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pinklotushere · 1 day ago

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Gotham’s Most Insane Love Triangle (That’s Not Even a Triangle)

Tim Drake has had enough.

Not of being Red Robin—no, he signed up for that nightmare. But of this absolute clown of a villain who has decided to make his civilian life hell. The dude isn’t even a real villain, just some rich, eccentric, probably-a-little-deranged Gotham socialite with too much free time and very questionable taste in romance.

He has been through a lot in his life.

He’s fought assassins, taken down crime lords, and survived the literal Lazarus Pit. But none of that prepared him for this.

Because, apparently, being a billionaire CEO means attracting a very specific brand of problem—namely, a very rich, very persistent, very theatrical stalker-suitor who has decided that Tim is their one true love.

And the worst part? They have no idea he’s Red Robin. They just think Tim Drake, boring businessman, is the ideal romantic partner.

Tim has tried to get rid of them. He’s shut down their advances, ignored their ridiculous gifts (including a whole building—seriously, what was that?), and even considered faking his own death. (Bruce did it like six times. It’s an option.)

Nothing worked.

the courtship? Is aggressive.

Think:

• Giant, embarrassing billboards with love poems that definitely sound like they were written by someone’s AI assistant.

• Dramatic, unsolicited “gifts” (one time, it was a tiger. A real one. In his office. He had to call Damian to get it out).

• Showing up at his press conferences to declare their love, completely derailing everything ("I AM WOOING YOU, TIMOTHY! SAY YES TO DESTINY!" "Sir, this is an earnings call—")

So, in a moment of desperation (and supreme bad decision-making), Tim panicked and told the press that he was already in a relationship.

With both Superboy and Wraith.

Because Tim Drake does not do things halfway.

(Kon does not hesitate. The second Tim says, “Hey, will you pretend to date me?” Kon’s already slinging an arm around his shoulders, grinning, and saying, “Obviously, babe.”

And, okay, maybe he’s having too much fun with it. Maybe Tim gives one kiss on the cheek in public, and suddenly Kon’s cranking the PDA up to 11.

Tim swears Kon is just doing this to annoy him. (Spoiler: He is. And also because he’s in love. But mostly to annoy him.)

Dani has no idea what’s going on. One day, she’s just vibing, and the next, Tim is begging her to be his fake girlfriend in his civilian life while also fake-dating Superboy in his hero life.

“So you’re publicly dating both of us?” she asks. “Yes,” Tim says, exhausted. “At the same time?” “Yes.” "Love that. Love the drama. I’m in.”)

And that’s how he ended up in a very public, very fake, and very annoying love triangle where he is “dating” two of his best friends.

Which prompted the start of plan : get rid of creepy guy

—

Step One: Make the Villain Regret Their Life Choices

If Tim thought this was going to be a subtle plan, Kon and Dani immediately proved him wrong.

Kon goes full Superboy mode. Dramatic rescues? Check. Carrying Tim around way too much? Check. Way too many kisses on the cheek? Check.

Dani (Wraith) is the wildcard. She literally picks Tim up in public like he’s a prize, occasionally phases through walls to randomly show up at his meetings, and once materialized into existence just to kiss Tim’s forehead in front of the press.

Tim cannot do anything about it. Because if he protests, the villain wins. And also because, unfortunately, he kinda likes it.

The villain loves this. It becomes a challenge. They start sending hate letters to Superboy, promising to “win” Tim’s heart from him.

Kon gets way too competitive about it. (“I dare you to try, buddy.” “KON, STOP ENCOURAGING THEM—”)

The media loses their minds. Suddenly, “Tim Drake’s Shocking Super Love Triangle” is trending.

Bart starts a betting pool on whether Tim actually survives this ordeal. Cassie is taking bets on when the fake relationship stops being fake. ("Wait, you all think this is fake?"—Cass, genuinely confused.)

—

Step Two: Turn the Public Against the Villain

The villain’s new strategies are straight out of a soap opera.

They show up at Tim’s press conferences, interrupting him mid-sentence.

( “Timothy! You don’t have to settle! You deserve true love!”

Tim: "I deserve peace.")

They try to out-romance Kon and Dani by sending ridiculous gifts.

• Kon: "Oh, you sent him roses? That’s cute. I carried him to France for pastries this morning."

• Dani: "I made him a custom necklace out of ectoplasm. It glows when he’s in danger. What did you do?"

Tim is so tired.

So, so tired.

For weeks, he's been playing damage control while Gotham's most deranged suitor escalates his antics. What started as embarrassing billboards and ridiculous gifts has somehow escalated into a full-blown public stunt designed to "prove" their love.

The disaster of the day?

A flash marriage proposal.

Tim barely has time to process what's happening before an entire choir descends on him in the middle of a press conference. They begin singing a dramatic, original ballad about love and destiny while the villain (dressed in a tuxedo and cape, because of course they are) strides forward. With an engagement ring, the size of Tim’s suffering.

"Timothy!" they declare, their voices booming through a hidden microphone, because this is obviously being broadcast. "I've waited long enough! Accept my love! Marry me and together we will dominate Gotham's social scene as the couple of the century!"

Tim's eyes twitch. He's two seconds away from making this a Red Robin problem.

fortunately for everyone involved, Kon and Dani have zero chill.

Kon lands from the sky, draping an arm around Tim with the most obnoxiously smug grin imaginable. “Oh, wow. A public proposal? That’s adorable. Almost as adorable as the six months I’ve already spent dating this guy.”

Then he just kisses Tim’s temple like it’s nothing.

Before Tim can recover (he absolutely did not freeze), Dani materializes next to him, grabs Tim like a princess, and kisses the other side of his face.

Timothy Jackson drake-Wayne did not squeak. What?

“You really don’t get it, do you?” she sighs.

And that is the moment the villain realizes they have lost.

Because Gotham? Gotham loves drama. And right now, the story isn’t “Determined Suitor Wins Over Tim Drake”—it’s “Homewrecker Tries to Steal Gotham’s Most Beloved Power Couples” (because, yes, the media still refuses to acknowledge this is a throuple).

The crowd turns on the villain.

• “You’re breaking them up? Boo.”

• “Have you seen the way Superboy looks at him?”

• “Sir, how do you respond to the allegations that you are a clown?”

#TimsuperWraith4Ever trends within minutes.

And the villain, realizing they are rapidly losing public favor, does the only thing they can do—

They flee

(“…Well,” they say, trying to regain some dignity. “I can tell when I’m in over my head.”

(They can’t.)

“I’m going to retreat—for now.”

(They're not coming back.)

And then, with a dramatic wave of their capes, they run away.)

Tim is still being held.

By both of them.

In front of every reporter in Gotham.

Kon, still smiling, pulls Tim even closer to him. "So, babe, how about we go celebrate our victory?"

Dani smiles. "Ooh, yeah. I'm thinking date night."

Tim, who physically can't escape, groans. "I hate you both."

Neither of them let go.

And, okay, maybe he doesn't really mind .

—

Step Three: Realize You’re the Only One Still Pretending

Later, after the chaos dies down and Tim finally gets a second to himself, he turns to Kon and Dani with a sigh.

“Well,” he says. “That was exhausting, but at least it’s over.”

Kon raises an eyebrow. “Over?”

Tim frowns. “Yeah. The villain’s gone, so… y’know. We can drop the act now.”

There’s a long silence.

Then Dani just… tilts her head. “Wait. You think this is fake?”

Tim stares. “What.”

Kon grins. “Oh, babe. You really thought we were faking?”

Tim.exe has stopped working.

Because, oh no, he did think this was fake. But now Kon is looking at him like he’s an idiot, and Dani is smirking like she knew all along, and—

Oh.

Oh, he’s so dumb.

Because this entire time, they weren’t playing a role. They were just—being them. Touchy, affectionate, protective—except now, they had an excuse to be obvious about it.

Tim buries his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”

Dani pats his head. “You’ll get there, babe.”

Kon leans down, kissing the top of his head. “Take your time.”

Tim groans.

(But maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t mind so much.)

—

Bonus: Cassie & Bart, Watching From Afar :

Bart: “You think Tim actually figured it out?”

Cassie : "probably. It was fun watching him suffer"

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leclerc-hs · 6 hours ago

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save a bull! part 2 - cl16

pairing: bull rider!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which a city girl meets a cowboy OR charles finds himself infatuated with the visiting city girl warnings: language, NOT PROOFREAD, smut under the cut!, bad writing? word count: ~3k author's note: SURPRISE SHAWTYYYYY! hiiiiiiii I missed you all SOO much. I'm sorry if this isn't good I'm really really rusty on my writing since it's been a few months but I'm trying to get back into it. if you hate this I'm SORRY lol but I love u all and I hope you like it anyways. xoxo let me know what you want to see next.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The tension is palpable, a charged current zipping through the air as his touch seems to melt every bit of composure you had left. His grip on your back is firm, but not forceful—just enough to make you aware that he’s in control of this moment.

He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t back down, his eyes locked on yours like he’s daring you to argue, daring you to say something that will break the silence. But all you can think about is how his breath feels on your skin, how his fingers leave a trail of heat where they touch.

Your brain momentarily froze. In no fucking world, would I let you wear anyone’s but mine.

You could feel the flush of your cheeks start to burn not only from the alcohol consumed but his confession. The heat of his fingers seeping through the thin material of your dress was just the icing on the cake.

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning forward so the edges of his lips graze your ear. “You want a hat, you take mine.”

He pulls his head back a few inches, his eyes dipping to your lips for a brief second that doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“You’re insane.”

“You keep calling me crazy,” he says, his voice low, gravelly, “but you’re the one standing right here, aren’t you?”

“Delusional.” Your pulse races, lips parting slightly, as if you might say something else, but all that comes out is a shallow breath.

His fingers sprawl across your lower back, pulling you towards him even closer if possible.

“So you’re telling me that if I slipped my hand up your little dress right now, you wouldn’t be soaked?”

You don’t know what to say. He’s got you right where he wants you.

“Maybe I like crazy,” you finally murmur, your voice betraying the nerves simmering beneath the surface.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his breath mixing with yours. “I thought you might.”

The days since that night have been a blur. His words echo in your mind, louder than anything else, like a broken record. You’ve tried to push it down, tried to bury it with distractions, anything that would stop you from thinking about the way his fingers lingered on your skin, the way his eyes burned into yours. But the more you push, the more it pulls.

And now, here you are, waiting for him again.

“I can’t believe we have to go back to the city in a few days already.” Abigail groans— the two of you sprawled in the grass, just staring out at the open fields.

You looked down at the grass, your fingers ripping some of it to play with. “I can’t believe I’m sad to leave.”

You both fall into fits of laughter. “Yeah, but that’s just cause of a certain cowboy.”

You shake your head, looking at Abigail with the biggest smile. “I’ve never felt so at peace like this before. The quiet is nice.”

You fall into a comfortable silence for a few moments, letting the harsh sun beat on your skin.

“So when is he coming to get you?”

You open your mouth to answer, but the sound of a pick-up truck turning on the gravel of the driveway has you shutting it.

Abigail moves to stand up, her hands reaching down towards you to pull you up from the grass, then turns to Charles, who is slipping out the driver side door with a smile pulled on his mouth.

“Don’t keep her out too late or she’ll be grounded.” Abigail jokes, which earns her a small smack to her arm from you.

He dips his head, tilting his hat towards the both of you, “Don’t worry, she’s in good hands.” His voice is low, laced with something you can’t quite place—something that makes it feel like he is the one making the promises, not you.

Abigail gives a final wink to you before heading back into the house, leaving you both alone.

You watch her walk away, trying to pretend you didn’t feel that little jolt in your chest. But as soon as she’s out of an earshot, Charles turns his attention back to you, his gaze more intense than before.

“So, you ready for a ride?” He asks, the corner of his mouth curling into something dangerously close to a smirk.

You hesitate, “And if I said no?”

He chuckles, and its like the sound rolls right through you, making your heartbeat pick up. “Not if you want to earn that cowboy hat,” he says, the teasing glint in his eyes.

The soreness settles in deep, a quiet ache in your muscles you didn’t even know you had. Horseback riding hadn’t seemed like such a workout when Charles first suggested it—hell, you thought it would be a relaxing, leisurely ride through the fields.

But now, after hours spent clinging to the saddle, your body is sending you sharp reminders of how much work it actually takes to stay upright and in control. Your thighs are tight, your lower back sore, and every small movement feels like effort.

As you stretch out your arms, trying to relieve some sort of tension, you can’t help but smirk. You’d never expected a day with Charles to feel like this— like you’d been put through the paces, not just by the horse, but by him too.

It’s the subtle shifts in his movements, the way he guides the horse with just a slight tug of the reins, his eyes constantly scanning the horizon, and the way his hand brushes against yours when he reaches for the reins that keeps your attention.

“You alright there?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s a hint of something more when he looks you over, taking in the way you’re moving a little more carefully than earlier.

You roll your shoulders. “I feel like I just ran a marathon on a horse.”

He laughs, his eyes lighting up. “That’s the price of learning how to ride. But you did good, yeah?”

The way he says it, like its a compliment, makes you stand a little taller despite the soreness. “I didn’t expect it to be so…intense,” you admit, trying to ignore the way his gaze lingers just a second too long on your lips.

“Nothing about this place is every just easy,” he says with a shrug. “But, I guess that’s what makes it worth it.”

The weight of his hand at your back sends a warm shiver up your spine, a subtle pressure thats both grounding and electric. You try not to focus too much on the way his touch seems to anchor you, or the way your pulse quickens with every step toward the open field.

The picnic is simple—just a blanket, a few baskets, and a clear view of the sun slowly starting its descent, casting a warm, golden glow over the land. It’s the kind of peaceful scene that feels too much like a dream. And yet, it’s real.

As you both settle onto the blanket, Charles moves with an easy confidence, reaching for the baskets without breaking the quiet tension that lingers in the air.

“You hungry?” His voice is casual.

You nod, still not quite sure how to handle the way your body feels with him so close. There’s something about his presence that makes it hard to think straight, hard to remember you’re supposed to be relaxing.

“I think I could eat,” you reply, your voice softer than usual. Your eyes flick up to meet his, and you catch the subtle way his lips curl into a half-smile, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking without needing to hear it.

He uncorks a bottle of wine, and pours a glass for the both of you.

The quiet stretches again, comfortable yet heavy, as you both settle in.

Charles leans back, resting on his elbows, his eyes never leaving you as you take a sip of wine. “You know,” he says after a beat, his voice low and thoughtful, “I didn’t think I’d be sharing a moment with you like this today.”

You swallow hard, your fingers tightening slightly around your glass as you glance over at him. “What do you mean by that?”

His smirk softens into something almost like a grin, “You didn’t think you’d be here, either, did you?”

You want to brush it off, act like its just another evening out here, but something in the way he says it makes your chest tighten. You hesitate for a moment before finally responding. “Guess not. Guess I didn’t know what I was getting into.”

The air shifts around you as he watches, his gaze intense and focused, like he’s weighing his next move. “Well, I hope you’re not regretting it.”

You place the barely touched glass of wine in your hand, onto the grass, and then turn to Charles. Your heart races, and for a split second, you’re sure he’s talking about more than just the picnic.

Your gaze drifts down to the hat resting beside him, the brim casting a shadow over the worn denim of his jeans. It sits there, between you two, almost purposefully. The thought hits you unexpectedly—the way its placed, almost like a bridge, an offering, a challenge.

There’s something oddly magnetic about it, the way it ties him to the land, to this place, to who he is. The fact that it’s so close, just inches away, and yet you feel like you have to earn it somehow.

You glance back up to find him watching you, his eyes lingering on yours with that quiet intensity, like he's aware of your thoughts without you needing to voice them. There’s no teasing, no playful smirk this time—just that still, steady gaze. And for a moment, it feels like everything is poised on the edge of something important.

His fingers twitch, like he's fighting the urge to reach out, to pull the hat closer or to pull you closer.

"You thinking about it?" he asks, his voice quieter now, almost too casual, like he’s pretending he doesn’t know exactly what you’re thinking.

You blink, and your heartbeat picks up a fraction of a beat. "What do you mean?"

"The hat," he says, almost like it's obvious, though there’s a small glimmer in his eyes that tells you he knows what it’s really about. “You ever worn one before?”

You shake your head slowly, the question hanging in the air, the tension between you both thickening with the simple exchange.

His hand moves just slightly, like he’s about to offer it to you, but he pauses, letting the silence stretch for a moment too long.

"You know," he says, his voice low, as if the words are meant only for you, "it doesn’t look right on just anyone."

The weight of that statement settles over you like a slow burn, and your thoughts race, caught between wanting to prove him wrong and knowing, deep down, that this—whatever this is—has already shifted something inside you.

Fuck it.

You know he’s watching the way your fingers dance along the brim, your thumb tracing the edges as if you’re deciding whether to make the commitment or leave it in its place between you two.

Your fingers continue to toy with the edges of the brim, before you grasp it in between the pads of your fingers, picking it up thoughtfully as you weigh the symbolism of it. It feels heavier than it should in your hands.

“Don’t tease me.” His gaze never leaves you, steady and unblinking, as though he’s waiting for you to put the hat back onto the blanket again.

You could easily put it on, feel it settle on your head, feel his presence there with you. Finally, you look up at him.

“You said it doesn’t look right on just anyone,” you murmur, your voice low, like the words are meant for you and him only. “But what if it fits?”

The air seems to thicken, the question more loaded than it should be.

He shifts his hips just slightly, still leaned on the back of his elbows as he stares at you. “You’re not just anyone.”

It’s a statement more than an answer. And it leaves your stomach in knots as you raise the hat to your head, pausing before it touches the hairs of your head.

“Trying to figure out if this is going to be some cruel joke.” He groans. “Don’t do it, unless you mean it.” His voice is rough.

You place it on your head, looking at him with a wicked smirk and glint in your eyes. “What was it you said about me liking crazy?”

He gives you no more than two seconds, before he’s sitting up from his arms and quite literally yanking you onto his lap. Your legs straddle him, and you want nothing more than to rub yourself against him.

His eyes trace every feature of your face and then land back on your eyes. The look on his face so serious, you wonder if he’s alright.

“Just kiss me alr-“

Your words are cut off almost instantly as the palm of his hand swallows the back of your neck and pulls your lips down to his. You can feel the vibrations of his groan into the kiss, and you feel like you might combust right then and there.

Your hips rut against his lap involuntary as his tongue slips into your mouth like he owns it. There’s no more teasing. His own mouth takes over yours in deep, intoxicating kisses, that have you arching for more.

His hands glide down the swell of your back, before landing on your hips and guiding them to work against his groin.

The tantalizing touches create a surge of heat forming in your stomach, before you pull away from him, his eyes glazed with a sort of hunger it seems only you can fill for him. You lift your hips from his for a second, giving him time to unbutton your jeans and yank them off of your body, while he finds the time to unbutton his and pull them down halfway.

“I don’t think I can wait.” You seem to say, your voice laced with desire at the sight of his hardened cock before you.

“So don’t.” He huffs, before pulling you down on him, his mouth overpowering yours instantly. You start to lower yourself, more than ready to quench this thirst you’ve had for days.

He hisses through his teeth when the head of his cock slides between your thighs. His fingers lock on your hip, stopping you from getting any lower. “I need to know you’re 100 percent about this.”

“I’m half nude in the middle of a field for you, what do you think?”

“I’m serious.” He grits, he sounds almost pained as he feels just how soaked you are against the head of his cock. “You do this, and you’re mine.”

Your eyes meet his in this moment and you feel your heart pounding against your chest. “Does that make you mine too?”

“I’ve been yours since you stepped foot in this town.” He says, like he didn’t even have to think about a response. Like it was in his nature.

“Good.”

You drop your hips down further, effectively slamming him right into you. You both cry out at the pressure, the stretch, and the depth he’s hitting you with at this angle. It’s all perfect.

“Oh my fuck.” He tenses. "You look fucking unreal in my hat."

You grind against him, like you cant get enough, as he fucks up into you as merciless as possible. Its as if neither of you can get close enough. His arms envelop you as he pulls you back, letting him fall to his back as thrusts into you powerfully.

“Charles,” you whisper. “I need..”

You don’t even know what you need. All you know is that you need more of him.

“Yeah?” His voice is low, so rough in your ear, you could come just from hearing it. “Fucking gripping me like you’re gonna come.”

His voice is hoarse as he slips a hand down your back, gripping your ass in his hands and pushing you to meet his thrusts even harder.

It doesn’t take the long. You both shatter completely, groaning and moaning against the blanket.

“Oh fuck.” His arms are tense as he snaps his hips into you, dropping his head back against the blanket as you careen forward with a cry. You both can hear the squelch of the both of you, and it somehow makes it even hotter as he keeps going.

You sag against his chest and it rises and falls deeply as you both come down from the high.

“My god sweetheart.” He chuckles, his fingers sweeping your hair behind your ear as you lift your head to look at him. His cock still inside of you.

“Yeah, you’re mine alright.” He says it like he’s talking to himself. He probably is.

You smile, dropping your face back into his chest.

Yeah, you are. But how could you keep him when you're leaving in just a few days?

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine

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mysterialistic · 2 days ago

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Review/Ramble on Yingdu and Overall Thoughts

Okay, first of all, I think the fandom needs to chill a bit, especially on Twitter/X, because some people are overdramatizing the criticism from others. Criticizing a piece of media doesn’t mean you hate it, nor does it mean it’s bad—it just means it didn’t fully meet your expectations, and you have a different opinion. It’s as simple as that. Of course, I believe criticism should always come from an objective standpoint, not just for the sake of complaining.

Having said, let’s start rambling!

Yingdu had an amazing start. Those first few minutes, transitioning from the basketball game straight into the scene of Cheng Xiaoshi’s death, were so well done. Overall, the first episode was fantastic—the perfect mix of drama and tension. It answered some of our lingering questions before bringing us back to the Season 1 format, where they tackled individual cases, only for it to all build up to the arc’s main conflict. I won’t go into every single episode since that would make this way too long, but I had to highlight episode 1 because it was my favorite.

There were several aspects of these episodes that I really enjoyed. Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang’s bond was portrayed so well—every little moment between them, every dialogue exchange—it perfectly showed why these two are so willing to risk their lives for each other. I looked forward to seeing their interactions every week, and I was never disappointed.

Xia Fei was also a great addition, and I’m glad they didn’t kill off his character like many people theorized, because he has so much potential. I really enjoyed his complexity—he’s a spy, but he has his own morals and values. He dislikes Liu Xiao, yet he has a close bond with Vein despite his odd personality. He’s clearly intelligent, and I think that will really shine in Season 3. He already seems to suspect something, and I have no doubt he’ll get to the bottom of it. Right now, he’s angry and confused about what happened to Vein, convinced that someone killed him. But how will he react if (or when) he finds out that Vein was the one who initially killed Cheng Xiaoshi—one of his other friends, and probably the only truly innocent one? And don’t even get me started on how he’ll react when he finds out that Lu Guang tried to kill Vein or that Vein is still alive. I’m excited to see where this goes.

That said, I was a little disappointed that we didn’t get to see much of Vein and Liu Xiao. We mostly just saw what we already knew—two shady guys with their own agenda, pretending to be friendly. As an introduction, it was fine, but considering how much attention the promotional material gave them, I really thought we’d see more. Still, I don’t have a huge issue with it since they’ll obviously play a bigger role in Season 3. Liu Xiao, Vein, Li Tianchen, and possibly Xia Fei—a group of unstable individuals as antagonists… well, good luck, Lu Guang!

Now, something that does bother me about Yingdu is the inconsistencies between its plot and what we’ve seen in Seasons 1 and 2. For me, this was the laziest part of the writing, because no, Link Click isn’t flawless. In fact, no piece of media is. But in Link Click’s case, some of the flaws were painfully obvious. With every episode that aired, I kept thinking, “okay, this has to be an alternate timeline”, because so many little details just didn’t fit with the main storyline. The most obvious one is how Cheng Xiaoshi awakened his powers—he did it on his own, yet in Season 1, it was shown that he didn’t know he could do this. That makes absolutely no sense unless he has selective amnesia, which is definitely not the case lol. As for the inconsistencies with his parents, that could at least be explained by the promise he made to his mother to “not get involved any further.” He clearly remembers that promise and is likely just keeping everything he learned a secret.

Speaking of parents… Damn, Cheng Xiaoshi’s parents are awful lmao. I hated how his father acted like he was the victim, justifying his actions with, “yes, I abandoned my child, but now I take care of other children to make up for my mistakes.” That’s just… bad parenting. I actually made a whole analysis about it in another post. And then there’s Cheng Xiaoshi’s mother. The way she dismissed her son’s feelings and abandonment issues with a casual “oh yeah, it was wrong of me not to say goodbye, but who cares? That’s in the past” felt so off. The entire scene with her was weird—the humor felt misplaced. I was expecting something more emotional, more dramatic—anything but this. But based on what I’ve seen, almost no one liked her, so if the creators were hoping we’d find her eccentricity endearing, this introduction definitely wasn’t the best. Since Season 1, we’ve been repeatedly shown how deeply this abandonment affected Cheng Xiaoshi, and this is the reunion we got? It was… underwhelming.

Now, something I really, really loved was how they handled Lu Guang in this arc. From start to finish, it was just so good—his reaction when he first saw Cheng Xiaoshi again, his nightmares and PTSD, the way he carefully planned everything to manipulate events and create change. But my absolute favorite part? How morally gray he is. He planned and actually succeeded in killing Vein, eliminating the threat (though he’s definitely going to freak out when he finds out Vein is still alive). That cold smile? The scene where his hands moved like he was pulling the strings of a puppet? The way he said, “I hope we’ll never see each other again”? PERFECT. I’ve always said I wanted Lu Guang’s motivations and actions to not be entirely good. He comes across as someone selfish, willing to sacrifice others if it means protecting the people he loves—because he has the power and the knowledge to do it, and he wants his happy ending. Such a good character, I swear.

Of course, I wasn’t expecting every single question to be answered in Yingdu—that would be ridiculous lol. But I’m satisfied that the plot is finally moving forward. They gave us a piece of the puzzle—Cheng Xiaoshi’s parents, the origin of his powers, the antagonists’ apparent goal (some sort of notebook?), and hints at what we can expect in Season 3. That said, my biggest fear is that Link Click will lose its essence—the powerful message from Season 1 about how they shouldn’t intervene in the natural flow of time, no matter how painful it is, because the past and future should be left alone. Based on what Lu Guang said about the butterfly effect, we can argue that time itself is like another character—a force that, no matter how much they try to change things, always corrects itself somehow, some way. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what kind of ending I want for Link Click, but right now, I just hope it makes sense, that it isn’t forced, and that it unfolds naturally.

And… that’s all I have to say for now.

#link click #shiguang daili ren #cheng xiaoshi #lu guang #shiguang #vein #liu xiao #xia fei #yingdu spoilers

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dramaticallytotal · 2 days ago

Text

For Your Entertainment

Oh my god, another TDWT au???? Whaaaaaat?

Yep.

I will not apologize UwU

This au will feature Chaos Gremlin Noah. We've seen in canon he genuinely enjoys chaos and drama as long as it's not involving him, and I wanted to focus a whole fic around that. In this one, he is way more apathetic than in my other aus, and he is really only friends with Team E-Scope and Owen. So he really doesn't care what happens to anyone besides his friends in the competition.

Him being a little Chaos Gremlin is why he has managed to be Chris McLean's longest standing employee ever. They get on like a house on fire. Chris is arguably a king of chaos, so I just love the idea of him emotionally adopting little chaos gremlin Noah and bonding with him. In this au, Chris does tell Noah about having to fire him, and of course, they plan to stage it while Noah helps budget and take inventory of everything they will need for the new season. He is also publicly helping with the fake show, so it looks like he has no idea about the new season. There are some interns and crew who would love to snitch to the producers on him and Chris if they caught wind of their plans.

Noah is the one who selected and approved Alejandro, being the newest competitor as well as one of the fake stars of Dirtbags. If anything else, the guy will stir things up and make things entertaining for Noah while he pretends to be lazy and useless. But Noah and Chris agreed that he would embrace his original marketed title as Schemer. And he's all for it, as long as it keeps him entertained.

A bored Noah is a dangerous Noah. Chris found this out the hard way. (He never thought he would have to talk a teen out of actively blackmailing a very successful producer in the company, but well, life is full of surprises).

Noah knows all the challenges because he helped plan some! He was very proud of himself. Oh, he made sure things were safe but just barely, I mean, he doesn't want to end up hurt or dead in these challenges, so he had to make some safety features and everything. It's weird, but Noah actually feels...excited about the new season. Oh, and he left Chris some of his blackmail material in case they producers want to change anything or are being assholes. They had been planning on buying out the company, and Noah thinks this is the perfect chance. Chris will run the show how he wants, and when he gets complaints, some anonymous "interns" will leak the messages, emails, or calls and show the viewers just how fucked up and corrupt the producers are. This plan has been a year in the making.

Which is a long time for one of Noah's plans to take off, but they want to do this right and come out the winners/heroes.

The day of the plan dawns, and Noah is practically trembling in excitement, but he's had a lot of practice pushing down his real emotions (thanks, Mason). He played his role perfectly all up to the bus rescue. He thankfully was able to get Eva to stay by pretending to fall asleep, but he knew she knew he wasn't sleeping. The trust she has for him has him feeling all warm and fuzzy. He loves Eva. She's basically his ninth sister. Beth ended up staying, too, because Lindsay wanted to paint her best friends nails, and that absolutely could not wait.

The rescue happened, and finally, they were on the bus to the plane. Eva wanted the window seat, and Noah would give it to her since she stayed. Plus, the aisle seat was perfect for observing everyone and seeing what was going on. It looks like Harold and Leshawna were off again, which was not surprising, which would mean a small amount of entertainment for Noah. Then there was the whole Gwen, Courtney, Duncan thing that had Noah holding back a smile. That whole train wreck would bring him so much entertainment.

But who really had his attention was Mr. New Guy. Oh, he knew his name, Alejandro, but he had to pretend he didn't. He could already hear the giggles from the girls who thought he was attractive, and he could already hear the boys grumbling. Noah made sure to give a comment or two about he hoped Mr. New Guy wouldn't just be another Justin, which made some laugh, and Courtney glared at him. Oh yeah, he forgot those two were friends. He also caught the slight smirk from Alejandro before the boy suppressed it.

The competition began, and Noah was surprised that Ezekiel made it, but with Duncan up and quitting (goodbye love triangle drama), it made sense that they had to even out the teams. So, the first challenge became a reward. Boring.

He saw the way Alejandro had flirted with the girls, specifically Bridgette and Leshawna. Which probably meant they were his first targets. Oh, that was fun~!

And he could help move things along! And if, by doing so, he got rid of Harold, even better! So he made sure to make comments about Leshawna falling for Alejandro when he was close to Harold. Or he would make sure to act disgusted at the cultural insensitivity (yes. Noah will always be responsible for Harold's elimination XD). It got the ginger right where he wanted.

Then Harold was gone, and Noah knew it wasn’t all him given he had witnessed Alejandro talking to Harold a lot, and he caught on to the subtle manipulations. That guy was good!

Then the Yukon happened, and he knew he didn't hide his glee at seeing Bridgette stuck to a pole well, given the look Alejandro had given him.

"Good work." He whispered with a snicker to Alejandro.

"I'm not sure what you mean mi amigo." Of course the guy would play dumb but whatever.

"Hmm. Whatever you say." He tried to be blasé but the wide smile then kept growing on his face was probably a dead giveaway of how he felt.

And maybe that's what shot him in the foot because the next day, Alejandro was flirting with him. Noah was pretty confident it was because Alejandro was scared he figured him out (he did) and was going to expose him or something. Like hell! This was the most fun he was having on a season. And if him acting coy or shy or flirting a little back with Alejandro had most of the females mad at him, so be it. It just made everything all the more entertaining to him.

He did hurt his ankle in the Yukon (this will always be canon to me), so pain medication was a must but he had been stubborn in not taking it because it either makes him drowsy or puts him right to sleep and he doesn't want to be voted out (and miss out on all the drama and fun) because he couldn't contribute much to the challenge. But Izzy, Owen, and Alejandro made him take the medication.

So, the next challenge, he was a little out of it, but Izzy or Owen carried him when there was running or walking. He was able to climb the rope at least, and he volunteered to be put in the baby carriage, which was fine by him. He fell asleep, which was not a surprise.

No being swapped with a baby, though, because Alejandro made Izzy guard Noah. Heather had planned on doing something but couldn't because even she was not crazy enough to go against Izzy.

It was a reward challenge, which was great! What was not great was the challenge in Germany! Noah wanted first class! He craved it! And he knew they had it in the bag the moment he saw Alejandro flirting with Leshawna again. He made sure to have discussions with Izzy when Leshawna was around and made it seem like he didn't know she was there.

"I mean, it's honestly pathetic. How obvious Heather's crush on Alejandro is." He drawled.

"Izzy knows!!! Girl has got it bad! I didn't think you'd notice it, though NoNo. You're not usually one to notice these things." Izzy gossiped as she tried to put Noah's hair into pigtails. She knew what he was doing and was all for it. He's her chaos brother!

"Normally, and this kills me to say, but normally you'd be right. But it's so obvious that even Owen has noticed, and that's saying something."

"I don't know, Owen is pretty good at knowing when someone likes someone."

"Agree to disagree."

"Is this about him trying to set you up with that-"

"We are not talking about that!" Well, no acting there was necessary. He did not want to talk about that disaster of a date. Ever.

"Well, it's not like Heather has realized it yet, which makes it all the more entertaining for us." This is why he loved Izzy. She knew when to drop things, she knew how to roll with his plans, and she liked chaos just as much if not more than him.

"True. I'm more worried about what she'd do because of said crush. Even if she doesn't realize it, she's already snapped at her teammates when he's flirted with Leshawna."

"Oh yeah! She definitely seems like one of those people who would do anything to get someone to back off her crush. Izzy knows."

"Mmm. You would seeing as you're the same way. Normally, I don't worry for anyone, but I can't help but feel bad for Leshawna."

"Why?"

"Because it's obvious Alejandro likes her, and we already established that Heather likes him, so it's not out of the realm of possibility that Heather will so or do something to come between the two."

"Oooooh."

He couldn't hold back his smirk when he heard Leshawna storm off, and Izzy immediately matched his with one of her own.

Then the challenge happened, and he played up not knowing what Alejandro was doing up until the guy purposefully lost the challenge. Once they were back in the plane, he immediately dragged the guy down to the cargo hold to confront him. He, of course, tried to deny everything and tried to flirt with Noah in the same breath. Noah was not having it.

With more strength than he thought himself capable of, he shoved the guy into the nearest wall. He had to look up, given he was only to the guy's chest (short king Noah, my beloved), but he poked him in his abs to get his attention.

"I don't care that you got into Harold's head and made him vote himself off. Mainly because I was getting into his head first. And I don't care that you helped and flirted with Bridgette enough to get her to make out with a pole! In fact, I thought it was hilarious." He admitted.

And just to see more of a reaction than just the wide green eyes he was staring into, Noah started walking his fingers up Alejandro's torso oh so slowly. It got the eyes off of him for a second, and he thought maybe he saw a blush forming, but those green eyes held his attention once more.

"And I even decided to be nice and help you get to Leshawna! I had to let Izzy mess with my hair! But it was all for the sake of getting entertainment, and you, sir, make a lot of it happen. So I was content to let you play your game."

His fingers reached Alejandro's bull necklace, which he wound his fingers around and tugged.

He didn't miss the gasp the boy in front of him breathed out, given how close they now were.

"But I'm not so content when your actions mess with my game. I don't like to lose when I know we had every opportunity to win and would have won had you not thrown. You may not think much of me, I mean, I did get out early in the first season. But then again, I manipulated my way into being thrown off. I was not about to spend my summer in that shitty camp. And so far I've been playing in the shadows this season."

Great. He was monologuing like some cheesy villain. But I mean...he was being paid to play a villain this season, so he might as well go all in.

"I'm keeping you around for my entertainment and amusement. Purposefully losing is not something I find amusing, so the next challenge you better give it your all or I'm going to have to really play and you don't want that." He hissed before leaning back and patting Alejandro's cheek and letting go of his necklace.

"Good talk." And with that, he sauntered out. That was fun!

He missed the absolute heart eyes Alejandro had been giving him.

__________

Basically, a villain Noah au, where Alejandro falls for him so hard. The two create an alliance and dominate the game, all the while Alejandro is trying to get Noah to date him. Noah thinks it's just Alejandro being Alejandro, but he does like him, and he thinks it's very funny that the guy can't handle when Noah flirts back with him.

Boy this got long.

Enjoy.

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kekomcni · 3 days ago

Note

I would go so far to say that rights, when used in an idealist setting, still do not exist until a politico-economic system emerges with said rights. Religion too applies to this, I feel. We have seen time again and again where "religious rights" are spurned for more materialistic rights based off of the actual needs for a society and its self-preservation. As an example I will put apas-95' perception of rights into a historical perspective of the rise of feudalism to the development of modern democracy. When Roman society started to "fall apart" due to tribal migration, there needed to be a way to appease both sides of the equilibrium: those who were already Romanized and those who were "outsiders." You would consistently see the emergence of feudal societies where fringes of a tribe were settled to take care of a manorial lord while the king was able to wield just enough power to dictate that these manors would not invade the cities that existed prior or then subsequent to conquest. Feudalism would then spread to societies that were influenced or conquered by those within the new system. Rights had to change in order to accommodate for the material conditions. This system eventually evolved to the point where manor lords became a burden on the king to the point of rebellion. As a consequence of this undesired dynamic, parliamentary monarchy and absolutism both became systems that would branch off from the old. Then the material conditions changed again as absolutist rulers would be more susceptible to, well, absolutist ideas and rights. The French Revolution came out of extreme absolutism where kings were found with more rights than the subjects and the families that used to be manorial. Before the French Revolution however came a different kind of revolution, that of revolt against colonial masters. One might try to argue that "natural rights" came out of these as disillusioned colonists tried to apply enlightenment thought to justify their rebellion, including the ideas of Smith. This was in the ideal state that eventually became de facto for the successful rebellions. And by no means were the rights the same for each country that emerge. Haiti had a wildly diverging rights system from the United States. Why? The material conditions at the time called for things to be this way.

Over time, material conditions in other countries shifted toward a need for a new system, not without internal conflict over which system of rights to use. The French people signed over rights to a king, not only once but twice. Eventually, however, it seemed that the rights established in by capitalism were inherently compatible with the rights established through a democratic system, at least in Europe. It's important to not forget that these Euro-centric systems would become imposed on the rest of the world, with different belief and rights systems, along with wildly different material conditions. Personally, I'm an idealist and a pragmatist. I have my ideals yet I still try to live within the rights system of the society I live in, no matter how flawed I find it might be. Humans are inherently contradictory after all.

Are you against the idea of universal human rights? Or am I misunderstanding? It seems like there should be like some basic things covered as universal rights, like access to food/water

There are no such thing as universal rights - rights are a legal fact that exists within a given political system. There did not exist any human rights at the big bang; they were invented, by humans, in a given social context.

The idea of rights that, pure and virtuous, exist above a political system, is an incorrect and idealist one. What things are considered rights are dependent on the political system that created them - capitalist societies do not recognise the right to a job, the right to democratic control of that job, the right to a house, and so on.

The idea of rights existing outside and above the political-economic system that created them is a harmful one, because it engenders the belief that these systems can somehow be 'held accountable' by things they themselves entirely control. It must be recognised that rights are not universal, are not inviolable - they are granted by a state to a group at a definite point in history.

Should there be universal rights to food and water? Probably. A better question is how we can organise society as to be able and willing to provide food and water to every person, such that said rights would actually come into existence. The current system is able, but not willing; many idealist solutions would be willing, but not able. A proletarian state would be both. Rather than arguing over universal ideals, we must work materially to build up the capability to actually extend those rights to people.

#history #rights #philosophy #ethics #sociology #values #romanticism #enlightenment #colonialism #colonization

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sweetcarrotsandroses97 · 2 days ago

Text

~ Loud Silence | 1 | JJK

Pairing: Doctor! Jungkook x Assistant! Fem! Reader

Summary: Your life was grey. Just like his thoughts, like his emotions, like his memories. And you ignored it all, the pain, the sadness, the unbearable silence... All because your heart told you to stay when your mind screamed at you to get away from the drowning force of Jungkook's obsession.

Warnings: ANGST, employer x employee, patients in a coma, medical terms, detachment, low self-esteem, diseases, symptoms, death, Jungkook is married, fluff?, yearning, child neglect? (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.6k words

A/N: Chapter 1 is here, darlings! I am so excited for this story and I hope you will like it as well. I'll do my best to keep updates as fast as I can but please be patient with me.

Let me know your thoughts in the comments, darlings! I'd love to hear from you!

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

“Remember you have your fencing practice after your chinese lessons today. They were all moved an hour as Mr. Min had an impromptu. Then you’ll have your piano lessons at five instead of four sharp.”

Your words were met with a boring sigh and an acknowledged hum. Ji-hoon was busy with today's study material you had given him that morning. He sat at his desk, hunched over the textbook while a YouTube tutorial of the math problem he was solving was paused on the large screen of his computer.

“Thanks, (y/n)”

His reply was dry, monotonous. Your heart clenched but you kept your straight face. Adjusting your posture, you lowered your tablet with Ji-hoon’s updated schedule and looked around his big room. The bed was made to perfection, the books on the large shelves were cleaned and organised and the curtains that often covered the ceiling-tall windows were open and the view of the gardens could be appreciated if only the boy would turn around and admire nature.

You turned around, ready to leave Ji-hoon to his studies. The sound of your heels on the white polished floors filled your ears. It was a sound that was too loud, or maybe the room was too quiet. Instead of Ji-hoon’s animated storytelling of his day, he sat in silence contemplating his assignments, instead of the big screen in his room playing some sport as background noise, the smart TV was off. You didn’t remember the last time he had even turned it on.

“(y/n)?”

You stopped. It had been the first time in days, maybe even weeks or perhaps months, since Ji-hoon had called your name with emotion. With the lace of doubt and vulnerability in his words.

You turned around and watched as he leaned back on his chair but looked at you with doubtful eyes. His hands fidgeted with the pen more than usual and your heart sank at how nervous he looked.

You tilted your head to the right, a subtle movement that seemed to bring him out of the lake that drowned his thoughts in doubts. Ji-hoon took a deep breath and you waited until he spoke. You didn’t pressure him. You never did. You already knew how much pressure the boy had, the weight he carried on his shoulders was one no fourteen year old child should carry.

“Did you ask him? What did my father say?”

You blinked. Staring at Ji-hoon with the same monotonous gaze he already got used to when looking into your eyes.

“You already have everything you need here. Your father doesn’t believe that you going to school would benefit you in any way.”

Ji-hoon turned back to his desk, his eyes downwards. The grip on his pen loosened and it pained you how soft his voice sounded when he spoke again.

“Of course he doesn’t.”

His mumbled words pierced your heart. You wished there was something you could do to help him. To ease his loneliness that stood rooted in his heart. But that choice was not yours to be made. And so, you tilted your chin up, your grip tightening on the tablet in your hands.

“Your father knows what is best for you, Ji-hoon.”

But the boy just scoffed at your words. For he was not sure whether to feel sad or disappointed or angry or frustrated. For he felt it all at once. You didn’t linger. Your steps echoed once more on the polished floor as you left the room that was too big for a teenage boy alone.

Once in the hallway, you leaned back against the closed door. It pained you to see Ji-hoon so helpless when it came to decisions that concerned his life, his experiences, his memories. But it pained you more, that it had not always been like this.

There had been a time where he had smiled, where he had laughed.

The household had been happier. And yet, now all it was left of that happiness was the shadow of laughter in the wind.

You walked down the large hallway, the lights hanging on the walls illuminated your features, your steps were calculated; monotonous. The house was big but silent. Your heart was lonely yet it still yearned. The sunlight streamed through the tall windows and as you turned left to descend down the large staircase, you paused.

Looking over your shoulder, you looked at the portrait of Ji-hoon and his father, renowned doctor and scientist, Jeon Jungkook. And yet the boy was the spitting image of his mother. With a sigh, you turned away and continued your journey down the stairs. The ground floor was just as silent as Ji-hoon’s room and with quiet professionalism, you walked to your right, going into Jungkook’s study.

You didn’t look at Jungkook’s piling paperwork on the desk, you didn’t pay attention to the already filled bin by the chair that was mostly empty. You didn’t dare look at the portrait of her. Jungkook’s wife. It was a painting he had commissioned after they had gotten married. A piece of art that now hung over the dry fireplace.

Seo-yun.

A name that was once a blessing of the household was now a curse. You didn’t look at her portrait. You didn’t have to. That painting that looked like a mosaic was engraved into your heart due to Jungkook’s melancholy when he gazed upon it.

Instead, you walked to the very back of the room and into the door Ji-hoon was forbidden from ever entering.

The warmth of the empty house, the soft colours of the walls and the faint smell of books vanished when you crossed that door. The lights were white, blinding in their nature. The smell of chloride and antiseptic reached your senses. Your heels announced your presence as you entered Dr. Jeon’s private lab.

He was aware of you before you uttered a word. Jungkook sat on one of the stools, his posture rigid as he looked into the microscope once more.

“Sir, the conference this Friday has been cancelled. Doctor Kim called, his flight was delayed and he will not make it so the board decided to postpone the event.”

Jungkook looked up at you, his gaze met yours. Calculating and monotonous. The lab was in pristine condition. A sea of exams and samples were on the table, all labeled accordingly. And yet the whiteboard that hung over one of the walls was filled with loose handwriting. Notes, thoughts, symptoms, hypothesis… Jungkook’s mind was plastered on that board. An organised chaos. The eye of the storm of his subconscious. And the contrast was big. Between his wild mind and blank stare, it almost felt like falling down a rabbit hole of confusion where nothing was clear and nothing was known.

“Very well. Is there anything else I need to know?”

You straightened, letting your hands fall to your sides holding the tablet with your right hand. His stare was intense, dark compared to his pale skin. It had been some time since he went outside and allowed the sun to kiss his skin.

“No, sir. Everything’s on schedule.”

He hummed. It was a deep sound that reverberated through your spine and tingled your nerves. Jungkook went back to look down at the microscope with the same indifference he lived his daily life. His hands were firm when he adjusted the lenses, his jaw was tense while he scribbled away notes and observations on a notebook at his right.

You wanted to speak, to ask him so many things. But you didn’t know how to start. You never knew if it was wise enough to start speaking with him. He was so volatile, so silently unpredictable. Your perfect, rigid posture sagged a bit as you let out an inaudible breath. The lab was quiet, too quiet. Just like Ji-hoon’s room.

You hated it.

You hated that silence that strangely calmed your mind as well.

Jungkook changed the sample he was observing, his movements mechanical. The latex of his white gloves stretched as he flexed his fingers and he spoke without looking at you.

“If you have something else to say, (y/n), do it and go. I have work to do.”

You swallowed, remembering all the times he had spoken softly to you, all the times he asked if you could assist him in any of his experiments. All the times you had felt seen by him. Jungkook may be your employer, your boss and perhaps you were just his assistant, his secretary and Ji-hoon’s caretaker. But you missed the times when you had been more; or at least when he had made you feel more than that.

“Ji-hoon asked again, sir. He… keeps insisting on the idea of going to school.”

The doctor let out a deep sigh, almost in annoyance, in exasperation. It hurt to think that he saw his son like that.

“He asked me to tell you to reconsider it. He is lonely, sir.”

Jungkook let go of his pen, the sound as it hit the notebook was dry and it almost echoed in the silent laboratory. He leaned back slightly, his eyes bored; nonchalant. But it took you a second, a single heartbeat for you to see the vulnerability behind his icy glare.

“What should I do, (y/n)? Must I throw him into the world carelessly? If I do not make it, Ji-hoon will be the only remaining part of Seo-yun.”

Your gaze softened for right now, he was not the famous and brilliant doctor, he was a man whose heart had been broken by his own passion, by the hands of science. He was a father scared to lose his one and only son.

You took a step forward, intending on consoling him, advising him. But that single step brought him back from the dark pit that were his thoughts, his doubts. His walls rose, his eyes hardened and he straightened once more. And before he pushed you out completely, you spoke again. With that same professional voice, that delicate tone you always used when addressing him.

“You are a man who would do anything for his family, I have witnessed it more than once. You are taking into account his safety, I’ll just ask you to consider his happiness as well, that’s all.”

Your eyes flickered to the glass wall. The only wall that separated the lab from the confinement area where Seo-yun lay. She was on oxygen, her slender frame as pale as ever. She lay still, unmoving. Barely breathing. Kept alive by the sleep Jungkook drowned her in.

You didn’t linger. You couldn’t. So you turned away, not once looking back and missing Jungkook’s soft eyes as he watched your retreating form. You left him thinking, and that was something few had ever achieved.

The smell of cooked ricotta lasagna filled the spacious and minimalist kitchen. The warmth of the oven radiated towards you as you washed the used dishes. It didn’t take long for Ji-hoon to paddle into the kitchen, guided by the delicious smell of homemade food.

“What are you making, (y/n)?”

He asked out of politeness, already knowing the answer. He sat down on one of the stools on the counter and you felt his eyes on your form while you gave your back to him. Putting away the last of the spoons you had used to make dinner.

“Ricotta lasagna, I know you like it.”

You dried your hands, missing the way Ji-hoon smiled at your words. Though it was a fleeting reaction, it didn’t not reach his eyes. The timer on your phone went off and you silenced it, grabbing the oven mittens, you took the refractory out, the glass warm against your covered hands.

You placed it on the counter and took the mittens off. The smell was delicious and this time, you didn’t miss Ji-hoon’s delighted smile at the thought of the homemade dinner he liked so much.

“You should call your father.”

Your voice was soft as you spoke while grabbing a knife and cutting the lasagna into neat portions. The golden cheese stretched slightly as you pulled the first piece free, steam curling into the air.

Ji-hoon pursed his lips, the smile vanishing from his youthful yet handsome features. His shoulders stiffened as he rested his elbows on the counter. His eyes dulled once more and his demeanour returned to that loneliness that crept into his heart like poison ivy.

“He won’t come.”

The boy murmured. You looked up, frowning gently at the sad acceptance in his voice.

“Did you ask him?”

“There’s no need. He’s always busy.”

His tone was light, almost indifferent, but you knew better. You placed a plate in front of him, offering a small smile and hoping the food would content him, if only for a short moment.

“Eat first. I’ll take him a plate, maybe he’ll come next time.”

Ji-hoon didn’t argue. His silence pained you. He simply looked at you with doubt and hope in his eyes at the same time before he picked his fork and began eating his lasagna. Without another word, you plated another portion and covered it with foil to keep it warm. Grabbing a tray, you added a glass of water and arranged the covered dinner before your feet carried you out of the kitchen.

You passed the big dining area, the table too big by the solitude that ruled over the house. They walked past the grand staircase, the yellow light from the big chandelier illuminating your features.

You entered Jungkook’s office, once more ignoring the staring and gentle portraits of his broken family as you went directly into the lab. The sweet aroma of freshly made food was left behind when you entered the lab for it faded into the crisp sterility of his workspace.

Jungkook was exactly where you expected—standing by his microscope, brow furrowed in concentration. He barely acknowledged your entrance.

“Sir, dinner.”

You placed the tray on the nearest table, making sure it wouldn’t get in his way. But the sound of the tray hitting the steel counter made him speak in that cold and monotonous voice of his.

“I’m not hungry.”

You didn’t move, only blinking at him as you studied him with an unreadable gaze that guarded the secrets of your heart.

“Ji-hoon was waiting for you.”

Silence.

For a moment, you thought he’d ignore you entirely. Then, with a sigh, he straightened, removing his gloves before finally looking at you. His gaze flickered toward the tray, lingering for only a second before shifting back to you.

“I have work to do.”

You swallowed the words you wanted to say. The ones about how Ji-hoon had barely touched his food after you left, how the boy’s excitement had dimmed the moment he realized his father wouldn’t come. But Jungkook knew. He had to know.

“I’ll leave it here. At least eat it before it gets cold.”

Jungkook said nothing, he turned his gaze away from you. His dark eyes were fixed once more on the chamber where Seo-yun slept. His jaw clenched, his thoughts were a myriad of emotions he hadn’t been able to decipher since that day when his life turned dark and his hopes died like embers.

But even in the silence, you noticed. You saw his pain, his obsession, his dedication, his melancholy. You saw it all. Even when the house, when his work, when your heart drowned in this loud silence that cursed your existence.

And so, you left. Leaving Jungkook alone with his thoughts. Alone with his doubts and guilt. He noticed when the warmth of your precedence left his lab, he noticed when he could no longer smell the floral aroma of your perfume. He noticed how your steps faded into the house, away from his and his grey emotions.

And yet, later that night as you passed by his lab again, you noticed the tray was empty and Jungkook stood in front of the glass that separated him from Seo-yun. Drowning in the loud silence of his thoughts.

February/01/2025

Current Taglist: @toosweetforyall @jksusawife @ttipa @mageprincess7 @chxiosworld @babyitscoldoutside @user-190811 want to be tagged? Let me know!

#the anatomy of sacrifice #jungkook #jungkook x reader #sweetcarrotsandroses97 #bts #bts fanfic #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fic #jeon jeongguk #bts x reader #reader insert #clean romance #unrequited love #miraculous ladybug #gabriel x nathalie

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starmocha · 2 days ago

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oh my gosh what if he's got her wrapped around him, calling his name and he's got to hide his face on her neck cause his eyes are watering?? and just to add to the papa!caleb hcs: going those six weeks of no sex after the baby's born to let her heal, waiting out one more until they finally have the time but he's holding back and she's pulling him into the sweetest kisses, whispering in his ear that it's ok, that she can take it, she just misses him. he gives in so easily after that 🙂💕

🫵 this is now possible material for my future 3-part Caleb breeding kink series that I've been yapping about for like three months. /lh no seriously I am going heavy-handed with the breeding/pregnancy kink in this series (ialsorealizeineedtofinishSylus'epilogueforhisseriesbutshhh)

Caleb is the best malewife ever He has done his research, asked the doctor all of the necessary questions, and even after receiving the A-OK, he is still cautious, because your health and safety matters more than sex.

It's only after the baby is put down to sleep that she drags him into the bedroom and pushes him down onto the bed and he is wide-eyed and confused, because just a few minutes earlier, they were having a cute family moment with their newborn, but now the mood has shifted in a completely different direction. On the one hand, he thinks he should be getting excited about this, but on the other hand, no seriously, wtf is happening, the man's head is spinning.

It seems only one person can make the colonel lose his composure and it's his fucking wife. She can see the bewilderment on his face and she relishes in this upper hand moment and takes pleasure out of messing with him.

"Caleb, am I not attractive anymore after having the baby?"

Fuck's sake, he is panicking now, thinking she's being for real, and not noticing that sly smile she is hiding. He reassures her that she is most definitely still attractive in his eyes, and the man is just word vomiting all sorts of praises and accidentally reveals how he sometimes get hard at seeing how much more voluptuous her body is now.

There's an awkward silence after his inadvertent confession before she breaks down laughing at him and he realizes she was messing with him earlier with her wounded act.

"This girl..."

Before he can get too annoyed/mad at her, she is straddling him now, her hands grabbing his face and kissing him all over. She is mumbling about how much she misses him and they shouldn't wait any longer. They already have the ok to resume activities and she promises him that if she gets uncomfortable at any point, she would let him know.

Even though he is still a little hesitant, he could never say no to her, always meeting her at least halfway. When she bites his earlobe, his resolve weakens and his arms are around her, pulling her to him. His lips find hers, his own lazy mumbles slip out in between kisses.

"Promise me—"

"I promise," she interrupts, "Come on, I want your dick now, Caleb."

"Ugh, we need to work on your sexy talk."

"Another day. I need that weapon to destroy my pussy now."

"Jesus fucking Christ."

#x — 💌#anonymous #what happened

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separatist-apologist · 10 hours ago

Text

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

If Gwyn didn’t force herself out of bed, she’d never leave.

In Gwyn’s defense, she’d tried to leave multiple times only for Azriel to open his eyes and drag her back. She must have wasted half the week that way, happy to forget the horrors that were waiting just outside the bedroom door. She didn’t want to deal with the Day Court scholar, with Gunnar, or anything else that had been plaguing them. Azriel was good at keeping her mind preoccupied—one slide of his hand up her thigh evaporated whatever anxieties she had.

Save for the ones that centered around him. Three times now, she’d offered to get up and offer him something to eat, and each time he looked like he wanted it before he pulled her back, claiming he didn’t want to see her go, even for a moment.

But surely he wanted to cement what shimmered between them?

Gwyn was starting to think Azriel didn’t want that at all. The thought pulled her from her dream, lost to the darkness of his bedroom and new insecurities worming their way through her chest. Azriel was asleep, for once—softly snoring as he laid on his back, his wings splayed out beneath him. One hand lay on his bare stomach, and for a moment, Gwyn was tempted to wake him up with her tongue and teeth.

He’d like it, she thought. Every time she touched him, he watched with open-mouthed wonder, which broke her heart a little. Before, she’d assumed that he didn’t feel like he deserved it, and she’d wanted to prove that he did, but now…

Gwyn swung a leg over the edge of the bed slowly, watching to see if the spymaster would feel her leave him. Azriel didn’t move, his naked chest rising and falling slowly. He needed the sleep—she did, too, though she wasn’t going to get it until she talked to Nesta.

It was its own form of torture, leaving him in that bed so she could try and get inside his head. Why not just ask him, some more rational part of her mind screamed. She’d been trying, for whatever that was worth.

Slipping a night dress over her head once she was in the hall, afraid the material would be so loud it would wake him, Gwyn made her way to Nesta and Cassian’s bedchamber. Cracking the door, she found the curtains pulled half open so a beam of silvery moonlight fell over Cassian.

Who was awake.

Knife in hand.

Staring straight at her.

Gwyn raised her palms slowly, but Cassian was already sliding the dagger back on the bedside table. “Can I talk to Nesta?” she whispered.

“In the morning,” Cassian grumbled, wrapping his arms around Nestas sleeping form. They’d woken her, though. Nesta’s head popped up from Cassian’s chest, blinking against the dark.

“Gwyn?”

“Tell her to go back to sleep,” Cassian grumbled as Nesta wiped drool from her cheek.

“Is everything okay?” Nesta asked, pulling out of Cassian’s embrace while he complained into a pillow. “Oh go sleep with Azriel if you’re that lonely.”

“I might,” Cassian retorted, rolling onto his stomach. He wasn’t wearing clothes, Gwyn realized, though Nesta mercifully had a night dress on. “I’ll bet he’d hold me if I asked.”

“He’d let you be the little spoon,” Nesta agreed, shaking her head back and forth before they made their way back out into the hall.

Cassian flung a pillow at Nesta just as she shut the door, causing it to thump softly against the door.

“Did they…?”

“Probably,” Nesta said with a shrug, answering her unspoken question. Had Cassian and Azriel ever done anything together. Gwyn would ask…in a decade, or so when Azriel wasn’t so guarded. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Azriel,” she whispered, following Nesta up the steps to the living area. They both flopped down on the little loveseat, Nesta yanking a knitted blanket from the back to cover them both. “I think…I think he wishes the bond hadn’t happened.”

Nesta, who’d been slow and sleepy right up until that moment, snapped to attention. All the lights in the room flickered on, the house responding to Nesta's mood and magic.

“How could you think that?” Nesta asked, brow furrowed. “He is always with you.”

“The bond pulls us together, but I’ve tried…” gods, but the whole thing was so embarrassing. “I’ve tried to accept the bond, and every time I offer, he distracts me until I forget.”

Nesta’s frown deepened. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I thought he’d want to, but…he doesn’t.” Gwyn swallowed the lump forming in her throat. Mates were rare—so rare she’d never expected one, never given having one any thought until she’d felt the bond between them. To tell Nesta, who was mated herself and happy about it, felt like another miserable blow.

“Fuck him,” Nesta said, resting her head on the back of the couch. “Like he’d ever do better.”

“Is there anyone else?” Gwyn questioned, heart hammering. Nesta’s eyes were unfocused for a moment, brow furrowed over some memory she’d clearly forgotten. Gwyn knew Nesta was never going to be honest if there was—but there was. Or, there had been before he’d left, anyway. She’d never thought to ask—and she should. Ask him, anyway. Right then, though, Gwyn would have preferred to be swallowed whole by the earth itself.

“He loves you, though?”

Gwyn shrugged. “He says he does.”

“But you don’t believe him?” Nesta probed, some of her anger shifting into an emotion Gwyn thought she preferred not to see. It was pity.

“Why won’t he accept the bond if he loves me? There’s someone else—”

“It would be easier if there was, wouldn’t it?” Nesta commented, angling her body to face Gwyn.

Gwyn paused. “Why do you say that?”

Nesta considered her words, nose scrunched. “If he doesn’t want the bond…you can walk away.”

“Why would I want that?”

“Why would you want that?” Nesta asked with genuine curiosity.

“I don’t.”

“But you’re out here talking to me, when you could just ask Az himself.”

“I can’t just ask, hey Az, are you in love with another female—”

“No. Just you.”

Azriel’s voice drew their attention, his presence in the doorway catching them both by surprise. He stood there, arms crossed over his bare chest, his expression unreadable. How long had he been there? How had he known where she’d gone?

His shadows swarmed toward her, slinking through her unbound hair all the while whispering what she thought were apologies. Gwyn couldn’t speak their language, though she thought some part of her understood most of what they tried to convey.

“Traitors,” she whispered, watching as his shadows recoiled ever so slightly.

“Talk to him,” Nesta whispered loudly, throwing Azriel a wink. “Did Cass climb in bed with you?”

Azriel didn’t smile. “Not tonight.”

“He’s getting jealous,” Nesta replied, fingers skimming Azriel’s arm before she slipped out. She whispered something to Azriel Gwyn didn’t hear, and only knew was spoken because he turned his head to the side so he could listen.

“I won’t,” he murmured in response, hazel eyes falling on her again.

“Goodnight, Gwyn,” Nesta called over her shoulder. Neither Gwyn nor Azriel spoke until Nesta was gone, though only Azriel heard the sound of Nesta’s door click shut. He took a careful half-step into the living room, his expression betraying nothing that might help her.

“You weren’t in bed,” he said flatly. Why?

“I couldn’t sleep,” she replied, her stomach twisting nervously. She’d wanted to talk to Nesta, to have her friend reassure her that everything was fine and she didn’t need to worry. Not Azriel, whom she’d never really had an honest conversation with. They were too new, didn’t know each other well enough to delve into the complicated and messy history of their pasts.

“I’m not in love with anyone else,” he said when it was clear she wasn’t going to say anything beyond not being able to sleep. He’d have to make the first move. Azriel took another half step toward her. “Only you.”

“Then why…” she tugged a strand of her hair. “Forget it. Forget I said—”

“Tell me.”

“Az,” she half pleaded, but he wasn’t letting it go. She could see the shape of his will, the determined set of his jaw—he was going to make her tell him everything she’d thought, every confession to Nesta, and then…she didn’t know.

“I’ve done something, and now you think I don’t care for you,” he said, his voice cracking at the edges. He was coming closer now, walking as though he were being pulled. His wings were tight against his back, which she understood meant he was nervous—protecting himself from some threat.

From her.

Gwyn turned on the sofa to face him as he came around the side, sinking softly to one knee, and then the other so they were almost eye level. He’d placed himself at her feet, looking up at her with the same expression she’d seen priestesses gaze at the statue of the Mother.

“Why don’t you want to accept our bond?” she asked, forcing the words out of her mouth. “You keep putting of off.”

Azriel’s eyes fluttered shut, head turning to the side as though he couldn’t stand for her to see him. Instinctively, Gwyn’s fingers found his chin, turning his face so he had to look at her.

“I do want that,” he managed, his voice hoarse. “I want it…I want it more than anything.”

“Then why—”

“You’re so young,” he said, the words falling out like a rush of water. “You have your whole life and I…I had that time. It’s wrong to leash you to me, and I…I would wait. I will wait—”

“Don’t you know me at all?” she interrupted, her frustration warring with a giddy sort of joy. She’d fully expected the opposite—for him to say she was broken beyond repair, that she was too damaged to love, too imperfect for the likes of him. He’d indulge in the bond, but he didn’t want a life.

Azriel’s eyes shone like moonlight.

“I don’t want another male. I’ve never wanted any male—”

“The bond—”

“Merely strengthens what was already there,” she said, thumb sweeping over his stubbled cheek. “It was always going to be you, or no one.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You don’t get to tell me what I know,” she shot back. The corners of Azriel’s eyes crinkled though he didn’t smile. He wanted to, though, but was too comfortable denying himself anything that might bring him pleasure or joy. “I know that’s true, and with a century of space, it would still be your bed I crawled into every night.”

There was a beat as Gwyn imagined what Azriel was offering, a frown pulling at her mouth. “You’d let me sleep with other males?”

“Yes,” he agreed immediately, though there was a darkness in her expression. “But afterward, I might kill them for it.”

“How is that letting me find myself?”

“I’m not hurting you,” he replied, absurd and earnest as ever.

“What if I fell in love with him?”

A growl slipped from his throat, his amusement gone, replaced by cold, unfeeling anger

“See?” she whispered. “Why torture yourself when I’m here, and I want you?”

“And when you wake up in a century riddled with regret?” he asked her, cocking his head to the side. “What will I do, then?”

“Wake up from the terrible nightmare you had,” Gwyn shot back with a smile. “It’s not going to happen. I don’t like other males, Az. You are the only exception.”

Azriel rose to his feet, offering her his hand. “Come on,” he murmured. Gwyn followed after him, half tripping down the stairs though never once letting go of him. He took her to the kitchen, pulling open drawers and cabinets until he found was he was looking for.

A loaf of crusty, day old bread. Using a dagger he inexplicably had in his sleep shorts, Azriel sliced two pieces and set them on a plate while Gwyn protested that she was supposed to do it.

“I want to,” he said, ending the argument swiftly. She let him slide that unbuttered piece of bread into her mouth, wishing something would happen. It seemed so unfair it had to be females, at least in this one instance.

“Your turn,” he whispered, looking like a caged animal about to bolt. He didn’t think she’d do it—he expected her to back down. As if Gwyn had ever backed down from a challenge. She was slow, holding his gaze as she brought that piece of bread to his lips.

Azriel’s fingers curled around her wrist, holding her hand against his mouth, teeth gently nipping at the tips.

“Do you feel it?” he asked, pulling on the cord between them. Of course she did, though before it had been a string tied around her rib with a knot she could have undone with some effort. Something that could be cut—snapped. Now, though, it was gold plated, firmly attached like another muscle she was only aware of when there was an ache.

Azriel kissed the palm of her hand. “Do you want a mating ceremony?” “No,” she said, the word bursting out of her with a laugh. “Do you?”

He shook his head back and forth. “It’s no one's business,” he murmured, though in truth, they simply didn’t like the fuss, being the center of everyone's attention. His friends would turn it into a spectacle because they loved him, and her friends would want the same. Gwyn was content with the bread, the dark, quiet kitchen, and whatever came next.

It was an eternity.

And she was glad for it.

—

Azriel knew Rhys knew the second he stepped into the room. Nostrils flared, eyes wide—there was only joy on Rhys’s face, followed by a flurry of unspoken questions. His friend knocked on Azriel’s warded mind, but Azriel wasn’t ready to share, yet. He was only at the River House because he wanted to ensure Eris Vanserra stayed far, far away from his mate.

Who was upstairs.

Sleeping.

In his bed.

He smothered a smile in favor of leaning against the fireplace mantle.

“Where’s Feyre?” Cassian asked, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. It wasn’t even dawn, yet, and none of them wanted to be up, least of all Azriel who had foregone sleeping at all in favor. He’d put Gwyn to sleep—with his cock, no less—not an hour before.

Was it strange to watch her sleep? Perching himself in the windowsill, Azriel had caught himself mesmerized by the way her hair fell around her face, how her chest rose and fall so steadily he could have set a clock to it. He wanted to touch her.

Gods, he wanted to touch her.

Once again, Eris Vanserra was in his way.

“Asleep,” Rhys replied, eyes still pinned to Azriel. “She had a long night—”

“Can you please, just…” Cassian raised a finger to Rhys, looking as if he were at the end of his rope. “She’s like a sister to me.”

“With the baby,” Rhys finished, grinning sharply. “One day, when you have children of your own, you’ll experience a different sort of late night satisfaction.” Cassian mumbled something under his breath Azriel didn’t quite catch. He didn’t dare let himself imagine it—children, with Gwyn’s shock of cinnamon hair and teal eyes…and his wings.

The yearning he felt was so powerful it nearly brought him to his knees. There was time—infinite time, truly. It didn’t stop him from wanting, though.

He smothered the thought as Eris strolled in, crisp as always, though this time crowned with the laurel leaves that marked him High Lord of Autumn. Even the air around him felt charged, causing the hair on the back of Azriel’s neck to stand on end. Eris deserved to be ripped limb from limb, and now he’d never get the chance.

Eris’s eyes swept over the room, his displeasure plain. “You know why I’m here.”

“I don’t,” Rhys lied, sitting in his chair, fingers steepled in front of his mouth. “I’m surprised you have the time, given the rumors of civil war…”

Eris’s amber eyes flashed. “Where is she?”

“Who?” Cassian questioned, but they all knew. They were here to play a role—the terrifying, brutish males of the Night Court that reveled in violence for fun. Eris ought to know better by then, but mates did something to a male. Made them less cautious, less careful, and Eris certainly wasn’t an exception. Azriel might have pitied him had he not kidnapped Gwyn.

“Arina. I want her,” Eris declared, his hand inching toward the ceremonial sword hanging from his hip.

Rhys considered this. “I’m not familiar with her.”

Azriel shook his head back and forth as if to say, doesn’t ring a bell.

“I might have had her in my bed last—”

“Oh cut the shit,” Eris snarled, his temper already at the surface. “We can all walk away with something we want, or I can call all the other High Lords and force you to hand her over.”

“What do you think we want?”

“Knowledge,” Eris replied, holding Rhys’s gaze. “My father made several bargains that you might like knowing about. I might be willing to share them, even—if you produce Arina.”

“Last I heard—and I’m not saying she’s here—she was asking to return to Helion.”

“Fuck Helion,” Eris snarled, his patience shredding. He looked ready to start a fight, which caused both Cassian and Azriel to straighten themselves out. Rhys was their friend and their High Lord—another High Lord threatening him, especially on their soil, was unforgivable. “She’s a pawn to you, so use her.”

“I want to know the deal he made with Montessere,” Rhys replied.

“Swear you’ll give me my mate if I tell you. Immediately,” Eris replied. He wasn’t stupid—bargains were specific or they weren’t worth much. Rhys could agree and then keep her for the next six centuries and Eris would simply have to wait.

Azriel would have liked to see it.

Rhys stood. “Fine. I’ll return her to you this morning if you outline the deal.”

“There was no deal,” Eris said once they’d shaken hands, his expression triumphant. “Not with Montessere, anyway—Gunnar is merely an undead puppet.”

The room was utterly silent. “Undead?” Cassian finally asked. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“He’s dead.” Eris declared, as if Azriel hadn’t seen him with his own eyes. He’d been unwell, certainly, and perhaps paler than Azriel would have liked…but dead? Wouldn’t he have noticed that? “His soul has left his body, and he’s being moved around by the god of death.”

“He can do that?” Cassian asked when no one else spoke.

“Apparently so,” Rhys murmured, running a hand down his chin. “How do you know this?”

“Beron was paranoid—he kept notes on everyone. Every conversation, every interaction, every realization. I left his body there, and it's very likely Koschei has it, too. Beron seemed to think he could reach us on the wind, whispering promises and power in exchange for his bidding.”

Some small realization slithered over Rhys’s face, smothered before anyone but Azriel caught it.

“What was the deal?”

“Power, of course,” Eris replied, holding Rhysand’s gaze. “High King of Prythian, his enemies destroyed and dead.”

“What did Beron give him for it?”

Eris only sighed. “I don’t know. He didn’t say, didn’t write it down…or it was destroyed before I found it. Some of the noble families ransacked his office while I was quelling a rebellion up north, and when I returned, things were missing.”

Rhys stood. “How are you dealing with them?”

Eris’ smile held no joy. “Death.”

“So the King of Montessere is dead, puppetted by a god, and at least one High Lord here is doing his bidding. How many others?”

“You read minds, not me,” Eris replied flippantly. “Now give me my mate.”

“The cipher remains here,” Azriel said, speaking for the first time. Arina had stolen it from Gwyn, and Azriel firmly believed only Gwyn could finish deciphering that book that might help explain what Koschei’s plan was. Maybe the Day Court scholar was smart—though, she was tethered to Eris Vanserra, which certainly didn’t lend any credibility to her cause.

“Fine,” Eris snapped, unaware of its importance.

“I’ll get her,” Cassian murmured, stretching out his wings. Cassian was likely the only one of the four of them on good enough standing with the scholar to convince her to let him touch her—

Azriel was pretty sure she’d claw out his eyes if he came within a hundred feet of her.

There was no love lost between them—she’d stolen from Gwyn and refused to hand it back, even after everything.

Arina was brought down ten excruciating minutes later, disheveled and still in her night clothes. Eris looked ready to murder someone.

“Did you touch her—”

“Of course I touched her,” Cassian snapped, shaking out his hands before plopping back to the sofa. “We had to fly down here. Unless you’d prefer I drop her—”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Eris managed, looking her over. Arina looked irate, turning from Eris to Rhys.

“You’re sending me with him?”

Rhys only shrugged. “He’s the only one asking for you.”

It was unnecessarily cruel, in Azriel’s opinion, though not a lie. Helion hadn’t been begging for her back, likely because he trusted Rhys not to hurt her. Eris didn’t, though. Eris looked like he wanted to touch her and though it was cruel, Azriel hoped she never let him.

“The alliance between us stands,” Rhys called as Eris turned to leave, having shrugged out of his jacket to drape it over her shoulders.

Eris glanced backward. “I don’t want to see our land ravaged by an unchained god.”

It was good enough, at least for the moment. Eris swept out a moment later, hand hovering against Arina’s back though he didn’t dare touch her. It was well deserved, seeing Eris suffer. For once, Azriel got what Eris couldn’t buy his way into.

Rhys waited until the front door slammed closed.

“Where is Elain and Lucien?” Rhys asked, his voice just a shade too casual. Had Rhys told Cassian what he’d confided in Azriel a week earlier?

“He was taking her to Spring with him,” Cassian told Rhys. Rhys filled Cassian in, leaving out the parts regarding the potential originations of Azriel’s magic. That wasn’t confirmed—they couldn’t prove it. All Azriel had was his suspicions and fears. He wasn’t sure he wanted Cassian to know until he himself knew for sure.

Cassian handed Azriel the cypher while Rhys asked them to leave, intending to call the pair back to Night. He’d ordered Cassian not to say a word to Nesta about it, admitting he hadn’t told Feyre the whole truth, either. The Archeron’s would circle around Elain, with Nesta and Feyre creating a wall of power they’d make the rest of them punch through in order to get to Elain, regardless if she was working with Koschei or not.

Azriel had never been more grateful to not be mated to one of the sisters as he was right then. They’d meet again once Rhys had his answers regarding Elain, and then…Azriel knew they’d be preparing for war. How did you kill an immortal god? Amren likely knew, but Azriel didn’t think he wanted to.

Not then, anyway.

He and Cassian made their way back to their respective mates, though Cassian’s mood was much darker. He loathed being told to keep secrets from Nesta, his loyalty between his friend and High Lord, and his mate constantly at odds.

Gwyn’s cypher was on the desk in her room, put there by his shadows after Cassian had ordered Arina to hand it over. Gwyn would be delighted, which was all he cared about right then. Picking it up, he sat on the edge of the bed, intending to watch her sleep.

Gwyn peeked open an eye. “Come back to bed.

“I have something for you,” he murmured. She leaned upward, hair spilling over her shoulders like molten fire. She was so beautiful it made his teeth ache. Azriel handed her the slips of paper, unable to hold back a smile when her own expression lit up with joy.

“How?” she breathed.

“Eris made an exchange—this was part of the bargain.”

Gwyn bit her bottom lip, apprehension sliding over her features. “You let him take her?”

“It wasn’t my choice,” Azriel reminded her. “Why?”

“It’s just…I was going to teach her how to use a knife.”

“It’s not that complicated,” Azriel assured her, ignoring that he’d once given Gwyn dagger lessons. He simply couldn’t bring himself to care, and wished Gwyn cared less, too. He knew what she saw, though—a defenseless female being delivered into the hands of a cruel male.

How many people would think the same had happened to her? Many, if he had to guess. Most everyone outside of Velaris, even. He didn’t have a polite reputation, after all.

Gwyn set the cipher to the side table by the bed before reaching for his bicep to drag him back to the pillows. Azriel kicked his boots off quickly, wishing his clothes had fewer buckles. It would be a nightmare to get them all off—and he wasn’t going to use brute strength to tear them apart. High quality leathers were hard to come by.

She let him strip down to his underthings before stopping him, fingers squeezing his wrist. “Lay with me?” she whispered into the dark as if she’d asked him for something costly—something he wouldn’t freely give her.

Azriel clenched his jaw, not out of anger, but nerves. Just lay? Propping himself against a wall of pillows, he stretched out his arm while she curled into his side, cheek pressed to his chest. Cautiously, Azriel ran his fingers through her hair, letting the silken strands drape against his skin like rivulets of water.

“Are you afraid?” she asked him after a heartbeat of silence.

“I’m not afraid of anything,” Azriel lied. It seemed, lately, that he was afraid of so much. His fears had centralized, coalescing around the female cradled against his body. For the first time in

Azriel’s life, he had something that was his—something he could truly lose.

“Well, I am,” Gwyn admitted, fingers splayed against his bare chest. Azriel took her hand, pressing a kiss to her fingertips.

“You don’t need to be afraid of anything,” Azriel told her, thinking he could carry enough fear for them both. “I’m here.”

There was something to be said for resisting the urge to give in to the lust he felt for her, the instinct to sink into a frenzy. If he was intentional, he thought he could keep her in bed until she was with a child and—

Azriel’s throat constricted.

A child.

A family.

Not like the one he’d had as a boy, violent and angry and fearful, but one of laughter. For a moment it all stretched out before him—Gwyn, bright and happy, that smile illuminating the shadows clinging to the corners of the room. He could hear the sounds of children laughing, their feet pounding on the floors as they jumped from furniture. He could see it—his wings, her eyes.

He wouldn’t yell, like his father had. Not at Gwyn, not at his children. Azriel exhaled a breath, lost in the fantasy.

He’d need things—like a home, for one. If he told Feyre, she’d go about purchasing something ostentatious and close, but Azriel thought he’d like something smaller and outside the city. Something close to Nesta and Emerie. Cassian had talked about moving to Illryia, a thought that had repulsed Azriel at the time, but maybe…maybe that would be so bad.

He could move his mother in, too. He thought Gwyn would like her.

He knew she’d love Gwyn.

By the time Azriel returned to the present, Gwyn was asleep. That wasn’t how he’d wanted the night to go—he’d hoped she’d keep his ears warm with her thighs, if nothing else. Still, it seemed sacrilegious to wake her, even if Azriel was convinced he’d never fall asleep.

He did—of course he did. He’d been sleeping more often since he’d met Gwyn than ever before in his life. Once he was asleep, Azriel was asleep—totally dead to the world in a way he’d never experienced, which caused him to wake a little after dawn with a sharp inhale of air.

Gwyn wasn’t there, as she so often wasn’t. Azriel hated the panic that rumbled through him, even as he heard her laughter floating through the air, sure as any of his shadows. They swarmed, save the one that trailed after her everywhere, murmuring that she was having breakfast with Nesta while Cassian went to retrieve Emerie

She hadn’t left him. Azriel took another breath, trying to settle his stammering heart as he dressed casually, padding into the dining room where Gwyn and Nesta were gleefully heaping spoonfuls of sugar into oatmeal already laden with fruit. When she saw him leaning in the doorframe, she grinned up at him.

“Hungry?” she asked. A bolt of lust swam through him, causing Nesta to wrinkle her nose in disgust.

Azriel ducked his head, embarrassed and pleased all at the same time. He knew they needed to figure out what to do with Koschei, with Eris, with the world itself. But right then as Azriel sat down at the table, he felt content.

Optimistically happy.

He didn’t think it would last.

#gwynriel

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autumngold · 2 days ago

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swedish leather goods

a/n: as soon as I saw this picture on ig yesterday, I couldn't help but to have some Thoughts™ about this man and his leather pants. english is not my first language and it's my first attempt to write nsfw* in a LONG time, but I hope you guys like it. if there’s anything I should correct, let me know 🖤

*female reader; thigh riding, explicit language, dirty talk, pet names, google translator swedish etc. MINORS DNI!

You had spent the evening mostly looking at him from afar. With the already busy schedule enhanced by the buzz of a last night on a world tour, it would be normal for you guys to be mostly apart for the afternoon and evening, only meeting after the show, later at night. You understood the sense of urgency surrounding your boyfriend while on tour, and were truly proud of him - and everything he had been doing with this band and crew - always happy to join their travels whenever you could.

And tonight, specifically, it all seemed a bit more intoxicating than usual. He made sure to save the best for last - it kinda felt like a delayed gratification for the both of you, in a way - he got you right where he needed you; and you were in awe of him, ready to give him what he wanted while also getting some relief of your own.

After the concert, you both went back to his hotel room and his stoic facade finally broke under your stare. Sitting on a leather couch at the corner of the spacious room, he couldn't contain his proud little smirk and you couldn't hold back an incredulous yet humorous smile. In a matter of seconds you were attached to him, both hands holding his face while you hungrily kissed his lips.

As you break the kiss, moving one of your hands to the back of his head, firmly yet gently tugging on his hair, he softly bounces his leg, coming in contact with your intimacy. Through all of those layers, still, the electricity doesn't fail to make you sigh in pleasure.

Joakim, pleased by your reaction, smiles briefly and unbuttons your pants, signing for you to get up and take it off along with your underwear. He knows you well - knows you're about to complain about the difference between your attires - and he's quick to signal his intentions once again. He softly taps his thigh, motioning for you to climb back on top of him.

As you do so, you momentarily hesitate to completely relax against his body, mentioning, with a mischevious smile, that you don't want to ruin his pants.

He looks at you with a certain gleam in his eyes - that dark yet gentle, sultry admiration he reserves for you - and replies:

- Go ahead, älskling. I got them 'cause I knew you'd like them.

And with that, he's swiftly motioning your hips towards his leg. As your center touches the rich fabric covering his thigh, you can't contain the surprised little sound that escapes your throat - neither the growing wetness between your thighs - and you can't help but to do it again. Each motion of your hips carry a bit more of intention, confidence and eagerness - it feels way too good to stop.

And Jolly's raspy voice on your ear adds even more depth to it. He sees the evidence of your arousal all over his clothed leg, and loves how you so prettily cling onto him as your hips alternate between sweet circles and going back and forth on top of him, dragging your sweet little pussy all over him, coating his new attire in your essence.

He intently watches as you move to his knee, pressing your clit against it. The texture of the leather against the delicate area, mixed with your own slick made your heart beat faster and your head pound. Alternating between that and rubbing yourself all over his thigh, everything was overwhelming. The stern yet luxurious, buttery mosaic feel of the leather against your center, combined with your own wetness and the light grip of your intimacy on the material - alternating with how good it felt against your splayed pussy, how easy it was to just keep going - to keep wanting more of that sweet, mind blowing torture. His firm leg occasionally lifted to meet up with your movements, never failing to make you moan his name so sweetly.

And your sweet boyfriend, staring at you in adoration - and just a bit of a provocative sense of humour - couldn't help but to whisper against your ear:

- Are you enjoying yourself, sweet girl? Making a mess all over my thigh... I saw how you looked at me earlier, älskling. Is this what you wanted? To rub your pretty little pussy all over me? Does it feel good, min kärlek?

At that point, you were a moaning mess. Your eyelids barely open; languid moves of your hips driving you crazy and hypnotising your awaiting boyfriend, as he gently pinches your nipple and says:

- I'm waiting for an answer, min söta.

To which you dreamily reply, with your back arched and head thrown back:

- Yes, it feels amazing. Feels so, so good, Jolly. Thank you…

You don't see it, but his face progressively goes from incredulous to pleasantly surprised at your words. He keeps encouraging you, desire and love showing through his voice:

- What a good girl you are, mitt hjärta... keep going, baby. You deserve it. Keep going, sweet girl...

And it was all becoming too much. He knew it. You felt it deeply, even more urgently than in other ocasions. The urge to chase that high in such a teasing, unforgiving manner, combined with your boyfriend's deep voice and tight grip on your waist impelled you to move faster, more thrilling and desperate than before.

As your cries fill his ears and your body trembles in his arms, he's gently nibbling on your neck, as he comes down from his own high, unexpected and powerful, intoxicating his senses as he makes his own quiet mess in his pants.

You look up at him, lifting your face from the hidden comfort of his neck, searching for his eyes as you both process what had happened. As you rest your chin on his shoulder, registrating that you weren't the only one who had been affected by the evening's events, you press a soft kiss to his cheek, then say:

- It seems I wasn’t the only one to make quite the mess, was I?

To which he replies, tender voice giving away a shy smile:

- You're mesmerizing, dear. I couldn't help it. Plus, as the saying goes... twice the mess is twice the fun, älskling. Ain't that right?

#jolly karlsson #joakim jolly karlsson #jolly karlsson fanfiction #jolly karlsson x reader #jolly karlsson smut #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic

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a-sip-of-sunshine · 2 days ago

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Offerings

An important practice in hellenic Polytheism is the offerings. Many people already have an idea about what they are, so this post is more centered towards worshippers that stress around this concept since I'll be talking about how to handle it/how I handle it.

Offerings can range from a wide amount of things. A quick classification I can make up from the top of my head is: food offerings, other objects, and devotional acts.

When you first get introduced to hellenic Polytheism, food offerings appear as one of the main ways of building Kharis with the deities, since in general, that's what offerings do. The problem begins when we take libations and food as the better way to do offerings, putting them in some sort of subconscious pedestal over the other "methods".

Many followers can't afford to always do them to honor the gods, myself included. So, when all we see is an inability to offer things to our gods that way, it leads us to feel guilty and disappointed.

This is where I start to give tips from my own experience !

First, think of offerings as gifts. It is said to us that gifts don't always have to be something material to be significant. The same concept applies to offerings. I mentioned at the start that there were also other objects that could be given and devotional acts too. Intent is what matters. The gods don't care if you do offerings a certain way, but if the feelings are genuine from your part.

Other objects include jewelry/devotional jewelry, toys, books, etc. Basically, anything that isn't food. Devotional acts, as its name suggests, are activities that you can dedicate to your deities as long as it falls under their domain. Example: I have given Apollo a mouse fidget toy and also dedicate drawing, divination, dancing, etc.

It is as simple as that, trust me. It doesn't have to be elaborated. Now that gets me to the second point: check your resources.

You guys already know I struggled from following recon concepts and practices. You're totally free to follow them too if you can and want, but simply, some of us can't. Many sources for information about helpol come from a recon point of view, or simply others put things way more complicated/elaborated than they really are. Again, people are free to do them, but I'm focusing here on beginners/revivalists. Analyze your information and don't stay just with that. Search for easier ways to do things and overall avoid possible frustrations.

Getting back to my practice, I found out that libations didn't necessarily need to be poured out outside on the ground ! They could be poured down the sink or in a cup. Simple, right? This is mostly for those who still want to offer their gods food but in a more accessible manner. Another one is leaving the first or last bite of your food as an offering. (For Hestia, you leave both of those bites)

Note: Before applying these, know that rules still apply to Chthonic gods, not ingesting, eating, or drinking the offerings !

So now that you have both of those tips, I'll tell you one last thing: don't be afraid. It is also a shared sentiment that us helpols stress over our gods' images of us, our relationship with them, to treat them with respect and, overall, not fuck things up. Relax with your offerings, ease down. That constant worry also affects your feelings towards them, and we don't want that ! It is something that not only makes your deity happy, but you as well. The gods care about your happiness.

That's it for today ! If you want more of my rambles, feel free to interact with this post ♡ I wish you a good journey.

#Boo's rambles #hellenic polytheism #hellenic worship #hellenic community #hellenic deities #hellenic pagan #apollo #apollon

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wisteria-lodge · 19 hours ago

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Wait the wiki is bad? I use it all the time 😭 I thought the whole point is it's community-run so people should be able to fix any mistakes (and since it's a huge community that's been running for very long it seems quite robust and strict on verifying information) I do get that it has info from the videogames which most people don't regard as canon, though. But when it does it tends to note it as such, and they still consider the books/movies a higher "plane" of canon.

I love reading the wiki, but I do have to do a lot of follow up and sifting if I'm using it as reference. In tends to throw in the video games, JKR interviews, *actor* interviews, and Pottermore content, and sometimes it's organized and clearly marked, but a lot of times it isn't... and that has definitely slipped up my co-writer (whose knowledge of HP isn't as crazy as mine) a few times. Unless you already have a really solid grasp on everything, it's easy to get confused. Like here's someone who wrote into me, asking about a sentence in the Narcissa page that was 1) Poorly written 2) wrong.

The other problem with the wiki is that since it's community run, every page tends to be written by fans of that particular character. This is especially obvious with the villains. Like read through the Lucius Malfoy, or Severus Snape pages. There is so much there that's bending over backwards to give them a positive edit. There's a lot about Lucius' elegant dueling style (no source) and his skill with potions. Like the actual detail is 'Lucius Malfoy mentions having a potion collection in Book 2.' I don't want that extrapolated into 'Lucius Malfoy was a model student who got into the Slug Club because of his skill with potions.' Like let me write my own headcanons! It starts speculating that Lucius got Voldemort monologing on purpose in the graveyard to buy time for Harry!

Snape's page says that one of his skills is writing poetry. He wrote a rhyming logic puzzle in book one, which I would say is not the same thing. It also says he communicates with floriography, which is a reference to a fan theory about how the plants he lists in Book 1 are a coded message about Lily. Like *I* know that. But then the wiki just cites Book 1. That's not in Book 1.

This is actually so common that co-writer @niche-pastiche and I have an in-joke when we attribute any flattering/creative interpretation to Tom Saunders, Wasp Scientist.

Tom Saunders is a New Zealand biologist who named a species of wasp after Lucius Malfoy because:

"People see wasps as villains, as the 'bad guys.' But the truth is that the vast majority of wasp species are either neutral or beneficial, from a human standpoint. Just as Lucius Malfoy is pardoned after separating from Voldemort's allies, I'm asking people to pardon wasps in order to restore their reputation as interesting, important creatures."

Like I get that you like wasps, and Lucius Malfoy, I do too. But that's not info that's in the books.

(It is Pottermore stuff, but I honestly count Pottermore as tertiary canon at *best.* Like every once in a while it'll be a cool detail, but JKR is *not good* at worldbuilding, so most of the time, instead of explaining things... it just makes everything more confusing. And I think that all of this has the end result of accidentally gatekeeping newcomers who want to engage with the material. Like the person who sent that ask.)

#hp #the fanwiki #research #fic writing #jkr critical

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itsjustrosee · 1 day ago

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Let me take care of you Void Stiles x fem!reader

Context: Stiles and reader are in an established relationship, however reader doesn't know that Stiles got possessed by the nogistun (sorry I don't know how to spell it) and is now void.

Wordcount: 1.1k

Warnings: Smut, cursing, and a lil bit of somnophilia (everything is consensual tho dw👍)

this one is prolly my freakiest one yet. so I hope yall enjoy

Stiles layed next to you, his arm wrapped around your shoulder you slept soundly, your side pressed next to his. His thumb absentmindedly rubbed circles into the soft cotton material of the shirt he had lent you last night.

His bed covers were sprawled haphazardly over the bed, barely covering you, leaving your legs completely bare and exposed to him. The only other piece of clothing you had on other than his shirt were your panties.

Stiles couldn't help but take in your peaceful appearance, the soft noises you made as you slept, and how cute you looked next to him. He slowly swiped a loose piece of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear as he admired your features.

His hand eventually made its way down to your thigh, his fingers barely ghosting the surface as he caressed your soft skin. He didn't want to risk the possibility of waking you up, but the urge, the need to touch you was too powerful. The desire to feel you took over his mind, clouding his better judgment as his fingers made their way to your inner thigh.

He watched your face, making sure to not wake you as his fingers continued to trace into your skin, his touch getting dangerously close to your panties. He tried his hardest to not wake you up as he slowly opened your thighs for better access.

Eventually, he made his way to your core and he began rubbing you over your panties. His touch was gentle and soft enough to where he didn't wake you up, yet your body still subconsciously reacted to him.

You couldn't help but let out a small hum, the action making Stiles turn his head back to face you. You were still asleep but now your eyebrows furrowed slightly and your lips were parted. Seeing the slight pleasure on your face despite still being asleep ignited more hunger within Stiles.

The pressure of his middle and ring finger slowly increased against you, causing your arousal to grow. Stiles kept his other arm still slung around your shoulder, making sure that you were as close to him as possible as you gasped out occasionally.

Stiles could no longer resist the urge to feel your skin on him, he craved you and so that meant he was going to have you.

He slowly slid his fingers under the soft and thin material of your panties, putting slight pleasure on your clit, the pleasure of it making your eyes flutter open.

"S-Stiles..." You breathe out, your heart rate already beginning to quicken.

"Shh baby... just relax," He cooed, leaning his head to your ear, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he spoke. His words were soothing and tender, creating a stark contrast between his desire and lust-filled strokes on your core.

He ran his long slender fingers through your folds, allowing a soft moan to escape your mouth as pleasure consumed you. He felt as you arched your back, your need for more friction only causing Stiles to increase his pressure on you.

As he continued rubbing circles into your wetness, he removed his hand from off your shoulder but kept it wrapped around your back as he moved it down your side. Once he found the hem of your shirt, he slid his hand under it, his fingers snaking up your bare skin and to your breast.

He cupped his hand over it, squeezing it gently as he suddenly slid a finger inside of you. You let out a gasp that quickly turns into a moan before you throw your head back, Stiles took this opportunity to latch his mouth onto the crook of your neck.

He bit down on you before sucking and biting the skin, the quick feeling of pain turning into pleasure that soon gets doubled as he shoves two of his fingers inside you.

Stiles sent all of your senses into overdrive as he thrust his fingers in and out of you, curling at just the right part inside of you to make you moan out in ecstasy. He put his thumb on your clit and slowly messaged it as he quickened his pace and began kissing his way up your neck, making his way up to your ear.

"You're doing so good, princess," He whispered into your ear as he continued to grope the soft, warm flesh of your breast.

You feel heat stirring in your stomach that threatens to pool over as he continues to push his fingers in and out of you, his speed increasing at a rate that has you writhing beneath him.

He moves his hand from under your shirt to your face, taking your chin in his fingers as he tilts your head to capture your lips in a desperate kiss. He kisses you with a hunger and desire that you've never felt from anyone else.

You part your lips for him, allowing his tongue to plunge into your mouth and taste every bit of you. The kiss is sloppy yet filled with passion as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, adding more pressure to your clit with his thumb, making you moan into his mouth.

You finally pull away, catching your breath as his actions draw out soft moans and whimpers from your mouth.

"Stiles I-I'm close," You can barely whimper out as stars flood your vision.

"Cum for me baby," He said breathlessly, his pace relentless as he drives deeper into you.

With one final thrust, your walls tighten around his fingers as you finally let out your release. Waves of ecstasy come crashing over you, Stiles' pace slowly inside of you as he helps you ride out your high. The pleasure is overwhelming as you lie next to him, your chest rising up and down as you try to catch your breath.

Stiles plants one last kiss on your lips before he pulls his fingers away from your throbbing entrance. Bringing them up to his mouth, he parts his lips and sucks them clean, tasting your juices with a satisfied hum.

"Fuck, you taste so good," He mutters under his breath before he pulls your panties back on and tugs you closer to him. "You're always so good for me, aren't you?"

You let out a weak hum in agreement as you melt into him once more, completely surrendering yourself to him. His strong arms wrap around you tightly, and his lips brush against the skin of your forehead as he kisses there once more.

"That's it, baby, just relax," Stiles says, his voice low and husky, looking at you with darkened eyes. "I'll take care of you,"

#teen wolf stiles #teen wolf #teenwolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles x reader #void stiles x reader #void stiles #stiles stilinski imagine #teen wolf x reader #x reader #teen wolf fanfic #stiles stilinski x reader #smut #stiles spice #void stiles smut

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rising-volteccers · 1 day ago

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Alright, here's my unofficial review of the Takara Tomy Pokemon Moncolle Rising Volt Tacklers Transformation! Brave Asagi! figure.

I have to preface by saying that all figurines shown does not come with the kit! I already have them on hand by the time I purchased this. Friede, Liko and Roy are from the Takara Tomy Pokemon Moncolle Trainer Collection.

First and foremost, I can say that the material is pretty sturdy. The plastic didn't feel cheap, and it had quite the weight to it. The pieces were packaged in different sections, with the two halves, the base and other miscellaneous pieces separated. it came with an instruction manual (in Japanese and not colored, so it was a bit difficult for a visual learner like me) but the instructions were simple enough to follow even without using Google Translate.

The kit comes with a sticker sheet as you're expected to plaster on each individual sticker onto the different pieces. Thankfully, both the instruction manual and the sticker sheet are properly numbered so it's a matter of following along. I would suggest using tweezers because it was quite stressful to plaster on the smaller sticker pieces onto the figure using fingers.

I would say it took far longer for me (and my bestie who helped me assemble this) to plaster on all the stickers than actually assembling the ship, which wasn't too difficult with the instructions.

When assembled into the airship form, it's quite hefty. At about 30 cm tall x 33 cm wide, it's a pretty solid and sizable figure. I really like all the little details, from the side propellers being foldable and the spread out wings of the battle deck. The best part is that it has wheels!

When it came time to change it from the airship form to the inboard form, the instructions weren't too difficult to follow. The two halves of the airship acts as the base, with the propellers acting as pillars of support at the back. The two 'lifts' at the front also act as pillars, making the entire setup quite sturdy.

The ship inboard form is divided into five different rooms.

There's the kitchen area that came with the kitchen counter and fridge.

The engine room that has a little latch to reveal the Slugma. I forgot to take another picture from the other angle but the wheel part can both be spun and has Carkol in it.

There's the infirmary room at the back of the observatory deck with a latch that can open up at the back.

The bedroom area that you can choose between four stickers to plaster onto the screen. I plastered on one at the infirmary room's computer screen and decided to choose the Nidothing one for the bedroom, picturing it to be Liko's.

There is also the dining / meeting room area that comes with the table, two chairs and the partition you plaster on the cute stickers at. I really do enjoy the little detail of having the picture frames and the poster there.

There is also the little arena you place on the ground and the little hook attached at the front of the ship. Without the figurine, you can see the little captain's chair by the steering wheel, which is another detail I like.

Personally, what I like the most is that I can store everything onto the ship. Both the arena and the deck are actually two pieces of what I would describe as thin cardboard(?). I can use the arena to cover up the kitchen and the engine room, like I used the wooden flooring looking cardboard to act as support for the dining room and bedroom. When I want to change it back into airship mode, I store all the little props into the hollow parts of the ship and then cover it up with the cardboard.

All in all, it's definitely a nice figure to have if you're a fan of the show! While I already did have a few, it does make me want to buy all the other little Pokemon figurines to make the ship feel more alive, so I guess that's one way they pull you into buying more products.

Thank you very much for reading till the end! I personally give it a 10/10 Volt Tackles.

#Pokemon #Pokemon Horizons #Professor Friede #Captain Pikachu #Liko (Pokemon)#Roy (Pokemon)#My posts #Was it the best financial purchase I've made? No #Does it give me joy? Yes #Now I just need to find the space to display it lmao

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hippiegoth97 · 6 hours ago

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Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story - Epilogue

Collage by me :)

Master List

Part 45

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafescvntyclubgf @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @songbirdmunson @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

@loserboysandlithium @costellation-hunter @leelei1980 @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever

@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @losingmygrasponreality

@mediocredreams @bloodibambiidoll @taintedcigs @ali-r3n @emxxblog

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, mentions of smut, fluff, happy endings for everyone!

Word Count: 2.5k

divider by @strangergraphics

Epilogue: Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

Two years later, September 3rd, 1992...

"You ready for your first day, love?" Eddie asks from the kitchen. He's packing lunches for the two of you, which consists of sandwiches, apples, and homemade cookies.

"Almost, I can't seem to find my special bag." You call to him, sounding rather frustrated as you search the apartment. Mom bought you a gorgeous leather bag to carry your teaching materials in, with 'Mrs. Munson' etched onto the strap in elegant script. You've been looking forward to using it, now that you've gotten your license to teach and are finally taking over all Hawkins High science classes. It's officially the first day of the 1992-1993 school year, and you've misplaced the one thing that'll keep you from losing your head today.

"Hold on, I'll help ya find it." Eddie replies as he finishes up, closing the lunch boxes once everything is placed inside nicely. He brings them to the living room, finding you bent over the couch as you search behind it. If you weren't in such a hurry, he'd have a mind to smack that perfectly plump ass of yours. It's looking particularly slapable in the long denim skirt you're wearing today. He bites his lip as he holds himself off, calmly walking up to you to help you out. "Any luck?" He asks softly, putting a gentle hand on your back.

"Nope." You sigh, turning around and plopping onto the sofa. "I can't believe it. My first day, and I've already lost everything I need to go to work." You scoff at yourself, unable to feel like anything but a failure in this moment. You've been making yourself sick the last couple of weeks, stressing over every little thing. 'What if the kids don't like me?' 'What if the kids don't listen to me?' 'What if I make a fool of myself?' 'What if none of the other teachers take me seriously?' These are all the questions that have been swirling inside your mind, as well as verbalized to Eddie on countless occasions. All of which have earned endless reassurances that you can, and will, be a great teacher. But right now, that concept doesn't ring true for you at all.

"Y/N, I'm sure it's here somewhere." Eddie replies kindly, checking his watch. You still have a half-hour before you need to be at the school to set up. "We've got time. Lemme take a look, fresh eyes and all that." He says, leaving you sulking as he walks down the hall. He checks the bedroom, and the closet. Nada. He doubles back to the kitchen, even opening up the fridge in case your brain got scattered. Nope. Lastly, he checks the bathroom, where you spent a good hour smoothing down your clothes, fixing your hair, and making sure your makeup wasn't 'too whorish'. He finds your leather bag resting on the counter by the sink, he lets out a relieved breath and grins. He brings it back to you, though your head is currently resting shamefully in your hands. "Sweetheart?" He asks, prompting you to look up at him.

Your eyes meet his, before falling onto the blasted bag. "Where the hell was it?" You ask, sure you had checked everywhere, like, ten times.

"Bathroom." He replies simply.

"Oh, figures. That's the last place I'd look." You giggle, taking the bag from him. "Thanks, baby. You always know how to keep me sane." You stand up, giving him a small peck. "We'd better get going, I wanna get there early." You say.

"Aren't you already getting there early?" Eddie asks, confused.

"For normal people, yes. But, I need to make sure everything is extra perfect." You say matter-of-factly, though you're absolutely beaming in the eyes. You're exceptionally anxious about today, but you're also happy to start your new career. You've found your passion, and worked very hard to get where you are.

"Whatever you say, babydoll." He shrugs, following you towards the front door. You both gather your keys and jackets, giving Arwen a farewell pet before leaving for the day. Eddie drives you to the school, pulling up into the teacher's lot at the back of the building. "Here we are, princess." He says, gesturing towards the structure he loathes to this very day.

"Yep. Here we are." You nod, gripping hard on the handles of your lunch box and teaching bag. As excited as you are to get started, you can't help feeling a little overwhelmed as you stare at the empty school.

"Hey, look at me." Eddie pipes up, and you turn to look at him. He puts a hand over yours, gazing at you adoringly. "You're gonna do great in there, honey. The kids are gonna love you. Everything will be fine." He speaks calmly to you, putting your jitters to rest.

"Promise?" You ask as a confident smile creeps across your face.

"Promise." He answers sincerely, leaning in to give you a good-bye kiss. You meet him in the middle, the feeling of his lips on yours calming you down further. "Now, get your hot teacher ass in there! Hawkins High better watch out!" Eddie chuckles goofily, shooing you out of the car. You do as he says, making a show of swaying your hips as you walk towards the school. He whoops from the rolled-down window, and you turn around and walk backwards to wave at him. He returns it, before turning the key to get the engine running. "Have a good day, Mrs. Munson!" He cheers as he pulls out of the parking space.

"I will!" You shout back, cheeks turning pink as joy overtakes you. You spin back around to head inside, listening to the van driving away to take Eddie to work. He'd decided to get a more adult job recently, at the local auto shop. He's pretty handy with cars, as it turns out, and having an in with the owner isn't a bad thing, either. The pay is good, he gets to work with his hands all day, and he's left looking sexy as all hell at the end of his shift.

You're picturing it in your mind right now as you make your way through the school halls. Blue jumpsuit, stained with oil and grease, the top half tied around his waist with an equally dirty white t-shirt underneath. His curly mane tied back in a messy ponytail, a few strands framing his face. And the best part, dark streaks of what you lovingly call 'car gunk' all over his pretty skin. On his hands, his arms, little smudges on his nose and cheeks. Sometimes on his chest, if the day is hot enough and he ditches the shirt. Fuck, you've never seen a man look so gorgeous while doing manual labor. You may have stopped in a few times to 'get your oil changed' or 'brakes checked' to catch a glimpse of him in action, which usually leads to him taking an early lunch and railing you in the back office. Thankfully, no one seems to bat an eye when you leave with grease marks on your clothes afterwards.

Just as you stop fantasizing about your beautiful husband, you're right outside your very own classroom. Your name is engraved on a plate mounted beside the door, telling you this is your new domain. You're already quite familiar with the space, having learned under Mrs. O'Donnell for the past couple years. Plus, you had a few weeks to come in and whip up lesson plans and arrange the room as you see fit. You take a deep breath, and pull the door open to get started. And once you step through that threshold, everything feels like it's falling into place.

Speaking of things following their natural order, quite a lot has changed since the summer of 1990. Dustin's starting his senior year at Cal-Tech, which will be followed by an internship at NASA. He's apparently one of the best and brightest the university has seen in a very long time, to no one's surprise. He's moving up in the world, getting all these wonderful opportunities, and you couldn't be happier for him. As for Mom, she's not too keen on the whole continued long-distance thing, but she's so proud of him in spite of that. She's been doing alright for herself as of late, joining a romance novel book club with Mrs. Wheeler and Mrs. Sinclair. They're big fans of pulp fiction, it seems.

Other developments within your long-extended family are numerous. The Hellfire kids are thriving under Erica's rule, who's proving to be a more formidable Dungeon Master than even Eddie himself. You've played a few campaigns with them, when the timing is right given everyone's busy schedule. You haven't won a single one, which makes Erica far too pleased for her own good. She's managed to stump the former head honcho himself, totally schooling him in the game time and again. She's quite the mastermind, which will prove useful in her pursuit of a career in criminal psychology. The other kids have pretty general goals, most of them wanting to follow in their parents' footsteps.

Nancy's five months pregnant with her and Jonathan's first child, a little baby girl. Nancy is really nervous, but Jonathan is overjoyed by the prospect of being a dad. He's been reading all the baby books, learning everything he can to be a team player for his beautiful, glowing wife. You've seen the sonogram, and Mom helped Karen throw a wonderful baby shower for the mother to be. That was a lot of fun, hanging out with all the other ladies in the group, having fancy tea and sandwiches while giving Nancy everything she needs for when the baby arrives. She even made Robin and Vickie the god-parents, which was really sweet. The overall idea of having kids may be a bit foreign to you, and always will be. But it's nice to share in the joy of your friends.

Steve and Chrissy, on the other hand, are just recently getting serious. He popped the question to her a few months ago, the two of them wanting to take things slow. It's really paid off, they are honestly one of the happiest couples you've ever seen. Chrissy managed to convince Jason to sign the divorce papers from prison, which was a shock. But she said he knew there was no winning her back at this point, so he set her free. Perhaps some hard time has helped him see what an awful man he used to be, and he wants to make things right. Either way, Steve is very much looking forward to making an honest woman out of Chrissy, as well as officially adopting JJ as his own son. In regards to the upcoming wedding, both you and Eddie have been asked to be in the bridal party. Robin is going to be Steve's 'best woman', and Vickie is the maid of honor. She's surprisingly gotten really close with Chrissy, sharing similar tastes in clothes and movies, as well as having overbearing parents. It's a friendship no one expected, but it's a welcome one.

Robin and Vickie have moved in together, sharing a quiet little house on the edge of town, with an acre or so of land along with it. They have a few chickens, a cow, a goat, and some honeybees. It's their own little homestead, growing food for themselves and selling some at a small, colorfully-decorated stand they have on the side of the country road. Robin's become oddly outdoorsy as time has passed, but it's more that she wants to share this thriving, private space with the woman she loves. They've had you and the others over a few times for dinner, which always ends outside at a massive fire pit they've dug out back. It's warm and cozy at their place, and you never fail to leave there with a massive smile on your face after wonderful food and conversation.

The Hopper/Byers family have plans to move back to Hawkins, missing everyone way too much to be so far away any longer. You're looking forward to having them back in town, they really are a great bunch. Hopper's aiming to get his job back at the police station, but more as a detective than anything else. The town has had a bit of a boom as of late, expanding as more people come looking for that sweet, suburban paradise. With said growth has come new shops and restaurants, though the tried and true landmarks of this place have been going stronger than ever, despite a little friendly competition. This growth also calls for a facelift of tax-paid services to maintain it all, which includes the police department. It's nice to watch this once dingy little town turn into a real spot on the map. A humble spot, but a spot worth taking a second glance at, that's for sure.

Last, but not least, there's the matter of Wayne. Given that he's been getting on in years, he decided to retire shortly after you and Eddie got married. He felt like his job was finally done. He'd raised his scared, scrawny nephew up into a fearless, beautiful young man. So, he quit his job at the plant, and now spends his time traveling around in a small RV. He got a sweet basset hound named Bessie to keep him company on his adventures, visiting every silly tourist attraction and crappy motel this country has to offer. He also sends you postcards, of which you receive at least three a week. You've gotten cards from the Corn Palace in South Dakota, Roswell in New Mexico, the Blue Whale of Catoosa, and many, many more. They give you and Eddie a good laugh whenever you check the mail, and you always call Wayne at whatever motor park number he writes down on the cards the night that you get them.

All in all, everybody is doing really well. Everyone has their own things going on, finding contentment in whatever that means for them. After years of loss, and tragedy, and general upheaval in this once-sleepy town of Hawkins, Indiana, it's more than earned. You've all taken the bad and the ugly in stride, and the good is well worth all the hardship you've worked through to get it. Everything is exactly as it's meant to be, despite life trying its hardest to throw obstacle after obstacle in your path. They say happy endings only exist in movies, and it would be naïve to say that no challenges will come your way ever again. But, the fact is, now that you've formed such strong bonds with one another, you know you can make it through. And as far as you're concerned, that's a happy ending if you've ever seen one. The knowledge that, no matter what happens, you'll always have people you love by your side to get through it.

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