he was wearing it like a necklace. The cross hung between his nipples, standing out against his chest hair.

Eddie stood up, walking around behind Steve. "Hands behind your back," Eddie demanded. Steve put his hands behind him, held together at the wrists so Eddie could easily restrain him.

As Eddie started to loop a rosary around his wrists, Steve could instantly tell something was different. The beads didn't hurt exactly, not the way the sun had hurt when it touched him. But they felt almost like they burrowed under the skin on contact, causing an unpleasant buzzing sensation.

"Wha - what's that?" Steve asked.

Eddie removed the beads from his skin immediately. "It's just another rosary. Does it hurt?" He brushed over Steve's wrists, checking for damage.

"I don't know if I would say it hurts. It kind of stings? There's definitely something weird about it."

"There's a tag attached to it, and a little vial," Eddie muttered. Steve could hear beads clinking. "Says it contains a relic of Saint Magdalena di Canossa. Looks like the vial has a piece of hair in it. Ew."

Steve turned to look over his shoulder at the rosary. "Huh. Must actually be a real one. You should use it to tie me up."

Eddie raised his eyebrows. "Really? That's pretty fucking kinky, Harrington."

"You gonna tell me you're not into it?" Steve asked, way too much sass in his voice.

Eddie growled at him, pulling his arms behind his back and shoving his face into the chair in front of him. He wrapped the beads roughly around Steve's wrists, binding them together. The beads made Steve feel uncomfortable and itchy, almost but not quite pain. Not enough to get him fully under.

"Color?" Eddie whispered into his ear, leaning over Steve's body.

"Green," Steve breathed.

Eddie stood. He'd pulled his shirt off while he was behind Steve. He unzipped his jeans, pulling them down with his boxers before he sat in the chair.

He threw his left leg over the arm of the chair, spreading his legs wide. Then he reached for the rosary around Steve's neck and pulled him down until Steve's face was directly above his cock.

Eddie's cock was fully hard now, precum building at the tip. "Be a good boy, Stevie," Eddie cajoled. "Make me come."

Steve dove for Eddie's cock, awkwardly maneuvering it into his mouth without hands. He sucked the head of Eddie's cock between his lips, applying firm pressure while he licked around the glans.

Eddie kept a firm hold on the rosary around Steve's neck. He twisted it to apply a slight choking pressure, but not enough to cut off Steve's air supply. He tangled his other hand in Steve's hair, tugging at the strands the way he knew drove Steve wild.

"That's it, baby," Eddie encouraged, fucking up into Steve's mouth. "Such a good little cocksucker."

Steve moaned around Eddie's cock, letting Eddie push his mouth further down. He could feel the rosary against his wrists. It was uncomfortable, almost like it was chafing him, but he could tell it wasn't actually hurting his skin.

He focused on the stinging discomfort in his wrists and the discomfort in his jaw, stretched wide around Eddie's cock. The rosary beads around his neck may not have been giving him a supernatural sense of wrongness, but they were digging into his skin as Eddie pulled. His whole world narrowed to the sensations Eddie was wringing from his body, and to the sensations he could provide for Eddie.

Eddie's cock hit the back of his throat and Steve gagged slightly. He was getting much better at controlling his gag reflex, but the first hit on the back of his throat never failed to make him react a little.

He redoubled his efforts after the gag, pressing his tongue up against the underside of Eddie's cock firmly as he swallowed. The next time Eddie pushed in deep, he didn't gag.

"You just love choking on my cock, don't you?" Eddie crooned, knowing full well Steve couldn't answer around his mouthful of cock. Eddie fucked up even harder into Steve's mouth, using the leg he had sprawled over the arm of the chair for leverage.

Steve tipped forward as Eddie's thrusts intensified, unable to keep his balance with his arms tied behind his back. His nose was buried in Eddie's pubes. It was hard to breathe, but he loved it, loved being surrounded by the smell and feel of Eddie.

Eddie pulled Steve up a little with the hand tangled in his hair. "Gotta remember to breathe, baby. Can't do breath play with your hands tied up."

Steve took in a deep breath through his nose, unwilling to let Eddie's cock out of his mouth. Eddie continued to hold his head up by his hair, keeping Steve's nose free, and started to fuck into his mouth again.

"That's it sweetheart. The best mouth. Absolutely perfect."

Steve groaned, sucking hard on Eddie's cock. Eddie started to breathe heavily, thrusts growing more frantic.

"You want me to come in your mouth, pretty baby? Or all over that beautiful face?"

Steve didn't answer. Not just because his mouth was full of cock. Also because Eddie got to decide how he wanted to use Steve. Steve didn't want to be even peripherally involved in the decision-making here. That was what he loved about it.

Eddie knew that, too. He just couldn't resist dirty talk. He pulled Steve off by his hair, stroking his own cock several times before coming on Steve's face. He avoided his eyes, coming all over his mouth and chin, making sure to get some on his upper chest, coating the rosary. Steve's cock twitched as he looked down at the white strands mingling with the black beads of the rosary.

"This is one of the top 5 most beautiful things I've ever seen," Eddie whispered, voice reverent.

Steve felt too hazy to respond, drifting in a space where he only had to feel, not speak.

"All five involve you naked," Eddie elaborated. "Come here, big boy." He opened his arms wide, and Steve clumsily clambered into his lap, legs straddling Eddie's thighs.

"You did so good baby," Eddie praised. He reached around Steve to undo the rosary tied around Steve's wrists, dropping it to the ground. "Your wrists feel okay?"

"Yes," Steve whispered.

Eddie rubbed the cum off of Steve's face on his fingers, then tapped them on Steve's lips. Steve opened his mouth, sucking and licking off the cum. Eddie kept swiping up cum from Steve's face and chest and feeding it to Steve until it was all gone.

Eddie kissed him, licking into Steve's mouth with abandon, messily enough to get spit on Steve's cheeks and chin. Steve loved Eddie's messy kisses.

One of Eddie's hands wrapped around Steve's cock. He used his thumb to gather the precum from the slit, spreading it down the shaft with his hand. Steve groaned, pressing his face into Eddie's neck. He had a tendency to get overwhelmed when Eddie focused all of his attention on him.

Eddie stroked Steve fast and hard, making Steve whimper against his neck and buck up into his hand. "You gonna bite me, baby?" Eddie huffed against Steve's ear. "Show Daddy how much you need him?"

Steve's fangs instantly popped out.

"That's it, sweet thing," Eddie cooed. "Take what you need from me." In reality, Steve had fed several hours before, so he didn't need anything from Eddie, but feeding during sex had become a bit of a thing for them.

Eddie clung to Steve's waist with one arm, helping him keep his balance. He twisted his wrist with the hand on his cock just right, and Steve was coming between their bodies. Steve bit down on Eddie's neck as he came, drinking a very small amount of blood from him. Just enough for his venom to enter Eddie's body and make him feel good.

He licked and kissed over the bite for far longer than he needed to, enjoying the feel of Eddie's skin. Eddie stroked over his back, drawing circles into Steve's skin and tracing over the hardened wax. He shifted after a few minutes, grabbing one of the blankets that had been dislodged from the chair and draping it over them.

Eventually, Steve felt less hazy. He lifted his head from Eddie's neck and blinked blearily at him.

Eddie smiled and kissed Steve chastely on the lips. "How you feeling? Wrists okay?"

Steve nodded, pulling his arms out from the blanket to show Eddie his unmarred wrists. "Yeah. Totally fine."

Eddie kissed each wrist.

"So one of the rosaries did something. The one with a saint bit in it," Steve mused.

"Yeah, guess it did," Eddie agreed. "I always assumed relics were just random pieces of hair or bone from whatever dead body, but I guess some of them were legitimately from saints?"

"But…" Steve was having trouble putting the mind-boggling thoughts he was having into words. "If a piece of a saint actually affected me… Does that - does that mean God exists?"

Eddie blanched, taking the less effective rosary off of Steve's neck. "Let's not go there."

Also read it on AO3

[realtalk127]

alright fuck it. i can't sleep and i need to talk about this scene from the last episode of critical role.

because holy shit if this ain't some of the best rp – nay, storytelling in general – that i've ever seen. (buckle up, it ain't gonna be short.)

laudna: i made you a doll. because dolls are for children. and you're a child.

the way she says this is not nice! it's biting, it's snarky. she definitely seems to mean it as an insult – and she probably does! – at first. but laudna's idea of a child is much more expansive than just a cheep insult, as she makes clear shortly.

then ashton's response: i've never had a doll before. this is the nicest thing anyone's ever given me.

i don't know if this reaction melts laudna a little (if it does, she doesn't show it visibly), or maybe she was already coming to the conversation with a more nuanced definition of 'child', but either way, the conversation shifts immediately – and the next two sentences clarify where they're both coming from here.

laudna: i like children. // ashton: i don't.

she likes children! and we knew this, of course. marisha, the god of intentional rp showed us this within the first few moments of laudna's screen-time way back in episode 1. but still! it's worth repeating. despite the bite of her initial comment to ashton, she doesn't necessarily mean it as an insult. i don't know that we could entirely call it a compliment, given the context, but at the very least, i think she intended it as a point of connection.

after all, our data re: Laudna And Kids is not limited to that one scene from episode 1. there's also the parallel scene that mirrors it (with a happier ending) back in episode 38, when laudna first visits the sun tree after her resurrection. we also know (via a 4sd episode that i don't care to dig up right now) that laudna had another friend before imogen, who was a little girl.

and i think it's that little girl that's the most important piece here. we don't know anything about that story except that she exists, but i'm willing to read between the lines and make an assumption that laudna – on average – has better luck getting children to be kind to her (when they've not yet been taught to be cruel) than with adults. there is an innocence there that laudna needs! she needs people who haven't been hardened by assumptions and pre-judgements and all that bullshit. for laudna there is safety – both emotional and literal physical safety – in a childlike perspective.

ALL THAT TO SAY: laudna's associations with childhood are, generally, positive. for a variety of reasons.

but!

ashton's are NOT.

ashton's childhood sucked. from the jump. he was a part of a shitty cult that he barely remembers, and after that they were in an ophanage. their associations with childhood are overwhelmingly negative, and likely associated with feelings of helplessness and loneliness.

whether or not laudna intended that original comment ('you're a child') as an insult, we can pretty safely assume ashton took it as one.

they continue:

ashton: they're awful. // laudna: they're not.

NOW, we're getting into the meat of it. where before they were dancing around a metaphor, it becomes immediately clear what's really being talked about here. ashton is saying 'i'm awful', and laudna is emphatically saying 'no you're not.'

which! first of all, is so insanely generous of her. after what ashton just put her through less than 24 hours ago, laudna has every reason to affirm ashton's assertion that they are, in fact, awful. but she doesn't. ashton knows this, which is why he amends his original statement:

ashton: they can be.

they're saying: perhaps i can concede that i am not always awful, but let's at least agree that sometimes (like specificaly, oh, i don't know, LAST NIGHT) i can be.

laudna: you should remember what it's like to be one.

ashton: i do. it wasn't great.

the LAYERS, y'all. the LAYERS. the important thing here is that it's all in the context of that first comment: you're a child. which is, critically, a statement made in the context of ashton's decisions the previous night. they're talking in generalities here, but they're mostly talking about last night.

so!

when laudna says they should remember what it's like to be one [a child], she also means: you were a child last night, but not in a cool, whimsical way, just in a shitty, immature way. AND! when ashton says they remember, and that it wasn't great, they're saying they know they fucked up last night, but all they know of childhood is an overwhelming helplessness, how can that possibly be spun to a positive?

and this, really, is the crux of their two differing worldviews. these two have a lot in common – much has been said about that in game and out – but this point is where they split. laudna has survived, by embracing her childlike nature (admittedly, to a fault, at times). how to keep from being hurt? just keep everything fun and whimsical! nothing to worry about here, it's all just a silly little game! and she has also needed people who share that perspective. people who are willing to take her at face value and without any of the negative assumptions and prejudices they may have picked up along the way.

ashton, on the other hand survived by growing up immediately. they got through their own shitty childhood by becoming an adult (or acting like one anyway) as quickly as possible and STAYING that way. ashton needs to have a tough exterior (there's the made-of-stone thing again) to feel safe. (admittedly, from an audience perspective, this veneer is basically see-through. but ashton doesn't necessarily know this. they're trying their best. so from their perspective, the tough guy thing is Working.)

laudna: you should find more joy in your inner child.

she's saying two things here:

(1) you can be soft and be safe. those can co-exist, aND!

(2) i need you to be soft for me to be safe. when you have this false tough exterior, it hurts people. it hurts (hurt) me.

which is certainly a resonant metaphor to play with for the literal ROCK GUY who just got literally MELTED into LAVA 12 hours prior.

ANYWAY- that's what i've got for now on this scene. i'll probably never stop thinking about it, and there's even more good shit from later on in the scene when they talk about the doll, but that's it for now.

[nevertheless-moving]

Stormlight Archive AU Number 9, Words of Radiance

In an attempt to ruin the reputation of the only kholin with decent social standing, illai sadeas manufactures a rumor that adolin is fucking the new dark eyed slave captain of the guard.

Double social whammy for a) getting with someone filthy and beneath his station and b) dishonorably taking advantage of poor slave boy

At this point adolin and kaladin straight up don't like each other but the sideye can be read many ways and any attempts to discourage rumors only make them stronger. Brightlady Sadeas got 20 ex girlfriends swearing that adolin has a fetish for dark eyed men. She's got 40 different people prepared to take a vow that they walked in on the two together. The evidence is so compelling that adolin is starting to be convinced.

By the time the first assassin in white fight rolls around adolin's pretty much given up on denial and started trying to get bridgeboy to at least dress better. Bridgeboy is still fighting the accusations and wardrobe with the dignity and demeanor of a feral axecat.

Shallan rolls in, still very much desperate to make the causal happen. Ok. She can work with this.

Starts laying down hints like she can't entirely fault his taste, she just prefers her woman less grumpy. Oh, did I say women? Talks very dreamily about working under - working with Jasnah, how beautiful she was in the bath - (this is a shockingly easy lie. Pattern complains there's too much truth mixed in, whatever that means).

Adolin is somewhat left with the impression that Jasnah and her had a... dalliance, which wasn't quite Shallan's intent.

Adolin does not know what to do with this information.

He makes one solid, nearly successful effort to convince her that the rumors were manufactured, bridgeboy and him don't even like one another. Then the whitespine uncaged fight happens and people are like damn.

Kaladin out there discrediting anyone who thinks there's some unwillingness on his end while simultaneously raising the bar for boyfriends everywhere. You wish you had a man who would fight four SHARDBARERS unarmed for you.

Opinion around camp flips from 'nasty affair' to 'glorious warbond.' Sure it's with a jumped up darkeyes, but...

Alethi storming love a glorious warbond.

General opinion on the amaram boon thing was that it was a bungled attempt to get another set of shards

Adolin's Prison Solidarity is really the nail in the coffin. He figures he'll try and convince Shallan after they're married and he is decidedly still not sleeping with bridgeboy. Assuming that doesn't happen. Not that he wants it to! Though if Kaladin were interested, haha jk. Unless...

Adolin: He was really hot during the duel. And well, he has to at least like me, right? Why would he jump in the arena if he didn't like me even a little.

Renarin: It's all going to end...

Adolin: you know what, you're right! Life is too short for regrets! And shallan's practically given us her blessing! I should at the very least try, right?

Renarin: a storm is coming

Adolin: thanks Renarin, I'll talk with him after this expedition. There really is...something about him.

Then the expedition! It Does not go well! Adolin genuinely thinking he's cursed, watched two whole love interests plummet to their deaths. Next several days are Not Good.

Meanwhile in the chasms:

Shallan: I mean his pectorals are...I suppose you've seen them closer up than I have. Do you think you could describe them in better detail? Does his sweat taste different when it runs down his back as opposed to his chest?

Kaladin: this. This is hell, right? I'm in hell.

Stormlight AU Masterlist

[reidbae]

DAY 11: Wind Me Down — degradation w/sub!spencer reid

KINKTOBER 2023: masterlist

summary: You've been feeling stressed out at work as you and your team battle tirelessly to solve a case. When you get back to your hotel room after a long day on the job, you turn to Spencer to help you unwind.

pairing: sub!s2!spencer reid x dom!fem!reader

warnings/mentions: vaginal sex, unprotected piv sex (y'all know what i'm going to say.), praise, degradation (obv), use of my love before smut and miss during, reader calls spencer "baby," "honey," and "angel," hair pulling, choking

wc: 1.6k

a/n: SORRY this was so cut off, i literally am falling asleep as i'm writing this LMFAO but i hope y'all enjoy my half-awake writing anyways <3

tags: @nalycandy @prettyboydrspencerreid @mega-kittyglitter-1

You were walking into the hotel room that you and Spencer were sharing for your ongoing case, shutting the door annoyedly behind you.

You and the team had been on a case in New York for the last two weeks now, and it was safe to say that you were already sick of it. Sick of the lack of progress, sick of the officers you were working with, sick of the pressure that was coming down on you and your team. Sick of it all.

It was 2 A.M., and you had just gotten back to the room after a date with the case, being the last one to leave. You tried to open the door as to not wake your boyfriend, who you assumed to be asleep, shutting it with little noise.

But it didn't matter, because a face met yours the second you walked into the room.

Spencer was sitting on one of the beds in the room, a book in his lap. His glasses sat on his face flawlessly as he looked up at you with a smile. "Hey, you," he said.

"Hey," you said in a bit of a confused tone, looking him up and down. You set your work bag down and crossed your arms as you asked, "What are you still doing up?"

"I can't sleep without you," he told you with a shrug, like the phrase was common knowledge. "So I just chose to read until you got back."

You smiled at him and shook your head, walking over to him. "And how many books did you get through?" you asked.

"Two. And a half, I guess, if you count this one," Spencer smiled, holding the book up for you to see. Spencer then moved it away from him, opening his arms up for you. "Come here. You look tired."

You quickly fell into his arms as he pulled you into his lap, your legs on either side of him. Spencer ran his fingers through your hair with one hand, rubbing your back with the other.

"You need to stop working so hard, my love. You're going to burn yourself out," Spencer said in a bit of a worried voice. You sighed, burying your face into his shoulder.

"I know, it's just—" you began. But Spencer cut you off.

"You want to solve this case. I know. I do, too," he said, taking the words out of your mouth. "But you need to think about yourself, too. Just—Promise me you'll take a break at some point."

You nodded. As much as you didn't like to admit it, he wasn't wrong.

"I will. I promise," you said.

Spencer pulled back to smile at you, placing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. "Good," he grinned as he went on with rubbing your back. "Do you want to rest now? Or do you want to stay up for a bit?"

"Actually..." you said, trailing off with a smile across your face. Your hands went down to the hem of Spencer's joggers, tugging them before you even had time to think it through. "I had a little something in mind."

Spencer's face went pink immediately as he took note of what you were getting at, and he looked up at you. "O- Oh, really? And what would that be?" he asked, already knowing what the answer was going to be.

"You know how stressed I've been," you said lowly, beginning to press a few kisses to Spencer's neck, causing him to whine out above you. "I was thinking you could help me with that. Relieve me a little, you know?"

"Y- Yeah, I know," the genius stuttered out, pulling you closer to his body by your hips. "If that's what you want, then that's what we'll do."

"There's my good boy," you cooed with a smirk across your face. You didn't hold back from leaning in, crashing your lips onto Spencer's. His answer came in the form of his tongue, which quickly moved into your mouth.

You didn't waste time, pulling the white tee Spencer was wearing up and over his head. You ran your hands over his chest before attaching your lips to his again, moaning at the way his tongue felt as it moved with yours.

Sometimes, it was better to take things slow. Others, going fast just made it better.

And this was one of those times.

Spencer helped you to unbutton your work slacks, then pulled his joggers, and boxers, down and out of the way. The view you were met with was one of his long cock, that seemed to already be aching for you.

You smirked down at him, taking his dick into your hands as you shook your head. Spencer let out a small whine at the feeling, squirming a little under you.

"Already this hard, huh? It's been, what, five minutes?" you teased him, chuckling at the messy view of the man under you.

"I- I'm sorry," he said in a voice that was nearly begging you not to tease him about it. "You just have that effect on me, miss."

"Oh, believe me, I know, baby," you cooed, moving your hand up and down on him slowly. Spencer's eyes closed as you did. "I know how much of a slut you are for me. Aren't you?"

Spencer gave you a nod without looking back at you, holding back a groan as he said, "Y- Yes, miss, I am."

You moved up to your knees for a second to pull your slacks down fully before moving the tip of his dick to your cunt. You couldn't help but moan out at the feeling, your need being easily on display for Spencer as he saw how wet you already were.

"Y/N, what are you, fuck, what are you doing?" he asked in a confused voice, as several seconds had passed with him not yet being inside of you.

"Watch your language, honey," you said, pulling his hair a bit as a means of bringing him close to you. Spencer let out a small whimper, but didn't say another word. "I wanna hear you beg, baby, like the slut you are. Tell me how much you want me to fuck you."

Spencer's whines only grew more broken at your mean tone, but he was quick to comply, squeezing your hips as he said, "Please, miss. Please let me inside of you. I- I've been so good."

"Oh, have you, angel?" you teased him a little more, moving your hand down to cup his chin. You dragged him even closer. "I'm going to need more than that."

All the while, the head of his cock was still on your cunt, and as you moved his dick around even more, Spencer let out an annoyed sigh. "I just—Please, miss. I want to feel you so bad. I- I've been craving you all day."

"And what else?" you asked.

"I want to be your toy. I- I know you like that," Spencer whined. "Please, just—Don't leave me like this. I can't handle it," he huffed.

Feeling bad for the poor boy, you kissed his cheek, before whispering, "You won't have to, my good boy. That's just what I wanted to hear."

You lowered yourself onto his cock, letting out a low mewl at the feeling. God, was he big. Spencer's hands were on your hips again as you rode him, the both of your moans filling the room.

"You like that, huh?" you asked. You moved your hand up to settle on Spencer's neck, squeezing down. Spencer's glasses fogged up with his need as you did so, nodding eagerly.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "Please, harder," he whispered.

You obliged him, squeezing down harder on his neck; Not enough to harm him, but enough so that he would surely feel it. Spencer's face was all the approval you needed to keep going.

"Look at how needy you are. How much of a slut you're being," you degraded him in a rough tone of voice, shaking your head. If there was any place to get out the anger you had built up over the last two weeks, this was the one.

You grabbed Spencer's face to turn it towards a mirror that laid above the dresser in the room. The view was pornographic, you on top of Spencer as you rode him, his lips wide open as a series of moans fell from it. "You see that, baby?"

Spencer shyly gave you a nod, looking down. "Y- Yes, I see it, miss."

"Yeah? And what do you look like?" you asked.

"A- A whore, miss," Spencer admitted, his cheeks flaring up in a blush at his own words. He turned his head away to look at you, gazing up at you with needy eyes. "B- But I'm your whore, miss."

You pressed kisses to his neck, your look one of approval. "Fuck, yeah, you are," you moaned.

Your high danced dangerously close a short while later, and Spencer, picking up on this, lowered a hand down to rub your clit to help you along. You buried your face into his neck, leaving hickeys on him wherever you could.

"Fuck, baby," you moaned out. "That feels so good. Keep going, just like that," you were saying without even thinking about it, your brain far too clouded with desire.

The room smelled like sex as you both came at the same time, Spencer filling you with him cum like he'd done so many times before. You lay limp on his shoulder as you came down from your peak, eyes closed.

"God, I love you," you told him breathlessly, wrapping your arms around his neck. Spencer chuckled at your words, settling his hands onto your waist.

"I love you, too, Y/N."

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[skaruresonic]

Why do you guys always add the caveat of "Sonic only kills... if he absolutely has to" like it matters? Dead is dead.

Does Sonic kill? Yes. Okay, good, we have established that he does. There's no need to add fine print. It's not like those he kills can suddenly un-die just because he says "You left me no choice. :<" which tbh I'd argue he almost never does anyway

And no, Sonic does not whip out killing as a "last resort" after exhausting all available options; otherwise, he would not have stolen Eggman's jetpack hose at the end of Lost World.

This idea that Sonic just lets Eggman go all la-di-dah when he technically could kill Eggman right then and there is so incredibly bad-faith. Why doesn't Sonic just seize the opportunity?

1.) You're assuming he hasn't tried, many times, while also forgetting that Eggman is good at escaping and surviving things that would usually kill other people,

and 2.) I don't know, same reason Shadow doesn't kill everyone in the room and then himself even though he technically could at any given moment. You're pointing at Sonic just... Being Sonic(tm) and citing that as damning proof that he's somehow bestowing freedom on people. Literal "Luigi wins by doing nothing."

This is predicated on the most asinine possible reading of the games' various endings. You are literally making shit up and trying to convince people that that's how it went down in the games.

To hearken back to the SA2 example, the game says N O T H I N G about Sonic "letting Eggman go"; you just assume he did. We don't know how the crew got back to Earth. We don't know if they took a teleporter. We don't know if Sonic and Eggman left at the same time, even though Sonic is last to leave the control room. We don't even know if Eggman snuck away like usual. You are essentially writing fanfiction of the events you think transpired, because the game's insistence that Sonic's beef with Eggman isn't the ending's emotional priority at that point in time has eluded you.

"He doesn't attack rulers" - why would he? What beef does Sonic have with the President? With Elise? Is the implication supposed to be that he otherwise would have reason to attack them if either one got too big for their britches? That sounds a little panopticon-ish for how Sonic usually operates, isn't it?

Fuck me, the Commander is 10x bloodthirstier than the rest of GUN, and yet Sonic still chooses to team up with him in the Diablon boss fights just to stop Shadow's rampage. Again, Sonic makes allies out of convenience; he doesn't go out of his way to rehabilitate people.

Besides, if these world-ending exceptions occur on a regular basis, then they can't exactly be called rare, can they?

This is such a circular goddamn argument. You're arguing as if the mitigating circumstances really matter to Sonic's character. Like he performs some form of moral calculus of "Should I offer this guy freedom?" before every kill, instead of playing things by ear and by common sense.

When nearly every game has Sonic killing the monster du jour because he absolutely has to or else the world will end, the last part of "Sonic only kills when necessary" really doesn't matter anymore, does it? It becomes less of a rarity and more of a pattern.

Like, the only thing you could possibly be implying here is that Eggman doesn't count as the kind of villain that merits the "omae wa mou shindeiru" treatment from Sonic, despite being the most persistent threat to the planet.

Also, Sonic hates Eggman so badly that Shahra has to beg him to save his facsimile. King Shahryar merely suffers from the misfortune of resembling his nemesis, and Sonic only begrudgingly saves him. He wasn't like "Oh, no, poor Shahryar! I'll rescue him right away!"

Sonic so happens to accept the help of new allies out of pragmatism. He doesn't make the conscious decision to offer people freedom and second chances like he's the arbiter of who gets to live free or die. If someone he "lets go" so happens to survive, that is pure coincidence.

Until those who fuck around find out, he will continue to throw down with them without scruple. Conflating what is essentially Sonic making allies of convenience with "Sonic rehabilitates people through the power of justice" is not only wrong, it's disingenuous as hell.

Besides, if Sonic is supposed to be the series' rehabilitationist, then he's really fucking shitty at his job, considering that half the time he's not even the one doing it.

It's other characters like Amy and Cream who sway hearts and minds. It was Cream who befriended Blaze and introduced her to the crew long before Blaze and Sonic ever had their final confrontation. It was Amy who won over Shadow and Gamma. It was Rouge who convinced Omega to team up with her and Shadow against Eggman.

Some important nuance is definitely being lost in these debates, and I don't know what, but rest assured Sonic lives the way he wants. He does what he feels is right.

It so happens that the thing he wants to do is the right thing. I need you all to understand that that is not me saying Sonic is immoral, or even amoral. I am saying that Sonic is not guided by staunch principles of freedom and justice because, ironically enough, principles would limit what he wants to do.