#ohoho you are all in for a treat if i write this

[mamaestapa]

I need to know what would happen if Joe came home from maybe his Super Bowl win & you surprised him with a black & orange lingerie set🥵😍

OOOOH this is such a good idea😩

i have so many thoughts for this(and they’re all nasty af)🤭 do we want a whole imagine or a little blurb??

[madschiavelique]

Could I request nsfw headcanons for poly tavrem where everyone is jealous of some guy trying to flirt with female Tav but she's doesn't know it's flirting at all please?

ohoho they maddd (not proofread)

content warnings : jealous bitches, mayhaps a bit yandere if you squint, voice kink, knife play, biting, pnv sex, hair pulling, cunnilingus, they're all feral word count : 1.1k

you had stopped at a tavern to treat yourself to a well-deserved meal after a busy day killing enemies. knowing everyone's orders like the back of your hand when it came to their drinks, so you volunteered to go to the counter and order for everyone, leaving the rest of your group to sit at their table. however, while you were standing by the counter waiting to be able to place an order, a young man came up to you, and all pairs of eyes on the table found themselves riveted on you both.

wyll didn't appreciate the way he introduced himself, the young man coming to grab your hand to bring it to his lips without ever taking his eyes off you as he presented himself to you and you nodded. you weren't specifically attentive to his behaviour from what he could see, just smiling politely, but the idea that this fool's simple saliva could have a place on your body led wyll to grip the scabbard of his sword hard.

shadowheart wasn't keen on the fact that he was trying to get so close to you, to have a conversation while his eyes were roaming the length of your body a little too freely for her taste. how dare he gets so close to you? her nose wrinkled in anger when he came to whisper in your ear, and that as he stepped back you were laughing softly.

gale crossed his arms over his chest, frowning and huffing a breath of mockery while the young man performed a meager beginner magic trick to impress you and created a flower that he came to place in your hair. he could do better, he had shown you, even made you learn much better, and the tips of his fingers tingled as he itched to cast a spell on him to turn him into some kind of critter that he could crush.

karlach's body was spitting and crackling little flames of frustration as the fool ran his fingers through your hair, smiling at you when he probably wasn't listen to a single word you could say to him. until recently, the idea of being able to touch you for her was only an idea that she could never reach, and the mere thought that he would allow himself to touch you so simply made her engine growl.

astarion bit the inside of his cheek when the young man had the indecency to approach his hand to your neck, tracing with the tips of his nasty fingers the two marks that the vampire's bite had left on you the night before. what a nerve he had, to let his disgusting mitts approach where he had kissed your skin and whispered praises to thank you for the gift you offered him every night.

lae'zel could not prevent a tchk from escaping her as he pointed to one of your daggers and asked you to show it to him, its blade that she herself had sharpened passing over his unsightly fingers. your blade was far too beautiful to end up in the hands of a microbe like him, and if he pursued this way, it could soon make him discover the taste of the metal of her own sword.

halsin was not jealous by nature, otherwise he would not be able to relish in the relationship that you all had, but there was something in the young man's attitude that deeply displeased him as he put his hand on your shoulder. he had the urge to get it out of the way, to simply stand and walk up to him so that his size alone could lead him to step back from you.

minthara was already imagining how she could capture him and give it as a pittance to her spiders when he took a piece of paper and began to write on it his room number for the evening and he passed it to you. did he think that you were just a body to add to the list of his nocturnal conquests? that you could be worn out like a vulgar puppet for his good pleasures?

the order finally arrived, and you found yourself carrying a huge tray of all kinds of drinks. the young man suggested his help to you, but you refused it as you returned to your companions' table and put down the tray.

“I didn't know they made men as annoying as that anymore,” you sighed before taking a loaf of bread and taking a deep bite from it.

everyone at the table smiled, relief taking them as they all toasted and their frustration subsided, but they were not about to let this go so softly. once you'd came back to the camp, clothes had been thrown off the minute you had settled.

wyll's lips were all over you, kissing your every knuckles and fingers individually before he came to kiss you lips, nibbling the skin of your lower lip as he hummed in relief. if he had to cover the entirity of your body with his own mouth and saliva, he would.

shadowheart was kissing your ear, whispering sweet nothings to you and taking great pleasure to the way your skin covered in goosebumps by the simple sound of her voice and the effects her words were having on you.

gale had made vines grow to hold your body right for them all, your wrists and ankles tangled in plants which perfumes' made you feel all fuzzy and soft and needy for any touch they might provide you.

karlach's hand combed through the hairs on the back of your neck before she pulled on it, arching your back so good for her while her hot tongue licked your lips and jaw with hunger.

astarion's fangs grazed the soft skin of your inner thighs, biting relentlessly and leaving in the trail of his mouth marks after marks that he knew only him and his partner would see and touch on you.

lae'zel had taken your dagger, trailing the new cleaned blade on your body, the cold metal kissing your skin and making you shudder. she covered the handle of it with your slick, thrusting it in you as your back arched.

halsin halsin towered over you, his massive hands keeping you in place by holding your waist and shushing you down as once the dagger got removed his own length took its place.

minthara's tongue was lapping at your cunt, curling around your clit in madening circles before she came to suck on it, her eyes never leaving yours as her nails digged in your thighs.

[averycutesalamander]

pls write yan!boothill OMG WHO SAID THAT

ohoho....!! i must confess that im quite picky when it comes to yandere content, bc i don't particularly like the extreme end of the spectrum. physical violence and straight noncon in particular don't click for me (absolutely no shade to people who like that tho, you do you!!) buuuuuuut ..... i mean, im the one writing?? so i can do whatever i want??? so alright here you go :) also check my reblog for.. a lot of rambling lmao

may i present to you: my interpretation of boothill in love, but he has a few too many screws loose. warning for relatively vague descriptions of violence and, uh... yandere stuff. you know how it goes.

In all honesty, Boothill is not a "love at first sight" type. His attraction to you is a gradual, budding thing, built over many repeated encounters. He's emotionally isolated himself, after all - built a wall thick enough to muffle the whispers of his past, smothering it in a slurry of rage and sorrow. It'll take time for him to let down his guard for long enough to even register the feelings you conjure in him - a flutter in his chest every time you smile at him, a spark of joy every time he makes you laugh, a strike of fondness every time he looks at your pretty face when you aren't paying attention.

And beneath it all, a low, simmering greed, a hunger, a yearning; the urge to bite and devour and never let go.

The pressure builds with time, as the two of you grow closer. He visits often, though not so often that it would catch the IPC's attention. You laugh and joke and tease, playfully flirting with him yet keeping a healthy, platonic distance. (He very pointedly and stubbornly ignores the way his heart soars when you look at him like that - like you want to pull him into your bed and let him take you apart, piece by ruinous piece. It's just harmless fun, after all.)

(Right?)

Despite the yawning fractures in the wall he's created, despite the increasing complexity of his feelings for about you, he still hasn't untangled whatever complicated web of feelings that's arisen around you, content to leave himself oblivious for the time being - until you make a joke about him marrying you and sweeping you away on some bizarre galactic adventure, and he damn-near bluescreens.

(He hates, hates, hates that the first thing he feels is something adjacent to the feeling a cat gets when it finally corners a particularly unruly mouse, akin to the thrill he gets whenever an enemy exposes a weakness. A sick, twisted kind of satisfaction.)

His mind churns as the wall cracks, wavers-

...and crumbles.

He panics. He makes a flimsy excuse about getting a notification through his neurochip, about needing to help out a fellow ranger - and he feels even better worse when you believe him unhesitatingly, sending him off with a sweet little "Be safe!" just as you always do.

It's only after he leaves the planet that he thinks about how much you've grown to trust him, about how damn gullible you are, about how often you give him the benefit of the doubt, about how kindly you've always treated him in spite of (or perhaps because of) his dozens of strange quirks. Everything unravels, threads spilling from his fraying mind and spilling between his fingers, and when the tattered fabric settles-

He simply can't deny it. He's in love with you.

It takes some time for him to piece himself back together - weeks of complete silence from him, your texts going unanswered. Every time he sees a fresh notification from you, his heart twists with guilt - but he's not ready to face the music. Not yet.

He comes crawling back to you, sooner or later. He knocks on your door with the most sheepish, guilt-ridden look on his face that you've ever seen, a rich bouquet laden with yellow roses and purple hyacinths tucked timidly in his arms. He lies about why he left - says it was all because of a mission that got more complicated than it should have, and it wasn't safe to reply to your messages - but when he tells you that he's sorry, he means it genuinely.

He's a bit disturbed by the sensation in his gut - that foul, wicked satisfaction when you accept his apology with barely a slap on the wrist, cheerily inviting him inside to catch up. You tuck the flowers neatly into a vase, chatting easily with him as you carefully arrange them.

"It's alright!" you say, waving dismissively at him when he murmurs another apology. "I know you're busy. I can't be your biggest priority, obviously. You've got more important things going on."

(You don't have a clue how wrong you are.)

He integrates back into your life like he never left. When he has the time, he sneaks his way back onto your planet, knocking on your door or searching for you in your usual spots. You get impossibly closer; your playful flirting goes from blatantly humorous to something foggier, something more ambiguous, teasing the line between platonic and something heavier. He matches you step by step, returning your advances with just a little extra spice, his eyes a bit darker and his smile a bit wider.

He tries to be patient - god, does he try - but there's an itch that's bloomed beneath his metal, impossible to scratch, impossible to sate, made worse by every little joke you make about kissing him or touching him or marrying him or letting him spirit you away. The pressure builds further and further, the tension winding tighter and tighter, the anticipation bubbling higher and higher.

(He will never, ever admit that he truly contemplates stealing you away, crowding you onto a ship and carting you off so he can always keep an eye on you, can always guarantee your safety. His paranoia has been building since he recognized his feelings for you; it's taken every ounce of restraint in his body to stop himself from giving into the urge, from crowding you, from suffocating you, from locking you away like a fragile songbird in a cage.)

(He's torn between his protectiveness and his understanding that you deserve freedom. You deserve independence and a life that isn't tied directly to him. He doesn't even know if you return his feelings. But...)

(But there's that nagging feeling in the back of his head, that pestering little voice that grows louder by the day. You'll be safer with me, it says, dark and tempting, bursting behind his teeth. I can make you happy. I can keep you safe. I can show you pieces of the universe that you've never seen before. I can love you like no one else ever could. I can hold you and cherish you and consume you and-)

(He takes that little voice and wraps his hands tight around its throat, frantically trying to suffocate the noise, terrified by its allure. But it's always there, lingering, lurking - because the call is coming from inside the house.)

Something gives, eventually.

When he inevitably breaks, his lips crashing heatedly and messily into yours, there are two paths ahead - but the difference is ultimately moot, because they collide not long after.

Perhaps you reciprocate. Perhaps you melt against his lips, your arms coiling around his shoulders and drawing him further into you. Perhaps you whimper when his hands trail downward, squeezing at your hips. Perhaps you pull away with a gasp, your pupils blown wide, your heart pounding when you see the look in his eye - dark and hot and desperate and hungry. Perhaps you accept his quiet declaration of affection with open arms, returning it in full, your eyes sparkling with joy.

Or perhaps you reject him. Perhaps you freeze like a startled deer before pushing him away, your face slack with shock. Perhaps you apologize, stumbling over your words, your heart thundering in your chest when you see the look in his eye - dark and cold and empty and hungry. Perhaps you gently tell him that you don't feel that way about him - that you only see him as a friend.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter.

...Because Boothill - careful, meticulous Boothill - has slipped up, and the IPC finds you.

After he leaves next, whether that be with a broken heart or a giddy one, a trio of IPC employees pluck you up from the street in broad daylight, shoving you into a dark transport ship for "questioning." And once they bring you to an IPC space station, they do indeed question you - though it feels more like an interrogation, considering that you've been tied ankle-and-wrist to a chair like you're a dangerous serial killer and not a regular civilian.

"Suspected colluding with the criminal known as Boothill," your "interviewer" tells you flatly, idly thumbing at the knife in their hand. "Camera footage, reports from neighbors, records from his Synesthesia Beacon... All clearly show that he has made repeated visits to your planet and your home. We're in the business of knowing why."

Perhaps you keep your mouth shut and refuse to divulge anything, no matter how close that knife gets to your bare skin. Perhaps you break when it begins to slice into your flesh, drawing blood from your body and tears from your eyes and stuttered words from your lips. Perhaps you grit your teeth and bear it, unwilling to betray the man you've grown so fond of.

Or perhaps you cave immediately. Perhaps you sell him down the river the first chance you get, frantic explanations spilling from your lips. Perhaps you tell them that you had no idea he had such a massive bounty on his head. Perhaps you panic when they find the information insufficient and draw the knife on you anyway, deaf to your begging and pleading as they wet your skin with blood.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter.

...Because a distant explosion rocks the entire space station, and the flashing lights from the silent alarms interrupt your interrogation.

You're left alone when the IPC agent flees, locking the door behind them with a heavy clunk. Minutes pass as you fumble desperately with your restraints, your body pulsing with pain; a cacophony of gunshots and screaming penetrates the thick walls, growing louder and louder, your heart pounding faster and faster.

There's a noise just outside the door - a horrifically wet noise, like raw flesh on tile. You freeze like a rabbit that's just heard the panting of a starving wolf, far too close for comfort.

Silence. Your head aches from the flashing red lights.

Suddenly, steel fingers wedge into the gap between the locked door and the wall, single-handedly tearing it open and breaking the hydraulic lock with inhuman ease. Metal crunches and squeals, piercing the quiet - and there he stands, right in the doorway, a silhouette of black and red.

Never in your life have you seen him this manic.

His white hair drips with scarlet and his teeth are bared; his eyes are alight with rage, a shock of bright crimson among the dark smears of blood and viscera that coat him head to toe. In the light of the alarms, he looks like the perfect picture of a killer from a horror movie; violence and slaughter, just waiting to be unleashed. When his gaze locks onto you, there is a long moment of utter stillness; instinctual terror floods your entire body in a cold flash, because there isn't so much as a glimmer of humanity in those eyes - only pure, boiling, ravenous, frantic anger.

For a heartbeat, you're convinced he's going to rip you apart with his teeth.

Then, as if he finally registers who you are, the madness evaporates, replaced by a nearly manic sort of relief. He rushes to your side, looking you over; you don't miss the flash in his eyes - seething, smoking fire - when he spots your injuries. In the same breath, he snuffs it out, focusing instead on breaking your binds with his bare hands.

You're already crying when he takes you up into his arms, cradling you close to his chest and unwittingly smearing IPC blood onto you. "It's alright, sweetheart," he murmurs, soft and reassuring, a beacon of comfort in a sea of terror. "I'm right here. I've got ya. No one's ever gonna take ya from me again, okay?"

(Maybe if you weren't in shock, you'd be startled by his words. As it stands, though, they're like music to your ears, like a warm blanket settled over your shoulders, like a tight hug from someone you trust with your life.)

He encourages you to press your face into his shoulder - mercifully free of blood - as he carries you through the carnage he's left in his wake, the jangle of his spurs and your muffled sobs echoing through the silent halls. Your entire body shivers at the noise of him stepping into some unidentifiable slurry of viscera, and he thumbs at your back in an effort to soothe you, speaking quietly into your ear about everything and nothing.

Time passes in a blur of tears. He takes you to the ship he, uh... commandeered to get here, ducking into the bathroom and settling you gently - so very gently - onto the floor. Or, rather, he tries to - because your fingers are frozen stiff in his jacket, your grip unrelenting.

"You just wait here for a sec, alright?" he whispers softly, the chill of his hand settling lightly against your wrist; the blood there still feels warm to your delirious mind. "Gotta get the autopilot started, okay? I'll be right back."

You're both surprised when you shake your head insistently, your eyes wet and pleading. In an instant, he softens, his heart aching in his chest.

"Alright, sweetpea," he breathes, carefully picking you up again. "I've got ya."

He keeps you cradled to his chest as he walks to the cockpit, holding you easily with one arm as he gets the ship moving. Reinforcements are on the way, no doubt - but you'll both be long gone by the time they get here.

(Maybe the IPC will get the message when they find the scene he's left behind - when they view the camera footage and see the rampage he went on. Decapitation and disembowelment is a new one, even for him...)

(...but he needed to make it clear that no one, no one, touches what's his and gets away with it.)

When the engine is purring beneath his feet and the rumble of FTL travel is humming in the walls, he brings you back to the washroom and settles you to the tile again, gently untangling your grip from his jacket. You're in shock, he's sure, so he's careful to continue talking to you as he wets a towel with warm water, murmuring soft reassurances as he wipes the blood from your skin, handling you like you're glass.

Once you're clean, he messily towels himself off to get the worst of the mess off, then brings you to the captain's quarters, digging around in the closet to find something comfortable for you. Your shaking fingers cause you trouble, so he gently eases your ruined clothes off, his eyes respectfully averted as he helps you redress. He takes one look at the messy, used bedding and promptly decides to change the sheets. (Something within him stirs and snarls at the thought of you smelling like anyone else.)

Finally, when all is said and done, he eases you beneath the covers, brushing away the last remnants of your tears. His heart is torn between singing with joy and aching with pain when you reach up and take his hand in yours, your fingers wrapping tight around his.

"Gotta go wash up, honey," he murmurs, watching you closely as you sink into the protective huddle of the blankets, exhaustion painting your features. "That alright? I'll be fast."

(He tries very hard to ignore the flutter in his chest from the look in your eye - like you're genuinely considering whether or not you need to stay near him, like you aren't sure if you can bear the distance.)

(He also tries very hard to ignore the little pang of disappointment when you slowly nod, releasing his hand.)

He cleans himself up with record efficiency, resigning himself to wearing clothes that are a size or two too small until he can wash his usual outfit. The clothes are for your sake, really; it's not like he has any, uh... equipment to expose - not yet - but he's relatively sure that it would make you uncomfortable anyway.

By the time he steps lightly into the room again, you're asleep.

For a long, long moment, he's struck stupid by the sight of you, by the softness of your face in rest.

Fuck, you're beautiful. He knows it in his heart, feels it in his core, senses it in his chest - you're the prettiest little thing he's ever seen.

(And you're all his, now.)

His fists clench, and he swallows down the thought like bitter poison. (You deserve better than this - better than him. He's a broken man, he knows - a messy reconfiguration of a thousand corpses, glued together by hatred and grief. He could never love you the way you deserve. He could never-)

He's broken from his rapidly spiraling thoughts when you twitch, a tiny furrow appearing in your brow. A surge of emotion nearly bursts in his chest - the urge to comfort, to protect, to soothe - and he slowly circles to the other side of the bed, climbing into the empty space and settling beneath the blankets. Hesitantly, he wraps one arm lightly around your waist, drawing you against him with your back pressed tight to his chest.

His heart soars when he feels you instantly relax, the tension fleeing your body.

(It's fine. This is fine. He'll make everything better. No matter what he has to do, who he has to kill, he'll make everything better.)

A handful of days pass like that. When he stops by a market to get supplies for you, he gently tells you that it's best for you to stay in the ship for now; odds are that you actually have a bounty on your head as well, now.

(He's not wrong - but he also doesn't need to disable the button on the inside of the ship that opens the exit hatch. You don't need to know that; he doesn't need to acknowledge that.)

As time passes, he tries not to suffocate you, tries not to hover, wary of putting you under any more stress - but it's ultimately a useless task.

When you finally, tentatively ask him about going home, his brain goes numb, the world snapping into sharp focus. He turns his gaze to you, disturbingly absent of emotion.

"It ain't safe for ya there, now that those IPC dogs know to look for ya," he says, his voice far too even.

When tears begin to bud in your eyes, it finally sweeps up some sympathy in his chest, his entire face softening. He takes your shaking hands in his, tenderly grazing your knuckles with his thumbs.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he rasps, reaching up to wipe away your tears.

(He's barely sorry.)

"I don't like it either, but..."

(Yes, he does.)

"It's safest for ya to stick with me, alright?"

(Wishful thinking. He could find somewhere for you to stay - some quiet planet outside of the IPC's reach, where you could live without worry. He could send you credits regularly. He could make sure you were happy and secure, independent of him.)

(He could. He should.)

(He won't.)

[chrolloluvr]

Hi, happy to see you back❤. I remember in one of your previous works, you mentioned Mammon possibly would babytrap reader. May you please write something on this topic?

♡ Toxic!Mammon: Babytrapping Hcs ♡

Note: Ty! Also she is referring to this post. THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REQUESTS!!! KEEP THEM COMING POOKIES! ALSO IK I HAVENT MADE AN ACTUAL POST IN A WHILE SO HERE YALL GO

Female!reader, AFAB

Warnings: NSFW, toxic themes, creampie, future child, exploiting

He will babytrap you, 100%

As I have said before, Mammon likes the idea of having complete control over you, your life, and everything you do. And what better of a way to do that than making you bear his child?

He gets this magical, invasive idea when talking to one of his work buddies. He was talking about how annoying you were, even though he cannot live without you, when his co-worker mentions how much responsibility and care a woman has for her children. And the idea hits him. If you are just going to sit around lazily all day like a spoiled brat, why not add a child into the mix?

So he will have you prowled up against his chest, his cock basically stuffing you full, as he pistons in and out of your already sore pussy. Seemingly out of nowhere, telling you

"You'd be such a good mother, wouldn't you babe."

"'Wanna see you swoll with my kids, wouldn't that be somethin'-"

Which makes you feel physically ill. Raising a child with Mamm would be basically impossible. You would never raise a child with this man. Would he support you? Would he genuinley care for your baby? Oh Satan, would he even care-

Your thoughts are abrupted as Mammon stuffs you with his seed, finishing inside yours walls and painting them with a loud groan. He gives your ass a harsh slap, as he watches his cum spilling out of you. He looks you in the eyes, and gives you a daunty chuckle. He forces you to look up at him with your tired, exhausted eyes, as he tells you ohoho babe, we aren't finished until i'm done, alright?.

And he keeps that promise, with the goal of getting you pregnant. He knows the public would go feral. The King of Greed? With a child? It gives him a publicity boost, which in turn, is good for his business, and his image.

Once you find out you are pregnant, you have to eventually tell Mammon, to your dismay. Every day, he makes you take an on brand pregnancy test as he watches. He will hold the test while you pee. Yes you heard me right. So when the test says positive one day, he is over the moon. Not at the fact that he is going to be a father, but at the fact that he is now in complete control over you, and that he can use another part of you as a pawn in his twisted fantasy.

The paparazzi have a field day over this news, because he ends up almost immediately making an announcement. There are headlines, candid photos of you going forcefully outside by mammon, etc. Its like a never ending nightmare. And dont be mistaken, he would never let you out of his sights, or get an abortion. He thinks this is too good of an opportunity.

Behind closed doors, he will actually treat you very well. Feeding you, paying attention to your every need, and not letting you lift a finger. He may even go out of his way to find some stuff by himself at the store. He'll will make you go outside with him. But at times he has to do a meeting, or host an event, he will have his goons escort you places, making sure you go public routes, to get a really good look at your swollen belly.

Brings you to meetings during this time, and picking your outfits carefully. He cant have his darling wearing any disgusting maternity clothes. So he will have you perches on his lap while he sits in his seat, embarrassment eating you whole as you see the sins/overlords snickering and bickering presumably at you. He has one hand rubbing your round belly, and one hand rubbing your shoulders as Mammon discusses his newest buisness plan.

He would create a Mammon Baby Care line. He knows he will profit off your pregnancy

"Alright fellas, so i was thinking for the ladys, a Mammon breast pump, hm? Its great right? Oh! And Mammon themed bibs, ha! Sure to make me a bunch, right babes?"

People think, how could you let Mammon knock you up? Of course, millions of girls idolize Mammon, and would want to be with him. But sometimes it feels like you are the only one who is infatuated with him. So you will try to look past the fact that he got you pregnant. You'll just try to be hopeful. But it is literally impossible with the way he keeps sweet talking you, as you snap back into the sad reality that you will be having Mammons child, and raising it. No questions to be asked.

He will lead you to subconsciously feel insecure about you and your body. He will squeeze your newly chubby cheeks, glaze his fingers over your stretch marks newly littering your body, etc. And he definitely does that on purpose.

As you reach up to the half full Nutella jar in the high cabinet in the kitchen, you hear a pair of loud footsteps coming behind you. Its Mammon. You try your best to ignore him, but you cant help but feel uneasy when you feel a pair of familiar eyes on you. It is currently 1:30 AM, and he is in a really tired mood.

"You need help sweets?"

He said with a suckle voice, knowing its affects on you are vast. He looks you up and down, admiring your perfect body in his mind. Your curves, belly, and the look your giving him. It makes him want to just bend you over and fuck your brains out likes theres no tomorrow. But he cant, he just has to be extra agile with you.

"Mamm..."

"Yeah?"

"Do I look fat?"

Ohhh boy. The question you always ask when you feel like he's eyeing you up. he hates when you ask that, because then he has to make up some half assed excuse to why he's looking at you a certain way. When your pregnant, he basically has to walk on eggshells around you.

"You... look like your carrying my child, and I like the sight of that."

"Okay, do you love me?"

He pauses. One wrong answer, and you'll refuse to talk to him for weeks. You two, as of your relationship, are in a really good spot right now. You will basically do anything for him. But you are really sensitive emotionally and physically, due to your hormones.

As he walks up behind you, he lifts you up by your waist, and hold you up to the cabinet, letting you reach.

"Y/N."

He says in a low, gruff voice.

"Yeah Mamm?"

"What the hell kind of question is that. Of course I love you."

He says as you look at him, face to face. You watch his eyes never leave yours, which makes you break off eye contact in a flustered state. You then realize that he is holding you, which makes you feel insecure.

"Okay, I love you too Mamm"

"Alright, now get your sweet treat, and get the fuck to bed, and hurry up. We've got a busy day tomorrow sweets."

He sets you down, and leaves the kitchen, leaving you with yourself, your Nutella and a spoon in hand. You look down at yourself, and your huge stomach. You wonder how you got yourself into this twisted predicament. You mostly worry about your baby's future as Mammons child. Because you are aware that Mammon will only use them for his own monetary gain. You cannot escape this man, even if you try. But you can always pretend you have your own free will, and you could always just eat your silly thoughts away, as Mammon always told you.

[diamond-rozie]

I actually thought of this prompt like forever ago and i rly wanted to write a whole story for it but i couldn't think of a plot that would stick to it and make sense without adding too many outside elements and in my opinion over saturating the story. BUT i do have a bunch of scenes of danny and damian in my head about this also also some danny and other batfam members.

So anyways your order has been delivered...

original prompt: Gotham Academy's Mentorship Program

scene two: tim's arch nemesis

table of contents

-------------

scene 01: damian's not-so-very-bad day

“Father, you wanted to speak with me.” Damian said, trugging into his Father’s study late into the afternoon per Pennyworth’s behest. 

Father looked up from his work at Damian’s arrival, Drake gave him a look of annoyance that Damian returned with a sneer. “Damian.” Father greeted as he reached Father’s work station. “I spoke with your principal earlier today.” Damian huffed and crossed his arms in defiance at whatever accusation he was about to be handed, “Put your frown away, you're not in trouble.” Father chuckled lightly. 

Damian frowned. He was not a child, he did not need to be treated like one. 

“There’s a mentorship program at your school.” Father started, Damian raised an intrigued brow at him. 

Perhaps Father had succeeded in seeing his potential, “Well I suppose I wouldn’t mind mentoring one of the many underlings at the so-called academy.” Damian sighed, letting his arms fall to his side, as he looked up at his Father. 

Father blinked at him, processing what he had said, then glanced at Drake who looked like a fraying rope length away from bursting into laughter. “The mentorship program… it’s for you.” Father tried hesitantly. 

“Yes.” Damian nodded in understanding. 

There was an uncomfortable silence from Father.

“He means that you're the one getting mentored.” Drake laughed at him, shoulders shaking. 

Damian turned to Father. But the denial never came. “What!” Damian couldn’t help scream in outrage. “You want me to get mentored by some hillbilly civilian who can't tell a katana from a wakizashi?” He slammed his hands on Father’s table. 

Father looked at him with disapproval, but said nothing, not caring enough to discipline Damian. 

“Hillbilly civilian.” Drake croaked from the corner of the room, draping himself dramatically over one of the side sofas. 

“You’re to meet him first thing tomorrow when you get to school. Here’s his student profile, if you're interested.” Father handed him a singular paper. 

“Father I do not need-” 

“It’s already been arranged Damian, atleast give it a try.” Father said with a sigh, picking up his files again in a silent dismissal of Damian. 

The paper crumpled slightly as Damian stormed to his room.  

Daniel James Fenton. 

“Let’s see how long you last.” Damian eyed the picture of the smiling teen. 

---

“Have a good day at school Masters Tim, Thomas, and Damian.” Pennyworth bid, as they all got out of the car. 

“Later, Alfred.” Thomas waved at the butler as he drove off. 

They all walked in the same direction to enter their classrooms, when Drake stopped him in his path. “Ohoho, and where do you think you’re going Damian?” he asked cheekily.

“Tsk.” He was hoping to be able to make it to his class before the others noticed, then continue to evade the principal and other faculty if need be required. To be foiled so early into his plan, furthermore by Drake, was humiliating. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the principal’s office?” Drake continued to smother his victory over Damian. 

“I was just on my way.” He huffed, turning around annoyed. Drake and Thomas snickered as he retreated. 

Damian knocked on the familiar oak doors. “Come in.” Mr. Carson called from the other side. Damian entered, and plopped down on the same chair he sat in every time he had been sent here. “Ah Damian. Goodmorning.” He waited for a reply, but when he realized he wouldn’t be getting one he continued on, “Mr. Fenton should be here any minute, but I’m glad you were able to come here on your own accord.” Mr. Carson talked as he hung up his jacket and took a seat at his chair. 

Damian could only watch the seconds tick by as he sat in that office. He wondered absentmindedly if Fenton didn’t show up would he be free. The knock at the door decimated all hopes Damian had for that. 

“Ah, that must be Mr. Fenton.” Mr. Carson mused out loud, “Come in.” 

Fenton entered the room hesitantly, greeting Mr. Carson with a small smile. Fenton was a scholarship student and held reasonable grades so his intellect was not to be underestimated, though often simply being able to score well on tests did not translate to having adequate life skills. Fenton was taller than Drake, but still average, dark hair, tanned skin, gray-blue eyes. When Damian’s supposed mentor looked at Damian for the first time since he had entered the room, Damian couldn’t help but feel like he was caught in a stare off with a beast. 

The way Fenton examined his surroundings reminded Damian of the League of Assassins. Careful, analytical and tactical. All things Damian had excelled in. But there was something different about Fenton than what Damian had often seen in the League. His eyes were softer than those that had trained Damian. Damian couldn’t understand why his eyes looked like that. 

Fenton smiled at him in a way that was likely meant to be kind, “Hi, you must be Damian. I’m Danny.” He stuck out his hand for Damian to shake. 

Damian did not take the hand, instead he turned to principal Carson, “When can I leave?” He asked board, subtly eying Fenton’s reaction in his peripheral vision. 

“We have to iron out the finer details and the both of you will be free to go until we see each other for our weekly check in every Friday.” Principal Carson started, “Mr. Fenton why don’t you take a seat. 

Undeterred by Damian’s lack of interest, Fenton took a seat. Mr. Carson explained to Fenton his responsibilities as a mentor and what would be expected of him, Fenton in turn nodded along attentively. After his long explanation of the whole program the both of them were free from his office, and excused from classes until lunch to “get to know each other better”.

Damian translated that to having until lunch to show Fenton that he was out of his depth and have him running with his tail between his legs. 

“So…” Fenton drawled trying to buy time to think of something adequate to say no doubt, “How about we go to the library to hang out?” Fenton offered. 

Damian simply huffed in agreement as they made their way to a pair of sofas tucked between the many rows of books. 

“So, Damian, uh, what do you like to do after school?” Fenton asked unoriginally. 

Damian turned so he could meet Fenton eye-to-eye. “Train.” He said honestly. If he plans on scaring him off then leaning into the superficial things he learned in the League would do him well. 

“Oh, you do sports?” Fenton asked inquisitively. Damian was momentarily thrown off by his show of genuine interest in his personal life, but Damian quickly collected himself. Fenton was merely putting on an act to get him to open up, Damian would be a fool to fall for it. 

“No.” He scoffed at the thought of sports, “I train for battle,” He made sure to put as much confidence as he could in his voice. Oftentimes in the past when he had told his peers of his activities they had brushed him off and laughed at him, Damian wondered if Fenton would have a similar reaction. 

“Hardcore.” Fenton nodded in awe.

Damian blinked, “You believe me?” He found himself whispering. 

“Well, yeah.” Fenton responded as if it were the most obvious thing, in fact, he seemed confused as Damian’s bafflement. 

Damian quickly collected himself, “Well of course you should believe me it’s the truth, I’m a highly skilled blade user.” He nodded to himself. 

“Blade user, huh? Do you prefer katanas or wakizashi? Or a classic long sword maybe.” Fenton asked eying Damian as if it would help him find the correct answer. 

“Katanas obviously.” Damian scoffed, “They’re incredibly balanced, strong, and give you incredible control over your attacks. Wakizashi are also a good option if you prefer close combat and if you’re fighting in an area with a lot of obstacles.” Fenton hummed and nodded at his explanation, and Damian found himself continuing, “Long swords are originally from the Bavaria and Switzerland regions during the medieval times-”

[majimasleftasscheek]

'The Majima Dilemma' Anon here, looking for some feedback on how would one write Goro Majima's other half Goromi so that it doesn't sound offensive or cringe-worthy. I have the basics - like some stuff noted from the game, but would like to hear someone's idea on Goromi-chan - how she acts around Kiryu or other people etc.

ohoho so I think that the best way to write her (subjectively of course) is to treat her sincerely. of course there's the elephant in the room depending on how you interpret her - I'm going to be viewing her as genderfluid cuz that's my thing so for my purposes, she's an amab dude in a dress. as such, I don't point out said elephant unless the point of my story is to talk about that specifically and with it often comes discussion of gender, etc etc. if I'm not talking about that, I talk about her as if she's any other woman doing her thang.

example: if I had a basic scene where she's putting on lipstick, I'm not going to write her as if she's struggling or being incompetent "because man unga bunga." I'd just have her put on lipstick. that same scene could change depending on the "when" too. maybe early Goromi did struggle but! it's important to portray that struggle with sincerity. write her being anxious, clumsy, etc. don't try to make it comedic tho as it'd be inappropriate imo. if there is anything funny, it shouldn't be at her expense.

so, the game treats the Goromi encounter like a joke, basically just a reason for Kiryu to fight her on the basis of "haha man in dress doesn't that just piss you off." so if you take anything from the game, the conversation they have in the minigame is where it's at, in regards to how Kiryu feels himself around her, how he doesn't have to put on airs, how Goromi's genuinely surprised, things like that. with such a short encounter, you really have to rely on your own imagination to expand upon it but even just that lil bit of exchange is a good base. beyond that, I wouldn't take away from the game that much tbh.

I write Goromi pretty much how I write Majima, with all the usual vulgarities and mannerisms since the way I see Goromi is that she's still very much the same person but with a femme flair. I know some do like to write her significantly different as a personality of her own so that too is an option if that's your thing. I project a lot of my genderfluid experience onto her so when I'm personally feeling flip floppy, I'm not really anyone new, but the way I act, the way I carry myself does differ to varying degrees.

so when Goromi's around Kiryu, for example, she's still up to kicking his ass and being a rude lil shit but she'll carry herself a bit more refined, generically ladylike but surface level - some of it being playing the stereotype of a woman, another part her actively trying to be someone else or "removed from being a typical man." for example, if I wrote Kiryu flirting with Majima, I'd make him get embarrassed but in a sort of aloof way with performative confidence typical of Majima. flirting with Goromi tho is different as she's being very vulnerable, very open about herself and when you love her, you love a part of Majima that he may feel self conscious about.

speaking of the previous mentioned elephant, if you wanna talk about Goromi being a dude, I think that's fine tbh if done with tact. I make it a point in my art to portray her as masculine because for me, the cis part of being genderfluid is just as important as everything else. so I like to see Goromi with her beard and muscles and dick bulge cuz fuck it. I don't shy away from that stuff but I don't make fun of it either. one of my best friends is a transwoman and respecting her as a woman no matter how passing she is, is very important to me. but it's not sunshine n rainbows either. if you do talk about that sorta thing, it does come with baggage and handling that doesn't always have the most right or the most appropriate answer. comes down to respecting people as people imo and I think with common sense and empathy, you can certainly write something well intentioned.

interaction-wise, I think she would try to act the part around most people, maybe being at odds with herself because she's not ignorant to how to she looks or behaves so she tries to be more elegant, more ladylike in order to be likeable, acceptable. but at the same time she's still very much Majima and that crassness doesn't just bleed but hemorrhages out of her. it's a battle within herself to decide how to behave so when people are being genuinely nice, she fumbles. I think it'd be normal even around people she's close to cuz even tho she knows she has their respect, it's almost unreal and she gets very flustered 😌 to an extent, I like to think she even rejects some of that kindness cuz her self doubt makes her think she doesn't deserve it or that people are being dubious to get on her good side.

she's good at faking it too. if you need her to be a perfect lil peach or put up with a lotta crap, she can do it. she'd more so do this if the situation required it so I can see her being polite around those of a higher status or if she was in a situation where she shouldn't be a goblin. she'd be pleasant but cold towards strangers, cautious you can call it, until she can place their vibes. there's an RGGO story (idk if you know what that is but it's basically yakuza gatcha on mobile) where Goromi (before Kiryu ever gets to Club Shine) very seriously plays the part of a hostess and wildly excels so she can very much be a totally different person if need be.

whenever I write an upset Goromi, I like to make her revert to tough guy Majima strats where she'll do her damnedest to not let anything get under her skin but it never goes well, especially if it's personal. if she's not crumbling under depression, she'll be snappy then pissy, handling anything with a fight over pouring her heart out. she's prone to spiraling and holding grudges, preferring to suffer in silence alone which is very much how I'd write Majima normally.

a happy Goromi is bombastic, moreso than Majima if that's even possible. and depending on the context, very very sincere. because the theater in my brain never stops replaying the same scenes over and over, I always have this mental picture that Kiryu says something sweet about Goromi and she's just on the quiet side smiling in a sad sort of way like she can't even believe he actually means what he says. and he looks at her worried like he said something stupid and she has to reassure him she's just happy to be so lucky and that tough exterior opens up just a lil more each time. Majima is a big softie and as Goromi, I feel he can explore that a lil more freely if hesitantly.

I hope this stuff helps! it's my own thoughts so of course take things totally subjectively. I think writing Goromi sincerely does rely on taking considerations of femininity, especially in regards to how a man would approach them and how society would view that. it's a lotta reactionary stuff and I think if you can empathize with that, you can write her well enough. Goromi is a divisive topic for people so you're not going to please everyone but trying to write her in order to please everyone wouldn't be sincere imo. she's a mixed bag of things, some good some ugly, so write her in ways you feel good about while also being considerate/respectful of course.

[fanboyzuko]

Ty Lee is such a good narrator! I love the dynamic between the three girls, none of them willing to reveal their true feelings even too each other.

Who was Master Intira? Something about her description has me thinking of airbenders. Her peaceful acceptance of her coming death, and building a legacy of joy. Also in the Gyatso installment it’s mentioned that Ty Lee’s teachers (possibly Master Intira?) had likely mastered their chakra, the same practice that Gyatso learned among the air nomads.

What are the chances that if Ty Lee learns more about airbenders from Zuko’s letters, she’ll start recognizing things her mentor taught her? (Maybe her choice to leave had more reasons than what’s already been stated?)

<333 thank youuu!!! Ty Lee's POV really made writing so easy gosh she's so fun my best girl <333

Do you mean guru pathik? I think that's the only time I've mentioned Ty Lee's mastery of chakra. But yeah! Master Intira is Ty Lee's chi-blocking teacher :3 how her path goes ohoho i like your theories nwn

for now, here's Master Intira's introduction! A lil treat <3

That fateful summer festival changed the trajectory of Ty Lee’s life in a way she never could have known. 

While everyone else was amazed by the techniques of a non-bender martial arts school in taking down any bender bold enough to challenge them, Ty Lee was mystified by the older woman watching the matches from the shadows with a critical eye.

She was pink. 

Pinker than Ty Lee. Pinker than Ty Lat, who had more of a purple undertone. Pinker than anyone Ty Lee had ever seen, adult or otherwise.

Mystified, Ty Lee snuck away to approach the stern looking woman who smiled so beautifully when Ty Lee admired her aura. 

Master Intira was picky about the students she accepted. But there was no deliberation on whether she would teach Ty Lee or not. Right then and there, she followed Ty Lee to her parents and invited her to join Master Intira’s school. Her parents hesitated at the suddeness of the situation, but quickly granted their permission under Ty Lee’s wide, pleading eyes.

Under Master Intira, Ty Lee learned about chakra, the flow of chi, more about human anatomy than she knew possible, and auras. Although Master Intira could not see auras, her grandmother had shared Ty Lee’s ability and told Master Intira all about them. Ty Lee likely would have figured out everything by herself eventually. Her childish theories and suspicions were on the right track to understanding her ability, but it was nice to have a teacher guide her path.

[howlingday]

The Schnees: Iced Over

Jacques: ...

Willow: ...

Jacques: ...

Willow: ...

Jacques: ...I remember when we were first married. Willow was passionate. Passionate about love, about life! About her career, and... about me...

Taiyang: ...

Jacques: And lately I feel like I don't exist to her!

Willow: Oh, you exist alright, Jacques. You exist!

Jacques: COULD YOU SHUT YOUR TRAP FOR ONE SECOND, WILLOW?!

Taiyang: (Writes down in notepad) My, my, my, Mr. Schnee. What could possibly be the source of all these suppressed frustrations?

Willow: Oh, yes, Mr. Schnee! Do tell~!

Jacques: When was the last time you kissed me, Willow?

Willow: Ohoho~. How soon we forget. Why, it was exactly six months last Tuesday~.

Jacques: Oh, boy...

Taiyang: Hm... To get to the root of these problems, I'd like to see a typical evening in the Schnee home. So what I would like to do is a little roleplaying.

Taiyang: Mrs. Schnee, I would like you to pretend you are your husband in a typical everyday evening in your house.

Willow: Oh, can I, please?!

Taiyang: And Mr. Schnee, I would like you to pretend you are your wife, seeing you come home from a typical day at work.

Taiyang: Remember, Mrs. and Mr. Schnee; a typical, ordinary day in the Schnee household... as each other.

Willow: (Rolls her eyes)

Jacques: (Falsetto) Oh, I'm so exhausted~! I've done nothing but lay around and drink all day~! The servants do everything for me, and yet the house is littered with empty bottles~! Oh, what should I do with these seconds in the day~?! (Lounges) ABSOLUTELY NOTHING~!

Taiyang: (Scratches in notepad)

Willow: (Gruff voice) KLEIN! I'M HOME! I'm just not rich enough! My bank account doesn't have enough digits to it! Now where's my dinner?!

Taiyang: (Writing notes)

Jacques: (Bawls) Oh, you're so cruel~! (Sobs) Why do you... (Sniffles) Treat me so harshly~?!

Willow: WHAT, WILLOW?! I just can't hear you! BECAUSE I DON'T CARE!

Jacques: (Simulates scroll call) Hey, Jimmy~! Hm~? Oh, of course I can talk~! It's not like I have a husband and three children to think about~! Chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp~!

Willow: Ugh! Even these windows are tacky! Klein, fire the person who built these windows and have the faunus slave away at new ones!

Jacques: (Normal voice) Alright, that's quite enough, Willow!

Willow: (Normal voice) Oh? Are you not having fun yet, Jacques? Because if you'd like, I could always share a secret instead~.

Jacques: What secret, Jacques?

Willow: Oh, come now, Jacques. You really don't know~?

Jacques: Willow Schnee, will you just spit it out already?!

Willow: (Jacques impression) Jacques Schnee? NATURALLY SNOW-HAIRED?!

Jacques: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! (Leaps at her)

Willow: (Fending off Jacques swinging at her)

Jacques: DU DUMMER! UNSENSIBLER! IDIOT! How dare you?!

Willow: Agh! C-C'mon, Jacques! Give me a break!

Jacques: YOU'LL BE SORRY, WILLOW SCHNEE! OH, YOU WILL BE SORRY! HERE'S YOUR BREAK!

Willow: (Thrown across the room) AAAAGH! Uh-oh, Doc! I think he's really mad!

Jacques: (Throwing vases)

Taiyang: (Ducks under thrown vase) Maybe you should run.

Willow: Oh! Good idea! (Grabs hold of him, Uses him as a human shield)

Jacques: (Trips Willow as she runs)

Taiyang: (Sent flying, Hears bell) I believe our session is over for today.

Taiyang: (Flies out the window)

Jacques: (Grabs Willow) If it's the last thing we do, Willow Schnee, we WILL make this work!

[desultory-novice]

hi! I'm sorry to bother you and send an ask about this, but I heard somewhere that Magolor uses gender neutral pronouns in Japanese and the masculine pronouns are just a localization thing but Idk if this is actually true or just a rumor? Thank you!

So..."gender" in Japanese is complicated. Especially as times change, because Japanese was, at various points in history, a massively genderized language (I don't know if I'm using the right word, but basically BIG divide between "women's speech" and "men's speech.") But there was also a variety of shifts throughout time as well, of both gendered language and other language-as-indicators-of-age-social-class-etc-etc. Now that LGBTQA+ rights are becoming more acknowledged/accepted across the globe, that spurred even more changes in how language is used in Japan by the different genders.

To make things EVEN MORE COMPLICATED, these "indicator words" are often applied to (sometimes comical) excess in fiction! Thus, you will get characters who talk with ~obsessive politeness~ or use pronouns that haven't been in regular use in centuries in order to appear more quirky or present themselves in a more blatant fashion than anyone in the real world would ever do. And sometimes the old pronoun divide is resurrected as an "easy" way to determine a character's identity. (And sometimes, it's a subversion!!)

...Phew.

So, now that you have that brief(?) introduction on massive language shifts that are still occurring, let's talk Magolor. Magolor uses the pronoun "boku" spelled 「ボク」 (in katakana) in Japanese. If you imagined Japanese pronouns all on a line, with "Masculine" on one side and "Feminine" on the other, "boku" leans masculine. Yes, it is used by women and femme sometimes. Same as "watashi" (which in the modern era is sometimes seen as leanining on the feminine side, although that may be shifting back and/or be one of those fiction-influenced stereotypes mentioned above) is used by men and masc.

But, at first glance, that would put Magolor as a character who fits relatively comfortably into the "is a guy" camp. Except... here's where these kinds of questions get complicated.

Because many Kirby characters are considered (officially!!) to have [No Confirmed Gender] (And this is irregardless of the pronouns they use in English OR Japanese.)

Not to say that they are all non-binary (though they very well could be!) but they could, as far as we know, be literally be ANY gender.

Amongst the many ways we can interpret this is that:

1) They all have secret genders that we just don't know yet!

2) Surprise! They all have the exact same gender as their English version pronouns suggest! Are those localizers psychic or what?

3) We are kindly being left with the choice to decide their gender on our own for ourselves, much like we are with their backstories!

4) Most of them are weird aliens and may see gender in a way that we can't even envision yet and so we're just using placeholders.

5) We're not supposed to put any importance on their Earthly gender and this is the creative team's way of saying that politely.

6) Any of a dozen other options I didn't list here!

Kirby and Meta Knight are among those who have not set gender. (Again, regardless of the fact that both are - mostly - addressed with "he" and various other masculine words in the English text.)

And I believe Magolor is another character who uses he/him/wizard/man-ager (ohoho! don't mind my bad joke!) but is not explicitly stated in any material (?) to be male.

...On the other side (damn me for being a libra) this is NOT to say he definitely isn't a guy. He could be! And in light of any evidence toward the contrary, and also as participants in the English-speaking side of the fandom, there's nothing wrong with continuing to write/treat Magolor as a man (or trans-man or identifying as male)

[systemadministratorclu]

Starters from my own writing (part 3)

Quotes from a few of my own fanfics. Adjust pronouns as needed. Feel free to combine them or send in more than one. Specify muse for multimuse blogs. And this meme you CAN reblog from me. X)

Part 1 here. Part 2 here Part 4 here Part 5 here Part 6 here Part 7 here

"Don't try anything, ______."

"You, tell her to knock it off. Now!"

"Start talkin' ______. What's goin' on?"

"______, what have we done to you?"

"How can you people do this?"

"He is one of your own! He trusted you! All of you!"

"You seem to care about him. Why do you and not them?"

"What did YOU do? Why do YOU care?"

"I didn't realize people's lives meant so little anymore."

"Oh boo hoo, ______, you lost your little toy. No one cares."

"I would NEVER treat ______ like that! Ever!"

"You know, they say you shouldn't kick a man when he's down."

"______.....a-are you okay?"

"Why him? What did ______ do wrong to deserve this."

"I can understand your pain. But there is only one way to save the ones we love now."

"I'm not going to ask anyone to do this with me, as it may very well be a suicide mission."

"I'm aware it's a crazy thing to do. But it's also the right thing to do."

"That's right, come and get me."

"You will NOT be allowed to destroy my people, vile witch!"

"Hold on, ______. Just a little longer."

"Where do you think you're going?"

"______, you're bleeding."

"You're safe, ______."

"I'm here. Everything's okay now. You're okay."

"I thought I lost you, ______."

"They all know about us now. We don't have to hold it inside anymore."

"I love you, ______. I love you so much and I never want to lose you again."

"You sure, ______? This the one you want?"

"Ohoho, ______ would LOVE this."

"How could I not love him, though? He's smart, he's sweet, he's.....well, just look at him."

"You've certainly got yourself something special, ______."

"I don't deserve him, but I'm gonna do whatever it takes to not lose him."

"I'm happy to help any way I can. You name it, I'll make it happen. Just call me Santa."

"You should probably get going. You told ______ you wouldn't be too long."

"I am not going to want to move tomorrow."

"Come on and lay down for me, I'll make it feel better."

"You're wearing your sweater backwards......also, that's actually MY sweater."

"You would not believe how weird it was getting condolences and flowers for someone who's not dead."

"Really? I'm 'guy who dies first'? Gee, thanks for the confidence."

"You're more like 'first guy we actually cared about to die'."

"How's 'guy ______ cried like a baby over' sound?"

"Alright enough gab flappin'!"

"A little help, guys? Please?"

"Trust me, you'll want this to remember."

"Is this different from just going to a market?"

"I'll explain it more when we get to town."

"It's okay, ______, I've got something planned for just the two of us anyway."

"You gonna take us for a ride, big guy?'

"What's not to like? He can probably tell how sweet you are."

"Now I can see your beautiful eyes."

"So that's what you do, eh? I think I like that tradition. A lot."

"You sure I'm checked out on this class of vehicle?"

"I'll be right here beside you, I'll help if you need it."

"How did you get this, sir?"

"Damn, I have something on my face, don't I."

"It's gotten pretty late, what do you say we all retire for the night?"

"______, you said you would tell me. Why are you so hesitant to tell?"

"You just spent the whole day making sure today was perfect for me. Of course, any day spent with you is perfect in my book."

"Oh god, Oh ______ I am so sorry. See? This is why I didn't want to tell you."

"I wish I was there to comfort you when you were little."

"______, how.....how did you get this?"

"No matter what, I'm so proud of you. Love, ______."

"Ooh, that drawing is so cute! Look, ______ did it when he was little!"

"I have something else I've been working on for you, too. A.....more special way to say what you mean to me, ______."

"It's probably not very good, but I wrote this for you, ______."

"That was beautiful. And your voice is beautiful.....Thank you."

"I hope you like what I've got for you."

"______.....you have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you. Thank you so, so much."

"I have come to a very important decision."

"I...I didn't want to say anything earlier, but....I-I have one more gift for you. A-A r-really important one."

"It's okay, ______. You're going to do great."

"I want this to be a good experience for....both of us, but especially you."

"People tend to stare at beautiful things. And you, my love, are absolutely breathtaking."

"You are so goddamn beautiful, ______."

[door]

for the book ask meme: 21, 35, 37! <3

HI LIZ (book asks here!)

21. The book(s) on your school reading list you actually enjoyed.

i think it was junior year in high school (my third year--i was 16) we read a bunch of poetry by pablo neruda and i got swept the fuck UP. i still have the copies i read then, highlighted and annotated as all hell.

35. Least favorite trope in your most favorite book genre.

oooooooh. hm, ok. i hate knowing who did it in a mystery. (this is why it took me so long to come around on columbo.) it's not fun for me! i want a mystery to treat me like a silly little baby, i want to learn the culprit at the exact same moment that the rest of the characters do. malice aforethought might have been a watershed moment in the history of mystery (as well as a GREAT book title), but it's not for me.

37. The only example of your least favorite trope being written in such a way that you enjoyed it.

ohoho a FOLLOW UP! does this exist?? i don't know! not books, but i came around on columbo and i LOVED poker face. oh, and knives out (which has its twist, but i had a moment in the cinema when i was terrified i was going to hate watching it). maybe if rian johnson writes his version of malice aforethought i'll dig it

[haunting-hufflepuffs-basement]

From the fandom asks thing: 4, 9, 10, 16

Im curious

OHOHO! Let's start some fights, shall we?

4. what was the last straw that finally made you block that annoying person?

So the only people I have blocked actually are people that I think most people would automatically block on sight: scammers, people trying to find out where you live, TERFS and homophobes, etc. I've never really had anyone bother me over things. I'm lucky that way!

9. Worst Part of Canon:

Oh gosh. Okay, so I want to say it's the really weird surface-level worldbuilding that leaves a lot of plot holes, but there's actually something worse for me: the misogyny. And not like, there are characters that behave misogynistically, like the misogyny inherent in the writing. I'm about 90% certain that Harry Potter doesn't pass the Bechdel Test. Yes, I know the perspective character is a dude, but even the conversations Harry OVERHEARS between two girls are either glossed over or about a dude or both. The amount of prominent male characters vs. the amount of prominent female characters is frankly kind of ridiculous. There are other things you notice when you read the books as well, like how the women are far more likely to cry than the men and this is treated as a bad thing or a character weakness for the girls. Or how Ginny doesn't really have much of a character in canon (I kidnapped her and made her my own, canon doesn't deserve her) despite being just as prominent if not more important than some of her brothers and Harry's supposed love interest. Stuff like that. Also the fatshaming. Pretty privilege is REALLY prevalent in this fandom, but the books certainly didn't help by making most fat characters evil and disgusting (the Dursleys, Peter, Umbridge, etc.).

10. Worst part of Fanon:

For me, it's the notion that Peter isn't competent. Guys. Peter in canon is a cowardly slimeball, don't get me wrong, but bad at being a wizard---NO. He blew apart an entire street and killed 12 people, chopped off his own finger and transformed into a rat, and made it look like Sirius had both done the curse and killed him. He was successfully passing information to the Death Eaters for over a year and wasn't even CLOSE to getting caught since Sirius, James, and Lily still made him Secret Keeper. Those things didn't have anything to do with riding someone else's coattails, it's just Peter being damn good at his job. He was actually good at magic you guys. Probably above average actually, seeing as how he was able to hang with James and Sirius. You just don't notice it because James and Sirius are INSANELY good at magic. (Also the whole thing about making 11-15 year old Peter visibly and notably evil and bad or not a real friend or not part of the group and also the fact that he doesn't get redeemed half as much as people like Barty, Evan, and Regulus because there's that pretty privilege again. Drives me nuts. Anyways.)

16. You can't understand why so many people like this thing (trope, headcanon, characterization, etc.)

I will level with you all, I do not understand Drarry. And this isn't me not getting enemies to lovers or the Slytherin x Gryffindor appeal or the quidditch rivals or WHATEVER because I like Jegulus. But for all the similarities that Harry and James have and even for all the similarities that Regulus and Draco have, I don't like it. I think one of the biggest things is that people do usually put in the work with Jegulus stuff to "redeem" Regulus and have him unlearn his unhealthy behaviors, whereas in Drarry fics it tends to get glossed over. It also probably has something to do with the fact that Harry spent 7 years HATING Draco. I don't think that was "obsessed with him because I'm secretly in love" that was genuine hatred you guys. I don't buy it. Meanwhile Regulus and James have 0 canon interactions for me to judge their relationship with, so anything they do in fanon feels more plausible, especially seeing as how he canonically became friends with Sirius, who likely would have had some similar problems to Reg, despite Sirius' best efforts. Obviously no hate if you ship it, I just don't understand it. It's not for me, so I tend to avoid it like the plague so that I don't rain on everyone else's parade.

Thanks for asking! Everybody let me know why I'm wrong in the notes, and you're welcome to send me more asks about anything all the time always and forever!

[amadwinter]

for the fic writer ask: 4, 8, 12, 14, 18, 30

for this ask game

thanks lils ❤ this is a long one so it's all going under a cut but I'm grateful for all the questions! Now bear with my while I blather a little

4. a story idea you haven’t written yet

The best part about having so many unwritten ideas is I can just easily choose a different one when asked this question multiple times!

Omega Anakin’s mom is sick, and the treatment is too expensive. The only chance he has is selling himself to a rich alpha. But not for a night: for the rest of his life as a wife. Unfortunately, the alpha dies before they can marry, but his son Obi-Wan is willing to take over the contract.

This was a twitter thread originally, but I really like this idea. Basically, Anakin agrees to marry rich alpha doctor Qui-Gon who up and dies the day before they're supposed to go down to the courthouse and get married. But luckily his son Obi-Wan, also a rich alpha doctor, is willing to help him.

Except Obi-Wan has no interest in marriage of any kind, so Anakin has to strong-arm him into it. And then he strong-arms Obi-Wan into consummating that marriage (and by strong-arming, I mean, he pouts a little and Obi-Wan throws his hands up in defeat).

I seriously considered sitting down at writing this one at the end of last year, but it didn't happen. And now I have too many WIPs going that I would feel too guilty about starting another.

But when those are finished..... >:D

8. if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

Well, I have very solid ideas for sequels to you'll never know, dear, better run, boy, the night is so long, and love(?) in an elevator... and once i finish the thrill of the fall ohoho

12. a trope you’re really into right now

Creature fics. Please. I need more Anakin as a dragon. Obi-Wan as a fairy. Just more werewolves. Please, I beg of the fandom. And merpeople! Always the mers. I have some works drafted, but as anyone can plainly see, I have more ideas than I do time or common sense

14. where do you get your inspiration?

18. if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

I cut out a lot from too old for childish comforts. It was supposed to be a case fic, and then I cut out all the plot. Go figure.

Here's a little bit from my cut outline (unedited, so a bit of a mess, I apologize):

The study group meets while there’s a parent-teacher night at the school.

{Something something Obi-Wan has been given literature about “encouraging your child’s interests” and spoke with other parents at the school about their autistic children and realized “oh that’s what’s up”.}

Goes to the study group and gets work done, meets with people. Two invite him after to do something not quite legal shenanigans (like trespassing), and Anakin thinks he needs to get back to Obi-Wan, but no he’s not a child. He’s a jedi, and he needs to complete the mission. They do, Anakin has fun (maybe running away from cops), they tell him that he’s alright, and Anakin goes back with a wide grin on his face, but Obi-Wan is sitting at the dining room table looking sick with worry. Anakin tries to brush him off by saying that he told him he was going to the study group, and Obi-Wan says that he also said he would be back before dinner. Anakin shrugs and asks if it’s really a big deal. They were just going to have leftovers anyway. Obi-Wan says that when they’re investigating missing teenagers, then yes, his teenage padawan going missing and not contacting him is a justified cause for concern. Anakin shrugs and says that he can handle himself. “That’s not the issue.” “Then what is?” “A lack of communication.” Obi-Wan says, and Anakin gears himself up for a fight, but Obi-Wan raises a hand to stop him. “Which is a pattern for the both of us. I have treated you just like my master did me, just like any master would their padawan. And you in turn have taken every opportunity to prove that you are very much unlike I was. You are not an ordinary padawan, Anakin. I have done my utmost not to show favoritism, but I think we are beyond that now.” “What are you saying?” “That I regret keeping things from you needlessly, and I will try to be more open about things I deem unimportant, because you are a very curious person. I don’t wish to punish that curiosity, so long as it is within reason.” Anakin can’t believe what he’s hearing. He starts imagining what this will mean, just how Obi-Wan will open up to him. What glimpses he’ll allow Anakin to see of himself, of his mind and his body. “However, in turn, I ask that you try to keep me abreast of your plans.” Anakin eyes flick down briefly to Obi-Wan’s chest, and he nods. It’s easy enough to agree to, if it means he gets to see more of Obi-Wan.

30. share a fic you’re especially proud of

All of them? No? Okay, I guess I'm going to cheat and choose 3:

the thrill of the fall ~ my first posted Obikin fic. It was originally intended to be the first in a... chain so to speak that I dubbed "The Yeetverse", and though I haven't even finished this fic, I absolutely hope I will get around to all of the others I have planned.

An Unorthodox Courtship ~ my first finished Obikin fic, and actually the first omegaverse fic I've ever written

love's a hand-me-down brew - my first completed multi-chapter fic that I didn't entirely pre-write, and currently the longest fic I have ever written. It was written in an entirely different way from how I usually write things (minimal editing), and it changed a lot from the original idea in terms of tone, but I'm extremely proud of how I managed to tie things in from the start (sometimes unintentionally), and some of the subtleties.

[pridelessdaydreamer]

PLOTTER / SHIPPER

taken from: nat's linoan!

tagging: flutters my lashes like a funny lil guy :eye::sparkles:

1. CONNECTIONS

write about how our muses could connect with each other! ex. what does your muse like to do that other people would be involved in? do they have interests that other people might share?

Linhardt is a Black Eagle, and one native to Fódlan. Any who decide to study the politics of the continent would easily stumble upon his house, and connections can be drawn from there (accurate or otherwise).

She is a frequenter of the library though, even if she's most often found there late at night. Aside from her chronic reading, she also likes to fish! Not competitively though. She's not that competitive.

If you can't find them in class, the library, or at the Fishing Grounds though, just wander around the monastery a bit—they're probably asleep underneath a tree somewhere. Or in their room asleep, in which case, good luck finding them.

2. PLATONIC

write about your muse and their concept of friendship. ex. how is your muse like with friends? do they make friends easily or do they find it difficult to connect with others?

Friendship for Lin is... interesting, to say the least. They'll regard you much the same as they would any other person, but perhaps with slightly less rudeness/sass (unless you're really close, then it's worse *cough cough* CASPAR *cough cough*). The chance of summoning them with the click of your heels increases by 0.5%, so that's also a neat bonus! Really, the big thing is that they'll consciously worry about you now (when they think it's necessary to worry, otherwise, you're on your own).

The thing is, once you actually manage to pin him down, so long as you aren't asking him to do work all the time, you'd be pretty alright in his book! The threshold for 'friendship' though is rather hard to pin down—one day you're acquaintances and the next you're friends. It's not really easy to draw the line.

I can't say she makes friends easily considering she... doesn't exactly try, to be quite frank (it's part of the reason the previous bullet is so nebulous). She'd be completely content being alone forever (minus that one hamster), and she doesn't really rely on others that much except to do work she'd rather not do! Actively seeking out a friend isn't really something she does. I can't say she struggles either though—there is simply no effort made at all. Alas.

3. ANTAGONISTIC

write about your muse and the conflicts they have with other people. ex: who are they on bad terms with? what kind of people do they not get along well with? how do they act around people they don’t like?

Hubert. Also Ferdinand. Edelgard to an extent. Caspar sometimes (it's a best friends thing) /j. Yeah. Yeah.

To elaborate, anybody who expects her to put in more than the minimum amount of effort gotta be joking fr! It's not that bad if it's a misunderstanding, but if you try to force it? Yikes. (Edelgard ain't that bad fr cuz she knows when to quit! Also when to appeal. She's cool ong)

Admittedly, antagonism for Linhardt is basically the same as their normal behavior, just snarkier. More witty rebuttals and sharp comments—this man can never be anything but blunt! They're already very likely to just walk away from a conversation, but if they don't like you? Ohoho!

Won't lose sleep over it though. That's a bit too much.

4. ROMANTIC

write about your muse and their relationship with romance. ex. are they searching for love or not interested in it in the slightest? what’s their dating history like? how do they act around crushes? how would they treat their partner if they were in a relationship?

Okay 'cause this is hilarious when the muse is aromantic gwahaha!

This is an aroace lil guy—completely disinterested in romance for romance's sake (because someone tell me how he tells how many different girls they're gonna have kids together in his A-supports? Also in basically every instance it's got something to do with crests and studying them. He's a bit insane).

Their dating history is completely blank. There is actually nothing to see here.

Similarly, there are no crushes for her to act different around! This one is fairly normal (<- this post was brought to you by the Aspec Gang)

As for how he'd treat his partner if he was dating—the same way he would act if they were friends? lol? Literally nothing has changed in his mind except that there might be kisses or something. (Is there a book he can read somewhere on this? Probably.)

Oh well she's probably gonna get married off for political purposes anyway. (This post was brought to you by the Noble Clique.)

[vaultingfist]

your name: Hu Tao

Romantic or platonic?: ohoho...why romantic ~

A night in or dinner out or an activity?: an activity...I get bored sitting around

Ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries?: chocolate covered strawberries

What's your perfect date?: moonlight stroll through a grave garden.

Would you cook for me?: Sure! If making tea counts? A certain consultant taught me his secrets. I'll at least treat you to some Liyuian street food.

Would you let me cook for you?: Of course! You can even surprise me!

Can we make-out?: Oh my how lewd..I thought you'd never ask :)

Make out in private or in public?: Doing it in public is like a fun roulette.

Do you like to cuddle?: YES

Blankets or no blankets for cuddling?: blankets

Couch or bed?: Get in the coffin..... no wait ...wrong application. I mean bed

What are at least 3 hobbies of yours?: writing poetry, exploring haunted places, and tarot readings.

Tell me something about you no else knows: I tend to know more about people than I lead on :3

Why do you want to be my valentine?: I think we may have got of to a strange start...so its a way to make it all up ~

What makes you a good Valentine?: Free complimentary coupons <3

"My my, I must admit I appreciate a woman with confidence and one who can challenge me in battle. In addition to a wonderful evening I also get coupons for funeral services? Sounds almost a little too good to be true. Sure. Why not?"

[ainaava]

✨🍕🙌

ohoho thanks so much for the ask!

✨ - How did you come up with the OC's name?

This answer is pretty much the same for all my ocs. Usually I'll look at words or names from other characters and take bits and pieces that I like and put them together until I make something I like. For Aerisen, I did it a little differently than Ivrasea and Ri'avva. Instead of using words/names from the language of the race I'd chosen for them, I just kinda thought of a name I liked and made some changes to it (orginally Eris, which turned into Aerisen).

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

Ivrasea really likes anything spicy, as long as its not too spicy, she can't handle the heat too well.

Ri'avva really likes pastries, pretty much anything you can think of, she'll probably love it.

Aerisen almost only eats meat most of the time. It grew up living out in the wilderness, learning to live off almost nothing, so it feels like a treat to it now that it can live in cities and have access to more.

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

Ivrasea, technically, is an only child. Her birth parents never had any other children after her. But she grew up with a sister after she was kidnapped as a young child. She really looked up to her sister, too, even if her sister wasn't very fond of her.

Ri'avva has three siblings, an older sister, and two younger brothers. She gets along with her siblings pretty well, and even still writes to them sometimes after she left Elsweyr.

Aerisen has no idea if it has any siblings, or any family at all. It's earliest memories were of being completely alone out in the wilderness, trying to survive, with no idea where to go. (It actually does have one sibling, a brother, which i may or may not introduce eventually).

Thank you so much for the ask! Now i'm kinda feeling inspired to draw some oc's siblings. Maybe I will do that after the piece I'm currently working on.