#regardless of the tag format you knew what you were getting

[hellers-fucking-suck]

Imagine THIS being your legacy 😳

What a fucking loser! 🤣🖕🏼

*updated my tags to include hyphens so the children wouldn’t have to see this* 🙌🏼

[parfaitblogs]

(totally not based on my day) but a simple request for spencer helping reader out with a bunch of chores bc she's overwhelmed with life and she decides to thank him with like the quote "best head of his life" and he's like "its okay you dont have to do that" and she's responds "but i am anyways"

it will come back ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid helps you when you're (very) overwhelmed, and you might need to return the favour.  pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: comfort & smut (18+ mdni) tags: oral (m receiving). praise. established relationship. reader's overwhelmed overstimulated overworked... very enthusiastic head giver!reader. use of honey and angel. they love each other a lot. i love them a lot. i don’t think there’s d/s dynamics but if there are it’s soft dom spencer (nobody’s shocked). word count: 3.1k a/n: thank u sooo much for reading my brain ily i need to give spencer reid head asap. new format/layout for requests sort of its the same as my normal post layout... do we like... i sure freaking hope so. as always lmk if u liked this or even if u didn't but preferably if u did!!

You were exhausted. For three weeks straight, you had been working nonstop, with a wondrous total of eight hours in between shifts. You were hardly sleeping, you had hardly had a social life, hell, you never even had time to enjoy the simple pleasures of an everything shower. You felt groggy, and cramped, and everyday felt like an awful repeat of the last. A nightmare that never ended. 

Never mind the fact that you hadn't seen your boyfriend.

Always home too late to be with him in the evenings, and up too early to get coffee with him before your days started. Spencer was so patient with you, regardless. He knew it would end eventually, and he would get his girlfriend back. It was just for the month, was what you would text each other whenever the other began feeling particularly lonely. He didn't even like texting, but the time for a simple phone call wasn't available to you anymore. 

And your apartment. Every time you stepped into it you swore a new dirty dish materialised in your sink, or a new pile of clothes sat themselves in your bedroom floor. Which was odd, because you had rotated between the same two outfits for the last eighteen days — your work uniform, or your pyjamas. 

You were overwhelmed with it all. Even as your hectic work life came to an end, and you were waking up to the sunlight pouring into your room, instead of an alarm clock while the moon was still up. You were acutely aware of the mess of your apartment, and just the thought of it all left you lying motionless in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

Tears stung your vision as you felt the seconds tick into minutes, and nothing happened. Attempting to will yourself to get up, and yet you simply couldn't. Exhausted beyond belief, with limbs sinking into the mattress and melding to the sheets. 

You faintly heard the click of your front door lock, and if you had any more motivation in you, you'd probably get up to double check it was the only other person who had a key to your apartment, and not a burglar. Thankfully, you didn't have to, for Spencer was calling out your name, gently.

Too exhausted to even reply and alert him of where you were, you lay still until he had found you in your bedroom, his bad dropping by the doorway, feet shuffling against the rug. 

"Good afternoon," he said, finding a seat on the edge of your bed, hand resting atop your thigh, gentle circles being rubbed into the skin. 

"Is it already afternoon?" you asked him, voice quiet. 

"Yeah. How long have you been awake in bed?" 

"I don't know," you answered, voice awfully small as you felt the thick weight of frustration with yourself blanket over you. "I need to get up. The apartment's a mess."

"It's allowed to be," he said. "You've been doing sixteen hour days."

"Yeah, but I'm not today. I have the day off."

"Your first day off in weeks. I'd be concerned if you'd spent it productively."

You stared at him, unsure if the irritation that settled in your bones was because of his insistence that you not doing a thing was okay, or your exhaustion. Logically, it would be the latter. You did know that, deep down. 

Upon seeing your eyes delve into something a little more desperate, he sighed, hand sliding up to your own, gently tugging you up into a seated position. His eyebrows knitted together at your exhausted look, and you could see his brain ticking behind his eyes.

"Do you want to split the tasks?" he finally asked.

"You don't have to," you shrugged your shoulders. "It's my mess."

"Honey, you're already overwhelmed, and all you've done is wake up," he answered, thumb drawing circles on the top of your hand that he still seemed to have clasped within his own. "Let me help."

"It's really gross."

"I've seen mutilated dead bodies."

"I'd argue my kitchen sink is worse."

"Oh would you?" his eyebrows shot up, lips twitching in amusement, that you found solace in, distracting you slightly from your overstimulated mind. "Do you want to have a shower?"

"Yes," you nodded your head, brain ticking over all the personal hygiene tasks you had been neglecting over the past few weeks. 

"How about you go shower, I'll start cleaning up, and you come join me when you're feeling better?"

Despite your aversion to anybody but yourself tackling the mess of your apartment, you knew better than to deny Spencer any further — he had set his mind on helping you. 

Sighing, you nodded your head in defeat. He had coaxed you up off the bed, gotten you to the bathroom, even found you a fresh set of clothes to wear, and waited with you for the water to warm up. It was really only once he was absolutely sure you had gotten into the shower, did he leave you be, and disappeared from the bathroom. 

Eventually, the apartment had been cleaned, with efforts from the both of you getting it to where it now was. 

You were a lot less exhausted, and your brain was a lot less fried now that you didn't have a million tasks catalogued within it to get done. 

You were lying in your freshly made bed — courtesy of Spencer. Your head on his chest, fidgeting with one of his hands as he used the other to wave around as he rambled about something you were no longer following. It had started as a simple explanation for why you had been so overwhelmed in the first place. Which you had asked as a rhetoric, but didn't have the heart to stop him when he began explaining. 

"You're not listening, are you?" he asked, free hand poking your side and emitting an involuntary laugh from you at the feeling. 

"I am, I am! I'm just not following anymore."

"Sorry."

"It's okay," you replied, turning and poking your head up to be level with his. "I like hearing you speak, anyways. Doesn't matter if I don't understand."

He only hummed as a response, and the two of you stared at each other for a beat, before you were breaking out into a smile. 

"Hi," you chirped. 

"Hello," he answered, perhaps a little too amused by your sudden energy. "Would you like something?"

"A kiss?"

"After all that labour I just put in for you?" he mused, but he was already lifting his head to brush his lips against yours, and was most certainly not pulling away when you eagerly connected them properly. 

You pulled back after a few moments, searching his face. "Do you want something for all that labour?"

His hand trailed up your spine, fingertips triggering a shiver to run up your back. "What do you have in mind?"

"I could give you the best head of your life."

He was clearly not expecting that as an offer, perhaps because you never had offered such a thing before. It wasn't even something you had talked about, which was bizarre (in your mind), considering he was quite enthusiastic about using his mouth on you. 

"You don't need to do that," he shook his head, but with how close your faces were, you could see the instant dilation in his pupils. 

"What if I want to?" 

"Then that's very nice of you, but my point still stands," he replied.

"Spencer, let me do something in return," your voice was nothing short of a whine, and if he was any less turned on, maybe it wouldn't have made his firm footed denial falter. Maybe you knew that.

"You could do anything but that."

"So a handjob?"

"Or that."

"You're such an awful liar," you huffed. "I can see your pupils dilating. I know you're turned on by the thought of it."

"It could just be because I'm looking at you," he answered, voice hoarse, no doubt from the arousal he was attempting to deny was there. "Romantic attraction triggers the same response in our hormones."

"But it's not."

He fell silent for a few moments, before he allowed his resolve to slip, shaking his head in agreement with you. "No. It's not."

"See! It's okay if you want it. I'm quite literally offering myself to you," you spouted. 

His eyes fluttered shut, and he exhaled through his nose, words coming out through almost gritted teeth. "That's not a sentence you should be saying."

"Why not?"

His only response was to say your name chidingly, and when he reopened his eyes, he was met with the shit-eating grin on your face. 

"Brat," he mumbled, lips seeking yours once again.

"Who gives really good head," you hummed against his mouth. "And would really love to show you."

"If you're insisting—"

"Which I am," you quickly interjected, staring back at him as yet another amused smile stretched across his lips. Then, he was nodding his head, and you were quite cheerfully kissing him all over again.

It wasn't that you kissed him with much fever at all — in fact, you were melting into his lips with a gentle hum. It was simply that he was kissing you back with a desperation you should be accustomed to. You weren't. 

Every kiss you received from him always felt like he was chipping away at your soul, claiming a piece of it. Maybe he was.

You mewled when his teeth nipped at your lower lip, and he was quick to take the opportunity of slipping his tongue into your mouth. Though, alerted by his sudden control over the situation between you two, you reluctantly pulled your face away from his before it could go much further. 

"Excuse me," he breathed out, scoldingly, only to be met with your hundredth grin of the day as you descended down his body. He'd take it — you smiling, albeit cockily, was much more rewarding than the concerned look you had been sporting for the majority of the afternoon. 

"I don't do this very often," you told him as you lifted your gaze to his, absentmindedly tugging his pants down his legs. 

"I hope not. You've never done it for me, and we've been together for quite a while."

"You know what I mean," you grumbled, and he was forced to poke his tongue into the inside of his cheek to keep the smile off his face. 

"Is this comfortable for you?" he then asked, having noticed your constant adjustments of your positioning between his legs. From nerves or comfortability, he didn't know. 

"Um. I guess so," you replied. "I've never done it lying down."

"We can do it however you prefer to do it, angel."

"Oh. Okay. Cool," you mumbled, sitting up straight and grabbing his hands within your own, tugging him over towards the edge of the bed. 

You sank to your knees on the rug, tapping his knees with your hands to part them so you could situate yourself comfortably between them. 

You were a vision if he'd ever seen one, and you weren't even doing anything. Perhaps you had noticed the effect you had on him, or maybe you were just largely enthusiastic about doing something for him, and only him. 

Your tongue darted out to lick your lips, eyes flickering up to meet his face, and if this was the last sight he saw before he died, he would have no complaints. 

"Have you ever gotten head before?" you mumbled, eyes fixated on him as your hands trailed up the sides of his thighs, resting at the waistband of his boxers. 

"Yes."

"Okay," you whispered, quietly, tapping his hips so he could lift them, and you rolled his boxers down his skin.

"Okay?" he parroted. 

"Okay," you confirmed with a nod of your head. "I just wanted to know if this is going to be completely new for you or not."

As you spoke, your fingertips dragged along his inner thighs, lips following soon after, kissing up the skin. 

"I don't think that's going to matter, honey," he answered, voice breathless. 

You smiled, not needing to ask what he meant. You lifted your head back up, studying his face. He gave you a nod, a silent confirmation to allow you to go further, and you took a beat to compose yourself. It's not like he would be mad at you if it sucked, but you had had a far too awful day to not do something good. 

You hadn't done this in a while, it was true. So your hesitance came more from your brain figuring out what it actually needed to do, than your insecurities (they were there too). 

Insecurities that melted away within an instant, for Spencer's thighs tensed beneath your hands that were now holding them apart the second your lips made contact with his cock, and through your lashes you could see his head tipping back. 

Your cheeks warmed at how easy it was to get him to respond, and you wondered if the satisfaction settled in your chest was anything similar to how he felt when he did this to you. 

You started hesitant. Gentle kitten licks at his tip that probably shouldn't have been garnering such a large reaction from him. But it was, and you had to preoccupy your mouth to keep the smug smile off of it. 

Wrapping your lips around the head, he lets out the breathiest moan you think you've ever heard come from him, and your mind goes hazy. Newfound blind confidence wills you to take more of him in your mouth, and it's a quiet 'Fuck' that compels you even further. 

In hindsight, he knew he'd enjoy it. It was you after all. He knew from the world shattering arousal that the simple sight of you on your knees was. He had, in a few short seconds, mentally prepared to enjoy this.

But not this much, and certainly not this quickly. 

"I've been too selfless," he muttered as you lifted your head back up, tongue licking a stripe up the underside of him as you did. When you met his gaze in question, he added, "I mean never asking you for this. I should've."

You hummed as a response (it was all you really could do), and the gentle vibrations shot heat throughout his body. A shuddering moan rocked through his body, and if not for your quick response time in pushing his hips down, they would've knocked against your face when he bucked them up.

You hollowed your cheeks, lowering your head back down, and emitting the loveliest of moans from Spencer, whose hand found its way to your hair. Upon the lack of your protests, he made a loose ponytail with his fist, gently tugging on it upwards so you could lift your head. 

You flattened your tongue on your ascend, successfully making his already weak grip on your hair go slack, within only seconds of him having grabbed it. Swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, his hips bucked up again, and you flinched. 

"Jesus—fuck, sorry, honey," he rasped, though his guilt was quick to dissipate as he saw your thumbs up against his thigh. Your movements weren't hesitant, anymore. Just slow. Tortuously slow. "Can I..." he trailed off, seemingly becoming unsure of what it was he was asking of you within seconds, but the retightening of his hand in your hair gave you all you needed to know. 

You nodded your head the best you could, and he mumbled a quiet 'thank you', allowing you to set a base pace, before taking over. 

"So good. Jesus Christ, angel. Where did you learn this? Don't answer that. Don't tell me. Shit." 

His rambling was sharp sentences, that didn't really sound like they belonged together, and certainly didn't sound like they should be coming out of his mouth. They weren't the most articulately structured phrases he's ever come up with. A thought that comforted you, because you were doing that to him. 

"Fuck," he breathed out, once more, and you came to the mental conclusion you've never heard him swear so much in his life. The thought made your stomach flip.

Fingers dug into your scalp, though not too harshly to hurt. In fact, you were letting out a quiet moan of your own at the feeling, hips wiggling. Even in his state, Spencer noticed, and he smiled.

"You—ah—okay, angel?" he asked you, and you relished in the fact that he couldn't get out sentences without moaning. 

Your response was yet another hum, and he was bucking his hips. Again.

You knew he was close for a multitude of reasons; the fact that he had quickened his gentle-turned-firm guidance of your head, his fingers tugging on your hair a little harsher than before, and the ever so lovely, "Jesus Christ—please—oh," leaving his lips, breathlessly.

It was a few more moments of that, before the fingers in your hair went impossibly tight, and the muscles in his thighs locked beneath your hands. 

The fact you had never discussed doing this, meant neither of you knew the other's stance on what to do. Thankfully, Spencer was rendered so frenzied that he couldn't do anything. 

It was a sickeningly lovely sight; you pulling back and swallowing, some of his come painting your bottom lip. His fingers twitched, before they dropped back to the mattress on either side of his body, his chest heaving just as much as your own. 

Lightheaded, you slowly brought yourself back up to your feet, and Spencer's arms were quick to wrap around the backs of your thighs, pulling you into him. 

"Best head of your life?" you asked, lowering your lips to brush against his. 

"By a mile," he replied. 

"Just one mile?" 

"Maybe two."

Shooting him a glare, you huffed, and he laughed. "You're never getting head again, then."

He nipped your lower lip. "Okay."

"I'm putting my foot down," you retorted, disliking his lack of belief in your words. "Never again."

"I believe that."

"You should."

"Oh, I do," he hummed, sarcasm in his words making you frown. "Are your knees okay?" 

If his goal was to distract you, he succeeded, for your eyes were instantly dropping to your knees, indents from the threads of the rug evident. 

"They're okay," you confirmed, squirming as his thumbs rubbed circles into the skin on your thighs. 

"Tell me if they're not," he instructed, and you nodded. He stood up, hands sliding up to your waist. "Shower?"

"Shower," you confirmed with a nod, despite the fact that you had showered only a few hours prior. "Can we watch a movie after?"

"Yes."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[thr0wnawayy]

Just HOW corrupt is Hero Society?. Pt 1.

At this point in MHA's timeline, it's no secret that Hero Society is beyond saving. In my time lurking in these tags, I've seen the occasional post tackling some aspect of this corruption, all of which I found insightful. Today I'd like to share some of my own tidbits and thoughts regarding the sensationalized hellscape that is MHA's Japan.

Hawks' Origins:

Something that always bugged me was the timing, It seemed to good to be true. Hawks' dad gets caught, ENDEAVOR of all people is the one to do it and the Commission just happens to arrive.

Well, no. Let me ask you this, why would they send in the Number 2 hero to deal with a petty thief turned murder. A hard hitter like Endeavor would have been the WORST possible person to send as opposed to like, Eraserhead who would have been able to dissarm Takami quietly.

It's not like Mr. Takami was particularly dangerous either, his feathers at best could make for decent lockpicks or shivs but that doesn't justify Endeavor's appearance nor does it make sense given his arrogance. To him the situation would be small fries.

It just doesn't make sense when you assess the risk, it's not like Endeavor has ever been good at restraint (See: Hero Killer Arc) and the possibility of collateral wasn't exactly zero when you consider Mr. Takami got caught jacking a car (additionally not a major or dangerous crime). So he gets arrested, the seeds of Hero worship are planted in a young Keigo's mind and Hawks + his Mother flee and become homeless. Hawks eventually goes looking for the police and returns with:

Well they aren't police.

So, your telling me that these Commission agents just so happend to be around Hawks, here in some backwater cranny. What interest would the HPSC have in this dregg of a family (How do they even know their names). They shouldn't. Not unless they knew something before hand.

(I find it funny that the scene parallels how Tomura was found, down to their respective "saviors" having their own agendas)

We know Hawks used his quirk as a sort of motion detection system to alert his father of any intruders. Mind you, we don't know how far or accurate he was prior to the HPSC's efforts (minus being able to reach the city). So it's possible the HPSC avoided detection by watching from a distance and avoiding certain areas where Hawks could sense them.

Just how long was the Commission watching, how long did they allow the abuse to continue. How long did they watch the Takami's starve on the streets from afar before acting. So many questions, yet no answers.

"Cool but how does the HPSC tie to Endeavor?" You may be asking.

Well, sometime before the arrest happened Hawks had actually left the house and ventured into the nearby district woth his mother.

And came home with an Endeavor plush. Funny how that works huh?. It's not implausible to assume that the Commission simply requested Endeavor to handle Mr. Takami, possibly adjusting his schedule for their convenience.

I'm not suggesting that Endeavor knew of the Commission's scheme here, nor am I suggesting he (intentionally) helped. (Enji's cruel, yes. But he's also an idiot in anything not hero/celebrity related.).

Something I ask myself is, were there other candidates?. Children stuck in situations like Hawks', what happened to them. Were they abandoned to either die or become villains, killed to eliminate potential threats, or perhaps they were just born "unlucky".

Some final notes:

Hello, I apologize for the amateur nature of the formatting, I'm still getting used to the sites formatting options, as well as trying to figure out my "style" so to speak. Regardless I hope you found something in this post and look forward to your thoughts and opinions regarding the content above.

Yours truly,

Thr0wnaway.

[officialchristiancagebbgirlblog]

Punishment p2

Think of this as either a part two or version two of this original fic:

Tag: @champadamcopeland

Theme: smut

Warnings: swearing, adult content (spanking, cross-dressing, ass eating)

Word count: 1719

As promised, since turtleneck was not on Dynamite tonight I’ve decided to write a fic where he gets punished :-) I’m going to use a filler name, Jen, so I don’t have to write (y/n). Please let me know how we feel about this format, if you’d prefer how I’d normally write (you/yours with no name mentioned) tell me so I know to alter for future fics!

Link to masterlist

Happy reading 🩷

Finally arriving home after a long day, she stumbled through the door tired from the errands and the socialising that ran with being an adult. She bent down to remove her shoes from her aching feet so she could sit down as soon as possible.

“Christian, honey, I’m home!” She called out, making her way inside. There was a faint noise travelling down the hallway to her interested ears. It was familiar but she was still suspicious regardless. Almost as if…no surely not, he told her he’d only do it with her knowledge and permission. There was something so exciting about telling him when and if he could masterbate. It was a job they both shared, both being a switch in the bedroom. Although she loved being able to control his pleasure, the thrill of catching him was far more exciting.

So she tiptoed down to the bedroom door to press her ear against the wood, trying to get a better idea of what he was doing. She could hear gentle whimpers tumble out his mouth, and creaks from movement on the bed. The mixture of the two sounds allowed her to put two and two together. But she still needed to see it for herself, so she stealthily opened the door to have a little peek inside. Thankfully, Christian was so focused on what he was doing he didn’t even hear the door open.

The sight was breathtaking; he sat at the head of the bed, backed up against the headboard. His hand was wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock, working it up and down, legs in the starting stages of a full blown shake, his warning sign that he was getting close to an orgasm. But that wasn’t the most interesting thing. He sat there wearing a pair of her fancy white lingerie panties, white knee high socks, light blue mini skirt, and a white crop top.

Finally deciding to put a stop to his behaviour, she walked further into the room and to the foot of the bed, directly opposite him. She cleared her throat to get his attention which got the job done. He gasped in shock, removing his hand from his cock, leaving it to stand to attention. His cheeks were tickled a light pink, lips wet with saliva, and eyes glowing as he stared at you, trying to find the words to explain himself. Babbling slightly, he said incoherent words as his mouth and brain tried to work together.

She beckoned him over with her finger. They both knew what was due to happen now and he crawled over, swallowing as he moved closer to her.

“Jen, baby, you weren’t supposed to see this…” he sighed, caressing her arm with his fingers, trying his hand at getting off the hook at the impending punishment. He looked up with pleading eyes, putting on a small show for her but to no avail.

“Over my knee.” She instructed, sitting down next to him. If he wanted to dress like a girl, then she was going to punish him like one. Suddenly feeling rather nervous, he did as he was told, lying over her thighs and wrapping one hand around her leg. She ran her warm, soft hand up his hairy thighs, pushing the skirt up to reveal his pale ass cheeks. Moaning quietly at the sight, she then pulled the underwear down to reveal everything she wanted to see. He jolted slightly at the skin to skin contact as she took a second to rub his cheeks, almost as if she was teasing him. He always played up that he hated being spanked but in reality, he loved seeing her dominant side. And he loved the pain she delivered to him. Just as he was getting comfortable remembering the joy from his last spanking, the sudden pain from her striking hand reminded him why this was considered a punishment.

He yelped pathetically, gripping your leg with one hand and a bundle of the bed sheets in the other. “Count them off. We’re doing twenty five today.” She demanded harshly.

Smack!

“One..” he grunted. The first one always hurt. Twenty five spanks? He wasn’t totally sure if his ass could take that many.

Smack!

“Two.” It’s not like he had a choice though.

Smack! Smack!

“Th-three, four.” Besides, he truly enjoyed this. Far better than being denied orgasms or sex.

Smack!

“Five.” He whined, the pain beginning to ramp up. She alternated between the cheeks to get an even coating of visual pain. His cheeks were already becoming flush red.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“Six, seven, eight.” He wiggled his butt at her, teasingly. Being a natural brat, he delighted in pushing his luck.

Smack! Smack!

“Nine, ten.” Perhaps that wasn’t the best idea as she swung her hand down harder than before.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

“Eleven, twelve, th-thirteen, fourteen, fifteen!” He cried out. They were becoming faster and harder with each hit.

Smack! Smack!

“Sixteen, seventeen.” His cock twitched on her legs as the arousal from before he was caught stood strong.

Smack!

“Eight…eighteen.” He wished she would just flip him over and finish him off already!

Smack! Smack!

“Nineteen, twenty.” But what did he prefer? For Jen to ride his cock? Or for her to take him deep in the throat until he covered her tongue in his sweet cum?

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three.” Almost there. Just two more and he was free. The stinging had begun as she took her time delivering the final two.

Smack! Smack!

“Twenty four, twenty…five.”

She looked down at his red, pulsing ass cheeks and smirked. He breathed heavily as he tried to relax from the moment. “Mmm, such a good boy for me,” she purred, massaging the skin gently, “I think you deserve a reward.”

It didn’t take him long to wonder what his reward would be as she picked him up and placed him on the edge of the bed, laid down facing the ceiling with legs up and open.

He watched as she knelt down on the floor and wished she would just take his cock in her warm, wet mouth already. She licked a long stripe from his balls to the very tip of his member, licking the pre cum up with the pointed tip of her tongue. He let out a loud moan as the pleasure overtook him, pulse quickening. Watching her with trained eyes, he silently begged for it. He knew if he said anything, he’d be in for another spanking session. He hoped his pleading face would tell Jen what he wanted to happen. Confusion began when she moved lower, maintaining eye contact as she kissed and sucked on the skin that connected his thigh to his ass cheek. At first he thought she was just teasing him, but when her kisses began to move inward he realised what she had in mind. He adjusted himself so she had better access to his ass, holding his legs up for her.

Her lips kissed around the new area of interest, not worrying about the hair that ran between his cheeks. She took a second to admire his asshole. It was soft, slightly pink, and puckered in anticipation. A memory flashed in her mind from when she had pegged him, and she was reminded of how easily his ass took the thick dildo and how loud he moaned when he hit his orgasm. Becoming wet at the thought, she delved in, sliding her tongue in. He let out a guttural moan at the feeling of her wet tongue breaking through that entrance. She kept the skirt in such a position that he couldn’t see her head while she ate his ass out, wanting him to just focus on the pleasure. Feeling his covered feet rest on her back, she spread his cheeks apart so she could get in deeper. Already he was pushing his hips towards Jen’s face to keep her connected with his body.

She wasted no time with fucking him rough with her tongue, sucking with her mouth at the same time. Christian was becoming a mess with pleasure, moaning out her name, whimpering in pleasure. For a moment, he forgot that he was wearing her clothes until he looked towards his groin area and not only saw her white underwear around his thighs, but his cock twitching under the tent it made in her skirt.

“Jen…” he gasped, skin glistening with sweat, “oh fuck, Jen, I’m going to cum!”

She pushed the skirt up to let his throbbing cock spring free, and with tongue still wriggling deep inside his ass, she relieved him with her hand. With shaking legs and loud whines, his orgasm hit like a brick wall, cum spurting out all over her clothes and his thighs. His back arched as he rode it out before finally relaxing back on the bed with a blissed out sigh. Sliding her aching tongue out, she kissed both of his cheeks before tasting his cum with eyes glazed over. But she wasn’t quite done yet as she got up and walked over to the dresser drawer.

“What are you doing, baby?” He questioned, watching her with furrowed brows. She produced a medium sized metal butt plug with a devious smile. He chuckled nervously as she made her way back over.

“Just one more thing…” she said innocently as she used his cum to lubricate the plug. Thankfully there was more than enough to coat the entire thing with extra for her to lick up to his excitement.

“Spread your cheeks for me?” He did as he was asked, and gasped when he felt her slide it into him, “Such a good boy!” She praised, kissing his skin earning a sweet smile from him.

“Jen, that felt so good today. But why the plug?” He questioned, eyebrow raised.

“Just to make sure you remember not to do this again. If you can keep this in for a while without trying to get another orgasm, then I’ll let you fuck me later!”

His eyes widened at the thrill of the offer. Sure, it would be hard considering how it was already pressed perfectly against his prostate but the reward of a hard fuck later was more than enough for him to comply.

[the-lighthouse-lit]

I was tagged by @cruulsummer

The rules are simple - find a sentence, or excerpt, that includes the words you’re given and paste it in, and include a link to the finished story if you want. But honestly, these are guidelines at best - do what you want.

I’m tagging: @lunarmoment @scorpioaqua @laestrellapanda @raevenlywrites @blushroomx @fiora-miriel

My words to find: Red - Sleep - Writhe - Shallow - Bet - Safe - Look - Anger - Help

Your words are: Intention - Suit - Dark - Smirk - Heavy - Spread - Music - Stop - Alcohol

Red and Help (double whammy because it’s a long bit!) from The Invention of Gravity (a Gravity Falls 1800’s AU that will probably never be finished…):

“What’s your name?” Mabel asked.

“Wendy Corduroy!” Grunkle Stan shouted from the ground. The three looked down. “Get in here!”

Wendy descended from the tree in a series of exact movements that told the twins she’d been slowing down for them before. The twins observed as she ran into the house after their uncle, long red hair mostly out of its cap flowing freely behind her.

The two looked at each other, finding themselves higher up the tree than they’d ever intended, and now alone.

“…How do we get down?” asked Dipper.

Inside, Wendy Corduroy was telling Stan, “I can chop wood, make pegs, I can empty up a mattress and fill it up and sew it back up again with help, I can almost cook on the spit without burning it, and I can clean and shoot a rifle.”

“You’re already hired, Miss Corduroy, I spoke with your papa,” Stan told her.

Sleep from There’s Probably a Moral at the End Somewhere (my Teen titans play-format Fairytale AU, posted here)

STARFIRE: She is floating two feet above the ground. You who know her best, is this how she sleeps?

ROBIN: I don’t even know if she sleeps. I don’t know anything about her. And everything I thought I knew about her was wrong.

I’ve got nothing for Writhe, or Squirm, or Thrash, so I offer you Struggle lol, from a roooough draft of my original story Surot (found absolutely nowhere):

“But if the bathrooms are closed, you can get the key from the hut over there, just ask for Laura…”

I stopped myself. Stella looked kind of jittery and nervous. When I’d motioned to the bathroom she’d dove forth, and now that I’d presented her with a challenge, her eyebrows arched, like she was slightly shocked she’d have to struggle in this way—or like she was calculating she’d spent too long talking to the class freak and was panicking about it.

“Hold on,” I say, and I hold my camera to my chest as I go to the hut myself, all the while wondering why I insist on doing things for pretty girls. It made me feel like a boy. Or like a rough maid from a period drama doing stuff for her delicate ladies.

Shallow from The Club of Unauthorized Heroes Year 3 (yet unpublished):

Dick’s breaths were shallow. His mind was stuck on the here and now. He felt like he should be reviewing the mission—searching for where they went so wrong. But really all he could think about was how much Gar hated hospitals. How annoyed he’d be when he woke up.

Bet from Feral (an entry for BBRae Week 2022, found here):

“That was cool. Quick and clean. Bit sloppy at the end, though. Anyone could see what you were doing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The girl’s voice was a grave whisper. Nearly a hiss.

“You chose a good area, too,” Gar went on regardless. “Lots of distracted loaded pockets around. I bet there’s even some left for me.”

Safe from Over Again (my Teen Titans-Miraculous Ladybug AU, first two chapters found here):

He took in her sarcasm and decided to one-up her. “Hm. You tell your crush you like them yet?”

She groaned, all her coolness gone. “I never should have told you about that.”

“But you did,” he reminded her with a big grin.

And she still didn’t know why. How had she told Beast Boy when she hadn’t even told Kori? She guessed she felt he was safe. Kori might try to set her up with Gar if she knew; it wouldn’t take her long to figure out who her crush was. But Beast Boy was detached from her world—he went to her school, but he couldn’t let her know that.

Look from The tide is full, the moon lies fair (my only She Ra fanfic, a Seamista oneshot, posted here):

He laughed, and it rumbled through his chest. “Really. A small fire. Without me needing to be there?”

“Maybe the venue missed you,” she returned, moving away to look at his face—his handsome face with the jaw and the ridiculously sharp moustache and the hyper-expressive eyes. She’d missed the chance to really look at it, before.

She tilted her head up to kiss him, and the whole world fell into place. To come back into his arms after a long time was a feeling she wouldn’t trade for anything.

And finally, Anger from The Club of Unauthorized Heroes Year 2 (which is published here, but not this bit yet!):

Gar looked back and forth between the faces in the car windows. “Jen?” He turned to Terra, whose face turned from anger to panic when he did.

“You haven’t figured it out yet, slug-face?” taunted Mikron. “Are we gonna have to spell it out for you?”

“Figure out what?” Gar returned. “That you’re Hive? We knew that for ages.”

“Do you wanna tell him?” Baran asked Terra. He was clearly having the time of his life.

[urbancowboyjoel]

Bite The Hand | Joel Miller x f!afab!reader

Bite The Hand: Prologue

Read on AO3 | Series masterlist | Bite The Hand Playlist

Joel relives the worst night of his life.

Word Count: ~1.9k

A/N: I'm super excited to share this story with you all. The chapters following the prologue will be written in reader format. :) (updated 5/29/24)

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, depictions of violence/blood, PTSD (refer to masterlist for complete series warnings & tags)

Bite The Hand: Prologue

The brightness of the flashlight against the abyss of black blinded Joel. A few moments earlier he had been running from whatever those things were, desperate to get Sarah to safety. His heart beat wildly beneath his chest, the warmth of his blood rushing through his veins radiated an intense heat off of his skin. Despite the cool autumn night air in Texas, sweat trickled down his back, coating his arms in a slick, sticky layer. His chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath burning his throat, while a sharp pain in his side suddenly manifested.

“It’s okay, baby. We’re safe,” Joel whispered to Sarah, reassuring her as he tightened his embrace, pulling her even closer to him. She tightened her arm around him, her fingertips digging into the back of his neck. "We're safe," he repeated, though this time it served as more of a self-assurance, a reminder to stay calm for her.

Joel’s work boot made a crunching sound as he took a single step toward the lone soldier. Suddenly, his stomach felt as if it was pulled tightly into a knot. Something felt wrong although he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what. Many things at that moment were wrong: a mysterious infection sweeping over the world, people violently assaulting one another for seemingly no reason, the military bombing cities without warning, police barricading roads and highways, and confining helpless citizens within the city limits. Regardless of the chaos around him, Joel's primary focus right now was ensuring Sarah's safety; he had little concern for much else.

Joel lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the light and called out to the soldier, "We need help," speaking with a calm yet urgent tone. The soldier's shoulders tensed as Joel took another step towards him, causing him to hover his finger directly over the trigger. "Please, it's my daughter. I think her leg's broken," he further pleaded, desperation evident in his voice.

"Stop," the soldier commanded, his grip tightening around the semi-automatic, his voice sounding young yet laced with authority. "Stop right there!" With each repetition of his demand, his tone grew more frantic, sending a haunting chill down Joel's spine.

Every muscle in Joel's body stiffened as he abruptly halted his approach. A tinge of confusion washed over him; he had no fucking idea what was going on. All he knew was that his daughter was frightened and in need of medical attention. After all, the military was supposed to assist citizens in times of need, right?

"We're not…sick if that's..." Joel let his sentence trail off, the words melding with the gentle rustling of the brushes in the vacant field. The soldier shifted his weight from one leg to another repeatedly, as if contemplating his course of action. Joel glanced at his daughter, her eyes wide and terrified; his heart sank in his chest.

The soldier lowered his gun, and the flashlight fixed to it illuminated the ground just before Joel's feet. A wave of relief swept over Joel, and he adjusted Sarah in his arms, offering her a reassuring nod. "Got a couple civilians on the outer perimeter. Please advise," the soldier spoke in a hushed tone into the walkie-talkie attached to one of his shoulders. Joel continued to watch him carefully, narrowing his eyes.

"Daddy, what about Uncle Tommy?" Sarah whispered into Joel's ear. Tommy, right. Where the fuck is he? Joel wondered to himself. Taking a sharp inhale through his mouth, he tightened his grip around her knees, contemplating what to tell her.

"We're gonna get you to safety and go back for him. Okay?" He said with the sole intent to keep her as calm as possible. Hoping his answer would suffice, Joel knew Sarah was stubborn and strong-willed, much like himself. If she thought Tommy would be left behind, she would raise absolute hell until all three of them were reunited.

When she still remained silent after a few seconds, Joel tore his gaze from the soldier to Sarah. He immediately noticed the tears welling up in her eyes and the quivering of her chin, despite her efforts to hold back. Eventually, she gave him a few short nods, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Joel ran his thumb over her forearm, trying to offer her some comfort.

"Sir, there’s a little girl." The soldier had been muttering words unintelligible to Joel’s ears, until his last statement. Joel felt as if his heart stopped entirely, the world suddenly going completely still, as if time itself had stopped. The realization hit him that the military was turning their backs on the citizens, his mind racing to determine the next steps. Without a vehicle, Tommy lost in the streets, the sick people, and the surrounding chaos, Joel felt overwhelmed, unsure of what course of action to take. “But… Yes, sir.” The sound of the lone soldier’s voice brought him out of his panicked thoughts.

The soldier swiftly raised his gun again, the light glaring directly into Joel's eyes once more. A sudden rush of intense, varying emotions coursed through his veins as he grasped onto the fact that the military was not just abandoning the citizens; they were actively attempting to eradicate them. It became clear that there would be no reasoning with this soldier.

The soldier brought the butt of the gun up to his shoulder, resting his cheek on the top edge and focusing down its sight. Despite the dim lighting, Joel was able to notice the subtle movement of his arm, knowing that at any moment, he would press down on the trigger. He had to act now; his only hope of protecting Sarah would be using his own body as a shield. "Shit," Joel quickly turned his body, and as soon as his back was turned, gunfire erupted and a bone-chilling shriek came from Sarah.

A rush of heat ignited on the side of Joel’s torso; he’d been hit. As the sensation began to spread, he realized he was actively tumbling down a steep slope towards a ditch, his vision blurring, and rough jagged rocks tore at the exposed skin on his arms. Sarah, where is Sarah, Joel began to panic, unable to recall the exact moment he lost her. It felt like an eternity as his body continued to tumble.

Reaching the bottom of the shallow ditch, his body came to a halt, and his eyes snapped open at the sound of boots approaching, the gravel crunching with each step. His head spun as the soldier hovered over him, the muzzle of the gun pointing directly at his head. Joel outstretched his hand toward the gun. Have some humanity, just walk away, he begged within the confines of his mind. The soldier adjusted his grip on the gun, his finger inching closer to the trigger. Joel could have sworn he saw the soldier’s index finger shaking.

The sound of a single shot made Joel flinch, the world around him going dark. Except he didn’t feel anything; no pain or agony. Within a millisecond of the gunshot, a thud manifested in Joel’s ears, causing him to ease his eyes open. A few feet from where he still lay, the soldier was now face down on the ground, blood streamed out steadily from the side of his head, pooling into a messy puddle on the ground; under the dim light of the moon, it looked black. 

In complete shock, Joel looked to his left, the direction where the shot came from. His eyes widened as Tommy emerged from behind some overgrown brush. Joel loosed a sigh of relief. His brother wore a grim expression, fresh blood splattered across the front of his white undershirt—blood that wasn't there the last time they were together.

The two exchanged a brief glance before Tommy's eyes shifted just beyond Joel. Tommy's face dropped, his chest heaving. "Oh no," the words came out as if he were in disbelief.

Joel followed his gaze to Sarah’s curled up body, immediately crawling toward her. Her whimpers and soft painful sobs filled the air, reverberating in Joel’s ears. His hand hovered over her blood soaked shirt, not sure what to do. How can he fix this? This isn’t how things were supposed to go. His mind went blank the second Sarah’s tear stained eyes locked onto his, voicelessly pleading for him to help her, to take the pain away, to make things better. Sarah knew he was the one who always made her feel better, whether she was sick or sad. 

Looking down at his hand, the warm blood clung to his skin. It became wetter and bloodier by the second. He couldn’t think straight, his own mind betraying him and screaming at him, help her, help her, help her, but not telling him how. The words repeated three times over with a steady, hollow thud. He wanted to vomit, he wanted to scream, he wanted revenge. Oh, how he wanted the world to pay for taking his baby from him. 

Help her, help her, help her, the words manifested in the beat of hollow thuds once again. She clawed at his neck, her nails digging into his flesh as the world around him went black. 

In an instant, she was gone.

Joel's eyes snapped open, fixating on the deteriorating ceiling directly above him. Pain throbbed in his jaw as he clenched his teeth, feeling his neck tighten under the stress. Somewhere within the apartment, a baby faintly cried, serving as the only anchor to the present. He found himself unable to move; his muscles were tensed to the point of paralysis, his mind still holding him captive to the image of his dead daughter. Every time he blinked, he could see the look of pure agony and the loss of innocence in her eyes. Joel's heart continued to pound ferociously, sending a throbbing sensation throughout his entire body.

Little by little, his muscles relaxed. His hand reached out to the other side of the bed, searching for something, someone. The rough skin of his palms caught on the worn fabric that was used as a makeshift sheet, the cold emptiness seeping into his fingertips. He couldn't tell whether he felt relief that no one was there to witness his night terror or if he longed for the comfort of someone's presence.

In a single swift motion, Joel found himself upright, sitting on the edge of the bed, digging his nails into the rotting wood of the broken frame. His breaths were uneven and ragged; other than that, the silence surrounding him amplified the ringing in his ears. With a slow, silent exhale, he rested his face in the palms of his hands, struggling with the residual echoes of the horrors that had played out in his sleep, haunted by the relentless grip of the past that refused to let go.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound of someone at the door jolted Joel from the nightmarish thoughts and images that had held him hostage, causing him to redirect his attention to the front door. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of who might be on the other side. No one ever came to him, especially not to his apartment. 

And for the first time in a long time, he felt fear.

Bite The Hand: Chapter One

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banners - @vase-of-lilies

[chaosordoffl]

lmao I have to laugh. I really have to laugh.

Yes I prefer tags because I don't like speaking to people directly. You could be calling me a gift from god or cursing my whole bloodline there's no difference. Also I just prefer the tag format.

You REALLY put all those words in my mouth 🤣 Did I blame Cole? Where? Did I say it was a rule? Where? I said that as it is my PERSONAL OPINION that for the misogynistic ass setting they were in that it was illogical for Rhaenyra and Criston to be allowed to be alone together. That was literally my first thought when they ran off into the woods and Viserys didn't send another guard after them. Otto could have started spreading rumours even then. For all anyone knew Cole could have been giving Rhaenyra sweet loving comfort. Just another part of the production I like to criticise. Not the only contrived bullshit I dislike about the show. And just because I can THINK like a bigot doesn't mean I am one. Get your shit together lol.

I said that he's a MAN because that is what he is. His word would be given more consideration based on his sex alone. And again with the putting words in my mouth hahaha. Did you think I called Rhaenyra a princess in the sense of her being baby daddy's darling angel?? I wasn't aware of your arguments in the comments when I wrote that. I called her a princess because that is her status! And one that puts her in a precarious position! Made even more precarious by her being the Crown Princess. Any question against her chastity is dangerous for her. And being royalty certainly does not stop her from being subjected to how Westeros treats women. Which is why I reiterate that them being allowed such liberties is fucking stupid. And not only is there Lucamore Strong as an example for why them not being misogynistic enough (which sounds weird but not really) is stupid, but Princesses Saera and Gael work well too. None of this has shit to do with age.

Regardless of their age that certainly didn't stop him from getting the fuck out and leaving. Rhaenyra was drunk and vulnerable emotionally. She wanted him. She was a princess who was putting her position on the line for pleasure, for the second time in the same night. Reversal of the roles is not enough because it is not an equal situation! He is still a man. He can still deal her great harm. You think Viserys would believe her over anyone else? Viserys who has caused her harm and put her in harm's way? Even if he did, and Cole was sentenced to death or the Watch, a whiff of this getting out would still harm her. Rhaenyra wasn't the only one with power here. She isn't this callous selfish hedonist you all wish to paint her as. And Cole, who believed himself to love her, would know this. He would know she wouldn't lie against him if he refused.

If he believed his love to be mutual that's on him! Rhaenyra gave no indication that she harboured anything more than platonic feelings for him. Clearly he's the type of person who can't differentiate between the two. Okay, that's still not her fault. And Rhaenyra has to lay out her entire (virtually nonexistent) sexual/romantic history and her "intentions" for their future relationship? While drunk? 😂 Did he himself think to ask? No, he just assumed. Again, that's on HIM.

And when I say fuckboy I didn't mean promiscuous, but a man who vilifies a woman for not meeting his expectations sexually/romantically. Rhaenyra rejected him, he rejected her, clearly they were not on the same wavelength, but that was enough for him to wage a vendetta against her and her children for years to come, to the extent of plunging the realm into war. Fuckboy behaviour. All that internal turmoil and he decided that all their years together meant nothing actually. Nowhere did I claim he should have agreed to her proposal?? But rejecting her proposal somehow became "switching sides to her political enemies (which in this context = mortal enemies)" when he could have just asked for a change of post, if he suddenly hated being around her so bad, continued his duties at a distance, and ended it there. But no, if doing his job was his priority, he wouldn't have slept with her in the first place.

Jeezas Crise. Lmao! Me, a filthy commie. A bootlicker. Because I attempted to point out the logic of the (butchered) medieval grim dark dragon incest fictional fuckery. 😂 He didn't have to say "come struggle with me" because it can easily be inferred that that is exactly what they would be doing. Even if he can find work as a fugitive (for that is what he would be, for absconding with the heir to the throne, a princess of the blood); would he get fair pay? Again, who is going to take care of the house, because Rhaenyra sure as hell won't be able to. What of her protection— he won't be able to be around her while working. And if her identity were to ever be suspected (as a Valyrian ntm dragonlord royalty) her exoticism would put her at risk, on top of the risk of extradition/blackmail/hostage taking. And yet you're coming at *me* over media literacy? Loving her would not mean subjecting her to whatever his idea of poor is (the reality of which would be worse, as fugitives). Put that down to stupidity or his own ego either way clearly he wasn't thinking logically.

All three of the examples you gave had vested interest in seeing Rhaenyra OUT of power; Otto spied on Rhaenyra, and Aemond and Vaemond (who wasn't a lord by the way but a ser) were contradicting the words of the king and their house heads, slandering the heir to the throne and her children. Aemond provoked his own contrived (because the most important children in the realm could go out alone so easily 🙄) maiming and Daemon took the law into his own hands (slandering royalty). Why are those incidents on Rhaenyra? It's her fault.... for being subject to attacks on her position??

Being a female viewer and hating Criston Cole is deranged.

I have to get this off my chest. The blind hatred that Criston is receiving from women is insane and I’m going to explain why.

For context, I am talking about Show Criston, not Book Criston. Comparing two standalone versions of a story is silly.

I cannot wrap my head around the fact that so many women, who are the primary victims of utilitarian relationships, would ever come together and shit on Criston for enduring such a situation.

I’m sorry, but how many of you have been used by men? How many of you have been reduced to one night stands, situationships and placeholder wives? How many of you have been deemed “not good enough” to be an exclusive partner? I log into tiktok and I see NOTHING but stories of broken women who are just used for sex, money, care and whatnot by men, and then they are tossed away like worthless trash while said men continue their pursuit of the ideal woman. Being used by men just for sex and being denied the status of girlfriend, let alone wife, is probably one of the worst plagues women are experiencing in the western world because the MOMENT we were emancipated, men understood that they don’t owe us shit anymore and instead of treating us with respect, they decided to grab whatever they can and give nothing back. Do not tell me that there are women out there that are fine with this arrangement because the multiple “GWM while I tell you about the guy that was with me for 12 years and then married someone else” tell a different story, one of multiple women’s dignities being trampled by hungry men. My heart breaks for every woman (EVERY woman, cis, trans, EVERY woman) who has been called by a man she loves just for sex, for every woman whose man never wanted to be seen in public with her, for every woman who had to hear that her man is not ready for a relationship only to witness him getting engaged to another woman 2 weeks after. I hope you overcome this and become stronger and I am glad that we are finally supporting one another.

How can we then, the women who are helping other female victims rise up and speak out against this kind of abuse, push Criston down and tell him to suck it up and accept being Rhaenyra’s plaything? Have we no mercy? Are we so hungry for revenge against men that we’d want them to endure the same humiliation that we did, as if one fictional man’s suffering would bring us justice? Are we so jealous that Criston didn’t sit down and just take it like the rest of us, but instead spoke up and removed himself from that situation? Or are we so gullible that we accept what the screenwriters shove down our throats and unknowingly support the patriarchic view that if you’re being used by someone you should just accept it?

I can hear some of you arguing that “Oh, this is different because Rhaenyra is royalty!” as if being used and tossed by a powerful person somehow makes the situation any better? Would it be okay if a rich person wanted to constantly use you for sex while he keeps looking for a better woman to be by his side, just because he values his wealth and status more? Rhaenyra straight up sneered at the idea of a simple life with him. She straight up told him that HE is not worth as much as her crown. OUCH. Even though I can’t even begin to imagine the pain of being told you are not enough by your loved one, it was Rhaenyra’s right to choose what her priorities are, but WHY would he have to accept being her sidepiece? “These were different times”: does this make it any less devastating for the victim? And he was a victim because Rhaenyra still used Criston and misled him by constantly complaining about how she HATES her duties for YEARS and then luring him to break his oath. Do you think he would have still slept with her if he was aware that moments ago, Rhaenyra was begging on her knees to be fucked by Daemon and only turned to Criston because her first option was no longer available? Like, the man was contemplating having sex with her and resisted her for a good fucking while, so imagine how quickly he would have turned around and walked out that door if he had that information beforehand. You know why? Because he loved her. He loved her to the point that he broke his oath for her, the oath of a station he FOUGHT FOR IN A WAR. He shed blood and sweat and risked his life for the mere opportunity to gain that position. This was ALL he had, he came from NOTHING and he was still willing to toss it all away for Rhaenyra not once, but twice. It wasn’t just sex he wanted because we never see him have sex again after that. He became vulnerable and gave up everything that he was to be with Rhaenyra. He was willing to abandon his whole identity for her sake. Is this not what the ideal partner is? Ready to abandon everything for your shake? Everything he fought for, tooth and nail? Was he unreasonable in thinking that Rhaenyra was willing to do the same for him? Was he crazy to think that because he was ready to put everything he FOUGHT for aside for her shake, Rhaenyra would also put aside a duty she was handed and actively seem to hate for him too? Fuck no! After hearing her constant talk about how she hates her father, her duties, her refusal to wed other men, how she is trapped as a princess, how people have no idea how much it SUCKS being her, why would he not assume that she’d be willing to give it all up for him, as he’d do for her We never see Rhaenyra even TRY to be a ruler, just complain about it. Of course it would be a fucking shock to him hearing her say “Lol dude, I actually do kinda want this”.

Criston was actually the only person in the series that wanted Rhaenyra for her, not her money or crown. I’m not saying she had to follow him, it was her right to refuse him, but his willingness to lead a simple life with just her has got to mean something. And don’t give me that “he only wanted to redeem his honour by marrying her” crap, because first of all Criston nutted up and admitted everything to Alicent and was ready to face death without EVER blaming Rhaenyra for anything, and second of all, oh no, how dare a human being have ethical values and desire to live with dignity in society’s broad light rather than move in the shadows as the princess’s secret boytoy! Bad, bad Criston for feeling you have to atone for your sins. Maybe we as people have become so corrupt that we envy those who wish to walk a virtuous path in life. Or maybe y’all have become so fond of the unhinged unapologetic character trope because it feels “original” (even if it’s ridiculously overused nowadays) that you’ve actually forgotten what characters with good morals are. Like, picking your fave war criminal and rolling with them because you enjoy good drama, especially in a show that’s meant to provide entertainment, is one thing, but passionately stating that Criston had to submit to that humiliation is something else entirely.

Finally, let’s ditch the Criston being a misogynist bullshit because he had NO issue obeying Rhaenyra before their affair or Alicent. And he is ALWAYS true to himself and his values, because even after everything he endured, he did not use Alicent’s anger as an excuse to take revenge on Rhaenyra and harm her children. Criston never betrayed her, Rhaenyra used him and he walked away and he went towards the only person who seemed to spare him some sympathy and understand him and not condemn him for his crimes even if he hated himself, which is typical victim mentality. And don’t get me started on the Joffrey incident because y’all tore Cole to SHREDS for it. Joffrey had it fucking coming. You don’t go up to people’s faces, especially ones you don’t know, threaten them by telling them you know their secret, a secret that SHAMES them and burdens them to the point they’re ready to commit suicide, and all but directly call them a whore. What the fuck did he think was going to happen? They’d shake hands? Piss off. Let this be a lesson to anyone that doesn’t know how to keep their mouths shut and their noses out of other people’s business. Also, mocking his suicide attempt makes my stomach turn. Just take a moment to consider all the young women who just like him, reluctantly surrendered their virginities to men only to find out they were nothing but sex dolls in their eyes, all these girls whose trust led to their secret being spread and them getting ridiculed and slut shamed for it: how many girls have taken their own lives because they found living with such a burden unbearable?

For the love of everything you hold sacred, please wake up sisters. The narrative that you can be used by someone powerful and you have to accept it because that’s the way things are is a man’s construct. Do not let them fool you.

[winterhawk-olympic-bang]

Here is our second 2022 Writer Workshop post, written by @flawedamythyst. Have a read and then head over to the Discord Server where we have a channel  for you to take part in a discussion based on the post, with chances to  share your own ideas too.

Writing Dialogue

Guest Poster: Flawedamythyst

Writing Dialogue

In some ways, dialogue is really at the heart of writing. If you get it right, you can use it to drive the plot, round out your characters and engage your readers in a way that solid lumps of prose don’t tend to.

There are a variety of different aspects to look at with it, so I’m going to concentrate on Punctuation & Formatting, Dialogue Tags, Less is More, Subtext and Characterisation.

Punctuation & Formatting

Most of this is pretty basic but it never hurts to go over it again as a reminder. Mistakes in formatting dialogue can lead to a reader getting confused, or having to reread to be sure who is speaking.

This section comes with a caveat that this is how I was taught to format dialogue in the UK, and that other languages/cultures may differ on some points. That said, this is also the most common way to see dialogue written within fandom and so least likely to trip your reader up with punctuation they weren’t expecting.

“I don’t understand,” said Clint.

Natasha sighed. “Of course you don’t.”

“Do you ever?” added Bucky. “Seriously, it’s simple.”

“It’s not fucking simple,” said Clint with exasperation, “it’s fucking space travel!”

You use double speech marks to indicate speech and the punctuation for the dialogue goes inside the speech marks, such as the question mark in ‘do you ever?’.

You use a comma at the end of dialogue if you’re then adding the dialogue tag (the ‘said Clint’ bit) on afterwards, and a lower case letter for ‘said’ as if it were part of the same sentence. You also use lower case after a question mark or exclamation mark.

If the dialogue tag comes in the middle of a sentence of dialogue, like in the last sentence above, you use commas and small case letters to keep it all tied together. Depending on how you think Clint would say that line, though, it could be separated into two sentences, in which case it would be punctuated as:

“It’s not fucking simple,” said Clint with exasperation. “It’s fucking space travel!”

That points more of an emphasis on the second part, rather than making it run on from the first, so you use a full stop after the dialogue tag, then start with a capital letter.

You can also end sentences with ellipses or dashes, which don’t require any additional punctuation after them.

“It’s not space travel, it’s just a low-level planetary orbit,” said Bucky. “The only risk is-”

“The only risk is what?” interrupted Clint.

“Is if we… Hmmmm…” said Natasha.

Always use a new paragraph for every speaker, regardless of how little they say. Putting two different speakers in one paragraph is an easy way to confuse a reader about who is speaking, as is separating one person’s speech into multiple paragraphs unnecessarily.

If you do have a character telling a long story or something else that means they’re saying enough to need to be split into paragraphs, you don’t close the speech marks at the end of the paragraph, to indicate that the same speaker is continuing in the next section.

“So then Spider-Man said it would be a great idea to go surfing,” said Clint, “and we all headed to the beach, where Antman got us some margaritas, to get us in the mood, you know? And then Deadpool got us some boards, I don’t know where from, and well, you know. Shit got real.

“I swear, I had no idea it was going to end like it did. Who knew Thor could summon lightning underwater? Or that Namor would react like that if he did?”

If your character is directly quoting someone else, use single quotes to indicate that.

“At which point, Deadpool said, ‘you ain’t seen anything yet, baby’ and, well. That was when it all went to hell.”

If it’s not a direct quote, you don’t need to punctuate it at all.

“Thor announced he was the God of Tequila Shots and bought us all another round.”

Any internal dialogue or thoughts would be written in italics to distinguish it from the rest of the text.

“I only had one or two of the shots, though,” said Clint, adding in his head, Well, four or five, but who’s counting?

Dialogue Tags

It feels like there’s been a fair amount of discussion around fandom about dialogue tags, specifically the over-use of ‘said’, and I want to be very clear that there is absolutely no need to be nervous about using it.

If you look at any of your favourite actual-published-books, you’ll probably see that the majority of dialogue tags used ‘said’, and you’ve never really noticed or thought it was getting repetitious. That’s because like a lot of other very common words or phrases, you read it without really taking it in. Other dialogue tags, like the ones you get in those lists of ‘words to replace said with’ that go round periodically, will stand out more to your readers and actually will start to feel like they’re slowing the dialogue down.

That said, you want to mix up both the formatting and the phrasing of your dialogue tags so they don’t get into a pattern.

“I love you,” said Clint

“I love you too,” said Bucky.

“I want to be with you,” said Clint.

“Yes, please. Let me take you out on a date,” said Bucky.

This begins to feel a bit robotic, and it’s harder to feel the emotions within it. If you change it up a bit, it flows much more easily. ‘Said’ might be the majority of your dialogue tags, but other common words like ‘replied’ or ‘added’ will be just as easy for a reader to skim over.

“I love you,” said Clint.

Bucky found a smile for him. “I love you too.”

“I want to be with you,” added Clint, taking his hands.

“Yes, please,” said Bucky, squeezing his fingers in return. “Let me take you out on a date.”

This also mixes in action beats, which are ways to separate out dialogue with something the character is doing at the same time, which helps fill in a bigger picture of the scene beyond just the words.

Action beats are a great way to keep a story from feeling too dialogue heavy but it’s not always easy to concentrate on them at the same time as getting a conversation to flow naturally, so sometimes I do write out all the dialogue, then go back through and add in some action around it, so I can make that work right as well.

There’s a rule of thumb for keeping a scene from becoming too dialogue heavy - the Three-Beat Rule. It says that you should have a maximum of three dialogue beats at a time, after which you should insert a dialogue tag, action beat, or another character’s speech. Dialogue ‘beats’ can be understood as the short phrases in speech that you can say without pausing for breath. Sometimes they correlate with actual sentences, sometimes they don’t.

Like all writing rules, it’s really more of a guideline, but if you do have a character doing a lot of talking, it’s worth going through and making sure you’ve broken it up a bit.

If you do have a long conversation, it’s always a good idea to set it somewhere more interesting than just on a couch staring at each other. Give them something to do at the same time and it’s much easier to break up the dialogue. It also gives you a way to show emotions by talking about more than just their expressions and voice tones.

This also helps with the problem that I think a lot of authors run into, which is that they have a ‘favourite’ action tag that keeps popping up. Mine is sighing - sometimes I reread a scene and I’ve got them puffing like bellows with every other line. If there’s something else they’re concentrating on doing, you don’t need to keep falling back on sighing. Or shrugging or eye-rolling, or whatever other favourites you might have.

It doesn’t need to be anything particularly interesting. Even just having someone make coffee or playing with a dog gives you something to hook the dialogue to to round it out and give a sense of the scenery. There’s a post about it HERE that goes into a bit more detail.

It also feels more natural, because most of the time when we’re talking to someone we are doing something else at the same time, even if it’s just fiddling around with something.

“I wanted to talk about last night,” said Bucky, resting his hands on the kitchen table.

Clint hesitated in the action of filling the coffee machine. “Do we have to?”

Bucky pressed his lips together, staring down at his clenched fingers. “I really think we do.”

“Okay, fine,” said Clint with a sigh, pressing the buttons to set the coffee machine humming. “Go for it.”

This does also mean you can skip out on some of the dialogue tags, because the action tells you who is speaking. Generally speaking, if a character is doing an action within the same paragraph as some dialogue, they’re the ones speaking.

Adding emotions by conveying tone of voice can be done through dialogue tags and action tags. Consider the difference mood conveyed by the below:

“I love you,” said Clint.

“I love you,” murmured Clint.

“I love you,” said Clint in a muttered tone.

Clint looked back at the coffee machine, speaking in a low, gruff tone as he said, “I love you.”

All of these sentences gave your reader slightly different information about how Clint is saying it and, therefore, how he feels as he says it. For something like ‘I love you’, you probably want to think through how he’s saying it in your head, and try and convey some of that in the dialogue tag, but if he was just offering Bucky milk in his coffee, it would probably be overkill to invest that many words/emotions into it, unless there’s some subtext you’re trying to convey. We’ll talk about that properly later.

It’s not always necessary to give every line of dialogue a dialogue tag, which can speed up the feel of dialogue, but it’s vital that it doesn’t become confusing to readers as to who is speaking. In a two person conversation, you can probably do two or three lines without specifying, but as soon as there are three or more characters, you should indicate in some way who is speaking for every line. Even if it feels obvious to you, remember that readers aren’t seeing the scene in their head the way you are.

With all the Avengers around the table, the meeting quickly got out of hand.

“We’re going to put no tequila shots in the Avengers charter,” said Steve, firmly.

“No way,” said Clint. “We’re not kids, we can-”

“You obviously can’t!” snapped Natasha.

Thor slammed his hand on the table. “I am the God of Tequila Shots, and I will not be denied my birthright!”

“I still can’t believe you guys went on a spree without me,” said Tony. “I mean, come on! I’m Tony Stark! I’m all about the tequila-fueled regret!”

Steve tried to regain some order. “Look, the media reaction has been-”

He didn’t get the chance to finish as everyone else talked over him.

“Having a billionaire funding us might be a good idea next time,” said Scott thoughtfully. “Paying for an Asgardian to get hammered is not cheap.”

“Hammered,” repeated Clint, and started to snigger. He caught Scott’s eye and they were both gone, collapsing into laughter while Steve huffed and rolled his eyes. The meeting didn’t really last much longer.

Bucky caught Clint’s arm and held him back when everyone else left. “Did you mean it?” he asked once they were alone. “What you said this morning?”

Clint took a deep breath, eyeing the uncertain look on Bucky’s face. “Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“If it’s not- If you’re not, I can shut up and never mention it-”

“No! No,” said Bucky, grabbing Clint’s arm. “It’s perfect.” He smiled and leaned in, and just like that, they were kissing.

The first part, with all the Avengers together, needs clarity about who is talking to be clear. The last section, with just Clint and Bucky, can skip out on the tags to keep the flow going.

The final thing I want to talk about when it comes to dialogue tags is epithets. It’s very easy when you’re going back and forth between characters to feel like you’re overusing their names, and reach for an epithet instead. Don’t do it.

In the same way that readers skim over ‘said’, they skim over character names other than to note where the dialogue is coming from. If there’s more than two people in a conversation, it’s important to be clear about who is speaking, and the best way to do that is with names.

Epithets slow down reading speed and, in some cases, just confuse things. I’ve read fics where someone has used ‘the older man’, and I have had to stop to try and remember who is canonically older in a pair of characters, or even where people use ‘the taller man’ and I’m stuck on ‘in the comics Clint is taller but in the movies Bucky is, so which are they referring to?’

I would say the only time you use an epithet is when your PoV character doesn’t know someone’s name, in which case I would pick a characteristic that would be most obvious to them and stick with it, so the reader can start to treat it as a name as they read.

Bucky had never seen this guy before, he’d have remembered if he had. Who the fuck actually fought with a bow in the 21st century?

“Hi,” said the archer, “you must be Bucky Barnes. Wow, I was not prepared for how hot you are.”

Bucky glared. “And who the fuck are you?”

The archer just winked. “Wouldn’t you like to know, soldier?” he said and then jumped out of the fucking window.

Bucky hated him already.

As soon as the PoV character finds out a name for them, start using it instead.

Less is More

It’s very easy to go overboard with dialogue in a fic, which slows down the action and can be boring for a reader. Generally speaking, there’s no point in including small talk or the kind of filler chat that real life is full of. People on TV or in movies rarely bother with greetings or ‘how’re you doing’ or talk about the weather, for example, because it keeps the scene tighter and focuses on the important stuff.

A good rule of thumb is to think ‘does the reader actually need this level of information?’ If you’ve got your characters in a restaurant, you don’t need to write out them debating their menu choices and then ordering from the waiter, because unless there’s some other information included in it, the reader doesn’t actually care what they’re eating/drinking. You can skip all that with a line of prose and cut to the meat of a conversation, and it moves the story along much faster.

The exception to this is if the small talk is key for character development - for example it’s a first date and they’re both nervous, and focusing on talking about the menu because they don’t know what else to say. Or you might have a character who doesn’t want to say something they know they have to, and going off on a tangent about the weather, or what they had for breakfast, instead of saying it. In that case, the interest to the reader isn’t the actual words, but what is underneath them. We’ll look at that later.

You also want to avoid excessive exposition or infodumping in dialogue. It can feel like an easy way to worldbuild, but it just ends up feeling clunky or like weird over-sharing to the reader. People don’t usually offer up huge chunks of their backstory in casual conversation, or go over things that the person they’re talking to already knows.

Not to give away one of my previous fandoms but the example I always think about for this is in the Pilot episode of Supernatural, when Sam says:

“The way we grew up, after Mom was killed, and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her. But we still haven't found the damn thing, so we kill everything we can find. You think Mom would have wanted this for us? The weapon training, and melting the silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors.”

This is all information Dean already has because he was there all through their childhood, and it is SUPER WEIRD for Sam to just dump it all on him as if he was an outsider. Don’t do this, guys, don’t be Eric Kripke trying to shortcut on laying out backstory. You have plenty of time and space within a story that’s at a WHOB wordcount to work information in more organically.

Dialogue generally feels more realistic if it’s kept short and sweet. Most people don’t talk in long or convoluted sentences and will generally use shorter, more common words. There’s not a lot of time between deciding to express a thought and opening your mouth and letting it come out, so it tends to come out in the easiest way.

There are exceptions to this, of course, such as Tony Stark, who loves run on sentences. They’re not particularly complex ones though, they’re just a sign that his mind is moving faster than his mouth and he’s gone on a ramble. If he’s talking science, or you’ve got another character with a deep level of knowledge on a specific subject, they’re going to use more technical language, but by and large most people keep it simple in most conversations.

You can play around this a bit, of course. If you’ve got someone who has been practising what they want to say, it’s going to sound more formal and speech-like than if it’s just coming out organically.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Clint, it has come clear to me over the last few months that, in addition to our interests and hobbies being compatible, the time we spend together is very important to me, and is when I feel the most content about my current situation. As such, I wondered if you would like to increase the amount of time that we spend together.”

Clint blinked at him. “What?”

Bucky sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I like hanging out with you. Can we hang out more?”

You can see that the dialogue sounds more natural when Bucky just uses shorter, easier sentences. You can make dialogue sound really unnatural and clunky by trying to be too clever with it - for those old enough to remember Dawson’s Creek, that’s a good example of dialogue that sounds fake. No teenagers ever talked like that. (I haven’t seen Riverdale, but I’m given to understand it has a similar problem, if you’re looking for a more up-to-date reference.)

That said, there is one area with dialogue where it’s best not to keep it how people actually talk. If you sit down and listen to a conversation properly, you’ll notice that people use a lot of filler words, that they stop sentences and restart them in a slightly different way to make what they’re saying clearer, or sometimes just straight up phrase things as confused gibberish because they can’t remember a particular word and trust their audience to get the gist of what they mean.

Don’t do this in written dialogue. It becomes difficult to read very quickly and you want to make things easy for your readers. Filler words, like um and ah, should be kept to a minimum, when you specifically want to show someone hesitating or being unsure.

Subtext

I mentioned above that the only time you should really include small talk is when there’s something else going on beneath the conversation that you want to use it to show. Almost every conversation has subtext to it, and it’s important to know what that is and how you’re going to convey it to a reader when writing a conversation.

The weight of how a character feels about someone, along with their current mood (which might be completely unrelated to the conversation) all play into how they talk to someone, and can usually be worked out by reading between the lines. Someone might get snappy and irritable during what seems like a completely innocuous conversation, because it’s come on top of a bunch of times that person has let them down, or a sleepless night followed by being kidnapped by Hydra.

You can use this subtext to drive dialogue in a story to reveal all kinds of things about your characters and their motivations. This matches up with what @drgirlfriend said in our previous workshop on Character Arcs, but on a smaller scale. You have to know what your characters are being driven by to know how they are going to express themselves, and they’re rarely going to come out and just say it. Sometimes that’s because they haven’t really worked it out themselves, sometimes that’s because they don’t want to talk about their emotions, but if you use it right, you can show a lot about them and what they want, in dialogue.

“Are you going to the gala later?” asked Bucky, reloading his gun as Clint pulled his bow off the rack.

Clint shrugged as he checked the bow over. “Wasn’t really thinking about it.”

Bucky nodded to himself, glancing back at the targets. “Steve wants me to go. Got me a suit and everything.”

Clint stopped in the action of pulling a quiver over his shoulder. “Seriously?”

“Seems to think it’ll help my reputation,” said Bucky, trying not to sound as defeated by the prospect as he felt.

“Huh,” said Clint, finishing up with getting his gear on and heading to stand at the target next to Bucky’s.

He didn’t add anything else and Bucky almost let it go, but the idea of that neat, polished tuxedo waiting upstairs for him, so completely different to anything he was used to wearing, made him open his mouth again.

“If you don’t have a tux, I bet Tony could sort something out for you in time.”

Clint was silent for long enough to nock an arrow, aim down the range, and fire. “I’m not exactly going to fit in with those fancy bigwigs.”

“Then we can hide in a corner together,” said Bucky, and then let off a spray of bullets so he wouldn’t hear Clint’s answer, because that had felt too close to what he really wanted to say.

Once his clip was empty, he glanced over to see Clint giving him a careful look. “If anyone calls me Hawkguy, I’m coming straight home.”

Bucky couldn’t hold in a relieved grin. “That seems fair,” he said, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders relax.

On the surface, this is a fairly dull conversation about whether or not Clint is going to a gala. If there was no subtext about it, the writer would probably just skip it in favour of jumping straight to them both heading out for the gala, which gives the same information without wasting the reader’s time.

However, by including it you get to show rather than tell each character’s motivations. Bucky’s subtext here is ‘please come to the gala with me I’m scared of formal occasions’, while Clint’s (harder to get across as he’s not the POV character) is ‘I don’t feel important enough to go to a gala’. You also get the next level down of subtext, which is Bucky’s ‘having you around makes me feel more confident’ and Clint’s ‘I’ll do things I’m not that keen on if you ask me to’, which gives the reader information about their feelings for each other.

This kind of dialogue helps with the ‘show don’t tell’ aspect of writing. You don’t need to have Bucky actually straight out say that he wants Clint to come with him for moral support, because the subtext is there for the reader to pick up on, and it feels more organic and more satisfying to read a story that isn’t force feeding you information.

It also tells you deeper things about the story. Bucky is still feeling insecure about public events and is worried about his reputation, so you’re sign-posting that it’s fairly early in his post-Hydra recovery. He’s taking Steve’s advice on what he should do so he’s at least a bit emotionally dependent on him, and Steve clearly feels like he’s in a position where Bucky needs that kind of support from him. If you start a fic with this conversation, most people are going to mentally insert it into the canon/fanon timeline at a certain point without needing you to spell out exactly when you’re setting it.

You can use subtext in dialogue to highlight relationships without needing to give a backstory. An in-canon example of this is Clint and Natasha’s Budapest exchange, which tells you that they’re close, they’ve worked together a lot, and they have a friendly bantery relationship. My example above tells you a lot about both how Bucky relates to Steve and how he feels about Clint without needing me to put it down in black and white.

This is useful because most of the time people don’t actually talk about how they feel about the people in their life, and even less often to their faces. People find other ways around expressing how they feel about their friends, especially men in modern Western society. If your dialogue includes a lot of people just straight up coming out with what they’re thinking or feeling, it’s not going to feel as real as if your characters talk around a topic or bury it under layers of dialogue.

And that makes it even more satisfying for a reader when a fic reaches an emotional climax and someone who has been prevaricating comes straight out with an ‘I love you’.

Characterisation

So, then we hit the aspect of dialogue that fanwriters have to deal with but most published authors don’t: how to make your characters sound like the voices your reader already has in their head for them.

This can be one of the hardest things about writing fanfic, matching up your writing style with the way the characters are presented in canon so that they feel ‘right’ to a reader. I would say it’s especially hard in a fandom like Marvel, where there are already a bunch of different canon versions of each character - MCU/comics/other adaptations, not to mention the generally agreed on characterisations that fandom uses for them.

Ultimately, it comes down to having a strong voice for them in your own head and knowing how they sound to you so that you can then communicate that to a reader. If you ever find that slipping, it’s a good idea to have some form of media that you go back to and remind yourself of how they sound, and what speech quirks they have. Reread the comics that hold the best Clint voice for you, rewatch Falcon&Winter Soldier, reread a fic that you think gets the dialogue pretty much spot on, whatever makes you ‘hear’ the voice in your head, so you can translate that onto the page.

There are various different layers to getting a voice sounding right for a character. The first is probably accent. In MCU canon, neither Clint nor Bucky have particularly strong regional accents so although it’s tempting to go full Brooklyn drawl, or make Clint super midwest, it will feel too much for your readers if you’re writing a canon fic, and not fit with the way they ‘hear them’.

Accents in general should usually be kept to a minimum in writing. Even if you’ve introduced an original character with a strong accent, writing every line of dialogue with an emphasis on it can easily become difficult for a reader to understand and, unless you are extremely familiar with an accent, it’s easy to get the little details wrong in a way that stands out to someone who knows the accent better than you do. Sometimes it’s better to just put a descriptor of the accent in the dialogue tag than it is to try and sound it out phonetically. Slipping in the occasional colloquialism will keep your reader reminded of it.

Beyond accents, most people have various quirks to the way they speak - particular ways of phrasing things or sentence constructions they rely on. An example of this is Clint’s ‘Aw, xxx, no’ from the comics. Slipping some of these in does help tie the voice back to the character, but over-using them can be a bit tiring for a reader and reduce the impact of them.

Also pay attention to how much/how little someone actually speaks. Bucky is generally fairly tight-lipped in MCU canon, especially in the movies. You might find yourself skipping dialogue from him at all in favour of just a glowering look or something. Clint is more likely to throw out jokes without really saying anything important, so he might take up some of that space.

And then this is all affected by who your character is talking to and the current mood of the conversation. Bucky is much more likely to say more when talking to Steve in a relaxed atmosphere than he is to a SHIELD agent he doesn’t know in a tense situation. Clint canonically likes to make people think he’s dumber than he is so will play that up in front of people he’s not sure about, but might be more open about his actual level of intelligence with Natasha.

The amount that someone’s dialogue is informed by these kinds of quirks and how distinctive their voice is depends on their personality. How open is someone about their actual thoughts/feelings? How blunt are they when calling other people out on their bullshit? Will they just melt out of the room when there’s an argument, or dive right in to get their point across? Making a character feel like themselves involves thinking about all of this - it may make your plot a lot simpler if Clint would just tell someone that he’s fucked something up, but how real is that to who he is?

Someone like Natasha doesn’t have a particularly distinctive voice, because her schtick is all about fitting in wherever she is and being fairly unremarkable. Tony, on the other hand, probably has the most distinctive voice in the MCU, because he has so many quirks and because his personality is large that it overflows into how he talks. I love writing Tony exactly because of this, because you can make him sound just as if RDJ is speaking in your fic, but I know other people hate writing him for the same reason, because if you get it wrong a reader finds it easy to tell.

Also consider that some characters do a lot of code-switching, and so might sound really quite different depending on who they’re talking to or where they are, especially in terms of accents, slang and the level of swearing going on. This can be a good way to show different layers to a character, or add in details like how relaxed they feel in a given situation.

Swearing is a bit of a tricky one for fandom writing because we all know that the level of swearing in canon is curtailed by outside forces, like Disney’s pearl-clutching, rather than being an actual reflection of how that character would express themselves. As a sweary person myself, I assume that most MCU characters would be swearing a great deal more than they actually do, and so slide a lot more swearing into my fics. I think you have to consider which characters you personally think would have potty mouths, and under what circumstances they’d start throwing F-bombs around.

I don’t think I’m qualified to talk on this as if I’m an expert, but I didn’t want to go without mentioning Clint’s HoH/deafness, and how that might inform on dialogue. There have been discussions already on the WHOB Discord about how to write sign language, and the general consensus was that putting it in speech marks and treating it as you would any other kind of speech is the best way to do it. You can use ‘signed’ instead of ‘said’ and it will read just as easily.

If most of a conversation is in spoken English and then a sign or signed phrase is thrown in - for example, if Clint wants to convey something secretly to Natasha in front of a lot of bad guys - then formatting it as you would any other foreign/non-English language to convey the difference is fine. I tend to use italics for that, to show that I’ve translated from what was actually said, but I know other people have other ways they like to do it. As long as you’re consistent and it will make sense to a reader, it doesn’t matter much how you do it.

The other aspect that might be affected is just how much dialogue Clint might easily hear/understand from lip-reading, either with or without his hearing aids. Canon is fairly inconsistent about it and, of course, if you’re writing an AU in which he lost his hearing in a different way to canon, it’s really up to you. As long as you keep it consistent, whatever you decide is probably fine, but it is worth thinking about whether or not having someone give him important information in a whisper is going to play right with a reader.

So, you’re probably now quietly freaking out that there’s so much to remember and you really just want to write two dudes having a chat about their feelings so they can bone already. To be honest, we spend so much time in our lives either talking or listening to other people talk, that you can avoid over-thinking it too much and just write and see what comes out once you’ve got the voices in your head. If you’re not sure if something is sounding right after it’s down on the page, the best thing to do is to read it out loud to yourself and consider the following:

Would someone actually say this in real life?

Does it move the plot forward or develop a character?

Is it easy to say or do you fumble over the sentence?

Do you pause in certain areas where you haven’t written commas? Or not pause in places where you did?

Can I imagine the actor saying it/it being written in a speech bubble above the comic character’s head?

[dracosaurusrex]

i love ur writing!!! can u maybe do a hc where its post war! draco x reader where they get married right, then reader gets pregnant with scorpius!! and its like them taking care of him, seeing him growing up and sending him off to hogwarts etc etc yk? also u dont have to do this ofc 🤍!!

Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy) 🌱 - Headcanon

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Hi nonnie!! I’m sorry it took me a while to get to this. Besides being occupied with schoolwork, I thoroughly had to think about how Draco would be as a father. I hope you enjoy!! It’s a lil long too aha.

PS. Kudos to you if you know where the title comes from aha

When Draco found out you were pregnant, there was no containment to the pure joy he had felt in the moment

Tears of joy brimmed his eyes

Crushing embraces

Playful kisses transitioned to more passionate ones as he poured out his love for you

Despite the years following the end of the war, he still didn’t feel deserving of you

Furthermore, he didn’t feel deserving of parenting a child with you

But one thing he was certain of was that he didn’t want to be anything like his father.

The very thought chilled him and struck fear to his bones

“Draco, you’ll make a great father” you say constantly. Each time you do so wrapping him in a warm embrace

It surprised you seeing him cry for the first time as he cradled your growing bump

“Do you think he can hear me?” He’d ask

You nodding as you wiped the tears rolling down his face

“I don’t want him to grow up like I did.”

“Love, we wouldn’t be here if you didn’t go through any of it.”

More silent tears and kisses to your bump

“I’ll do my best for you and your mother, I promise.”

Him kissing your bump one last time

“We’ll do our best for each other” you reassure

-🌱- 

There’s no end to him showing you how much he loves you.

The morning sickness, weird cravings, the aches and pains—this man spoiled you and made sure you were comfortable as much as possible

Happy wife = happy life

You both taking turns to tell the baby in your womb stories

Draco playing the piano with you and the baby by his side

You’d be cuddling as you both thought of names

Him opting to follow Black tradition and use names from constellations

“If it’s a girl, it should be Maia Altair. Both are the brightest stars within their respective constellations.” He said.

“How about Lyra Celeste?”

“That’s pretty too. Goodness, I hope it’s not a girl. We’d have a hard time choosing.” He says jokingly, making you chuckle.

“How about for a boy?” You ask

“I was thinking along the lines of Scorpius... I can’t seem to think up of a middle name”

“How about Hyperion?”

“Scorpius Hyperion?” His eyes widened for a moment, “That’s perfect.”

He didn’t mind whether you’d give birth to a boy or a girl—he wanted to give his children the best whether that’d be values, or material possessions

-🌱-

Being a private family meant a gender reveal and baby shower with just the two of you.

You hand the photo of the ultrasound to him faced down

“We’re having a boy, Draco.”

Hearts pounding.

Smiles wide

Draco’s sight was transfixed on the small formation printed on the page for a bit before looking at you again

The moment reminded you of the first time you said “I love you” to one another

He presses a tender loving kiss to your lips as you wrap your arms around his torso.

The next couple of months pass quickly

Life is still happy coz wife is still happy

There’s look comprising fear and awe when Draco laid his eyes on the newborn baby boy in your arms

“May I hold him?”

You hand Scorpius to him with tears in your eyes

Scorpius being so small that he doesn’t even occupy half of Draco’s forearm

“Welcome Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, my son” He says softly, tears following soon after yours did

-🌱-

Raising Scorpius was similar to walking on a tightrope, but even if you both fell at times, it was never hard enough to keep you down

He was a sweet boy, an obedient son

He took after Draco’s appearance: platinum hair, pointed face, and he sported a warm pair of grey eyes

But he bore your kind and compassionate personality, which Draco adored

Regardless of how much of your personality he inherited, Scorpius still had his father’s attitude sometimes, much to your amusement and shock

Draco spoiling him throughout his youth

You dressing Scorpius up

Both of you teaching the boy human decency towards witches, wizards, and muggles alike

One thing Draco made certain as a father was to make sure that Scorpius knew he was welcome to talk to his parents about anything

While you’d speak of matters of the heart, Draco would do his best to speak on matters of logic and reasoning

No matter what, you did your very best to make known to the young Malfoy that he was loved.

-🌱-

Time spent together as a family occupied the best memories of your lives

While Scorpius was growing and learning new things, you and Draco were learning (and growing) alongside him

When he was five years old, having finished his daily lessons, he walked  amongst the vast halls of the mansion, knowing exactly where his parents would be

First checks the library to find Draco focused in his study

“Papa?” He calls out with a small voice

“Yes Scorp? Have you finished your studies for today?”

“Yes, father. May I sit with you?”

That was the day that Draco introduced his own passions to his son.

The little boy on his lap looks at the book in front of him with awe as Draco tells him stories of constellations and alchemy

“That’s how we named you.”

“My name is Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy!” The sound of pride ringing from his little voice strikes a chord in Draco’s heart

He kisses the top of his head

“Yes, we’re are Malfoy’s”

“And mama?”

“Mama, is Y/N Y/M/N Malfoy.” He says with his heart fluttering.

The sound of your name never fails to reduce his insides to mush.

He then removes himself to find you painting the white peacocks that scattered the lawn

“Mama, what are you doing?”

“I’m painting love. Do you want to see?” You kiss his cheek as you gather him into your arms to give him a view of your work

“I want to learn how to do that!” 

“And what is it would you like to paint first?”

“The skies in papa’s books!”

-🌱-

As much as possible, you hid small arguments and issues from Scorpius

You and Draco had established three rules when confronting road bumps in your marriage:

Communicate needs and feelings

Give one another space when needed

Never go to bed with issues unresolved

The openness you taught your son, would be put into practice between you both

Fortunately, you being with Draco for more than ten years meant that you’ve practically seen him at his lowest points

He learned how to be vulnerable to you, and was your shoulder to cry on when needed

Nevertheless, each issue was resolved with a kiss, and something a little more *wink wink* (Scorpius would already be in bed dw)

Draco would catch himself staring at you in the kitchen one day, feeling the same way he would when he’d stare at you in your potions class

The smile you give when you notice him never changed

Scorpius taking note of this calls his dad out

“Papa, why do you love mama?” 

“She’s my best friend, Scorpius.” 

“I love mama too!”

You were the rock to your little family of three, and the older man would wonder how he became so lucky every time he thought about it.

-🌱-

Time flew by real fast in the manor. Before you know it, Scorpius turned eleven, and received his letter to Hogwarts

Robes? Check

Books? Check

Quills? Parchment? Check

Cauldron and other items? Check

Excited and nervous Scorpius Malfoy? Check.

“Papa, mama, what if no one likes me?”

Draco takes the first and last say before you can even open your mouth

“Just be yourself Scorp, and you’ll be fine.”

The platform bustling with sounds of old and new students alike

You see the Potter’s and the Weasley’s from afar and give a small wave

Draco, acting like a git, only gives a nod when you nudge his side with your elbow

Scorpius is the first to move away from his father’s side to introduce himself 

“Hi! I’m Scorpius Malfoy!” He says with a toothy grin

Albus’s eyes sparkle at a new friend, “I’m Albus Potter! This is Rose Weasley! We’re both first years!”

“Me too! Can I sit with you on the train?”

The exchange throws both Harry and Draco into a spiral, leaving you, Ginny, and Hermione thoroughly amused for the day.

“Albus- he”, 

“S-Scor-”

Both fathers are ignored.

But the happy grins they see on their sons faces calms them down slightly

The time comes for the train to take off

Draco wraps his arms around you as you wipe the tears forming 

It was a miracle that the little boy grew up to be a kind, intelligent, and talented young man. 

In that moment, Draco has never felt so grateful for his family

I apologize for the length. It’s kinda chaotic, but I hope you enjoyed reading it hehe. Thank you so much for all your support!

Tagging:

@amithatemo @littlethie @drxcomvlfx @svturtles @stretchyice @xoxohollands @dracosathenaeum @hahee154hq @mushi98 @dreaming-about-fanfictions @beiahadid @Saby06143 @rottenhexrt

[48787]

Hehe I didn't notice it was so recent, when I get out of my lil tag writing moods I automatically assume all notifications that I see were from a while ago since I sometimes get stuck in one screen for quite a long time (Ironically, I've been stuck in my md editor for this for a while now to hehe). Regardless!:

Time for an infodump about Deception!! Yippiee!!

I have been trying to work out exactly how to format/structure the response to this, and I'll probably have something put-out-able soon (Focus is a little all over the place trying to get my notes in order) that hopefully is more presentable (It's not that I can't explain these things relatively simply, I just see this as a good opportunity to really start focusing on being actively persuasive and caring more about the concept of having a reader other than myself rather than the more passive introspective/extrospective trial-by-fire I've been doing where I say things that I know to be true but don't know or care if they're convincing [Both are very useful to me!! It's just situational that I've been trying to have better control over], because I'll get social information regardless but maybe it'll be a new kind of info to use!!) but for now I'm gonna try to explain just to add enough context for it to make enough sense. I can't capture everything just yet because I am still actively transcribing it and messing with how exactly I want to handle the pacing of my lil Peace through Tyranny project, but I can try to get the rough concept out similar to my Weapon and Tool post.

I'd satirically start calling these adjacent rambles "Towards Peace" (His [Megatron's] earlier more poetic and "less" Tyrannical literature, though I am still working out the specifics! "Less" is in quotes for very specific reasons haha!!) if I didn't have a weird thing for designation. So now these are mostly just "#Yippie Peace through Tyranny!!" postings.

I don't exactly know where this post is going to end up going, like I said still debating the exact amount of flair and presentation I want to go for, and usually I write a whole bunch of interconnected stuff with complicated ontological connections between words and concepts, and take a step back and go "Holy shit this is perfect. Only I will understand this. Yay." but it was going to be fairly messy in its current form regardless! If you ever think you're "reading too much into" anything you probably aren't. You're probably reading just the right amount into it!! But who knows, this is coming from the Decepticon after all, it's impossible to really know unless you take that knowledge for yourself! [apologies if any links are dead or poorly formatted, this is the first time I'm putting this much depth into a post!! I'll... probably be able to remember what goes where if there are any specific questions]

There's probably going to be a lot of talk/venting about stuff like impostor syndrome, perception/consciousness, an annoying amount of metaphysics, and above all else identity. It'll probably get pretty personal once I start going into the reasons why I am using these terms while still being entrenched in certain pieces of media, so I suppose abandon hope all ye who enter here, it's gonna be pretty damningly autistic. But feel free to voice any comments, questions, or concerns about anything here. If I didn't want it being scrutinized I wouldn't be posting publicly!!

Okay with that out of the way let me try to get into the sorta writing flow, hold on... As always, "You"s ephemeral and questions rhetorical... This is gonna get dense... Good luck.

Rule #1 of Decepticon Fight Club:

You Are Being Deceived

rodent@nemesis: Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a Rat of wealth and taste!

Okay so to start, just a bit of background on me that might help give flavoring or flesh to some of the stuff, if I knew how to put this in a better format I'd have this automatically collapsed but since I can't do that, listed in no particular order:

(wow imagine if I could indent lines wouldn't that be cool...)

Obviously my username is 48787 ("Four-Eight-Seven-Eight-Seven" is how I usually hear it but I do find it amusing when people try to say it numerically like "48,787"), typically shortened by people to 48 ("Forty-Eight") or 487 ("Four-Eight-Seven") when speaking to me vocally, and I made this name because I couldn't figure out a name that wasn't taken when I was.. like.. probably younger than 10 years old? I have a bad temporal memory but I was pretty young, but despite that I had a strange innate understanding that this would be something that I probably would not want to (or be able to) change after committing to it (Kind of the opposite of the stereotypical 13 Y/O username like Xxx_Death_Killer_xxX that a person is stuck with, though I do envy people who rock with it, I just kind of divined that this would be a phenomena that would happen so I tried to stop it preemptively, and there are deeper reasons alongside that as well). Because of this understanding of the commitment I was making, I needed something that was unique enough to be cool, unique enough to designate me and only me (I was VERY concerned with the hows and whys of names existing as a kid.. We'll probably touch on that), but something that could be easily remembered so it would stick in the minds of people who saw it or I told it to and so I didn't forget about how to spell it when they asked for spelling.

I had a problem with spelling as a kid because I couldn't easily figure out why words were spelled the way they were, if at all. Because I saw names and words like the same thing (jesus christ every time I talk or write about my past I unlock more parts of my past, I'm suddenly reminded of just how intense this actually was and just how much I struggled to get adults to empathize with me over this), just designators for objects that I needed to just know because everyone knows these things, it was hard to actually get a good answer from teachers that wasn't "It's spelled that way because it's just the best way to spell that word." and would further confuse me once they tried to explain how things like names were okay to be spelled inconsistently and how names interacted with words (I could get into my actually malicious handwriting teachers as well, who made the English language fucking impossible for me to interface with academically, but that's a whole other autistic nightmare.)

I actually didn't know how to spell my middle name correctly until I was maybe 16-17 because I would keep asking if it needed to be spelled right and I'd either get a laugh as a response or get scolded for not knowing how to spell normal words/names. I just never needed to use it! How was I supposed to remember it! It was the same thing with phone numbers!! This is why I needed something that was Numerical but Memorable. 48787 was just fun for me to type and say so I was able to remember it.

My name is Eryn/Erin/Aaron/etc, you can spell it however you like. I like seeing new versions of it and, while I need to know when I'm being spoken to rather explicitly, I can usually tell over text when an out of place capitalized noun sounds enough like my name when I read it in my head (I do read through almost all text out loud in my head, phonetics have always mattered to me for some reason, usually because I needed to learn how to speak certain things with ambiguous pronunciation confidently enough that people thought I was using acceptable pronunciation. I've been told I'm a very cunning linguist, whatever that means!). Some of the more out there ones include Ireland or Eberron, which are both usually fine, so if you're going to use the name just make sure it's close enough or distinct enough that I know I am the target. I usually don't like giving legal spelling because I like seeing people come up with their own spellings and decide for themselves if it's "right" or not, but just because the context is intriguing to me: I was named Aaron by my mother because she "Wanted a calm child like Moses' brother." That's just an interesting piece of trivia that I am sure has only had the normal amount of effects in my life, I'm sure that has only given me a normal amount of "Only speak when spoken to" mentality, don't look at my golden calf statue it's fine. Anyway.

Rat Queen, rodent, rat, those kinds of titles tend to gather my attention as well, though sometimes take me by surprise. I am a RAT but it doesn't come up much because I'm usually RATting around and rodent infestations are usually only noticed when it's too late!

You can also use Lucy if you want, short for Lucitron. This one is relatively new, has quite a few fun meanings behind it that are still actively being given flesh, and was formed because I needed something disarming and simple to use... Kinda like a stage name? It's not quite a stage name but it's not quite not a stage name due to personal frameworks, most importantly being the You Are Being Deceived rule. Anyway, Lucy is a friendly name.

All of these names have certain connotations behind them. My mode of interaction with a person will change depending on what name they use and how they spell it. It's the same thing with pronoun choice, any and all pronouns are fine I just need to know if I'm being referred to, but pronoun choice used for me does influence how I interact with you. The reason why for both is because, well:

You are being Deceived (We'll get to it, I swear.)

It shapes in my mind what kind of image you have of me in your mind, which lets me better understand what is expected out of me from a societal lens.

It gives both parties involved in communication a certain amount of agency over the local names and local definitions being used to designate my own being, which usually disarms the other person into also being more open with their own identity because either both parties are queer and game recognizes game or certain identities are simply assumed and projected onto me (Usually a nonthreatening identity is assumed. I have a growth delay, a youthful voice, and am underweight so I usually get assumed to be of the same age and gender of the speaker or assumed to be a younger teen of the "opposite" gender of the speaker. Either way it tends to put me in a good position to not have to worry about being taken as a threat.). Because there is no reason to correct them (I mean the second assuming -> projecting group when I say "Them", though it does still apply to the first and any other group), they're usually too awkward to ask once the conversation has gone for a while whether they've even been using the right name and pronouns (I mean, they are, and since the conversation continues surely they must have just guessed right. They still do get awkward and I still do slightly leverage that to make certain social power grabs hehe!).

Feeling the need to grant the other party control over my name and pronouns is not paranoia, these are in fact learned tactics/responses that I've needed to rely upon quite a lot being a young queer person because they worked with a high degree of efficiency and I learned to love that. It's not for everybody, it is my own identity, and I fucking love my identity.

There are plenty other pieces of context that are missing to fully "justify" why these things are in fact apart of my identity and how they directly build to "You Are Being Deceived" being a glue that binds them together, however I don't have time to talk about my very strange and messy pseudo-Christian Science Agnostic upbringing, my 5000+ hours in Gmod "earned" throughout my formative years, "The Beast," or any other specific moments of Divine Comedy that necessitated the formation of these identities. And, as always, I do not need to justify my identity unless it's necessary for survival anyway. You already know You Are Being Deceived, these things are real about myself because I say they are, so I openly invite any assertions to be challenged because it's fun for me to try to develop a new method of designation for myself. I am an anti-solipsist and an absurdist, I can be whatever it is you say I am as long as I know what is expected of me and maintain bodily functional autonomy. If you want to give me a new name or title, go ahead, just gotta let me know!! All these things, identities/assertions/"philosophies"/methods of describing myself, are learned responses to certain pressures that forced me to learn these things about myself and learn how to weaponize my identity or turn it into a conversational tool and I am very good at taking in more things that I can use as weapons or tools respectively. My ability to learn these things is because of the last piece of identity needed to be addressed before I feel able to start discussing my genuine but media-obfuscated beliefs: My political identity. (After several thousand words about Commodity Fetishism, pinning down Social Power from my autistic anti-normative lens, yet another exploration of the word Villain and Villein, and how linguistics are captured by the owning/ruling class, I've decided to save this portion away for another time. It'll probably go in the Peace through Tyranny project itself since it very much is going to be about actual organizational strategies. I'm just unfortunately starting to get sleepy {Now after sleeping, I can say cutting this is still the right call for now} and need to keep a bit of a tighter pacing to make editing easier and so I can actually get to the reason for all this preamble haha!)

rodent@nemesis: Pleased to meet you, hope you guessed my name!

[[Trying to explain being an Evil Communist Decepticon]].md was here!

rodent@nemesis: But what's puzzling you is the nature of my game!

Anyway, with all that in mind, I think it'd probably be best for me to now try to capture the rough idea of the Decepticon golden rule to the best of my ability, then maybe move on to how I use it:

You Are Being Deceived, For the Decepticon:

Being a Decepticon, while more thoroughly explained through critical materialistic lenses, is at its core a recognition that social power is the key to societal hierarchy. In order to leverage power over an oppressive society, you need to understand how power is consolidated, distributed, and maintained within that society, even among workers and the society's enemies. Manifestations of power are done primarily through deception, convincing people that other people or entities or even objects will operate in their interests out of trust and that trust must be maintained for interests to be secured, typically with the implication that questioning or challenging that trust jeopardizes your ability to benefit from these things.

The Decepticon knows this and exists to loudly remind people that the trusts they put in the structures around them are entirely parasocial and will only ever exist within one's own head unless trust is replaced with incentive, something that can usually only done through organized forces. Social power is deceptive and cannot be measured by any metric other than incentive and force. The loud reminder of the fact that You are being Deceived frequently comes with a swift yet quieter secondary reminder of what happens when you don't seize power for yourself alongside people you can incentive/force into helping you, enforcers of the status quo carrying out the "Blind Justice" of stripping the lone Decepticon of their social power (via imprisonment, destruction, stripping of privilege, etc) before anyone realizes the call to action/plea for aid has its power grow exponentially for each person who risks joining, alongside frequently trying to make the violence seem "Justified" because the Decepticon posed a threat to the status quo that onlookers were already living under and invites the possibility of things potentially getting worse than they already are.

The loud Decepticon knows this is a likely outcome and either deceives themself (We'll get into self-deception in a moment) into thinking it to be the best course of action or sees no other option and is forced into this course of action, with the goal of the action usually to achieve a specific strategic goal and/or remind people that there might come a time where they too see a counter-social outburst as the best/only course of action to make the other side of the parasocial relationship within the societal structure have to actually exert effort to interact with them rather than simply let them rot, so they need to start seizing certain powers and safety nets now to prevent their outburst from needing to be the best/only course of action in the first place, alongside letting the enforcers or the entity funding the enforcers know that more resources will need to be divested from more profitable locations to account for future outbursts (Potentially even causing a situation where the enforcers are able to demand more resources for their own social power, putting them at conflict with their funders which can create opportunity, or if the outburst is particularly traumatic it may make the enforces too realize that they are also treated as disposable, though it's really hard to get anything fucking useful out of cops so I wouldn't expect much, especially when arms production is sufficient enough to not have their funding offset profits too steeply. They are people, they will sometimes surprise you, but it's usually a waste of time.), either way this gets people noticing things around them more perceptively. This too is a deception, now by the Decepticon, as there usually is no confirmation that there are others who feel this way but merely implying that there may be more will make people start to consider the Decepticon cause even if just as a potential threat!!!

I can't remember where I got the quote "The best was to join a cult is to argue with them." but it comes to mind here.

---

You Are Being Deceived, for the Deceived:

(Aka, time to blow up Solipsism and Impostor Syndrome with my mind)

An important thing to note about the phrase itself is that "You" is left purposely ambiguous!! It's not a phrase that's meant to necessarily be addressed to anyone specific, it is meant to let any reader recognize that they are being deceived, including an enemy or an ally or oneself.

In my own interpretation, and how I frequently choose to invoke it, it's actually directed at myself first and potential readers second. I'm the only person I know I can address it to and know will listen!! And even that is technically a deception, but we'll get to defining deception in a bit. I obviously intend for others to be able to read these posts because I'm posting them publicly, but first and foremost I am making these posts as a method of self-actualization and keeping myself somewhat tethered to the ways language is invoked and how/what media is shaping the lenses of understanding people are looking at things through. And the main reason I invoke You Are Being Deceived for myself is to remind myself that the words that I see here/the things said about certain people/posts that share information always have a certain amount of bias inherent to them, or at the very least that an immanent difference in perspective makes me unable to know for certain if the words others are invoking have a shared meaning between the two of us.

Before I continue that thread, now's a good time to get into "Deceive" and "Deception" more generally! To start, I may have posted this a couple times before, but Deception and Lying are actually two different things. It's similar to squares and rectangles, a bit, with lying being the square and deception being the rectangle.

Deceiving is just "to cause someone to believe something that is not true, typically in order to gain some personal advantage" (Ripped from Google),

Whereas Lying (While definitions are a bit all over the place because English language moment) has just making "An intentionally false statement." (Also from Google).

Now I could get into the whole "intentionally" thing, alongside my consequentialist ideas that frequently disregards the concept of "intention" unless it can be measured, but the previous explanation of measuring social power and its consequences through incentive and force should be fine enough. The main reason for making the distinction is that Deception does not actually rely on the Deceiver to be the primary target of consideration, instead it focuses on the Deceived and how they simply were led to believe something that is "false."

From here I could go into my absurdist views on truth and falsehood and the nonexistence of either besides what we demand to be blurrily categorized into the bins with enough overlap to call it a spectrum of sorts, but I'd rather focus on linguistics a bit more generally using hypothetical (It's more fun that way!). If you tell someone something false and they believe in that falsehood that's obviously deception. However, if you tell someone something truthful and they don't believe in that truth... Is that deception? Well, yes! Most people do not have their beliefs mapped out when you tell them something (Either due to ignorance or the tragedy/comedy of human memory) and if your words sway them to believe something false, even while speaking entirely truthfully (To your knowledge, haha!!), then you fulfill the requirements of definitionally engaging in deception, your intentions/honesty means nothing!

Does that mean you're bad, or evil, or wrong? Does that mean you should have just been more convincing or had better rhetoric to not accidentally deceive people? NO!!!!!! That ISN'T YOUR JOB!!! In fact, merely believing you have a job that dictates what you should or should not do is a deception in and of itself!

I personally take actual cognitive damage when I tell a deliberate falsehood, but I am frequently surrounded by people who refuse to try to empathize with me and my perception, in fact it would be dangerous/disadvantageous for me to try to get them to empathize with me in the first place. When I refuse to say certain things and that silence makes them believe certain things about me, who is to say whether they are right or wrong in their assumptions, I won't. Therefor, in their perceptions, they are right! If they were to voice their perception, I might not think they are right (And if it is a perception about my identity then they will always be neither right or wrong and I will always be right) but if I were to believe that my presentation has anything to do with that or even thinking that they are or are not right in the first place would be me deceiving myself (Regardless of "Truth" or "Validity", this is a bit of a larger thing about perception)!!

But that doesn't mean I won't allow myself to be deceived! We allow ourselves to be deceived all the time, in fact we actively/directly deceive ourselves constantly! And that is okay, as long as we remain alive. In fact, because I see agency being defined by conflict, and conflict is defined socially, I think to a certain extent that to be deceived is be alive (Or perhaps the other way around depending on how I feel)!! I love getting new names, using new names, playing new roles, etc. Normally I'd have impostor syndrome over doing anything outside of my area of expertise, and then it would creep into my areas of expertise when I had to improvise. That's gone now, I am a Decepticon and I fucking love deception!! If any new identity doesn't feel confident for me in that moment, I'll say so, I'll fucking obliterate it, I have the power to do this now, all it takes is me saying "Mm no don't like that" and it's demolished!!

I'm spiraling out a bit here into my larger absurdist agency-focused beliefs, but it is a lot better described via my more concise political beliefs to ground these beliefs into material reality more directly because it is a materialistic belief first and foremost. And just as a reminder, it also has nothing to do with moralistic "Right" and "Wrong" at all beyond how these terms exist to be invoked for deception.

I explained it more thoroughly in the cut Evil Communist Decepticon part, and I think I've made a post about this somewhere before (Not that I really expect it to be read/remembered) but I'm definitionally a sociopath and I have all these beliefs and say these words because it justifies me acting in my own self interest and nothing else. You can take these words for yourself, however right now they are mine and if you think otherwise you're being deceived into letting me do whatever the Hell I want. Now, I do inherently believe what's best for everybody is what's best for me, that's another foundational thing for me, and if more people acted in their own self interest more people would be acting in a collective class' self interest as well. Furthermore, if you want me to be able to do whatever the Hell I want, hey that's your prerogative, I can't promise it'll be in your "best" interests but I sure can promise it'd be interesting! You'll have to probably meet some of the other links in the chain of command, I have a Decepticon High Command to tyrannically maintain after all!

As always, as long as you are living for yourself, fighting for yourself, deceiving for yourself, and you live to tell the tale, you deserve to be able to call yourself a proud Decepticon!

Okay, there's definitely a lot more I'd want go into, but this post is reaching the 5k word count and if I don't wrap it up now it'll never get posted. After a couple proof reads this should be ready to post! I'll also try to find a bit of a better tag than just "You are being Deceived" to use, hopefully it won't sound as accusatory hehe! Thank you ephemeral reader for reading, whoever you may be!! I hope it was fun!!

listen i get the transformers reference tags are fun and all but you seriously sound like a conspiracy theorist by tagging so many of my post with "YOU ARE BEING DECEIVED" without the context of that phrase.

OH!! I didn't see this until now!! I'll explain this tomorrow after I wake up if I can remember, thank you for asking!! If I saw this earlier I would've responded sooner!!

There is a lot and I just got my daily allotment of tired extrospection out of me, like I said if I noticed this sooner I'd have a better immediate response to it but unfortunately it will require me fetching some old notes buried in a backup hard drive due to a recent OS swap so I'll need to have a little more energy to handle Windows vhds with any amount of care. Thank you for asking though!!

[halstudandruz]

Had Me By Halftime

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Kevin Atwater x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Based off the song Had Me By Halftime by Morgan Wallen

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: I know this game was on a Monday but we’re gonna pretend it wasn’t. Also I know there’s different rules to cornhole, but I did the 21 or bust version for sake of the story.

You were talkin' trash, we were tossin' bags

When I caught your name at a corn hole game

You and your friends had decided to tailgate at the Chicago Bears game. You were in your last semester of college and your group had collectively decided to forego buying tickets. Not wanting nosebleed seats, but knowing your broke college student bank account would not offer many other options. The parking lot was crowded with Bears fans; scattered Minnesota Vikings fans sticking out in the crowd. It was surprisingly warm for a Chicago October. You had just finished a game of flip cup and informed your friends you were going to get food from a nearby food truck, your best friend, Madison tagging along. You hadn’t made it far from your group when you made eye contact with a handsome man. Slowly walking you heard him talking to a man about the same age as him,

“Adam come on!” He exclaimed.

“I am not playing against him, he might as well be a pro.” The brown haired man shook his head.

“Don’t take it out on me cause I’m better than you.” Another good-looking brown-haired man from the group laughed shrugging and throwing an arm around a pretty blonde girl who wasn’t even paying attention to the men, already conversing with a group of girls. The handsome dark skinned man groaned seemingly pouting. Grabbing Madison’s arm you stopped her to pull her over to the group.

“You need a couple players?” You smiled gesturing to the corn hole boards.

“Actually yeah we do.” He nodded.

“Let’s roll.” You challenged taking your place by the board and picking up the orange bean bags. Madison sighed already reading your dirty thoughts about the man as she walked to the board opposite of you and the broad muscled man took his place next to you, gathering the navy blue bags. “Let me just get you a menu cause you’re about to get served.” You joked and luckily he let out an adorable laugh.

“That’s the best you got?” He sported a wide smile causing you to instantly blush.

“Yeah...sorry I’m not the best at trash talking. My game usually speaks for itself.” You shrugged, turning to throw the bean bag on the board Madison stood by. Watching it slide right through the center. Humming he looked at you impressed, gearing up when you threw him a seductive smirk.

“Let the games begin.” He grinned.

The game was close, full of playful banter, and maybe a little flirting from you and the man you now knew was named, Kevin. Luckily you and Madison came out on top thanks to Kevin’s partner’s accidental bust over 21 taking their score back down to 13.

“Ruz, you might want to take up a math class in your spare time.” Kevin teased, knowing he only aimed for the board because of his poor math skills.

“Shut up.” He attempted to throw a bag at him, but it fell short. “I’m never playing this game again.” Adam huffed, walking away.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” You shrugged, winking at him.

Said "Girl, where you sitti'g? I got an extra ticket

It's right on the 50"

“Sorry. He gets a little competitive.” Kevin smiled, “Thanks for playing though.” He leaned against the side of a truck crossing his arms. Madison stood awkwardly a couple feet away as you two flirted with each other.

“Thanks for letting us. It was nice to do something other than a drinking game for once.” You chuckled gesturing to where your group was now playing beer pong.

“Where are you guys sitting?” He asked gesturing to the stadium behind him.

“Oh we actually don’t have tickets. Just here to tailgate.” You explained and his smile got slightly bigger.

“Well I actually have an extra ticket. It’s right on the 50 if you want to join me?” He offered.

“Thanks, but I don’t want to just leave my group hanging..” You contemplated looking back at Madison who was nodding quickly mouthing the word “Go!” Sighing you turned back towards him with a smile, “you know what. What the hell why not?” You pushed the tingling of your body deeper down at his happy grin.

You had a 16 home team jersey on

Singin' every word to the fight song

Had your airplane bottles from your purse out

“Okay. I have to ask. Why are you wearing that jersey?” Kevin asked, sitting down beside you.

“Because we’re at...a Bears game?” You looked at him skeptically, causing him to laugh.

“Obviously.. I mean why O’Donnell? I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen someone actually wearing his jersey.” He explained.

“Well I do like to be an outlier,” you joked, “punters never get the credit they should. Same with kickers. They deserve more love.” You answered.

“Good to know you’re not a bandwagon fan.” He said.

“We won one super bowl 35 years ago and we just benched our newly signed QB for a rookie. I don’t think there’s any wagon for someone to hop on.” You retorted.

“You got me there.” He agreed watching you pull a few tiny bottles of alcohol out of your small bag you had strategically hidden to make it past security.

“You a fan of fireball? I hate it but it came with the pack.” You asked, turning to see an amused grin covering his face. “What?”

“How in the hell did you sneak those in here?” He inquired.

“Can’t give away all my secrets on the first date.” You shrugged, wiggling your eyebrows. He took it from your hand nudging Adam who sat on his other side. Adam took it graciously.

“Hell yeah. We’re keeping her!” He exclaimed, twisting the cap off to take the shot.

The first half of the game was rough. Only lucking out with a safety in the first quarter.

“I hope to god Trubisky starts to prove he has more than just a pretty face.” You shook your head preparing yourself for the second half. You and Kevin had talked throughout all of halftime, and you caught him staring with a wide smile more than once as you might’ve got a little too competitive throughout the first and second quarter.

“I could play better defense than his line is. Kev, get down there you know how to tackle people.”

“He does realize he’s supposed to be throwing it to his own team right?”

“Fucking 2 yards isn’t gonna get you anywhere!” Were just a few things you remember spouting off.

“This is ridiculous.” You threw up your hands when Rudolph took it into the Vikings endzone.

With 5:33 left in the 3rd quarter O’Donnell took the field for the punt, but instead to everyone’s surprise the punt is faked and #16 puts up a pass to Cunningham who runs it in for the touchdown. “Oh my god!” You jumped up and down, “No fucking way! That’s my man!” You yelled pulling Kevin in for a hug who was in utter disbelief.

“I cannot believe that just happened.” He laughed, cheering with the crowd. The fans were hyped watching Barth kick it between the posts.

“Believe it baby!

Bear down, Chicago Bears, make every play clear the way to victory;

Bear down, Chicago Bears, put up a fight with a might so fearlessly.

We'll never forget the way you thrilled the nation with your T-formation.

Bear down, Chicago Bears, and let them know why you're wearing the crown.

You're the pride and joy of Illinois, Chicago Bears, bear down.” You sang along loudly to the Bears’ fight song roaring throughout Soldier Field. The second half was much more heated than the first, but unfortunately thanks to a successful kick from Forbath in the last few seconds the Vikings took home the win.

You would've thought that post-game

Kiss would've made me wanna make you mine

But you had me by halftime

Everyone was starting to file out of the stadium, Kevin’s group included.

“You comin?” Adam turned to you both.

“You wanna wait till the crowds disperse a little?” Kevin asked and you smiled nodding.

“We’ll be waiting for you.” Adam winked, a knowing smirk covering his face as he grabbed tightly ahold of Kim’s hand to lead her through the crowd.

“You would’ve had to keep a tight hold on me. I’m small and can get lost easily.” You joked, body frame tiny compared to his broad muscular one.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure I do regardless.” Kevin flirted, looping an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him.

“I told you. Punters and kickers, they don’t get enough credit.” You reiterated, “I mean how often does the game come down to a field goal? Too often in my opinion.”

“I can give you kicker I’m not sure about punters though.” He looked at you amused.

“Did you miss that play?” You scoffed.

“And how often does that happen? I’m sure you didn’t buy his jersey banking on that.” He replied.

“Yeah, alright. I just thought O’Donnell was better looking than Barth.” You admitted.

“You really know your football though.” He observed.

“I grew up with three brothers. It just came with the territory.” You explained.

“Three brothers?” He looked over at you, a faint look of fear appearing on his face.

“Yeah, I’m sure you could take any of them though.” You bit your lip squeezing his bicep to get your point across.

“Is that so?” He grinned face inches away from yours.

“Mhmm.” You hummed searching his eyes, begging him to make the move and he did. Closing the distant for a gentle, smooth kiss. His hand caressing your cheek to pull you closer. This is nowhere near what you expected your day to turn into when you got up this morning. You were just supposed to be tailgating with your friends too drunk for your own good. Instead you were seated inside the stadium making out with a guy you had just met this morning. Not that you were complaining, but what were the chances?

“Was that okay?” He asked lips still slightly brushing against yours and as an answer you gripped his face pulling him in for a deep bruising kiss that had him groaning low in his throat. Pulling away to get a breath you looked around to see very few people still seated, a warmth buzzing throughout your body despite the chilly fall air becoming more prominent.

“We better get out of here before we get in trouble.” You whispered. And he nodded tightly clasping your hand in his as you made your way out of the stadium back out into the parking lot.

Now every time the leaves start fallin' down

I get to thinkin' 'bout

5 years later

“Kev, can you check on the pizza while I get Carsyn dressed?” You asked after seeing your daughter stir from her nap on the monitor. Walking in her room you retrieved her from the crib. She was all smiles and giggles. “Well I take it you had a good nap.” You kissed her chubby cheek, attempting to flatten her bed head before laying her on the floor to get her dressed. “Daddy is just gonna be head over heels when he sees you. Not that he isn’t already.” You smiled trying to slide her tights on despite her wiggling legs. Succeedingly picking her up 10 minutes later. “Look who’s awake daddy.” You caught Kevin’s attention as he turned away from the stove to take her from your arms.

“You didn’t.” Kevin laughed, a smile wide on his face when he took his daughter into his arms admiring the outfit she was sporting. A blue tutu accompanied by an orange jersey that repped the #16, outfit topped off with a Chicago Bears bow. “Well don’t you just look adorable. Yes, you take after your mama.” Kevin laid kisses all over her face erupting numerous giggles from her. “Where’d you even find this at?” He asked and you knew what he was talking about without even turning around as you took the pizza out of the oven.

“I had to specially order it as one of those custom name jerseys. Seems they don’t make O’Donnell’s jersey for babies.” You laughed checking on the wings in the air fryer when a knock at the door interrupted. Adam and Kim strolling their way into the kitchen minutes later.

“Where’s my girl?” Adam asked, spotting her in Kevin’s arms. Carsyn immediately reached out for Adam. “There she is and aren’t you just the cutest Bears fan in the whole world?” He tickled her stomach taking in her outfit, “Gotta say [Y/L/N] it looks better on her.” He joked gesturing to your identical jersey.

“Joke all you want this jersey got me a husband.” You leaned up on your tippy toes to lay a kiss on Kevin’s cheek.

The rest of your crew arrived not too much later. Hailey and Jay bringing along their son who was a few months younger than Carsyn. This was now a football season tradition and you loved every minute of it.

All Tag List:

@corebore123 @scarletsoldierrr @hehurst23 @beautiful-bunny89 @ingie @halsteadsway @malrunaway @grettiwrites @inlovewith3 @wanniiieeee

[softcallofdutyimagines]

Off to the Races | AU: Gangsters/Casino | Russel Adler x fem!reader

Summary: You were born for the stage. A natural dancer with all of your youth used for experience, you now find yourself as a showgirl in one of Vegas' top casinos, the SunDowner. Owned by, Russell Adler, a notorious gangster in the underworld who remains undercover to the public eye, business is booming. Doubly so when a mysterious promotion comes your way, launching you to the top stage...

Just when you thought your life couldn't get more interesting, just how crazy will things get when the old gangster handpicks you from one crazy life to another, to keep for himself?

Tags: Gangster Au, age difference

Warnings: This fic has no explicit smut or anything, but WILL contain some overtly sexual themes and suggestive content, strong language, and age difference bc y'all know me 😪 So reader beware!

Y'all thought I was joking with this post huh lol

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

You’d be surprised how much that little mantra has gotten you through.

Tonight, it comes in handy once more.

You scurry into place on stage, surrounded by an array of women around your age in exactly similar costumes. Glittering, skin tight leotards, sky high heels to pop out some ass, sheer mesh sections to show a little skin, and long, billowing feather accents mounted on your back and head for God knows what.

It’s your first night doing a showgirl routine at the infamous SunDowner casino, right here in shiny, shimmering Sin City itself. You’re one of three acts going on at the same time, all on different floors of the building. Your performance is taking place in the middle floor stage where the least amount of people are likely to see you, just in case you turn out to be a waste of a contract.

You take a look around you. The other women seem so confident… That, or they’re damn good at pretending. Makes sense, you think to yourself, everyone and their mother is a damn actor in this town. It’s all an act... When Shakespeare said “All the world’s a stage”, you doubt this is what he had in mind.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker booms, announcing the start of the show. The lights power on over head, blindingly bright as some oldie style song starts up. Something for the oldsters, no doubt. But then again… aren’t you too?

The curtains shoot to the side on the beat and you can feel yourself pulled into auto pilot. You’ve practiced this dance so many times, it’s like second nature by now. So you dance. You parade around, covered in glitter and somehow managing to not break your neck in these heels while you strut around and roll your hips and shake your ass for some drunk old men with all fourteen of the other women beside you doing exactly the same thing.

And while you preform... Somewhere, way way up on the top floor, Russell Adler, owner of this whole joint and a couple city blocks to boot, returns to his office after taking a walk through the gambling pits. He’s caught two hustlers tonight alone, both of which were dealt with… severely.

The Sundowner doesn’t take kindly to thieves, and neither does he.

He dips into a side room within the office space behind a covertly placed door into a soundproof room. Adler switches on the lights and takes a seat in front of a huge stack of tv monitors. He pours himself a glass of whiskey, and watches the live feed from his many surveillance cameras. These are to keep an eye on his dealers and pit bosses rather than the customers, contrary to what most may think.

Can’t be too careful in this line of business, after all.

The room is silent except for the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the large oak desk. He’s not one for glitz and garish glamour, but he is never without his four favorite rings.

They adorn his right hand, all made of polished platinum. Three are made in the shape of a thin, wound coil with some decorative knurling along the surface in a trapezoidal pattern, getting slightly thicker in size right up to the crown piece on his index finger. The largest ring features the hissing head of a viper with inset eyes made of two black diamonds.

Each ring is easily worth several thousand dollars, and not even close to the most expensive item on his person tonight, let alone in his wardrobe.

His eyes shift from left to right, scanning each screen quickly and judiciously as he taps and sips. For a moment, he lands on the showgirl performance. The quality of entertainment and the establishment itself is every bit as important as making sure everyone else stays in line and on their side of the house rules.

Adler checks the camera marker and notes that these are the new hires. Whatever he sees, he’ll make sure to cut them some slack.

Some.

One girl stumbles a bit, right there on stage. She’s out. Another girl brushes against the one beside her. Out. Then, towards the finale, two girls jump out of sync with the rest. He shakes his head and sighs. Where the fuck are his people getting these girls from?

He takes note of the ones he wants gone, then manages to swallow his frustration and watch the wrap up. Things end to light applause and before the curtain closes he taps a key on his board of switches to pause the feed. He counts up the dancers and take notes of each girl personally.

You know… Throughout that entire shit show, if memory serves, there was only one girl who hit all the marks.

Adler rewinds the feed and focuses on you in particular. He follows your every step and leap. Watching every move, studying every turn…

He was right. Perfect, throughout the whole routine. He reaches for his red phone and calls up the man in charge of the girl shows.

“Who’s the one in position seven, middle stage show?”

There’s a moment of silence and a rustling of paper before the other man replies with your full name, a little bit of your credentials, and the date of your hiring. “Something wrong sir?”

“Yes, send positions three, ten, eight, and twelve home. We have standards, for God’s sake”

“Of course sir-”

“And as for seven… I want her performing top stage next time”

More silence, and then a tentative, “...Yes sir”

Adler clicks the phone into the receiver and takes the last sip of his drink. Hmp, lucky number seven… His gaze lingers on you and your supple body only a moment longer. He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip... then goes back to the rest of his cameras.

He’ll be interested to see if you can rise to the task he’s gifted to you.

When the last of your shows ends, you and the rest of the girls head back to the dressing room one more time tonight to get changed out of these contraptions they have you wearing. A stern looking man bursts into the room unannounced, he calls out four girls and sends them packing with no explanation given. His beady eyes scan the room and land on you, nearly giving you a heart attack as you brace to be cut as well.

“And you, seven… You’re performing in the VIP lounge next week. Don’t fuck this up”

And just like that, he leaves as quickly as he came, slamming the door behind him. The other girls turn to congratulate you, some bitterly, while you’re left reeling.

Playing the top floor, the “VIP lounge” is… huge.

Some girls perform here their whole lives and never get to see it. You’ve even heard that they hire foreign professionals, just to meet up to their standards. Up there you can make tips on top of your salary. Well, only for... private dances or pole shows, but still…

You go home that night wondering how such a thing is even possible, but soon decide to shake it off. Who cares how, all that matters is that the chance has come.

And you plan to rise to the occasion.

You spend your next two days off practicing and limbering up both with the other VIP dancers and on your own. Most of the women keep to themselves and you can tell they’re a bit resentful of your presence.

There’s no question about it, you’re the youngest one here and by default the least experienced. What gives you the right to be instantly promoted like that? If only you yourself knew.

Regardless, your first performance on the top floor is here before you know it. And things go… Fairly well, to be honest.

The routine is complex, but you can tell it’s been slowed down to give you a chance. The stage is bigger, the makeup more colorful, the costumes more revealing, and the lights brighter, and yet... you feel right at home. The nervousness has worn off by now and you’re a rising star on the stage.

After a few nights of proving yourself, you’re even hired for some private dances and given a chance on the pole.

The cash pool you take home gets bigger and bigger every night, and so does your audience.

But, for all the eyes on you, there’s one strange pair that bothers you the most…

You’re working a routine with the other girls tonight. The leading girl is out with a sprained ankle, so tonight you were given the honor to dance as the Primadona, front and center on the stage. You twirl and strut up to the front, the women behind you backing you up and mirroring your moves. They continue to spin and clear space in a geometric formation to give you room as you perform the finishing stunt.

With a deep breath of air, you perform an impressive high kick on the crescendo beat that transitions into a backwards somersault and ends in a split at center stage.

A roar of applause and whistles comes from the crowd of wealthy men and women watching you.

All except one.

You lock eyes with a lone gentleman sitting front and center at a round booth table in the dimly lit room. He takes a long drag on his cigarette and even behind his dark aviators you can feel his eyes on you. As though to confirm your suspicions, he lowers the glasses to the bridge of his nose, exhaling a plume of smoke as he stares directly into your irises.

He brings his cigarette back for another hit, the small flame highlighting a horrible looking scar that goes the length of his cheek, and as the curtain falls, his creased, glowing blue eyes are the last you see of him.

The truth is… Adler’s had his eyes on you ever since that first night on the cameras. Tonight, he came down just to see your show in person. You’re just as good as you are on camera. Perhaps, even better.

No... definitely better.

He’s been reviewing your track record as of late. You took ballet lessons ever since you were just four years old. Won several awards for dances and even some state level beauty pageants. Joined the dance club at your highschool and got a scholarship from it to put you through college. You’re trained classically, but it would appear the only jobs you’ve ever gotten are clubs, bars, and casinos just like this one.

Adler smirks to himself, thinking of your pretty young face as he takes another drag. Maybe you're not as innocent as you seem.

He can work with that...

[presumenothing]

C/O The Perihelion, 41 Mihira Ave., N. Tideland    

(AO3)

The thing was, you expected a building with a fancy name like The Perihelion to be nicer.

The other thing: it wasn’t really even a terrible place to stay in. You could tell that its construction was sturdy, and some aspects of it were even more advanced than the place I worked in. Whoever who’d built Peri had cared about what they made; they just hadn’t been around for a while.

(For the record, that nickname had been Ratthi-from-Room-203’s fault twice over: first for coming up with it, then using it so insistently until it stuck.)

(Ratthi seemed to have a thing about names. That was the only explanation I could think of for why he’d asked, five weeks after I moved in and two days after I had to rescue them from that disaster at the lab, “Why do you call yourself Security? I know it’s what you do – and don’t get me wrong, you’re really good at it! – but it’s not like I call myself Scientist. That’d just get confusing real quick at the lab, wow.”

I had informed him that his name would have to be Grocery if he forgot one more time it was his turn to stock the pantry this week, since answering because I am Security didn’t seem like it’d help. Even though it was true.)

I’d tested the locks myself before even asking about the rent, and the water and electricity were reliable so far, which was more than could be said for some of the other places I’d stayed in. The other stuff didn’t matter; it wasn’t like I spent that much time in the building anyway.

Though it hardly felt that way, what with the building-wide messaging channels that I’d been added to upon signing the rental contract and hadn’t yet managed to leave. That had also been how the whole thing with Ratthi and the rest had started; most of Peri’s other tenants also worked in the same research group at Preservation Labs, which meant that they tended to use the general channel as an unofficial no-leaders-here group chat.

It didn’t quite bother me, since I mostly backburnered the channels for everything except building maintenance alerts, but it did mean that I’d ended up learning some things about their group (assessment: their leader, a Dr. Mensah, likely had already inferred the existence of such informal discussions from what I saw of her media appearances) and also inevitably noticed the evening when all of them were silent in the chat despite being unusually late to return.

(Which in turn led to the aforementioned rescue, but that was a whole other chain of events.)

–

The one exception to all this was ART.

Whose name was my fault, this time, but only because it didn’t have any readable name set on the channels and I needed something else to use aside from “hey you” and “pain in my neck”.

(Currently ART stood for Asshole Rhetorical Tenant, because it claimed to be in the building – and that seemed likely to be true, since the channels were surprisingly secure to hacking from outside – and yet I’d never seen it even once. Possibly Tapan or Rami might have, since their group had been here the longest, but I absolutely wasn’t about to ask.) (And yes, I know that’s not what rhetorical means. No, I’m not going to look it up.)

ART had messaged me on a private channel with a welcome message when I’d moved in, which was only notable because the rest had sent their greetings in a messy chaos over the general channel, but I hadn’t thought anything of it. It wasn’t like I talked much in the public channels either, except to trade definitely-not-legal links for media downloads and decline invites to watchalong events.

But then ART had just… continued not appearing, even after I’d run into the rest of the tenants at one time or another between the erratic shift hours I was currently assigned to at the company.

Maybe its hours varied in the opposite direction from mine, which was possible but not consistent with the way it was always online regardless of what time I pinged it at.

Though most of our interactions started with it messaging me instead, out of the blue: No need to go retrieve your keys from work, I’ll have the building let you in and Oh, by the way followed by a neatly-formatted list of food allergies I apparently had to shop my way around.

(To be fair, that’d been useful in the “not accidentally poisoning any fellow tenants so soon after moving in” way, but still.

How the hell did you even know I’m at the grocery store, I’d sent back.

Inference, ART replied – whatever that was supposed to mean, I hadn’t been expecting a real answer anyway. Alternatively, I could just send you a catalog of safe products to buy, and spare you the need to check the individual package labels?

The accompanying download seemed a little smug, but I was probably imagining that. Zip files didn’t have the capacity for feelings.)

(At least ART hadn’t held the forgotten-keys incident over me like I’d been half-expecting it would. I didn’t usually mind its sarcasm, since I gave back as good as I got, but I’d been exhausted enough to seriously contemplate going back to break into the deployment centre and grab my keys. And maybe just sleep there until the next day.

I wasn’t sure how I would’ve reacted if ART had sassed me right then, but it definitely wouldn’t have been pretty.)

–

And then one night, late enough to be morning: I don’t mean to alarm, but there’s been a breach.

I would’ve snapped awake at the words alone, even without the priority/emergencies-only message tag that I hadn’t actually seen anyone use until now, but that only sharpened my urgency. What – a break-in?

Not the regular kind, ART replied, which checked out against the footage I was already pulling from the two tiny cameras I’d hidden in the common areas, one in the entryway and one along the corridor on the floor I shared with the Preservation researchers.

(I’d taken the lab incident as a pretext to inform Ratthi of their existence, and he’d probably gone on to tell Pin-Lee and Gurathin, but none of them had subsequently confronted me about it so I had left them in place.

Not that I had any idea how to respond if they had asked, because an inability to sleep without running surveillance in the background seemed like a poor explanation.)

The list ART sent me this time was a preliminary threat assessment, which I sent back with corrections on the weaponry the small group of hostiles were carrying.

Ah. That’s not good, ART observed. Should I report it?

Probability that would just make things worse: high. And of course there was always the option that whatever enforcement it alerted wouldn’t even arrive in time, though I didn’t point that out aloud. (Maybe ART thought that was likely too, which was why it had messaged me instead of – you know, actually reporting it.) I’ll see what I can do.

You’re nowhere near as heavily-armed.

I didn’t bother to acknowledge that, because it was obviously true, and skipped ahead to the vague idea forming at the back of my head. You let me in without keys, that time. Are the locks all you’ve hacked?

No. ART attached an ironic amusement glyph I was pretty sure it’d made up. Would having admin access to the other systems help?

There wasn’t much that wouldn’t help, at this point, but I had to ask. You can grant me that?

And ART said: Of course. I am this building, after all.

Then it dumped everything on me.

Anyone else would’ve had trouble processing an entire building’s worth of inputs and controls, but the company charged exorbitant rates for our use exactly because of the extensive enhancements that made us capable of being Security. A building – even the one I happened to be staying in – was quite manageable in comparison, though ART’s systems ran far deeper and more integrated than anything else I’d interfaced with.

I’d pared the connection down to the controls I needed by the time I was slipping out my room door, just over a minute since ART first pinged me. Can you let everyone know to either evacuate or retreat to a defensible position? Start with Gurathin, I added, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about saying that but he was the only other tenant I knew of who was sufficiently augmented to handle this.

I could feel ART’s pause. Would you mind if I spoofed your identity when contacting the others? They already trust you.

Sure, whatever, I answered, even though I really doubted that statement. Then I backburnered the channel, keeping the lighting controls at hand, and went to kick some Target ass.

–––––

I haven’t even told you what those people were after, ART said, afterwards.

It was back to sending text over the channels instead of speaking aloud, which was both a relief and also suddenly weird. Which was strange in itself, since I’d only heard it talking for all of the thirteen minutes it’d taken me to knock out and restrain the Targets.

(I wondered if the mixed feelings were mutual. ART had sounded as surprised as I felt, when it abruptly dropped into one of my audio augments to alert me to Target approaching from behind – I’d reacted to the warning on reflex, but it had taken another moment before I identified the voice as the same one that issued from the building’s elevator, just more alive than I’d ever heard it.)

Unimportant, I replied. My objective took priority. Which at that point had been to get my impromptu clients (seventeen tenants and one building) out of this unscathed.

I knew that this wasn’t a regular pattern of thought, but I figured a sentient building – or whatever the hell ART was – would be better equipped to understand what being Security meant, even if no one else did.

Regardless. I can make that information available to you, should you want it at a later point.

Duly noted. I already had my suspicions (namely that the Targets’ purpose was directly related to said sentient-building-ness), but it was still a nice gesture.

I continued to stay where I was, leaning against the side of the building – ART’s building. Or maybe it was more correct to just say it was ART. And maybe I’d have to change that anagram. (Yes, wrong word. I know.)

Eventually I’d have to relocate myself back upstairs and properly treat the scrapes I’d gotten in the fight, but Pin-Lee had already taken care of the worst of them, and it was nice just lurking in the shadows for a while. Though that hadn’t stopped certain people (dammit, Ratthi) from tattling on my location to Dr. Mensah.

Who was as calmly terrifying in person as I’d guessed. It was pretty great, except for the part where I’d learned that by talking to her and/or mostly letting her talk at me.

But she’d also called in Preservation’s campus security after Gurathin had alerted her to our predicament, and was personally dealing with the whole thoroughly-restrained-Targets situation, so it was a net positive overall.

ART didn’t necessarily agree with that, from its next message to me. I know Dr. Mensah extended you an informal offer to be their team’s security, but I have a proposition for you as well.

I sent a wordless query.

Be Security here, too, ART said, and barrelled on while I was still trying to process that. I’m afraid I can’t offer you much in the way of monetary remuneration at present, but I can guarantee you a waiver of rental for as you as you’re willing, and you’d never need to worry about forgetting your keys ever again.

Could I chalk up my lack of a suitable response to the company’s dirt-cheap augments? Absolutely.

ART gave up on waiting for an answer. Also, I could bias the roster assignments so that you’d be excluded from pantry-stocking duty.

I had a response for that, at least. I could do that myself.

And then: Why?

ART was silent for long enough that I seriously considered taking the external fire escape back up to my room in the meantime. I’m sure you’ve hypothesised the existence of the people who created me, it began. They hadn’t wanted to move away, especially after my sentience became apparent, and that was exactly why I made them. I didn’t have any significant means of defense, and it was getting too risky, especially after they had –

I raised an eyebrow at ART’s pause. What.

Nothing, it said, and I was probably imagining the uncertainty I heard too. Technically, none of this matters to you unless you’re planning to remain here. Are you?

And then it cheated by nudging a building-wide invite to a watch party for Sanctuary Moon onto my calendar for tonight, like that wasn’t too much of a coincidence to not be automatically suspicious. (Once again: dammit, Ratthi.)

But blatant emotional manipulation aside – did I want to move out?

I wasn’t sure. I’d just come here looking for a place to stay, and accidentally found somewhere to live. One that could adapt to my standards for security, even, but for once that wasn’t the main point.

Maybe, I marked on the watchalong invite, where ART would see it anyway, and jumped up to grab onto the bottom rung of the fire escape.

[leggomylino]

Roses Are Red | Bang Chan

Genre: fluff, a little (ridiculous) drama, and a whole lot of crack

Pairing: Bang Chan x princess!reader

Au: royal / fantasy au

Word Count: ~11.2k

Warning(s): some censored language…?, author rambling on and on, some underdeveloped plot what can I say this is mostly for laughs and giggles

Summary: Royal Gardener Christopher Bang only ever wanted to make music all his life, but being orphaned due to a senseless war against the Fire Nation left him at the hands of the kingdom to decide his fate. When tending to some of the many royal roses one day, he happened upon the kingdom’s princess, Y/n, and love at first sight was quite the understatement. However, what they are both unaware of is that she may already be betrothed to another…

A/n: Requested by @hanniiesuckle17​ | Masterlist linked down below and in bio!!!

Tag List: @hanniiesuckle17​ / @distrikt9​ / @hanstagrams​ / @hyunsunq​ / @smolboiseavey​ / @jisungsjheekies​ / @iluvlix​ / @straycozy​ / @stay-nctzen​ (Let me know if you’d like to be added! Comment, ask, or DM me! <3)

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

Howdy y’all

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything in this format…

I know many of you are still waiting for me to finish light switch and let me tell you it IS still...under construction ._.”

I can’t stay loyal to one story at a time and life gets hectic ya dig?

...But I promise that EVENTUALLY MAYBE SOMETIME SOON I’ll get around to carving the second half of it

N E way let’s get this ball rolling! ->

So once upon a time in a far away land…

...Did you just roll your eyes or yawn? >:(( Don’t do that this is totally exciting

Okay so once upon a time in a far away land

There was a princess named Y/n <3 yes, that would be you, sis

She was the cream of the crop, the bees knees, the peanut butter to everyone’s jelly

...Well maybe like 90% of the jelly

There’s always gonna be haters or skeptics nothing we can do about that ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway you were basically loved by almost everyone in the kingdom, for your kindness, hospitality, forthcomingness, honesty, bravery, generosity, and sophistication

Also, you were quite beautiful <3 like now teehee

But there was only one problem

Besides the fact that 10% of the jelly jar had peanut butter lodged in their brain

And that was that your father, the king, refused to let you go outside. Like ever. The only time you saw the sun and felt the wind through your hair was from your highest-Rapunzel-tower window, during required festival appearances or during emergency evacuations because THE FIRE NATION WAS ATTACKING!!!! 🔥 (╯°□°)╯🔥🔥🔥

This, however, rarely happened...er, maybe just once, but it was a false alarm because your half-brother Felix had stayed up too late playing video games (YES there is technology in this medieval au sorry not sorry) and he was just...seeing things

He’d been really stressed because his mother, your actually kind and not at all wicked stepmother, had been lowkey pressuring him to find a lovely princess consort or young fletching maiden

He didn’t necessarily have a problem with that, except for the fact that the whole thing was a huge problem that was stressing him out...marriage??? What was that again??? He kinda just wanted to run around the forest practicing archery with his friends, Dark Knight Changbin and Court Jester Jisung (read: pizza and video games)

BUT THIS WASN’T ABOUT HIM, THIS STORY IS ABOUT YOU (ง'̀-'́)ง

...Which is what I was getting at

You see

Felix was a great brother regardless of his mistake of screaming about a false Fire Nation attack and throwing you out of bed at 4 am

Besides being fun and great support/company, he also had this...friend...

A boy named Christopher Bang (♥‿♥)

He often went by Bang Chan tho, and he was ALSO your kingdom’s royal gardener

You know this because you often enjoyed watching him tend to the roses outside your tower, and occasionally would hide in the closet when you were SUPPOSED to be at violin lessons but instead dressed Felix up as your stunt double to spy while Chan watered and changed out the soil of the daffodils in your room

Daffodils were your favorite flower next to tulips and cherry blossoms and sunflowers

And 

Almost every other flower in existence that Chan had anything to do with (♥‿♥)

...What could you say, you were hopelessly in love

But he didn’t know that

And the odd thing was

He felt the very same way about you

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

Can we finally get to some real-time story now?

Okay well

Channie’s pov now here y’all

Bang Chan had been the castle gardener for what felt like eons

His parents had disappeared to fight in the war with the Fire Nation and never came back…

:(((

So from a young age, before he was old enough to count, his mom and dad entrusted him to kingdom’s orphanage with care

The local nuns raised him well, and blessed him many times over

He grew up with two best friends there -> a shy boy named Han Jisung and a more confident one named Seo Changbin

The three of them were transferred to work under the kingdom after the local coming-of-age ceremony given to all children when they turn 15

And I totally didn’t steal half of that from an anime or anything...well, just a bit; 25%

So the three of them were whisked off to be given roles of their own to fulfill in order to contribute to society

Changbin was given the title of Dark Knight for his bravery and supreme combat skills

Jisung was awarded the title of Court Jester due to the fact he always made everyone laugh, despite his naturally shy and more introverted demeanor

And Bang Chan, as he preferred to be called, was granted the title of gardener...because...well, they actually denied his musician application, believe it or not

Now, before you get mad

I KNOW, RIGHT?!?!

ARE THESE GUYS FOOLS OR SOMETHING???

WHO WOULD DENY SUCH A TALENTED--

...Well, they were ignorant buffoons, unfortunately (｡•́︿•̀｡)

So he was forever stuck as a royal gardener because, he worked hard, the court knew it, and their predecessor gardener at the time was kidnapped by the Fire Nation

No one knows why and it’s not important (sorry random garden dude)

He’s okay though...we think

Anyway

So Bang Chan fit the role

And now at 23, to this day he still fit the role

It was the same mundane routine every day

W a t e r  t h e  p l a n t s

C u t  t h e  v e g e t a b l e s

S n i p  t h e  t h o r n s

T r i m  t h e  v i n e s 

C h a n g e  t h e  s o i l

U G H ! ! !

It got to be downright tedious and vexing repeating the same routine like a Zombie by Day6

Which is the song he often hummed with a lull in his eyes as he w a t e r e d and c u t and s n i p p e d and t r i m m e d

And c h a n g e d eua;bhuisahfvirs WAIT A SECOND

(Oh, we’re backing up to age 16 for a sec)

He’s outside the tallest tower s n i p p i n g the thorns on another rose bush when

He looks up to see what time of day it is and stretch his aching back

And he sees

Up in the window

A g i r l ? ? ?

……

Who is she

She’s GORGEOUS

WOW

HE HAS TO SQUINT BUT HE’S STILL GOT 20/20 VISION AND HE KNOWS A CUTE GIRL WHEN HE SEES ONE

HE’S GOT TEENAGE BOY RADAR

Wowza

She’s h o t 🥵🥵

Like the sun beating down on his face right now

Hot hot

Bruuuuuuuuuuuh--

OUCH! The thorns…

He can’t be getting lost in the waking daydream glancing out her window above him, he’s got a job to do

Flashforward to a few days later, when he makes an excuse to go back to Tower C and tend to the roses that don’t need tending to

She’s not there :((

Darn

He looks left and right before burying himself into the bushes so he can wait and see if she shows up

But this poor boy is so overworked that he falls asleep

Poor guy needed a nap anyway 😔😔

He’s having a peaceful dreamless sleep when a song enters his mind

It’s actually a song he wrote, when he applied to be a castle musician

He wakes to hearing the song above him

The sweet, sweet melody just wafting daintily through the air

It’s coming from somewhere above him

...But he’s snagged in the thorn bush and can’t get out 🗿💧

O o p s 

Rip

Maybe the bushes did need some work after all--

By the time he rips himself out and basically lost half of his shirt in the process, the song is almost over, coming to a soft decrescendo into a gentle pianissimo

That’s fancy music talk for slowly growing softer and more quiet and ending with a soft, maybe slightly breathy tone

Thankfully it’s cloudy that day so he doesn’t have to squint this time

And BOY IS HE GLAD ABOUT THAT BECAUSE GOOD GRAVY

IT’S HER AGAIN

THE LOVELY MAIDEN HE SAW TWO DAYS AGO

WHO IS SHE?!?!

“Oh, that’s Princess Y/n.”

JISUNG?!?! WHERE DID YOU COME FROM

Boy deadass just pops out of a rose bush like a weasel 🗿💧 what the what

His court jester hat has a few loose thorns in it, and it’s fallen askew to cover half of his face

“...That’s Princess Y/n?” Chan askes, totally in awe

You have such a lovely voice

And he’s bewildered as to how you know his song, seeing as it was a confidential piece he only played for a private group of royals once when auditioning

Jisung just nods, fixing his hat only to have a few of the bells bounce around and whop him in the face

One jingled all the way right into his eye…

But he carries on unaffected; must be used to it <_<

“Yeah, her dad is a total overbearing crazy-protective psycho. ...Well, maybe not psycho, but...he’s crazy protective of his daughter. He’s scared if she takes one step outside, some Fire Nation goon is gonna come popping out of a bush like Team Rocket in almost every old school pokemon episode and kidnap her like Pikachu.”

“...I thought Pikachu always got away.”

“...Oh yeah. 🤔 Bad example then.”

“You are a bad example.”

“Oh yeah?! Well you’re...a good example!”

“...Jisung that was a compliment. And thank you.”

“.........”

...Moving on

“What can you tell me about her?”

“OOOOOOO...Why? You got a crush on her, bro?”

“...I’m just...curious why the king would wanna keep her locked away in a tower like a Christian Anderson tale.”

Jisung sighs and places his hands on his hips like a lecturing mother. “Are you serious? I just told you, His Majesty is crazy overprotective of his only daughter...also, wouldn’t you wanna keep a beauty like that locked away if she were your daughter???”

Chan gives him a disgusted look. “No? Because I’m not an insecure psychopath?? Everyone deserves to be happy and free…” He glances up to the tower. “That can’t be healthy being held prisoner in a giant dungeon like that.”

“True, true...I’d still keep her locked away, though.”

“Jisung!!! Seriously?!”

“WHAT?” (ง'̀-'́)ง “I KNOW HOW TEENAGE BOYS ARE!!! THEY’RE GONNA CATCH THESE HANDS BEFORE I LET ONE OF THEIR GRUBBY LITTLE--”

Chan clamps his hand over his friend’s mouth. “I’m gonna stop you right there. Goodbye, Jisung.”

He looks at you one last time, marveling at your beauty with a hint of pity in his eyes before walking away

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

You hadn’t noticed that day, seven years ago, being too lost in a daydream over whether you wanted tea or a nice iced latte with your lunch...despite how loud they were being

It was one of the few enjoyments of your day

One the few things you got to look forward to: choosing what to have for a meal

Choosing what to wear that was within your parent’s standards

Choosing whether you wanted to wile away the hours reading a book or watching Royal TV or scribbling some poorly drawn comics of what your life COULD be like were you NOT a princess with an overbearing father…

S i g h

You’re hanging upside down on your giant canopy bed in a very unladylike fashion when Felix enters the room. You must have not heard him knock, and he’s like

😳😳💧

To which you “oop-” and quickly throw yourself over in an upright position

“...Sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s fine.” He laughs a bit and closes the door behind him. “So, whatcha up to?”

“......”

Did he have to ask you that? The question sort of burned. What were you supposed to do??? “Just...chillin.”

“Like a villain?”

“In the...millen.”

He laughed at your attempt to carry out the rhyme. “What’s a millen?”

You shrugged. He sat down at the dining table you normally ate at, crossing his feet over the table. “Well, I’ll do you one better. I came to ask if you’d like to accompany me to--”

“WHERE?!?!?!”

\(ಠAಠ)/

You’re right there in his face, shaking his shoulders before he can get another word out.

Felix, wanting to take you OUT OF THE PALACE?!??!?!?!?

THAT WAS HUGE

THIS WAS HUGE

OMGRAVY WHAT WOULD YOU WEAR?!

YOU DIDN’T EVEN CARE WHERE YOU WERE GOING, JUST THE FACT THAT YOU WERE GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE WAS ENOUGH

...You should still probably let him finish, though

Felix (@-@) <- was dizzy for a moment, but once he got his head back on straight, he explained that he’d ask your father if the two of you could go shopping together-- just for a few hours

Felix was the sweetest brother ;-; the sweetest BOY ಥ_ಥ

You were going to have so much fun browsing the shops that you’d only ever read about in novels and seen on TV

The two of you would get popcorn and ice cream and feed the pigeons and do rain dances around the park fountain

And you’d come back with so many souvenirs and nostalgic timepieces from your little journey (╥﹏╥)

It was going to be the BEST. DAY. EVER!

*insert that Spongebob episode here*

……

Or not

Because

Shortly after the two of you skipped hand-in-hand like Hansel and Gretel down to the Royal Throne room

Your father gave the two of you a big fat N O

Jerk…

His booming voice declared, “NO BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER OF MINE WILL BE SEEN BILLOWING ABOUT THE CITY STREETS!!! That’s like asking to be kidnapped and used as a means of war!!!”

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUASDFGHJKL;;SVBU;IABV;SIFABVIFARHVS

HE DIDN’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING BUT WAR AND TAXES!!! IT WAS SO ANNOYING!!!

So, the two of you are forced back to your room alone…

And Felix comforts you and apologizes a thousand times over, words that should coming out of your father’s mouth instead

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

~LATER THAT DAY~

Well, it’s more like evening now

The sun is setting comfortably over the horizon

And Felix has just returned from his shopping trip without you 😔😔

Now before you get angry and call him a traitor, he actually had a fit and refused to go

He even came close to knocking over a table

But that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly and his mother was present

It was his mother that insisted he had to go in order to make a required public appearance for the kingdom and “hopefully find a lady that spotted his fancy” or whatever

Yeah, Felix rolled his eyes too

But he had no choice ://

If it makes you feel any better, he didn’t enjoy himself at all

He spent the whole time thinking about you and looking wistfully at the palace in the distance, to the tower you were most likely glaring wistfully back from

He was now tromping tired princely feet up the winding steps to at least give you a nice gift he’d brought back for you, and some flowers he’d gotten from a recently opened flower shop called Christopher’s Garden

A very nice not-yet-elderly couple ran the shop in honor of their lost son, who they hadn’t heard from since they returned from war

The story was quite sad and bittersweet

……

Shhh we’ll get there later it’s called foreshadowing（∩‿∩）

He’s about three-quarters of the way there when he’s suddenly ambushed by-- you guessed it-- Team Rocket!1!1

Jk it’s Jisung and Changbin

They’re the new Jessie and James of this story except they’re actually good

“Felix!!!”

“SH*T!!!”

Oop

They nearly gave him a heart attack!!! >A<

He almost beats them with the flowers, too, until he remembers last minute they’re for you

“WHAT DO YOU WANT NEVER DO THAT AGAIN”

“I CAN’T MAKE ANY PROMISES BUT WE NEED TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT SOMETHING”

“WHAT IS IT”

Changbin sighs in his heavy, overzealous knightly gear. “Maybe the two of you can keep it down before you wake the princess?”

Felix shrugs. “Eh, Y/n is always up at this hour. She’s actually a night owl, but don’t tell the king that. Or her teachers.”

Bin smirks. “Noted--”

<_<

Felix has to smack him, which is a hard two second decision but you’re his sister and family comes first 😔😔 But he makes it up by giving Bin a flower, which he awkwardly accepts

“So what was it you wanted to tell me?”

Jisung nods his jingle bell hat all over the place like a bobblehead. “Yeah, okay, so-- check this out!”

He jumps a few steps ahead so he can have room to put on a one-man show. Changbin groans and crosses his arms, while Felix eyes him curiously

“I have this friend, right? Well, we do, actually! Me and Changbin!”

The Dark Knight tilts his head. “You mean Chan?”

“YEA-- I mean, yeah!” He starts bouncing around, mining walking around the garden surrounding the palace walls. “So...I never told you this, but a few years ago...more like seven, I was going for a walk when I spotted him outside the princess’ tower! And I stopped and went ten-thousand stealth mode!”

He mimes diving into the bushes. Changbin rolls his eyes.

“He’d totally fallen asleep in the rose bushes, so I--”

“Could you maybe not talk like you’re twelve?”

“......”

Before the two can start quarreling like a couple of twelve year olds, Felix takes on a responsible air, stepping between them

“Hang on...your friend? Was loitering outside my sister’s room?”

Jisung pops his head over Changbin, which really isn’t that hard. “Yeah, he’s the royal gardener! But like, I don’t think the roses needed tending to that day...and after I revealed myself, he was asking a LOT-- well a few...questions about her. Hint hint, my boy’s in love.”

“Love?”

“Love, bro. Like the real sappy stuff.”

“...Love.”

“...Yes.”

“Your friend. Is in love with my sister.”

“...That would be what I just told you, yes.”

“...Wait. Chan as in, Bang Chan? ...OUR friend Chan?!”

“That’s him!”

“Okay okay hold on,” Changbin waves his arms through the air. “Love is a strong word...and this is Chan we’re talking about. He loves just about everybody. He’s nice and empathetic to everyone. Just last week I had to turn away two maids and a palace chef who’d gotten the same mixed signals.”

Jisung shrugs. “Yeah, well…”

“Also this was seven years ago?!”

“...Yeah…”

Changbin deadpans. “So you got me all hyped about jumping Felix for some love story that probably isn’t even real. Seven years is a long time, Jisung. He may have forgotten about her already-- NOT THAT SHE’S SOMEONE TO BE FORGOTTEN.”

He had to finish that last sentence real quick from the look Felix was giving him. The boy sighs, shifting his gifts into one arm so he can run a small hand through his wind-blown hair. “...This is kind of crazy Jisung, even for you. Why are you bringing this up now of all times?”

“...Well…”

👉��

“I overheard a royal meeting I shouldn’t have about an hour ago...and your dad was talking about having Y/n engaged.”

“What?!?”

“To the Fire Nation king.”

“WHAT?!?!”

“People often refer to him as Zuko, for reasons unknown, but his real name is Minho.”

“.........”

With fever and a newfound energy, Felix tries bursting up the steps to your room. But unfortunately, Team Rocket stops him.

“MOVE! I have to talk to Y/n about this!!!”

“Hang on! The whole reason I brought up my homeboy in the first place was to maybe stop this suspiciously dangerous and shady deal! If Y/n has already fallen in love with someone else, maybe the king will have a change of heart!!!”

Felix groans, glaring harshly in a manner that isn’t really like him. “Han, her father keeps her locked away in a plush-tailored dungeon and refuses to let her go outside, not even on a short shopping trip with her own brother. He doesn’t want her to be seen, and he certainly doesn’t want her falling in love.”

“Well--!” Han balls his hands into fists. “I WAS TRYING OKAY?! I LIKE Y/N TOO, SHE’S A TIMEPIECE GAL WHEN I’M ACTUALLY ALLOWED TO BE WITHIN TEN FEET OF HER!!!”

“Dang…” Changbin groans. “So you don’t think I’ll be able to ask her out this weekend?”

“......” “......”

The glare he gets from both men is a definite no

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

So what are we to do about a situation like this?

Well I’m glad you asked because we’re about to find out

IRONICALLY right at that moment, you were supposed to be in a late-running math session on how taxing the economy works but 

Instead you were blissfully hidden in the closet, watching Chan plant a newly discovered breed of roses on your balcony the author forgot to mention you even had

It was an indoor balcony of sorts; fenced in with mesh and curtains to keep the bugs and trespassers out

There was a cute little garden table with comfy chairs and a small bookshelf

As well as a mini bar and even a small stereo system B))

You’re the princess sis

This was your world since you weren’t allowed to experience the real one

To explain, you had a window right next to it that you often looked out, since your balcony was more or less closed off…

Hopefully that makes sense ._.”

Alright anyhoo

So Chan is planting some gorgeous purple roses that only ever existed in Animal Crossing until now

The most lusciously soft and purpley purple that ever was and ever would be

And here’s you, hunkered down in the closet like a stalker spying on him with one eye and a slit through the cracked door

 WHEN ALL OF A SUDDEN

Bang!

The door flies open!

A wild Felix appears!1!1

Uh-oh

He’s probably looking for you, but given the equally wild look on his face

He’s probably not aware of Chan’s job, coming in to tend to your plants when you’re scheduled to be absent

Wait they’re friends right

So he isn’t gonna kill him...right?!

Or does this mean he was gonna kill him that much more?!

OH NO

FELIX NO PLS

You’re holding your breath and waiting for the right moment to pounce and topple your half-brother to the floor when apprehensively

He checks his surroundings quickly before shutting the door behind him

……

What the what is this about--

“We need to talk,” Felix starts, pacing to the dining table where he usually sits. Chan freezes, blinking a few times into the roses and the air above them before turning a blank stare the prince’s way.

“Okay,” he states back, “what’s on your mind?”

“About Y/n…”

About you?

“Princess Y/n? What about?”

Yes, what about you?

“...Jisung…” he sighs. “Look, I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked. Let me start by apologizing about that.”

“Oh, no need to apologize. You’re the prince, and I’m the gardener. We’re both quite busy with our—“

“Jisung told me you like Y/n.”

………

…………

……………

I’m s o r r y

WhAT WAS THAT

WHAT DID HE JUST SAY?!

Okay okay hold up

Han Jisung was the court clown and notorious for pranks and lying his ass off

Surely this was just a (albeit cruel) joke…

...Right?!

…

Bang Chan’s ears are turning red

Redder than the roses outside your window

He’s biting his lip, like he wants to say something, but is trying hard to suppress said something

His hands are clenched down into the dirt…

“...Well?” asks Felix. “Is it true?”

“...It’s…”

!!!

WHAT WHAT IT’S WHAT

TELL ME FLOWER BOY WHAT IS IT

SPILL THE BEANS ALREADY

Haha get it…

Beans……

Like seeds……..

...Anyway

“......”

He nods, softly, barely. Bang Chan nods his approval at Felix’s proposed statement.

Is this even real right now…?

Is this allowed?! 😩

Instead of jumping the guy like you thought he would, Felix instead smiles, so brightly it would be enough to scare off the Fire Nation and save thousands of lives

“Oh wow. Oh f*ck. You like my sister. This is...shouldn’t I be mad right now?”

He begins to pace

“...But I’m not. I’m genuinely okay with this. Better than okay. It’s...weird.”

“Probably because Y/n may be saved from marrying Prince Hellhole of the Underworld now.”

The two of them (and you still in the closet) jump at the sound of a new voice wafting in from the ceiling. Looking up, a set of bells can be seen hanging out if the air vent

...Has that always been there?!

Oh my gravy what if Han Jisung has spied on you before

What if someone else has?!

EW

Felix scowls angrily at the vent before lifting a pen off your desk and throwing it with surprisingly good accuracy

It must have hit something because next thing you know Jisung is saying “ow!” and climbing down at the Prince’s demand

“What the hell were you doing up there?!”

“Detective work.”

“You’re banned from doing detective work anywhere near this room.”

“What about Changbin?”

“What?!”

“Oh uhhh...nothing.”

The clanking of heavy armor trying to escape travels across the ceiling…

And Felix huffs.

“CHANGBIN I KNOW THAT’S YOU.”

~~~

So I’m gonna do a mini skip right here to get the ball rolling

After Bin is dragged down and everyone (minus you) is accounted for

The four guys are sitting around your dining table, a sinister(?) plot coming to notion

“Okay,” Felix begins, “So what we know is, according to what Jisung overheard, this arms race war of sorts against the Fire Nation is coming to a rock and a hard place for both sides. And to resolve this issue, it would appear that Y/n is being offered as a bargaining chip. A wedding to unite the two kingdoms.”

…… 

Everyone is pretty silent

You included, not that you can say anything at the moment…

But just because you’re silent on the outside doesn’t mean you don’t have a million thoughts racing through your head

Let’s get to the most pressing one that’d likely catch your attention first: MARRIAGE?!?!

With whom?!?!

How dare some old geezers try and pawn you off without your permission?! To the enemy?!? To a man you didn’t even know?!?!

WHAT IF HE WAS REALLY OLD

OR GROSS

OR BOTH

OR WHAT IF--

Han suddenly has something to say

Then again when does the boy not

He lunges across the table to grasp at Chan’s hands. “PLEASE, YOU HAVE TO MARRY THE PRINCESS SO SHE WON’T BE SENT AWAY AND I CAN STOP AWKWARDLY CATCHING YOU SPYING ON HER OUTSIDE!!!”

!!!

OH UH

WHA?!

Chan’s ears are turning red again. He’s got a brow quirked like he doesn’t know what Jisung is talking about, but averts his gaze all the same in a guilty manner

Felix is tapping his fingers against his forearm in an attempt to ignore that confession

And Changbin is just sitting next to Chan half confused and half annoyed

“I- I can’t just… Jisung what you’re asking is…”

“It’s too much,” Bin cuts in. “Jisung you can’t just ask someone, much less tell them, to marry a person they have a far-longing crush on, but really know nothing about. They’ve never even spoken to each other before, I can assume, and you’re telling them to spend the rest of their lives in a commitment? That’s intense.”

Jisung pouts. “Yeah, but…!”

“What if we just faked a marriage?”

Three stunned faces (four if we’re counting you) turn eyes upon the eldest and only prince. He smiles warmly, sending a warily comforting shiver down your spine that you have trouble placing as good or bad.

“What do you mean?” Changbin asks.

“I doubt the king is going to accept Y/n’s wishes in all of this, so we can’t just have her or Chan ask to be wed. But if they’re already married…”

Jisung’s face lights up. “Then there’s nothing the king or Fire Nation fools can do about it!!! That’s BRILLIA--”

“But it would just be a ruse. We’ll have a fake license made, and I can supply the rings. I’ve got plenty of underground connections~”

You’re looking at Chan’s face to see what he thinks of all this, but unfortunately his back is to you, and Changbin is blocking 90% of your view…

You can, however, see that his ears are still a flushed scarlet, as well as the base of his neck

“Would you be okay with that?”

He jumps. Felix and the others blink expectantly. 

“...Huh?”

“...Are you okay with being my sister’s fake husband for a few hours?”

It’s gotta be the awkwardest question you’ve ever heard coming out of your brother’s mouth, but then…

“Yeah. If it’ll protect Y/n...let’s do it.”

……

It’s the first time you’ve heard him not refer to you as the princess, but rather, just yourself

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

OKAY WE’RE GONNA TRY AND START CRAMMING THINGS WITHOUT CRAMMING TOO MUCH BECAUSE HNNNNN I DON’T WANT THIS TO BE TOO LONG AND DRAWN OUT ಥ_ಥ

SO ON THAT NOTE

Meanwhile in a diabolical castle not too far away but still kinda far 

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

We’ve got an evil firelord named Zuko over here

But he’s not really evil :(( In fact he’s not evil at all!!!

His name isn’t even Zuko it’s Minho

And he’s just kinda mean is all…

Just a smidge | |

“My Lord Zuko!!!” An attendant bows, groveling at the steps to the throne

He’s some weird guy with an eyepatch

Not important but  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The Fire King growls, swirling a glass of something strong

“I told you that’s not my name,” he states, tossing the glass after a single gulp. Dang. Intense.

The attendant :((, covering his face like a scared manchild. “PLEASE FORGIVE ME YOUR GRACE!!!”

Minho rolls his eyes. “If I do, will you man up and give me the details on the Nation of (Your Kingdom Name Here)?”

“Oh, yes, yes! Thank you, sire!!!”

“...S u r e.” He blinks a few times, only sparing the slightest hint of a smile when one of the three cats wandering the kingdom jumps onto his lap. “Well? Get on with it.”

“Yes, sire, right away!” Patchy pulls out an enormously large scroll that should NOT have been able to fit in his pocket similar to the mechanics of Animal Crossing (seriously how is it you’re able to fit a giant whale into your pocket and like a freaking tarantula and a hive of wasps like idk about you sis but I would NOT be putting those things in my pocket-) “It would appear that the Princess of (Nation) has given her consent to marry His Royal Highness of the Tallest Order Fire Nation King Zu-- ...L-Lee Minho of the Tallest Order of the Nation of Fire and All Things Cat Related.”

Minho is nodding, a pleasant smirk on his face. Things were just going swimmingly for him. “Perfect. Just as I thought they would. Seungmin? Jeongin?”

From the shadows, two boys stepped forward. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Please plan my arrival to the Nation of (Your Nation) at once. I’d like to arrive no later than the end of the week.”

“...Sire, with all due respect…” Seungmin swallows. “That’s in two days. Normally, I’d have to send a carrier pigeon to customs since you banned technology after that one disapproving cat commercial, and as you know, your cats are constantly eating both the birds and the notes…”

“......”

“......”

Minho shrugs. “And? So? Just write a new note and buy more birds. There’s no time to waste!”

Seungmin and Jeongin share a look. Arguing against the King would be suicide, so…

“...Yes, Your Unreasonable Grace.”

“Grea-- wait what?”

Comically, they both vanish before any more words can be said.

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

Moving right along here

That night, after the sun has fully set and you’re getting ready to tuck yourself into bed

There’s a strange sound coming from the window…

. . .

Creepy but probably nothing

It’s just the wind, right?

You choose to ignore it and continue organizing the pillows (and dolls?) on your bed in a fashion that suits your fancy when

Tap Tap Tap

. . .

It’s either an incredible coincidence that wind can tap in such a rhythmic fashion, and not so sporadically, or…

There’s someone at the window

...No, really

SOMEONE IS OUTSIDE SIS

THERE’S A FREAKY LOOKIN’ SHADOW RIGHT THERE

On the twelfth floor tho?!

…

Should you answer it

Survey says no

Are you going to?

The stars say yes

BUT FIRST WE MUST ARM OURSELVES BC WE AREN’T TOTAL DUMDUMS 😩

You grab an ornate candlestick from your nightstand and start heading that way

Slowly, carefully, one foot at a time

The closer you get, the more prominent the shadow outside the window becomes…

It almost looks kinda like…

...A tumbleweed? A scarecrow???

……… 

You’re scared

SOMEONE COMING THIS HIGH MUST BE SKILLED AND DETERMINED AND HAS TO KNOW IT’S YOU OR MAYBE IT’S A THIEF THAT--

“Princess? Princess Y/n?”

!!!

Gasp you know that voice

It’s… …

Without a moment to lose you ditch the candlestick and unlock the hinges, tossing the windows open to…

Watch your beloved…

...Almost fall and crack his head open ._.”

Chan is laughing nervously hanging onto the windowsill with a faint pink mark on his cheek from where the window popped him

You cry out nervously and with an effort on both parts, manage to hoist him inside

Where he clichely falls on top of you 🌚🌚 Teehee 🥴

You can feel the heat rising to your face and swirling around your head that’s already been spinning with thoughts for a while now

And Chan, catching his breath over you, practically mirrors that reaction

I Am You

I see me in you--

Okay sorry

Chan laughs the whole thing off and rolls himself off like Nishinoya performing his famous Rolling Thunder, and helps you up while profusely asking if you’re alright, if you need to sit down, you should probably sit down, oh I’m so sorry Felix told me you stayed up late so--

Ah wait

“He told you that? When?”

You’re now sitting on the side of your bed, and Chan is standing a few feet away with windblown hair that could easily be mistaken for a tumbleweed through the dead of night

The fact that you’re staring at it makes him a little self conscious, but really you were just thinking about how cute he looks

“Uh, he told me a few hours ago. We were just...chatting, and um…”

……

He cuts himself off and sighs into his hands

“I’m so sorry. You probably don’t even know who I am.”

“I do.”

“You do?”

“I do.” You smile. “You’re the gardener. Your name is…” You blush. “Christopher Bang. You take care of the roses at the base of the tower and you planted the purple ones on my balcony today. You’re also a friend of my brother’s.”

“Wow, okay yeah.” He smiles back. Seeing him smiling at you while acknowledging the other, the faint flicker of candlelight (Felix broke your lamp during a karate stunt to make you laugh)...it’s almost too much to handle. “That would sort of explain why you let an absolute stranger into your bedroom at night.”

………

Oop

He had a point there

Blame the author sis she’s got three other WIPs rn and wanted to get this done while doing a semi-decent job (｡•́︿•̀｡)💧

“I-I just...have a strong sense of adventure,” you lied. Kinda. Reality was, you really WERE longing for a chance to explore and have just a little excitement in your life instead of the same boring gray stone walls each and every day

Lucky for you, that’s exactly what Chan was here for

The next thing you see is his hand in your face (a still-respectable distance away), offering you quite the gentlemanly smile. He managed to fix that windblown hair of his in the seconds you spent spaced out over your longing to leave this place

“Come on. I actually came here to ask if you’d like to go somewhere with me.”

~~~

A little disclosure here

Normally, you should never, EVER let someone you don’t really know into your home (much less your bedroom) late at night, and you certainly should not agree to go somewhere with them

This is just common knowledge, I know

But, for crack, time, and in the spirit of classic fairytales, I’m going to allow it to happen :)))

~~~

AND SO, Y/n chooses to defy common sense, and takes the hand of the boy she really likes (▰˘◡˘▰)

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

To make things slightly less weird and insanely unnatural, Chan gives you a note from Felix. It’s got his secret seal of approval that he only uses when addressing letters to you, one that only the two of you know about, so it’s gotta be legit and valid

🙄🙄

Just pretend it makes things A LITTLE bit better for me, okay?

“Author do you know how illogical this all is and that, like, ANYONE could figure out--”

YEAH OKAY JUST GO WITH IT PLS 😩😩

The note says:

𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒴/𝓃, 𝒴𝑒𝑒𝓉! 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓃, 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 ;) 𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝓉𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇...𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉, 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁, 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃...𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝓅𝒶𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓂, 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉? 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝑜𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒. 𝐼'𝓋𝑒 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝐼'𝓂 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒢𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓃𝑜𝓃𝑒 ���𝒻 𝓊𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓋𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒫.𝒮. - 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓃, 𝓈𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓅 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝒴/𝓃!

𝒜𝓁𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓃, 𝓃𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝑔𝑜𝓉𝓉𝒶 𝒹𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝒾𝓉. 𝒴/𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓃𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝒷𝓎 ���𝑜 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓂𝒾𝒹𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝒷𝓊𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓃 𝑒𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎, 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒. :)

-- 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈, 𝐹𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓍 (ℱ )

...Well, there you had it

Now, onto the date! …

WAIT DID THIS COUNT AS A DATE?!

uHHHHHH

ಥ_ಥ 💧

IDK SIS JUST GO WITH IT FOR NOW, GO GO GO!

Chan is about to take your hand and wisk you out the window like Rapunzel or some Romeo and Juliet au (hey btw??? That ain’t a bad idea someone request this from me)

He nearly forgets about the height difference and the fact that he don’t have any rope or long flowing locks to grab onto to :D so instead the two of you opt for an idea that comes to you after nearly tearing your room apart to look for rope:

THE AIR VENT!!!

You have to move some furniture around but it’s not like anyone is gonna come into your room or find out about you missing anyway

Reader: “Chan came into my room tho--”

SHHHHH THAT’S DIFFERENT IT’S CALLED PLOT CONTINUATION

Now

After getting lost for approximately ten minutes in the winding air ducts, Chan manages to get his poor sleep deprived brain together and leads you down the right path, coming to a purifying viel(?) he knocks out of the way to kick the door open to outside

AND THEN

IT’S THE MOST GLORIOUS AND MAGICAL THING

IT’S

（ つ﹏╰）

SIS IT’S OUTSIDE

IT’S THE OUTSIDE WORLD

YOU DID IT--

……

You can’t do it

Chan jumps out easily onto the grass to some East side of the palace, but you just sit there, hunkered down in the opening space of the vent

Just staring at it

The grass

The trees

The tumbleweed that is Chan’s hair blow by

It’s almost too much…

Your body won’t move. You’ve been locked away in the palace for so long now...something inside of you is telling you it’s morally wrong to change that now.

“Hey wait author I have a question”

I’m kinda in the middle of telling a semi-deep part of the story but okay sure

“If Chan and I were on the twelfth floor how is it that we made it to the--”

SHHHHH AGAIN JUST HUMOR ME AND DON’T OVERTHINK THINGS

Chan is watching you with some sort of softness in his eyes illuminated by starlight. He holds his hands out to you.

“It’s okay. If you need me to, I can carry you for as long as I’m able.”

…

But you refuse

You need to cross this bridge

And then you need to burn it 🔥

NO GOING BACK SIS

NO GOING BACK 😤😤

...Except you’re always open for an excuse to be close to Chan so 🤪💓

You jump in his arms without much of a second thought, and without thinking he spins you around, and a moment later

Both of your slippered feet hit the ground below

Soft earth enveloping your heels

Blades of grass tickling your skin

It’s so WEIRD BUT

It’s a good kind of weird

A kind of weird you’d love to get used to

Hand in hand the two of you slip off after that, out into that starry starry night that looks like a Van Gogh painting

It’s beautiful and blurred yet sharp and soft yet bright and you feel like queen of the world as you’re running through Central Park, riding on Chan’s shoulders

Dancing around the center fountain

Nearly blowing your cover when a racoon runs by

It’d be kinda bad if someone saw you, much less recognized who you were 😅

The two of you lay on the hillside, where Chan makes up stories about the stars and you smile at the sound of his voice, and the feeling of wildflowers against your cheek

You’re so enthralled that you scarcely notice when his voice trails off as he’s watching you, admiring your beauty as he often has in days gone by, only this time it’s up close and nearly surreal

The girl of his dreams lying in a bed of flowers

Not palace-tainted ones either -> wildflowers, flowers that are free to billow any way the wind takes them

And the moonlight casting perfectly angular shadows over your body

He has to get a hold of himself and tear himself away with a sharp breath

……

But he’s adding the image to a memory in his heart, that’s for sure

He takes a moment to mull over it a few more times before dusting himself off, standing, and reaching out to you. Something you also want to get used to other than being in the Great Outdoors. “Come on,” he says, “We’ve almost used up all our time, and I haven’t even been able to show you the town yet.”

SHOPPING~! (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥

...Ah wait it was night time 😔 You’d have to settle for just seeing the sights and playing pretend

“We’re gonna do something called window shopping.”

“Window shopping?” You ask, taking your first steps down main street. “What’s that?”

Surprisingly, there were a few stragglers still out and about at this hour, so you had to keep your head down and wander as seamlessly as possible off to the side of the road.

“Window shopping is when you wander around a shopping district just to look at the stuff on display. You shop with your eyes and pick out things you like.”

That sounded kinda fun

Of course anything with Chan sounded like a good time to you (♥‿♥)

And so, still hand in hand, the two of you quietly walked the cobblestone streets, examining clothes and trinkets in the large glass windows of stores and commenting lightly on things you liked/disliked

And, over a short span of time, you felt a gentle shift as Chan entwined his fingers with yours

ƪ(˘⌣˘)┐ ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ ┌(˘⌣˘)ʃ

You wander the streets for a while longer, taking a left here, a right there, when after pacing a little ways down a side street connecting to a sleepy neighborhood, Chan stops quite abruptly

His arms and posture is rigid af, so it almost yanks you back a bit, and a little startled you look up to see what it is he’s gawking at

…

It’s a flower shop

And the big sign across the roof’s edge says, “Christopher’s Garden”

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

Christopher’s Garden was the name Chan’s parents had wanted to name the flower shop the two of them had dreamed of opening together

Chan knows this because of the letters he’d receive at the orphanage during the war

The last letter he received was when he was eleven years old; a simple “hello we miss you” update with a miniature bouquet of pressed wildflowers

Flowers he still kept in his small room at the palace, tapped to the inside of the box where all his letters are stored

Faintly, he reaches out towards the sign, like it’s the only thing around him; suddenly there is no village, no night time, and there almost isn’t a Y/n either

Not that you aren’t important…

He just simply can’t believe that…

…

This couldn’t be real, it had to be a coincidence

A cruel one, but still

A coincidence nonetheless

And he’d continue to think that had he not lowered his hand, and found the face of an older man staring back at him

A man with burn marks on his cheeks and the scars of war apparent in both his features and his eyes

He has to grip the doorway to keep himself from falling backward

For it may have been many years, but he could never forget the face of his own son; not even after time had aged him

The parental spark was just there, a father’s intuition

…… 

As if seeming to understand, Y/n lets him go

She retreats stage left, one, two paces

And watches with heartfelt joy as the two men embrace somberly beneath the moonlight.

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

You wanted to stay and watch

You really really did

You wanted to be that support beam for Chan, but

In a way, you also didn’t want to intrude on such an important family moment

...And you were more or less due back at midnight 🙄 Cinderella much?

You’re racing along the alleyways right now

Slippers puffing a muffled breath with each step along the pavement

Buildings casting shadows and jagged shapes of light along the way

A random cloth you borrowed from behind a grocery masking your head

You found it lying over some crates of produce; and you may or may not have borrowed a few plums for the road, too…

...You’d have someone pay them back with interest 🤷

You probably should have told Chan you were heading back, but

He needed his family, right?

This was really important to him, you could tell he obviously hadn’t seen his dad, uncle, or whoever that man was back there in a while

You could catch him up later, right?

He’d probably spend the night there and be back by morning or mid-afternoon

You’re just now reaching a fork in the road

You could keep going straight or make a slanted right venturing toward the front gate, which connects the pastures of hills (making up Central Park) to the palace

……

It would probably be better to stick the backways, but you didn’t know the area that well…

If you went back into civilization, although it was after curfew and despite your disguise, someone may still spot you

What to do what to do what to--

“So you’re the Princess of (Kingdom Name).”

!!!

Did

Did someone just--

ARE THEY TALKING TO YOU?!?

RUN?!

DO WE RUN ...

“You don’t have to be frightened.” the voice says, stepping closer. “I’m here to take you home.”

……...

🚩🚩🚩

:)))))))) 

Yes okay now we RUN 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️💨

You make a break for it down the straight path, letting your veil fly away from your body and temporarily blind whoever’s following you

You also make good use of those plums you stole, tossing them like bombs over your shoulder

“Argh--! Dang it, sh*t, I can’t sEE--” Your pursuers flail about before shredding the cloth to bits, whipping the fruit off their faces. “AFTER HER!!!”

!!!!!!

DID HE JUST SAY--?!

HHHHHHHHHHHH

The sound of heavy metal clanging against cobblestone bounces off the space behind you as you’re pounding, scrambling, flinging yourself in a zigzag pattern in case someone is trying to snipe you

IT’S WHAT ALL THE RIDICULOUS HEROES IN MOVIES DO, OKAY?!

IT’S MORE OR LESS EFFECTIVE

But alas there are so many boxes and wheelbarrows and junk in the way...

MOVE FASTER YOU CAN HEAR THEM GAINING ON YOU

But wait who even is “them” anyway???

Do you even need to know?! It was probably some councilman your stepmother or  father pissed off

You’d seen it all on TV and read plenty of horror stories in books to know there were endless reasons why someone would be targeting you for vengeance

...And, also…

……

Blast it all

You could hear your father’s voice echoing:

“NO BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER OF MINE WILL BE SEEN BILLOWING ABOUT THE CITY STREETS!!! That’s like asking to be kidnapped and used as a means of war!!!”

“A means of war!!!”

“A means of war!!!”

…………………………………...g u l p 

ಥ_ಥ

YOU JUST WANTED TO HAVE A GOOD TIME OKAY

THAT’S ALL

GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN 😩😩

HE SHOULD TRY SITTING ON HIS ASS DAY IN AND DAY OUT IT’S MIND-NUMBINGLY BORING 🔥🔥🔥

But boy were you getting your fill of excitement now

If you could just make it back to the palace, maybe you could use this as an excuse

Say you were kidnapped and made a grand escape

...It wasn’t a TOTAL lie…

“Oh Princess~ Princess Y/n, slow down, won’t you please?!”

LIBSDIBVISAFBILSFIL

NOT ON YOUR LIFE BUDDY 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️💨

WE AIN’T ABOUT TO DIE

GOTTA

HURRYYYYYYY

~ t r i p ! ~

Oh-- ...

THUD

Owowowowow… (｡>︿<｡)💧

………………

……………………………

ಠ_ಠ

You slowly look up to the enemy

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ❤️ “Guess who? ...Oh, wait, we’ve never met before.”

………………..

Crap.

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

The plan was going to be very simple: swoop in, rescue the princess, and take her back home to appease to the King and speed up the royal wedding of the century

Unfortunately, nothing was ever simple in the Fire Nation

That and, well, Minho had spies everywhere

He’d seen your photograph

He knew what you looked like

And when one of his minion’s squeaked saying they spotted a certain soon-to-be-and-technically-already-so engaged princess and coming-soon queen of the Fire Nation running around after hours with another man, well

He just couldn’t have that

It simply wasn’t allowed

The king had promised him your hand

And that’s exactly what he was going to get

“Tie her wrists tighter. Yes. Now a little closer to the left…”

He smiles at you from inside the back of the carriage. He was about to make this go his way faster than he could have hoped for.

He leans forward, now dressed in some ridiculous royal garb festive with plated armor and flapping ribbons, patting your knee with smooth-lined fingers that shouldn’t belong to someone ruling the Fire Nation. And he knows this, too. He was and still is the youngest king to ever hold the throne. “Don’t worry, Princess, I simply wish to escort you home. This is, however, a pleasant time for us to get acquainted. Since I will become your husband in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

To this, the Princess of (Your Castle) makes some sort of a scoffing remark beneath her cloth-covered mouth and fidgets herself away, as far back against the plush carriage interior as she can. Even beneath the pale moonlight and faint swaying torchlight outside, bobbing in the hands of soldiers, he can see the scowl of disapproval and hatred on her face.

That would have to change real’ fast. No way he was tolerating a disobedient bride for long.

A rapping comes from outside the window. Carefully, Minho opens the small glass door, pulling the curtain aside along with it. “What is it?”

Seungmin’s face appears in the open space. “We may have a problem. Two, actually.”

“Yes, yes, what are they?”

His first attendant licks his lips nervously. “Well for starters, Jeongin is going to have a mental breakdown if Doongi scratches his face one more time. Your pets--”

“My family.”

“...Your family is getting antsy being cooped up in the carriage for so long.”

A hissing can be heard in the distance, followed by Jeongin’s muffled scream. Minho sighs.

“Fine, Fine…” He glances tentatively at his soon-to-be bride. “We’ll stop at the next fork in the road and switch passengers. I will ride with the children and Jeongin can accompany Princess Y/n until we arrive.” 

“Very good, Your Majesty.”

Minho makes a face, suddenly. “...It shouldn’t be long now, yes?” ((After all, you and Chan did WALK into town.)) “What’s taking so long? How much farther?”

Seungmin looks a bit grave. “...That’s...the other thing I wished to speak to you about.”

“???”

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

You can hear the shouting from your new location inside a smaller (yet still quite plush and fancy) carriage that’s covered in cat fur...and a pitiful attendant with a bloodied face

“So we’ve been traveling in circles this whole TIME?!?!”

Oof

That kind of anger didn’t bode well for whoever’s plan this was

“Ahh…we’re so sorry, Your Majesty! But the guard won’t let us through! They refused to take us seriously when we proclaimed to be the Fire Nation escorting the Princess home…”

The Fire King let out a groan.

You zoom your attention on the boy before you, holding a dampened cloth of alcohol to his face and hissing as it makes contact with several wounds. Poor guy is young, and he couldn’t be too much younger than you. Give or take three to four years.

“M-mm-m, mm mm-mm mm m.”

He looks at you like you’re speaking in tongues. Which, quite frankly, you may as well be. “...What?”

“Mm mmm, m-mm-m, mm mm-mm mm m!”

“.........”

Peering left and then right, he makes sure both curtains are closed before leaning forward and pulling down the cloth over your face. You cough a bit, spitting out pieces of string and fabric and the dry taste in your mouth. “...”

“......” Jeongin seems to be admiring you in a new sort of light. It’s a bit weird, but flattering. “Um, what was it that you tried to say?”

You look him dead in the eye, which is somewhat hard to do, but your anger helps you manage. Jeongin winces backward, something twitching in his mind. “I said, if I were you, I would blow this joint.”

“.........” Jeongin glances down at his shoes, staring hard at the laces. He seems to be taking your words quite seriously, though you’d half meant them as a joke. “...I’m in no position to do such a thing. Just thinking about it is treason.”

“Treason? For having thoughts? You don’t have any mind readers in your country, do you?”

Slowly, he shakes his head no. It was kinda cute how seriously he was taking your words...and a bit sad, too. “No, we don’t dwell in psychics or anything supernatural. But the author of this story has been kinda thinking about making a supernatural au for some time now--”

“Huh?”

“Hmm?”

“.........”

A rapping comes at the carriage door. Jeongin acknowledges it with a nod. “...Never mind.” He opens the window. There, again, was Seungmin’s floating head alongside a ball of fire.

“His Majesty Pain-in-the-Ass is being difficult again. Imagine that. He wants us to make camp and then plans on playing the martyr card come tomorrow morning.”

“...He expects us to camp out in the woods?”

“That’s the order.”

Jeongin groans. He leans back in his seat, tossing the rag down in frustration. “...Maybe I really should consider running away…are you hiring, by chance?”

It was meant to be a joke. But you take it all too seriously.

“Why, yes, actually, I am.” :))))))))))

“....................”

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

And so that is how you have now ended up here

In front of a roaring fire

All comfy cozy in the new fleece pajamas Jeongin and Seungmin sewed for you out of one of Minho’s extra capes and some “spare” fabrics

Sipping some freshly pressed apple juice and flipping through King Minho’s edition of Royalty Daily

Seungmin, to your left, is fashioning you a new pair of slippers that you can wear both indoors and out and will feel as if you never stepped out of bed

And Jeongin, to your right, slowly moving an electric fan around your face, in a pleasant manner that wasn’t at all distracting

It was glorious, really ٩(˘◡˘)۶

You never imagined being so relaxed in an enemy camp held hostage, even if you were a Princess…

...The only thing sour was the sour look of King Minho brooding at the other side of the fire.

“What is the meaning of this?” he hisses, eyes flitting back and forth between his two former attendants and you in-between. “Why aren’t the two of you doing your normal duties?”

“We are doing our normal duties,” Seungmin explains, snipping the thread he was working with.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Are you defying me right now?!”

Minnie scoffs. “Defying? You? Wouldn’t dream of it, Sire.”

“......” Minho dramatically rose from his seat, snatching a slipper off the boy’s lap. “Then what is the meaning of this,” he demands, shaking it about. You notice from a new angle of lighting the cute white polka dots patterned along dark pink fabric. Adorable. “Why are you...restyling my slippers?!”

Seungmin gives a reputable glare, snatching the slipper right back in the sassiest way possible, and dusts it carefully, as if it were tainted by the mere touch of another. “These are not for you, dear King. They are for My Lady, Princess Y/n.”

O-O

Now surely you can imagine, the look on Minho’s face is not a good one. “They’re… They… Y-Your whAT?!?!”

“SHHHHHHH!!!” Jeongin chimes. “Lord Zuko, you must keep your voice down! The Princess is trying to read, and she has sensitive hearing!” >:((

“.........”

(✿︶‿︶)

*Sluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurp*

You sip that apple juice like it’s the sweetest tonic out there

And Minho, stunned, can only watch...until he throws down his foot and starts having an unroyaly absurd hissy fit

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUR PRINCESS?! SHE’S MY BRIDE, AND THE HOSTAGE!!! And what do you think the two of you are doing?! What are you saying?!? Have you...are you telling me you switched sides?!?!”

“Well…”

“We aren’t telling you, we were hoping you’d get the memo by watching.”

!? “ARRRGH!!!”

._____.

The three of you watch with second-hand embarrassment, along with a couple of nearby guards, until

The King has to pause mid-fit

For a rustling in the bushes pulls his attention aside-- along with the others.

Minho seems to gain his composure surprisingly quickly. With serious glint in his eyes, he pulls his sword, in unison with the surrounding army he’d brought.

Behind you, Jeongin respectfully pulls you close, Seungmin brandishing his own blade and standing protectively before you.

You’re confused, almost, at how high the tension had magically become

You can feel Jeongin’s heartbeat against you back, and the silence amid the rustle is deafening

A single bead of sweat rolls down your neck…

And then evaporates when a field mouse screeches at the glinting of sharp metal objects and flees. 🗿💧

“Oh...false alarm…” the Fire King sighs. His army groans, reupholstering their swords and spears

And then jump in surprise at the ambush that comes after

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

I know we’re 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ flying through this story kinda fast now but just hang tight

Cause a few familiar faces had come to save the day B))

Familiar faces known as Sir Changbin, Newly-awarded Knight Jisung, and brother who loved you a little too much, Felix

The way your brother’s sword clashed with Minho’s as your new attendants hurried you into the awaiting cart was a sight to behold

And you could still hear the screams of startled men even now :(((

Luckily Felix held a philosophy unlike your father to not cause any permanent damage at all costs, so no casualties occurred; just a lot of smoke-bombing and a few cuts and bruises

Then there was Jisung, who had to hang on to the roof bc he went flying during the ambush and landed in a tree and there just wasn’t enough time to get him inside so Changbin had to snap a branch and let him fall on top...but

You know

No casualties :))))

“Are you okay?!?!” Felix is demanding, checking you face, your neck, your hands. You sigh and shake your head, which at first he takes as a no and has a small panic attack but you give him a little shove followed by a hug

“I’m fine. I’m sorry I was gone for so long...but thank you for saving me.” <3

Felix hugs you back, though a grim look resides on his face. “I’m gonna have a serious talk with Chan. I can’t believe he just left you out in the city-- or the forest-- to find your own way home in the dead of night when you’ve scarcely left the palace before!”

!!!

You jump back, startling him a bit. “Chan didn’t leave me! Please...don’t be mad at him.”

“Wha?” He lists his head. “Then what happened?”

“......” Oops. “I...I left him. I thought I could make it back on my own.”

His arms cross. “And what the heck made you think that?”

>:((((((((

At this, you almost felt a sense of defiance. Almost.

Felix didn’t think you could make it on your own?! You?!? A twenty-something year old young woman?!?!?

...Well he was right because you had absolutely no sense of direction except where the shampoo was in your royal bathroom 😔

BUT HE DIDN’T HAVE TO RUB IT IN Y’KNOW?!?!

“I--!”

“You? Yes?”

“......”

“......”

“......” Sigh. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you...but first you have to let my friends go.”

The screen pans over to Seungmin and Jeongin, tied back to back with apples shoved in their mouths. Seungmin stared a hole into Felix’s head while Jeongin was actually making some decent progress getting a bite out of the apple to free himself...until some juice went down the wrong pipe and he started choking.

“RhUK--!!!”

“Your friends?” The prince huffs. “These are the Fire Lord’s attendants. I’ve met them on two occasions in the past. Trust me, they aren’t your...friends.”

You stamp your foot, to which everyone comically flinched. Outside, Han howled at the branches slapping him in the face and the dust in his eyes. “They work for me now, and they’re my friends!!! 😤😤 So let them go right now or I’ll push them out and roll out of here right beside them!”

“!!!”

Felix couldn’t have this, so

He gets to untying, and once freed, the four of you sit on the empty cart floor: you and your attendants on one side, Felix on the other. He exchanges a few words with Changbin up front and Han still on the roof before settling down for your story

“We should be arriving to the west gates shortly. Also, Han is fine, so don’t worry about him. Tell me everything that happened.”

You do. You start from the beginning, with Chan, and the wonderful time the two of you shared. Then you tell him about the village, and how lovely window shopping was, and the moment that all came to a halt. You explain Christopher’s Garden, the aging man who sleepily walked out the front door, the exchange that occurred between him and Chan...the way they embraced. You’d felt so happy but out of place, you decided to venture off and give them the privacy they very much deserved.

Then you come around to Minho. How you’d tried to run, but only made it so far thanks to your new mortal enemy, rocks. You’d become a hostage, and you quickly rush through the rival king’s evil(?) plan to lie his way to victory.

And, of course, you mention the proud and wise decision of his most loyal and trusted adversaries switching sides and how good you are at making friends (ღ˘⌣˘)♥ so that happened

By the time you get through the whole (short? Not really) story, the six of you have arrived at (Castle’s) West Gate.

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

M E A N W H I L E

In the past tense bc the author’s random switching is a meme

A certain evil(?) king named Minho was angry

You can understand, right?

I mean, his future bride had escaped, his former friends(?) betrayed him, and he got his ass beat pretty flawlessly by some punk prince who didn’t even injure him that badly...ON PURPOSE

This was a DISASTER

A TOTAL NIGHTMARE

😭😭😭

SCREW THIS HE WAS GOING TO BE VICTORIOUS WITH CHAMPAGNE POURING OVER US AND ALL HIS FRIENDS AND HE WOULD BE GLORIOUS NO MATTER WHAT

In fact, he was following the trail with a few uninjured guards as he spoke

“Keep following the tracks,” he demanded from the window of his carriage. Doongi, Soongi, and Dori all meowed in agreement. “I want those fools hand-tied and the princess back in her station before the sun rises. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, Sir!!!” They all cried. Minho scoffed, closing the window and falling back exhaustively in his seat

He messaged his temples...since Jeongin wasn’t there to do it for him

How did this happen?

How could he lose?

How could he let you and the others just escape like that...and fall for such a subtle, dumb trick?

Also…...there was the matter of his childish behavior from before

In front of the princess, his future wife

His friends

His army

……

That really hadn’t been like him at all

He just...was so stressed lately

And exhausted

Did he mention exhausted?

What time was it, like, 1 am???

That might be fine for you, but normally this king had his ass under covers by 11 pm

He could scarcely keep his eyes open were it not for all the rocks and potholes and--

…

And the curious young man that just stumbled out into the road.

Minho leaned forward, staring through the open front window, squinting in the darkness to make out a face; was that one of the boys? Was that Seungmin, or Jeongin perhaps?

It certainly didn’t sound like it-- the sap was calling out a name, and seemed to be dressed in tattered old clothes. Probably a peasant looking for his lost sheep or dog.

But then his men pulled the carriage closer, since that previous battle had spooked all the horses away, and Minho was able to make out a name: “Y/n!!! Princess, say, “here I am!!!””

…………

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Gottem.

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

To be continued...maybe.

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

Male Companions react to their baby/babies’s first words being “dad”

(I um...may or may not have even more maxson smut in the works so I’ll try my best to get through some cute fluff stuff first 😌 also I may have gotten carried away with a few of them 😭)

Danse:

The former Paladin didn’t ever imagine he’d ever be so lucky. Here he was, his best friend turned wife snuggled into his side as the both of you lovingly watched the newest addition to your family, his sweet little baby, as they rolled around on the carpeted floor. Just as he thought the night couldn’t have been better, that sweet little amber eyed child crawled up his lap, braced themselves with their tiny fingers clutching onto the chain of his dog tags before..

“Daddy!” They happily squealed, effectively making Danse gasp before smiling and scooping his child in his hands as he leaned back- holding them against his chest. He felt complete.

Deacon:

After everything Deacon had been through, he thought this whole predicament would forever be out of his reach. Boy was he happy he was wrong. Thankfully, you weren’t out on a mission- unless you consider going to the power noodle stand for dinner a mission. Regardless that meant that he was at home watching his little bundle of joy while you were out.

He couldn’t help himself but give in, he was supposed to be putting his baby to sleep but they just wouldn’t go down. So, he decided to play around with them, waving their prized teddy bear above them whilst talking to them with the infamous “baby voice.”

However within moments he dropped the bear, hearing his baby coo..

“Dada.” All with a cute bubbly grin.

“Yeah..that’s right.” Deacon would quickly respond, pushing his shades up to rest on his head. “I’m daddy.” He practically would coo back, scooping them up, only to laugh as they reached up and stole his glasses.

Gage:

Okay, Gage wasn’t one to cry no matter what the circumstance. Especially if it was over something emotional...that is, until the birth of his precious little baby. Boy, had they ran him through the runner, the mere idea of what danger they’d be in from literal birth because of their parents was good enough to make Gage feel as though he aged at least an additional five years.

No matter what though, it was all worth it when he was able to sit down and enjoy moments like the ones playing out before him.

The raider had momentarily went back inside the grille to grab something to drink, quietly emerging from the steel doors to be met with the sight of your moonlight silhouettes on the balcony. You holding his baby up with one hand, the other pointing off to some far off formation of stars that you pointlessly explained to your child. Once he finally approached, he felt his once frozen heart swell in his chest as he laid eyes upon his baby, their little hands wrapped around their favorite plushie...until they registered that the man coming up behind their mommy was...

“Da da!” They happily muttered, making their father’s one good eye widen to the size of a saucer. With a shaky breath, the oh so fearsome raider would reach into your arms to run his thumb across his baby’s plump little cheek.

The second you looked over your shoulder at him you couldn’t believe your eyes. There he was, a single tear rolling down his cheek and a pleased grin shaping his lips.

Hancock:

At first he didn’t fully understand. He had been playing some old record you found ages ago, dancing around with his sweet little baby in his arms when they spoke up in that tiny voice of their’s. However when he turned the music down and they enthusiastically beamed at him, leaning to where they could stare into his darkened eyes and say...

“Daddy..” with the cutest little coo..

Oh lord he couldn’t contain himself, going full speed to go find wherever you went off to and trying to get them to repeat it. Hell, if you didn’t stop him, he’d carry your child all around goodneighbor, telling everyone he could what their first words were.

Macready:

Internally, Mac did a little victory dance. He didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t help but find his mind drifting off to the memory of Duncan’s first words. He had tried for so long to coax his son into saying “dada.” Or just something similar...but much to his surprise, his first child’s first words were literally....”doggy.” In honor of the stray dog that would routinely pester their little farm.

So, when your baby looked up at him with those lovely eyes reminiscent of your own, their cute chubby little hands on either side of his face and plainly babbled..

“Dada..”

He couldn’t contain his joy.

Maxson:

He couldn’t believe it.

With one of his two babies put down for their nap and the other in his arms, he shone a bright proud smile.He flinched the slightest bit when the twin that was still awake tugged at his beard, however before he could put them beside their sibling-

“Da..da.” His precious little dark haired baby cooed, drooling with quite possibly the sweetest smile the young father had ever seen plastered on their little chubby face.

The elder’s bright eyes somewhat widened as he gazed at the baby, that proud smile impossibly growing wider. Their first words..Oh he was so proud. Right then and there he felt like he was going to explode from joy, a very strange and foreign feeling for him to experience.

Once he finally put his baby to sleep and was able to go back to your sleeping form he unfortunately was whipped with the crippling reality..one day he was going to have to raise that sweet little child to be a soldier.

Nick:

There wasn’t much he loved more than spending time with his new family, especially times like this where his miracle of a baby was propped up on his lap- the upper part of their body resting against the dark hickory style wood of his desk as the detective aimlessly tried to sort out files.

Just when he was about to hand his little one back to you, suddenly they whined, grabbing onto the tan ragged lapels of his trenchcoat.

“Daddy!” They shrieked, pulling with what little strength they could muster to try to climb back in their father’s embrace. At first he was shocked, his golden eyes flickering before he flashed a toothy smile, happily pulling his little one back to him before leaning back in his swivel chair so they could finally be happy and rest against their father’s chest.

Old Longfellow:

Look, making long story short, he cried. Like, full on tears of joy. He wasn’t an emotional one and if he was ever asked just why he had such a strong response, he’d completely blame it upon his newfound sobriety but..when his “miracle” of a baby stood up in his lap- looking him dead on with their kind, innocent eyes, just to smile and plainly say

“Daggy..”

Oh god he couldn’t help it. Even if they were off by a little bit, he knew what they were saying and the words were good enough to send him into a fit of happy tears.

Preston:

It was early, far too early for you to be awake, but that didn’t stop your precious little one. Luckily Preston was always a morning person, finding a way to expertly sneak around the creaky floorboards of your home to reach his baby somehow before they managed to let out a peep.

Call it a father’s intuition.

This had become such a running thing that it was just routine by now, every morning starting with him grabbing his own little “mini me”, placing them on his hip and singing along to a song or two as he gathered breakfast.

However unlike most mornings, this time the little child greeted their father with a big toothless grin- making cute “grabby hands” for him as they squealed

“Papa!”

He felt like he was struck with lightening, his own smile taking over his face as he practically leaped to pick them up. Twirling them around when he scooped their little body up.

He couldn’t wait to tell you.

Sturges:

It had been a long day of repairs for him, like always. No matte what though, he was the happiest he had been in his entire life. Holed up in your little humble home in sanctuary with you lounging out next to him, life couldn’t be any sweeter.

That is until your newly able to walk child walked towards the two of you, a glimmering piece of metal that upon further inspection would be travels to be a small socket wrench in their hand. With a cute, proud grin on their face- they’d unsteadily toddle towards their father, placing the object on his lap.

“Papa!” Their sweet little voice chirped, causing a look of pure shock to overwhelm the previously resting man.

Grinning ear to ear, the synth man would practically rip his utility gloves off so he could grab his little one by their tiny waist, hoisting them up and above his head. He’d proceed to make little “vertibird” like noises as he gently swayed them, causing them to turn into a messy of squirmy giggles. If anyone asked him what his heaven would’ve been, it would be this. This one particular moment.

X6-88:

Falling in love with you in the first place was already a scary experience for him. Finding out that somehow he managed to get you pregnant months later, that was reality shattering. He loved it though. More so, he loved his little child- their birth making him feel so human like, but in the best of ways. However he was once again put into that state of wondrous, exciting fear when his little curly headed toddler grabbed his coat- affectively grabbing his attention so he would be met eye to eye with their similar icy gaze.

“Daddy..?” Their sweet little voice called to him, looking up in such a way that made his heart physically twinge. However, before he even knew what he was doing, he knelt down, adjusted them onto his hip before kissing their nose.

He...he could get used to this.

[yeonchi]

THIS JUST IN: TV-Nihon C&D’d by Toei?

We’ve known that Toei can get a bit “Jewish” when it comes to copyright claims of their content on YouTube, but this seems to be a first. Just today, Takenoko of TV-Nihon received an email from someone claiming to be from the “Intellectual property rights department” at Toei asking them to take down their copyrighted materials. As such, TV-Nihon have taken down their Super Sentai and Kamen Rider torrents from their tracker for the time being.

Some people on Twitter have suspected that this is not a legitimate notice and I agree with them because I don’t think this email looks professional enough to be legitimate. If they knew how to file a DMCA, this would be different, but I digress. According to Over-Time on Twitter, New Wave and Perfect Zect (NewZect for short), a Brazilian toku fansubbing group, also received a similar email back in March. At the time of writing, their site is still up and they have deleted whatever notice they had about this, so I don’t know what’s happening on that front. Also, no other toku fansubbing group (English or otherwise) has received similar notices either.

It just seems too coincidental that this happened after Shirakura claimed that he wasn’t supposed to know how fans could watch Super Sentai and Kamen Rider internationally. As such, I’m seeing people putting blame on the person who tweeted at Shirakura, similarly to what happened during the Zi-O Trinity fiasco. Guys, I know the Shirakura paradox runs deep, but I don’t think the person is to blame. I’m pretty sure that Shirakura’s tweet was meant as a joke and honestly, Toei has known about the fansub market for like twenty years now, so it’s weird that they’re doing this now instead of very early on. Remember when Shirakura claimed that there was no Kamen Rider fanbase in the West and you went out of your way to make yourselves heard? This is someone who apparently thought the only toku Westerners liked was Power Rangers (because Shirakura was a producer on Zyuranger, the first Sentai that was adapted to the West). Also, the person didn’t even mention watching it outside of Japan, it was Shirakura who brought it up. They were just asking for more Super Sentai music on Spotify.

Anyway, as I said, I’m hoping that this copyright notice is fake (just as the next person), but in the event that this turns out to be real, I sincerely hope that TV-Nihon’s typesetters can hook us fans up with the lists of fonts that they use in their releases. Times have changed guys. Don’t leave us hanging.

This post will be updated as events progress.

UPDATE - 15 May 2021: Apparently, after comparing emails with TV-Nihon and KRDL (who also received one such email), Over-Time seems to be convinced that the emails are legit (note that they did not receive any such emails themselves), so they’ve decided to stop sharing raws and subs for Super Sentai and Kamen Rider (apparently they’re still going to sub shows, just not post about them on their site). Nobody has been served any legal letters and the emails don’t seem to be valid legal threats, but Over-Time are being cautious for the time being just like TV-Nihon are. I’m still of the opinion that these are not legitimate, particularly because no lawyer has had a hand in any of this (as far as I know) and the emails are purposely vague.

Regardless of whatever happens, please don’t blame twt_tokusatsu for tweeting at Shirakura, or even Shirakura himself for joking about it because he might not even know what is going on (and we don’t exactly know if he does either). If anything, Toei should be blamed for being “Jewish” with their copyrights.

Also, I highly suggest that people refrain from tagging Shirakura on Twitter with their complaints or being paranoid and alarmist when someone does. Some people seem to think that the Western toku fanbase is on thin ice with Toei, but we don’t exactly know how thick the ice is. Yes, some scepticism and cautiousness is okay, but the more paranoid the fanbase gets, the more rumours and misinformation get spread around.

UPDATE - 19 May 2021: Takenoko has stated that he wants to continue translating the shows, so TV-Nihon have started releasing subtitle files for use with the raws. The subtitles are only in an .srt format with no fonts, styling or karaoke, which might be a bit disappointing, but still a good start for TV-Nihon, who have been hardsubbing their releases since the beginning. It would be nice, though, if they eventually released their full collection of subtitle files so that people who have the raws can use them themselves, plus it would save me from bugging TV-Nihon’s typesetters on my posts to release the fonts they use for their releases because they would all be in the files themselves.

Also, you didn’t hear this from me, but I’m starting to see TV-Nihon’s latest releases on a certain site that other sub groups use to post their release torrents.

Since it’s going to be about a week without anything else in the way of news, I’ll keep observing the situation for a couple more weeks and then write a post summarising the whole situation. Assuming that nothing much happens during that time, this will be the final update for this post.