#seeing that hit something in the core of me

[ultraericthered]

#i got to screen Wish before it released during a school trip and let me tell you something #even though we noticed the glaring problems with that movie immediately #i also noticed something i dont think many others did at that time #there was so much talent and potential being held back. if you read closely you can pick up on a cry for help from the creatives behind it #i want to elaborate but i think if you know. you know #and if you don't.. this post does a good job of shining a light on a small part of that cry for you #despite its many issues i think i still liked Wish. Not because i think it was a good movie but bc i think it could have been a great one had circumstances been different. #my heart goes out to those who put their souls and everything they had into that movie and others in similar situations #some of the creators had given a small talk before the screening and to me they seemed very emotional about it #i think what many people forget is that nobody can see a project's flaws better than the people who worked on it #but what they also see and you can't is everything more it was meant to be #please remember that the core of many issues in any project is that the people with the talent often do not have power to call the shots

Yes, all of that. And I find it ironic that the gifed scene is the one that got people saying "Hey, King Magnifico's not really much of a villain, he's got a good point! He's just upholding his part of a social contract with his citizenry and doing what he, as king, needs to do to protect their wishes but also protect Rosas by ruling out granting any wishes that might backfire and have dangerous repercussions for the kingdom and the lives of the people! Asha's just an ignorant spoiled brat for demanding anything more of him! Magnifico Did Nothing Wrong!" So when you take that position on what you're being shown by the story and not scratching the surface to look at what Magnifico is doing in-universe by not giving back the wishes he knows he will not grant and knows the people who gave them to him cannot remember and what the out-of-universe subtext of this is, you're siding with the Disney Corporate Executive Overlords. You're siding with Bob Iger's "they're not being realistic with their expectations" argument. You're siding with Chapek and Iger's practices done under excuses like "It doesn't fit the Disney brand", "mass appeal stories over personal ones", "people don't want to go and pay to see movies with girly princess titles", etc. You're siding with their practices of dumping content straight to streaming (or onto Disney+ not too long after they've hit theaters or TV) even when that actually limits profits that the actual creative teams can make from their own work, of tampering with the artists visions and how the finished product turns out and then punishing those artists if it doesn't turn out well, and of ignoring ideas for original creations in favor of contiunally milking their popular (and profitable) existing IPs. You're siding with people who make up an entire entity that say loudly to the faces of all those who put in the work, the skills, the talent, the passion and dedication to create art and content they feel people deserve to enjoy, in the forms they deserve to enjoy them "I decide what everyone deserves!"

Capitalism errodes into a force for human evil when the people at the top prove susceptible to three things in excess beyond mere greed and self-interest: unchecked power, irresponsibility, and indecency. King Magnifico is allegorical for that evil, with a bit of a communist dictator angle to him too since that's the end point of those exact same excesses and extremes for socialism. He's a major problematic fave for all kinds of reasons, but anyone who wants to tell me he's a good guy can kindly GTFO.

Wish (2023) dir. Fawn Veerasunthorn, Chris Buck

hey do you think the overworked creatives about to go on strike are trying to tell us something

article sources under the cut

Mattson, Kelcie. "How Disney Almost Killed 'Nimona.'" Collider, January 2 2024.

Earl, William. "Shelving Batgirl Was the Right Decision, Says New DC Studios Head Peter Safran: 'It Would Have Hurt DC.'" Variety, January 31 2023

Couch, Aaron. "Warner Bros. Reverses Course on 'Coyote vs. Acme' After Filmmakers Rebel." The Hollywood Reporter, November 13 2023.

Ridgely, Charlie. "Scoob! Sequel Director Revealed Film Was 'Very Close' to Completion Before HBO Max Cancellation." comicbook.com, August 2 2022.

Clark, Travis. "Staffers at the animation studio Blue Sky say it's 'heartbreaking' that Disney canceled its final movie, 'Nimona.'" Business Insider, February 18, 2021.

Harrison, Mark. "Why was the Batgirl movie cancelled?" Yahoo! Entertainment, January 31 2024.

Amidi, Amid. "Warner Bros. Shelves Fully-Completed 'Coyote Vs. Acme' For Tax Write-Off." Cartoon Brew, November 9 2023.

Lee, Alex. "Why Netflix keeps cancelling your favourite shows after two seasons." Wired UK, September 28 2020.

Tyrrell, Gary. "We All Knew It Was Coming." fleen.com, February 10 2021.

"Warner Bros. Reverses Course on ‘Coyote vs. Acme’ After Filmmakers Rebel." see: 3.

Bergeson, Samantha. "Warner Bros. Will Let 'Coyote Vs. Acme' Filmmakers Shop Movie to Other Distributors." IndieWire, November 13 2023.

Strapagiel, Lauren. "Disney's First Feature Animated Movie With Queer Leads May Never Be Released." BuzzfeedNews, February 24 2021.

"We All Knew It Was Coming." see: 9

@/scottderrickson. "I think it’s absolute bullshit that a studio can and does shelve the creative work of hundreds of people for a fucking tax break." Twitter, 10 Nov. 2023, 4:52 p.m..

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymmetrical Symphony

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written and GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

··········· • ············ •

There was a second. Less than a second before Ekko's time flowed again. In that, second before Jayce and Viktor vanished into nothingness, before time turned in your favor. In that second you felt your mind separate from your body, your consciousness being bent into a spiraling corridor of Hextech, your soul being erased and repainted with the runes you studied. And then…white…a flash of nothingness and the ticking sound of a clock and in a blink of an eye you jolted awake.

The impact with something cold and hard took the breath out of you, feeling it hit right below the diaphragm. You kept sliding down something until you woke up enough to figure out where you were and how fast gravity was working against you.

You quickly figure out where you were: the Hexgate rooftop. The place you had been standing a second ago, looking at a white construct plucking all your memories away, now a dark slide with a not-so-fun ending. You cured under your breath, your hands finding anything they could grab and stop the swift descent. Finally, your fingers clawed at a sill and you haphazardly stopped your death by floor. 

With two big puffs of air, you managed to pull yourself up the ledge and immediately fall on your back, when you figured the ground was straight. You could feel your lungs explode with cold air, the tears you had before drying out in the night air. 

You frowned. Night air? Something snapped in your brain and straightened your back, sitting on your small perch. It was broad daylight … The flood of memories and images hit you all at once, and you felt all of them all at once. You felt your brain split open and be sewn back together. Jayce, Viktor, your two friends, broken and made whole again. The hextech, the hex core, and its idea of a hive mind world. Mel, a force of nature finally found what she was truly made of, marble and gold. Caitlyn and Vi, the backbone of the enforcers. You, a high society figure tangled in the science you patronized, turned fighter for Piltover's survival. 

You heard the chaos of the last hour in your mind, the screams, the clinking of swords and blasts of guns. The smell of blood, fear, and magic. 

You felt it all until…you didn’t. And it all became quiet. The silent whisper of the wind on your face and the normal sound of a city under your feet.

You got up on unsteady feet, realizing you were still wearing your makeshift enforcer armor. You looked around, seeing the skyline of the city, bathed in an orange moonlight, until you reached the Academy’s dome. A silent gasp came out of your mouth.

It was still intact. 

The gasp turned to frown and the hope to realization. You took a step back as you watched the red moon reflected on the glass pane.

It was still intact, but not for long.

You remembered Jayce talking about how he got to go to a different time, an alternate universe. A divergence in reality that sent him somewhere. His description was dire, filled with what he called ‘Hex Angels’ coming after him. But this seemed like your world, your time. Before Jinx attacked the council.

Before Jayce placed Viktor in the hextech bath, turning him into the Herald.

You had one chance. One impossible chance. 

The urgency of needing to get to council chambers hit you like a brick and you started to try and make your way inside the hexgate. Find an enforcer, tell them to get you into the chamber, and warn the councilors of the attack. If it would be easy, you were a well-known face in Piltover. Your father was a respected figure, an old councilman, only giving up his seat when your mother died 20 years ago. Getting into that chamber would be easier than getting down from this rooftop.

Which you managed with surprising ease, thanking Caitlyn for showing you the many ventilation entryways where the enemies could try and get inside.

And your feet hit the metallic floor of a walkway you ran as fast you could to any place you deemed safe to jump down. It seemed like a never-ending spiral that was clawing into your anxiety. But when you were about to scream you found yourself face to face with a door with a sign “Maintenance. Do not open it if Hexgate is hot.”

You gave it a few tugs. Nothing. You groaned and started pounding on it, until you saw an enforcer come to the door, frowning. 

He opened the door, a hand on the handle, another on his electric baton.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” 

You frowned at the first question but answered it. His eyes looked nonplussed and you frowned deeper. You hated to pull this card but you didn’t know how much time you had.

“Do you not know who I am?” Your voice echoes through the tube. “I don’t care who you are! You are trespassing on government grounds” He grabbed your forearm and roughly pushed you into a small corridor. “How did you even get in there?” He mumbled to himself, losing the door. “Doesn’t matter. I need to get to the council chamber.” You blurted out, knowing by his demeanor it was futile.  “Pal, you're going straight to HQ to answer how you got into a place with only three guarded doors, and why.”

He once more grabbed your elbow and dragged you away from the metal door towards a minuscule industrial elevator. With his free hand, he grabbed the key ring around his belt and unlocked it. It was beautifully crafted, as was everything in Piltover, but the cramped space and your shoulder pauldron made it difficult for both of you to get inside at the same time. 

You looked at the Enforcer, while he was trying to figure out if going down the thousands and thousands of stairs was worth it. The stairs were barely used, placed there by an overzealous engineer and much like the door to the elevator, it was locked. 

“I’m sorry…” you whispered to the guy and when he turned you did your best Vi impression and head-butted him, leaving him hurting and confused. You quickly snatched the keys from him and rushed to the stairs.

“Stop!” You heard him mumble, trying to regain his balance.

Yanking the door open you rushed down the stairs, jumping whole sets of stairs at a time, using the walls as a concrete cushion to break your descent. You kept jumping and running and colliding with the walls, begging that the ground floor appeared soon. 

The last landing was below you and you saw four enforcers open the door below you and rushed in, looking up and spotting you. You couldn’t take them all. 

Before you could do anything you felt something shift. Similar to when someone stretched after a good nap, but it was in the air around you. Not the air you realized, the reality around you awakened. It whispered something unintelligible, but you heard it even above the guards shouting at you. A faint piano note followed and right in front of you a rune appeared. Like a pattern on a broken mirror. 

A magical rune, you remembered talking with Jayce and Viktor about it.

The officers were approaching and without thinking you inscribed the rune with your foot on the dusty floor of the stairwell. Once made you waited. The guards stopped for a moment looking confused. Nothing happened.

A conversation between you and your father flashed in your head. You had finished practicing a piece on the piano, your father, ever the willing audience sat with a frown on his face. 

“What's wrong?” you asked, turning to him and he shook his head. “Is it supposed to be a happy song?” He asked and you shook your head. “No, it’s a requiem, but I didn’t feel like playing a sad song, so I changed the note.”

Your father smiled sadly and got up from his armchair.

“My dear child, if a song is intended to be sad, then it must be played as such. That was its intended purpose.” He placed a hand on your shoulder “You are only a tool to bring that song to life, your aim should be to bring it to life.”

Intention. You’re a tool with a purpose. You nodded and took a deep breath. Looking up at the enforcers you thought about what the objective of your plan was. Leave. Move from here. And then, you stomped your boot to the ground and a wave of air burst from it. Like a gust of powerful wind, knocking the enforcers down.

You looked at the groaning bodies on the floor, your chest heaving in deep breaths. For a second you were frozen to the ground, until the clanking of metal armor and footfalls snapped you out of it. 

“I’m so sorry…” You whispered to the guards on the ground and ran outside the hexgate, shoving whoever stepped in your path out of the way. 

You relied on your muscle memory of Pilltover to get you to the University where the Council of Clans was to be taking place. You managed to lose most of the enforcers by swerving into the building’s back alleys, stopping only by a garbage chute to dispose of the outer layer of armor you still had on, leaving you with a simple pair of blue pants and a tank top.

Arriving at the University steps you slowed down and walked confidently towards the enforcers at the door, hoping they had not been warned about your encounter at the Hexgated and that they knew about who you were. The last part was quickly dismantled as they stepped towards you with a hand up. 

“I am here for the Council meeting.” You announced, your tone showing the confidence you didn’t have, but that years of practice made second nature. “Good evening. We are not expecting any visitors.” The enforcer replied, politely. “Please turn back and come back tomorrow with an appointment.”  “Councilwoman Mel Medarda is expecting me.” Your tone dripped with the impatience only a Topsider was known to have. “I am truly sorry, but we are not expecting visitors. If any member of the Council was expecting you we would have been warned.” The other enforcer repeated and started towards you. “This is astounding. How dare you stop me from an engagement with a Councillor? Preposterous. I will tell your supervisor about this…” “As is your right. Now please turn around.”

You huffed and puffed, putting on a performance of a lifetime until you finished the rune you had learned minutes ago. Once that was done you turned to the enforcers and once again apologized, watching as they got knocked on their asses when you stomped the rune with your boot. It was enough for you to walk to them and grab another key ring for your collection. 

Unlocking the side door of the main entrance you stepped inside while hearing shouting approaching from the outside. Time is running out. You looked at the marble steps and both you and your knees groaned. You took the steps two by two until you reached the second landing and then you found the main elevator. You had no time to wait for the thing to arrive nor to go to the last floor by the stairs. 

Reality did the thing again and once more a rune whispered and showed itself as if it was a patch on the elbows of a jacket. There was no dust on the floor or walls, nothing for you to write the rune on. 

All of a sudden you felt a burning sensation in your hand and looked at it. In your palm, a bright blue rune appeared, glowing in the darkened university hall. The bright light spread, filling your palm, your knuckles and your fingers. When you moved your hand to turn it and watch the light consume the rest of your extremities, you noticed your fingers were painting light into the air. You moved your fingers in a wave a small path of light painted the air in front of you, like a stroke of a brush on canvas.

Once again, the clanking of armor and shouting kicked you out of your stupor and you used your now weirdly illuminated hand. For a second today, the rune did nothing and once again you thought of the purpose you had. Reach the last floor.

Another voice flashed in your head. Vi’s shouts when you were on the hexgate, back…back there.

“Well…don’t just stand there…push forward…get them out!”

Push forward. Quickly you drew the rune in the air and just as Vi sometimes spoke with her fists, you did the same, punching the rune with enough force to push it towards its destination.  

The elevator pinged and opened its double doors and you rushed inside. The elevator took off as fast as it could with its old gears but it was still quicker than the steps and by the quiet you were hearing, the enforcers were still finding a way up.

As soon as the elevator stopped you were darting towards the gigantic doors. Midway, you caught a glimpse of something shining through the sky through a window—the rocket. Jinx was going through the motions of pulling the trigger if she hadn’t pulled it already. If the rocket was already in the air, you had seconds to put a stop to the Herald’s ascension.

You swerved right, knowing the main doors would be guarded, but the side doors were usually…hopefully… left unattended. Never did a sigh of a door make you so happy. You grabbed the door handle. Locked.

Instinctively you made the gust of air rune in the air and punched it, the door rattled. You groaned loudly, your desperation evident. You painted the rune again but made it bigger. The door rattled again. If not size, then quantity. You made four runes on the ground, in a single line and stomped on it. 

The door flew open and you ran inside, watching as everyone in the room fell silent. You hadn’t been inside the chamber when the rocket hit, but you knew that Mel’s shield had naturally appeared to protect her. Jayce, being so close to her, had been protected, but Viktor was a breath away from it.

Mel’s eyes snapped to you as you took several gulps of air. Looking at a smaller window in the chamber you saw a light fly towards the dome. You locked eyes with Viktor, sitting on a chair, his expression confused. 

As you dashed towards him, Mel and Jayce, you were half tempted to use magic again, but when he reached for his cane you stopped that thought. You weren’t about to throw poor Viktor around, this was gonna hurt as it was.

A councilman got up in an attempt to stop you, but Vi and Caitlyn's training had paid off and you quickly skidded away. You were centimeters from Viktor when a blue glow bathed the chamber. Everyone’s face turned towards the domed ceiling. As everyone’s eyes were transfixed on the sky you grabbed Viktor's hand and pulled him to you as you rushed towards Mel. You heard the glass shattering as the rocket hit the target, the force of the impact enough to send you crashing to the ground, never letting go of the bony hand in yours. And then…blackness…

··········· • ············ •

[freakassfemme]

save a turkey, stuff a masc [shorts, 18+]

this year I'm thankful for bottom Ellie and Abby fics and im thankful for sub mascs everywhere all the time

cw: not proof read one bit (I literally wasn't even wearing my glasses when I wrote this and I wrote it in 20 minutes so forgive my spelling errors), bottom abby and ellie, reader is strapped up, choking, slight degradation if you squint (?)

♫ supersoaker (eartheater)

🍒 ellie

Ellie's so easy to wrangle after a night like this. Another one filled with the awkward tensions between her and Joel, pretending everything between them is fine when it's not, when it's actually so fucking complicated that she could rip her own skull off given the chance, just to quiet the throbbing complications swelling in her mind.

Of course, you would never let it get that far. You've grown accustomed to Ellie's frustrations and the signs of it -- her tense shoulders, the way she sucked in her lips, kneads her brows together and goes quiet, considering it safer than arguing some more.

So when the night has finally concluded and you two are relieved from awkward family obligations to return back to the little makeshift studio garage Ellie calls her "place", you're quick to find a way to melt these tensions.

Like I said, she's easy, easy to lay out on her back like this, knees pressed to her chest and hair left down and astray. The auburn strands stick to her forehead, covering some of her freckles as she whimpers and pants up at you.

"Shit, fuck, oh my god --"

Ellie's barely able to keep her eyes open when you're like this, her hands bracing themselves on your wrist as you pound relentlessly into her. You pull pitiful moans out of her as you hold her still with a palm to her pale throat, fingers experimentally tightening as she grows inconsolable, long nails threatening to stab at her if she isn't careful to hold still and take what you give her.

"Shhh, shh, I know sweetheart," you're purring. The combined scent of her previous orgasms and your sickeningly sweet perfume melting off of your warm body makes her head spin, body shaking underneath you uncontrollably.

"Fuck, I don't know if I can," she grunts out, chest heaving as one of her fists slams down on the mattress, balling the sheets and hitting them down again. She can feel her heart pounding in her skull, and she's lightheaded from uselessly trying to catch her breath.

Your thumb traces her bottom lip as Ellie's breathing becomes more erratic, more choked up, and her eyes begin to water. You've climbed so far over her that she can hardly see anything except you, her pretty, sweet girl, with such sinful and disgusting words falling from your plush lips between the sounds of your hips slapping against her utterly soaked cunt. And god, does she look good like this, left in only her t-shirt and bra pulled just enough over her chest to give you a good view and something to play with when she gets antsy.

"No, don't say that baby," you chide softly, as if you aren't dripping from your core, down between the straps of your harness, and on to the bed yourself. As if you aren't fighting to bury the toy to the hilt inside of her and fucking burst. You readjust yourself, sitting up straighter so her pleading eyes don't make you change your mind.

"I know you can, you can take another one f'me."

Ellie gulps down air greedily as your fingers move away from her throat and down to her clit, toying with the bud as she begins to squirm, moans growing higher pitched and so, so desperate.

"See, I knew you weren't done," you huff, giggling down at her. Her cheeks grow pink from embarrassment, and she tries to turn away, but you stop her. You turn her face back towards you with your free hand, making her watch you as you work her through the beginning of her fourth orgasm.

"Uh-uh, eyes on me, sweet girl. Gonna fuck you stupid, huh?"

🍒 abby

Abby's not so easy. She takes some work, some forethought to get under your strap, but you know the drill.

You've been sweetening her up all day, making her a plate and bringing it to her so she doesn't even have to get up from the football game that she and Manny had been screaming at all morning. You'd been lounging on the side of the couch, nails tracing over her back, picking at the shiny material of her jersey and gently pulling the ponytail out of her braid.

You've got your fingers in the loose strands of her hair, nails softly scratching at her scalp when Manny calls the game, waving it off and heading out the door a few moments later, though that wasn't necessarily like him, Abby had commented. She wondered if he was okay, if they had cooked the turkey all the way through. She felt fine, but you were sure Manny had just grown uncomfortable around you openly eyeing her.

You don't say anything of it though, shrugging it off and packing away the dinner's leftovers. Abby's helpful and sweet as always, pressing a soft kiss to your temple that has you turning with a predatory glint in your eye. This went unnoticed by the larger woman, and she continued not to notice until your arms were wrapping around her from behind, warm palm climbing up her chest and under her shirt until you can play with the elastic of her bra. She had laughed, taking it for a joke until your other hand slips below her waistband, and then her hands are tightening on the counter and she's sucking in a breath.

After that, it isn't long before you're shoving Abby's face into the mattress. You're holding her wrists at the small of her back, and the bulging veins and muscle in her forearms make your delicate hands and long nails look almost laughable, like a piece of paper tying some dumbbells together, but she doesn't dare to fight your grasp. Rather, she melts right into it.

"Shit, mmph," she grunts turning her head so she can gasp in the cold air of the room. Your nails dig into her hair, wrapping it around your wrist and pulling her up so her back is arched, and she can just barely see the reflection of your tangled bodies in the mirror over the tip of her nose.

"Fuck!" She grunts out, dragging out the vowel and bordering it with a strained growl. "Fuck, it's deep, it's really, really deep, ohmygod --"

You're giggling behind her, panting softly as a lazy smirk meets her contorted face in the glass.

"You're greedy, Abs," you hum, annunciating your words with even heavier snaps of your hips that have her eyes rolling back and her clit pulsing deliciously. "She's sucking me in, baby, knew you needed this, huh?"

Abby's head bobs and nods pathetically as you continue your brutal pace, an angelic whine of uh-huh forced out of her parted lips.

You tsk, shaking your head.

"'s not gonna cut it, baby," you chide, letting go of her hair to exchange it for her jaw, pulling her warm back against your front and pressing soft kisses along her shoulder. "Use your words."

Abby lets out an almost heartbreaking moan, a mix of frustration and pleasure filling your ears as she can barely hold in enough oxygen to breath, let alone admit how badly she needed to be broken in like some sort of fucking dog in heat.

Still, you don't give up, growing more cocky and demanding as she falls further and further into you, head drunk and dumb on your cock.

"Come on, angel, I won't tell anyone how much you like it."

[letsgoletsgetit08]

ateez soft hours pt. 2

how they would treat you while you're on your period

maknae line

warning: mdni, period sex, smut

word count: 3.4k

ao3 link: maknae line

author's note: I uh. yeah.

choi san: "What's up, babe?" He sounds out of breath over the phone, "I'm finishing up at the gym."

"Everything hurts and I want to die." You whine.

"Oh, no, my poor baby! Do I need to bring you any supplies on my way over?" His voice was sweet, always so attentive. You felt lucky every day that he grew up with an older sister.

"No, I'm okay with all that, but thank you. I just want you to come lay on top of me with your entire body weight."

"Anything you want, honey. You know you could come join me at the gym, exercise helps relieve cramps, allegedly." He was mainly joking.

You groaned, "Ugh, Choi San stop talking about exercise right now or I'm going to turn homicidal. You know any other day I would have gone with you."

He laughed at your dramatics, "I know, precious. I just had to tease, I'm sorry. I'll be sweet the rest of the night, promise."

"I mean if you really want me to break a sweat, I have some ideas for cardio we could do later." Heat curls in your aching abdomen at the thought of it. Glad your boyfriend has never been squeamish about period sex.

"Oh?" He asked, you were silent until the implication hit him, "Ohhhh. Well, yes, of course." His voice lowered so he couldn't be heard by anyone around him, "You know I'll take care of you, baby. Make you feel so good. No touching yourself until I get there, okay?"

Your thighs clenched together at his words, "Okay, yes, I'll be good." Your voice was breathy, already laced with lust.

"Mmh, good girl. Already getting all bothered for me, aren't you? I'll see you soon, honey." He didn't give you a chance to reply before the line went dead.

San was so good at picking up on your cues, happy to take the lead or to follow, depending on your mood. You liked him any way you could get him but your favorite was when he gently took the reins, giving you soft but stern instructions and showering you with praise all night, talking you through every orgasm. The thought of it made it hard for you to keep the promise you had just made to him.

You decided to shower instead, waiting for him to come home, feeling a little yucky after being in bed all day.

By the time you emerged in nothing but a towel, San was already there.

"Hi, gorgeous." He enveloped you in a big hug. He had showered at the gym, it seemed, hair still damp, cheeks rosy, comfy in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

"Sannie." You sighed into his chest.

He pulled back and trailed his hands down your arms, "Look at you, all clean just for me?"

You nod, looking down, feeling shy and exposed. Hormones, probably.

He pulled the towel open to look at you, "Oh, honey. I'll never get over how stunning you are." He pulled the towel all the way off, tossing it over the still-open bathroom door, reaching for you again, hands warm as they fell to your slightly boated tummy. He always made you feel so beautiful even when you felt like a hot pile of dog shit. "I brought something." He kissed your forehead then went to his backpack, pulling out a bottle of massage oil, "Thought this might be nice. I know your body is achey. Does a massage sound nice?"

"It sounds incredible." You smile at him, tears in your eyes, feeling especially grateful for him in that moment.

"Come on then, jagi." He leads you to your bedroom, grabbing a new towel on his way, to keep the massage oil - and whatever other potential bodily fluids - off of your bedding.

He has you on your stomach, deft hands turning you to putty at their touch, paying special attention to your lower back, where he knows carries extra tension. You're nearly in a trance when he wipes one hand on the towel, still kneading one ass cheek with his other hand, evidently able to tell what the massage was doing to you, your core becoming wet with arousal. He removed his other hand and you hear a squirting noise. When his hand returns, you realize the noise had been him applying lube to his fingers, which were now teasing your already slick slit, up and down, movements slow. Your legs parted further on instinct.

"Yes, baby, that's it. This is what you wanted, hm? Don't worry, I'm going to make you feel good." San’s voice was low and you felt yourself grind back into his fingers at it. "Patience, love." He chuckled, "We have all the time in the world."

His fingers found your clit, applying pressure to either side of it, before finally brushing over the top, just briefly before they slid down your folds once again, his other hand spreading your ass cheek as he held his fingers to your entrance. He didn't have to apply much pressure at all, you were so turned on that your cunt sucked him in greedily. He thrust them in and out a few times before curling them forward, hitting your sweet spot. Your back arched at the sensation and you could tell he was smiling behind you, "Mmh, so responsive, jagiya. I could do this for hours."

And you believe him, too. He sets a pace but slows down when you try to fuck yourself back onto his fingers, "No, no, sweetheart. Let me bring you there. I want you as relaxed as you were when I was massaging you, okay?"

"Yes, sir." You manage, face squished by the mattress, brain floating towards another planet already.

"Good girl." He says, fingers returning to continue their ministrations.

At some point, his thumb finds your tight ring of muscle, taunting him as it sat there within reach right above your now absolutely quivering cunt, circling it and adding just a little pressure. A gasp leaves your mouth at the sensation, surprised at how much you like it. "Mmh, so sensitive. You like this don't you?" You were so wet, every nerve alight at his touch, seconds from falling apart, holding on because you knew he would want to tell you when to let go. "You've been so good for me, angel, why don't you go ahead and come? On my fingers like a good girl."

Your body obeyed immediately, pleasure rolling through you. You thought your orgasm might never end, it was unlike anything you had ever felt before. "There we go baby, just like that. God, you're stunning." You were still clenching when he removed his fingers, just long enough to strip off his boxers and tank top, climbing back up and guiding the tip of his cock to your absolutely drenched core, letting you suck him in, inch by inch. The way he filled you had you immediately working up to your second peak, "Christ, honey, you're so wet. So. Fucking. Tight." He punctuated his words with the snap of his hips as your walls clenched around him again and again.

"Sannie-" You cried out in pleasure.

"I know, kitten, I'm right here with you." He purred. By the time you're worked up to your third release, he's cumming in perfect time with you, cock quivering as he pumped you full. "Oh my god, yes, fuck." He cried out. "You were made to take me, weren't you, baby? So fucking good for me." He praised you as he pulled out, collapsing beside you and dragging your limp body over to lay on his glistening chest.

"Sannie, that was... fuck." You couldn't form proper words, "Thank you."

"No need to thank me, jagi." He kissed your forehead, "The pleasure is all mine."

song mingi: He barely stirs as you roll on top of him, body aching, too early to do anything about it.

"Mmh, baby," Mingi’s morning voice is deep, raspy, one of his big hands pulls your leg up over his hips, the other tugging you closer to his chest.

You fall back asleep for a while. When you wake up, your head is a little more clear, and you realize you've bled through your underwear onto Mingi’s boxers. Heat flushes your cheeks in embarrassment and he stirs as he feels your body tense.

"'S wrong, jagi?" He rubs your back as his eyes blinked open slowly.

"Mingi, I'm so sorry, I-" you move your leg and he realizes what happened.

"C'mere." He pulls you back down into a slow kiss, apparently immune to your morning breath. You can't help but let out a moan as his hand finds your ass cheek, helping your hips grind into his thigh. "Yeah, you like that?" He all but growls into your ear as his hands work your stained underwear off, following with his own swiftly behind.

He rolls you over wordlessly, spooning you from behind, his already hard length in hand as you open your legs for him. He drags the head of his cock from your clit up to your soaked entrance, repeating it a few times until you're whining, grinding your ass back, begging to be taken.

"Oh, really?" He whispers, kissing down your shoulder, "You want me that bad, hm?"

"Please, Mingi, yes." You beg.

He holds his cock to your entrance, "Don't worry baby, I've got you." He pushes forward slowly, tip barely buried inside of you. "Go ahead, then." He instructs. You obey, working yourself down rather easily with the extra lubrication as you stretch over his large dick. You can tell he's watching himself disappear inside of you, his hair tickling your shoulder.

"Ah, fuck, jagi. You take me so well." He moans, beginning to lay long, lazy strokes. You knew when you first saw him dance on stage that his stroke game would be incredible, and you were pleased to find out how right you were when you started dating. It's only improved as he's gotten to know you better.

His hand reaches around to find your clit, fingers bumping into his shaft as he pleasures you, the perfect amount of pressure, circling and stroking. You were cramping so bad when you woke up but now your ab muscles had been given something real to focus on. You lean back, head falling to his broad shoulder as your whole body spasms in release. "Fuck yeah, just like that, baby." Mingi growls, his pace picking up as he works you through it, hips pumping harder and faster until he finally stills, and the feeling of his cock pumping you full of his seed is nearly enough to have you on the edge of coming again. All he has to do is play with your tender nipples and lay a few more strategic strokes and you're clenching around him again, breathless, whole body boneless, insides jellied.

You both caught your breath for a minute before Mingi spoke again. "Baby, I know we had plans for the farmers market today, but I'm sore from dance practice yesterday and I know you don't feel well. What if I make us some breakfast and start a load of laundry and then we can stay in all day and watch movies until I have to go to the studio tonight?"

You crane your neck around to kiss him, off-kilter from the odd angle, "That sounds perfect, baby."

"Mmh, good, I'm glad." He kissed you again, "Let me go grab you some Midol and start the shower, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you for being so sweet to me."

"Of course baby," He smiled as he extracted himself from your back, "I'm happy to. You always take care of me, it's the least I could do."

jung wooyoung: Hands on your waist startle you as you're washing dishes, audio book playing through your headphones concealing the noise of Wooyoung letting himself in.

“Ah!” You nearly drop the bowl in your hands, “Jesus! You scared the shit out of me!”

You feel yourself relax into his touch as he hooks his chin over your shoulder and moves one headphone off of your ear, “Baby, you're shouting.”

You huff as you place the bowl onto the drying rack, “Whose fault is that?”

He begins tickle you, “Not my fault!”

“Youngie!” You whine as you turn around in his arms, trying to evade his attacks, “Stop it!”

“Aw, grumpy,” his pout matches the one on your face.

You slap his chest playfully, “Hey, I have the right to be grumpy, my period just started.”

His expression turns sympathetic immediately, “Oh, jagi.” He kisses your forehead, “How can I help?”

You considered it for a second, “Well, I bought ingredients to make dinner but I really don't feel like cooking, so I was thinking about ordering in instead.”

“No way.” He grasped your face in his hands, “I'm gonna get you set up in the living room and then I'll get started cooking, okay?”

“Are you sure? You don't have-”

He cuts you off with a swift kiss, “No protesting. I'm happy to do it.”

You watch one episode of the show you've seen a thousand times, curled up on the living room couch, but as you see the preview for the next episode, you realize it's one you don't care much for, plus, the smell coming from the kitchen is calling your name. You turn off the TV and walk in right as Wooyoung is bending down to put the food in the oven to bake, making yourself right at home behind him on the island. He shuts the oven door and removes your light pink oven mitts- which look adorable on him - turning to spread your legs open so he can stand between them, arms caging you in as he presses his forehead to yours.

“Hi, beautiful.” You've always found his voice endearing, but it's especially so with the slight rasp it gets when he's jonesing for a you fix.

“Hi, handsome.” You barely get the words out before he's kissing you. Slow, deep movements from his mouth draw a moan from yours.

You can already feel heat pooling between your legs at his proximity and you pull back to ask, “Baby?”

“Yes, darling?” He smiles, eyes dark with desire, reveling in how he knows he drives you crazy.

“How much time do we have?”

“Twenty minutes,” His hand skims the waistband of your loose sleep shorts, sending shivers down your spine, “Plenty of time.”

You don't get a chance to reply before his fingers find their way inside your underwear, circling your throbbing bud slowly before dipping down to gather the slick that has gathered at your entrance, taking his time as he trails them back up, exploring your folds before resuming his ministrations at your clit.

Your hand finds his waist to hold onto for support, getting carried away with the sensations he's providing.

His thumb takes over for his fingers as they work their way south once again, circling your entrance before plunging them inside, curling them to hit your sweet spot.

“Wooyoung-” You gasp, your muscles already tensing at the magic he's working.

His lips tickle your earlobe as he whispers, “Shh, jagi, I've got you.”

Your head falls to his shoulder as his fingers set a pace, the sound of how wet you are at his touch only serving to double it.

You whimper as your walls start to clench around them and you can almost picture the smirk he's wearing, “That's it, pretty, just like that. Come on my fingers.” His words only intensify the sensation of pleasure as you clench around his fingers, panting as you call out his name.

He pulls his hand out when he's sure you've ridden out the waves, holding his slick fingers, streaked in some places with blood, in front of his face, devilish look on his face, eyebrow cocked.

“Wooyoung!” You scold him, “Don't you dare-”

But it's too late, he's popped his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean, eyes rolling back in his head at the taste.

Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Beep-beep!

The timer goes off, interrupting you from further chastising him.

“What?” A smile takes over his face, “You taste good all the time, honey.”

You roll your eyes, but secretly find it cute.

He insists on feeding you bites of your dinner later, wiping the corners of your mouth with a napkin when you're finished.

Later, in the shower, you let him bend you over and hit it from behind, pulling out last second to finish, hot liquid landing on your back, your ass. He helps you wash your body to make up for it.

Once in bed, he kisses you all over, making you giggle and squirm before finally relenting and tugging you to his chest, stroking your hair as your breath evens out and you drift off to sleep.

choi jongho: You almost wonder if the man has logged into your period tracking app on his phone, uncanny in how he can pretty much always predict it. Eyes studying you a few days out as you tear up unexpectedly at a particularly sappy car commercial. You find your cabinets stocked with your favorite snacks the next day. 

The next morning, you wake up bloated, cramping, and grumpy. As you head into the bathroom, you realize Jongho has re-stocked your pain killers and period supplies. You call him when you get back into bed. 

He answers on the second ring, “Hi, princess, how are you feeling today?” 

“I swear you're more accurate than my tracking app, you fortune teller.” You can't help but be amazed at his abilities. 

He chuckles, “No, peach, I just pay attention.”

You smile at the cute pet names. He's always trying out new ones on you. You can hear traffic in the background, “You're the best. What are you up to?” 

“I'm about five minutes from your apartment.” He answers. 

“Choi Jongho!” You giggle, “How did I get so lucky?” 

“I'm the lucky one, jagi. I'll see you soon.” 

He's good to his word, chocolate and a teddy bear in his arms, backpack slung over one shoulder when you open the door to let him in. 

“Baby!” You all but squeal, “You're too good to me.” 

He puts his things down on the coffee table and pulls you into a big bear hug, “Anything for my perfect girl.” 

You pull back and he traces your cheek with his thumb before leaning in to kiss you, his lips slow and careful, hands gentle as he pulls you close. Your tongue probes into his mouth and he allows it, a moan coming forward from somewhere deep in his chest. He detached his lips, “Do you want to go to your bedroom, sweetheart?” 

“Yes, please.” You simper. 

He scoops you up bridal style and carries you to your bed, placing you gingerly onto the bed, climbing on top of you, kissing you into the mattress. 

“Baby,” You stop him as he reaches for the hem of your shirt.

“What's up?” He falls to the bed beside you, not wanting to crowd you. 

“I'm probably going to sound crazy and too needy-”

“Hush, don't talk about my girlfriend like that. Tell me what you need, ma chérie.” 

You giggle at his attempt at French, “I don't really want to like… have sex. Because I feel icky. But I still want to. You know.” 

He smiles fondly at you, “Where's your vibrator, gorgeous?” 

You blush, pointing to your bedside table drawer. 

He is relentless with your favorite toy, talking you through multiple orgasms, leaving your legs jellied, panting and sweating.

“So good for me, darling. I love watching you come.” He praises you as he switches the vibrator off, placing it on the bed beside him, pulling your boneless body to his chest. 

“Thank you for understanding,” you murmur into his chest, “Sorry I didn't feel like doing more.” 

“You never need to apologize for something like that.” He kisses your forehead, “Promise I'm happy to do it anytime. Anything to help my baby feel good.” 

The teddy bear he brought is the weighted kind you microwave to help alleviate cramps, which he fixes up for you before curling up with you on the couch, chocolate within reach. He turns on your favorite comfort movie without being asked, humming the score softly. The sound of his voice melts your heart. You feel yourself drift off to sleep before the movie ends, with Jongho’s strong, warm hands moving absentmindedly across any expanse of skin within his reach, heart feeling fuzzy with affection towards your sweet boyfriend.

[nislost]

SHE LET ME HIT😭🙏🏼 | chapter 10

warnings: smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up.)

🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼

“am i gonna regret this?” you say out loud after sending haechan a come over text. “nah” you get up and decide to clean yourself up a bit and put a cute matching set just in case the both of you actually do something. after showering you start drying your hair with a towel until you hear a knock at your door. you get up and check your peephole first because you aren’t trying to be in a horror movie, but all you see is a nervous haechan rubbing his hands on his sweats. you giggle at his cute action and open the door. haechan’s head jerks to your direction “h-hey!” he squeaks out causing you to giggle. “come on in” you open the door wider giving him a full view of your tank top and very short shorts. “do you wanna watch a movie?” you ask as you pat the spot next to you on the couch motioning for him to next to you. “uh sure” haechan says sitting next to you putting his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. you grab the remote and put on some random movie you were recommended awhile ago but never had the chance to watch.

an hour passes and the next scene definitely shocks the both of you. it was the freakiest sex scene you’ve seen. the girl in the movie is in the janitors closet getting fucked by her professor and he has her gagged to keep her quiet. “o-oh i didn’t expect that!” you nervously laugh frantically searching for the remote. the second you do find it you quickly turn the tv off and sigh out of relief. you turn to haechan covering his face with his hands which makes you giggle, you peel his hands away from his face to reveal how flustered he is. he’s looking everywhere but you at the moment so you grab his chin and force him to look at you. he looked so attractive you couldn’t explain why his face was red, eyes were glossed over, glasses were hanging at the bridge of his nose, and he looked so…desperate?

“haechan..?” you say softly causing him to whimper “i-im sorry can i use your bathroom..?” he asks looking away from you again then it clicked you look down at his lap. he got hard and the print showing through had you rubbing your thighs together. “i can help you know..” you say sheepishly looking away, haechan’s eyes widen “you don’t have to!” he says frantically but he quickly shuts up at your next words “i want to…please?” with that he slowly nods.

in a flash you were straddling haechan making out with him like two hungry wolves. haechan kept his hands on your waist not wanting to make you uncomfortable which annoyed you, grabbing his hands and placing them on your hips you mumble “you can touch me” which causes haechan to jerk upwards. you let out a whine then started grinding on him slowly which had him panting like a dog in heat. you pull away from his lips and take a quick look at him, he looked fucked out even though the both of you haven’t done much yet. “y/n i need you please..” haechan whimpers pulling all your weight down on his hard on and he begins to grind up into you seeking some type of pleasure.

the next thing you know haechan rips your clothes off, pull his sweats down and pulls your panties to the side. “can i put it in? please tell me i can. please please please” he begs looking at you with desperation you nod but that made him frown “i want you to say it y/n.” the desperation in his voice went straight down to your core. “haechan please as put your cock in me” you whine that caused him to quickly slide in.

the both of you sigh out a moan and you begin to bounce at a slow pace. “f-fuck you feel so good…so perfect for me” haechan moans his head leans back resting on the couch. he decides he needed more so he grips your hips and thrusts upwards into you causing you to moan “haechan just like that!”. the both of you have no care about the rest of the world at the moment it’s just you two connected. “so warm baby” he groans, he brings a hand down and rubs your clit which had you screaming at this point. not wanting a noise complaint to be made you cover your mouth with your hand which annoyed haechan since all he wanted to do was hear your pretty sounds, but he understood so he just sucked it up and thrusted into you even harder.

you felt haechan’s cock twitch inside of you signaling he was close “where…where do you want me to finish..?” he gasps out “inside..please i need you” he whimper out before placing your head in the crook of his neck. haechan’s eyes widen hearing you say that, what you didn’t know was that he had the biggest breeding kink so that just made him ram his cock into you even harder. “fuck i’m gonna paint your insides white” he groans before shooting ropes of cum into you. he continued thrusting into you wanting to make sure you got to finish too and when your orgasm hit you hard he felt satisfied.

“h-holy shit…” you pant into his neck “where’s your bathroom” he asks laying you down on the couch. you tell him where and he comes back with a damp rag to clean you up. then he picks you up again, confused you raise a brow “i don’t want you getting a UTI so go piss girl!” he laughs placing you on the toilet “no fucking way you just said that” you giggle before kicking him out the bathroom. when you do exit the bathroom you notice he’s on the couch waiting you plop down next to him and sigh “you know you can go home” you say looking at him with a smile, he pouts “already getting rid of me” you giggle at his childish behavior “yes it’s getting late and i don’t want you to go home late as fuck” you say adjusting the glasses on his face. he gets up and you send him off before going to bed and getting the best sleep ever.

notes: this is my first time writing smut i’ve never felt so freaky😭

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[ohithankyou]

decided to watch all of buck’s breakups last night and here are (part) of the conversations/how each of the breakups played out to compare and contrast if you so desire. i didn’t include the entire conversations because it would be too long and i think the parts i included capture the core of the breakups well enough.

note: information in square brackets is just some context i included since i didn't add the full conversations

buck and abby, breakup, 1x10:

[after abby’s mom passes and she books a ticket to ireland in an effort to find herself and what she wants]

abby: “. . .i care about you so much. you’re amazing. and these last few months, i think you've gotten me, at least halfway, to the person i want to be. but I've got to do this [go to ireland/travel] so that i know i have something to give.”

buck: “i’m excited for you. almost as much as i am, um, sad for me. i’m gonna miss you.”

abby: “i’m gonna miss you, too.”

[when buck is dropping her to the airport]

abby: "you're not gonna come in with me?"

buck: "i learned a while ago, you never go beyond the glass doors."

abby: "i must be crazy to be leaving you behind."

buck: "you're not leaving anything behind. you're moving toward something. and i'm gonna be right here when you come back, okay? go on. you got this, okay?"

abby: "take care of yourself, okay?"

buck: "you, too, abby."

buck and abby, ‘closure’, 3x18:

[after abby and buck meet for the first time since 1x10 when she and her finance are in a train derailment and buck + the 118 save his life]

abby: “. . .i just had no sense of self. i had to leave everything that i knew so that i could remember who i actually am.”

buck: “and you did, right? i mean, you did remember, but you still didn't come home.”

abby: “yeah, i know. i think i was afraid that if i came back, i would become that person again. because i missed you. i wanted to see you. but i didn't trust myself.”

buck: “because being here, being with me, you might lose yourself again?”

abby: “yeah.”

buck: “i’m glad to see you happy, abby. you deserve it.”

—

buck and ali, 2x18:

[after buck’s leg gets crushed under the fire truck and it hits ali what it means to be with a firefighter]

ali: “. . .look, it’s not like i didn't know you were in a dangerous line of work when i met you, you know, ten stories up of a collapsing high rise.”

buck: “exactly.”

ali: “that was one day. one day of my life, evan. it’s every day for you. i’m just starting to really understand what that means.”

buck: “wait, so-so you want me to quit my job, that's what you're asking me to do?”

ali: “no, i would never, i would never ask you to do that. listen. i know it's who you are. i’m just not sure. if it's…”

buck: “…who you are.”

ali: “hey. i don't know yet. okay?”

—

buck and taylor, 5x18:

[after taylor publishes the story about jonah buck had asked her not]

taylor: “. . .i’m sorry you're still upset about the story.”

buck: “you’re not sorry for what you did, though.”

taylor: “the story was gonna come out regardless. if i hadn't have broken it, someone else would have.”

buck: “you couldn't have called me first? no. you-you just, you figured i’d be fine. i’d get over it.”

taylor: “buck, i wasn't trying to hurt you or anyone else. i was just trying to get the truth out there. a truth the public has every right to know.”

buck: “this is literally our first argument all over again.”

taylor: “which is why we shouldn't be having it. you knew who i was when we started dating.”

buck: “i guess i thought i could learn to live with it.”

taylor: “i don't want to be something you have to learn to live with.”

buck: “and i don't want to keep on making the same mistakes. i need things to be different, taylor.”

taylor: “okay. i’m willing to try that. clean slate.”

buck: “yeah. just not together.”

—

buck and tommy, 8x06:

[after bucks tells tommy that he also dated abby]

buck: ". . .my relationship with abby was—it was the most transformative of my life. until now. look, i-i think one of the reasons that i am so comfortable with you is-is 'cause you're so comfortable with you."

tommy: "i wasn't always that way."

buck: "i know, i-i do. and honestly, it just makes me admire you more."

buck: "i want you to move in with me. i want you to move in with me. i-'m ready to take the next step. and i'm not saying let's get married or engaged, even though we would have the right, thanks to the brave people who came before, including you. all I'm saying is, why be apart when we can be together?"

tommy: "evan, that is so sweet but I can't move in with you."

buck: "and why not?"

tommy: "because, i know how this ends."

buck: "uh, wh-what's that supposed to mean?"

tommy: "look, evan. you're an incredible guy. big-hearted. hot as hell. funny. impulsive. but what you're feeling right now is... is new. and it's exciting, and it feels like forever. but you're still figuring yourself out. and that's good."

buck: "what are you saying?"

tommy: "i'm saying no matter how bad i wanted to be, i'm not your last. i'm your first."

buck: "well, hey, they-they can be the same thing."

tommy: "but they usually aren't. if i were to move in with you, you wouldn't mean to, you wouldn't plan for it but you'd end up breaking my heart. and i, i don't think that i could deal with that."

tommy: "i should go."

buck: "wait, wait, wait, hey, hey, um... wait, d-did you just break up with me?"

tommy: "yeah. i guess i did. believe me, i didn't see it coming, either. should've known that parking spot was too good to be true. i'll see you around, buck."

[damianwaynesutilitybelt]

Okay I don't dislike Wayne Family Adventurers, in my head I put in the same category as gag manga. (My hero academia smash. Fullmetal alchemist 4 panels. ) It's purposely out of character and meant to cause some quick emotional reaction to the readers.

The issue I have with it.

Is that people have taken it as canon, or refused to read canon cos 'canon is so dark and angsty and sad and they hate seeing the batfam fight all the time'

The batfam are not screaming and arguing every single comic, they regularly team up. I don't know what lies you've been hearing.

But what grinds my gears.

Is they want the characters without their story. I really don't want to sound like gatekeeper but you're missing out on the core of these characters and what makes them who they are and why they are who they are.

Also there's been this lie that DC lore is changing all the time. It's not? There's shifts and retcons but it's not something you can't follow or ask for clarification.

Also the - I want the fluff and no angst- back to the spitting in the face of the characters. I hate to sound like a gatekeeper but you cannot enjoy the batfams joy if you don't see their suffering. Let me explain. In Batman and robin "11 Bruce gets Damian a 9 month old Great Dane. To help Damian open up and bond with his son. Damian is immediately displeased with this creature and later hits him when his snout gets too close to (I believe a chess board- its been awhile) the entire Nobody arc happens and Damian and Bruce start to really understand how much the other wants to try to impress the other and how they do not know how to speak to each other and are both navigating this new life of living together as father and son. When Damian passes out he tells his father the name of the puppy - "Titus" . When their wounds heal weeks later Damian and Bruce are playing fetch outside the Wayne manor with Damian's puppy. A circle has met and Damian and Bruce are becoming father and son.

In WFA Bruce just gets a puppy from a shelter and goes here you go son. And Damian's happy

Now do you understand the point I'm making.

The batfamily are a 80year long story full of angst suffering pain growth. Their souls ripped apart and stitched back together. And you don't have to read every single comic. But to turn around and say ew I just want to read this out of character, incorrect. Stereotyped fanon lies instead of the actual real soul of their comics. It's rather upsetting

WFA isn't bad but canon is absolutely beautiful and saying you prefer WFA to canon just fucking hurts

[alwaysthefool]

Coincidence (Sylus x Reader/MC)

Tags: Angst, no comfort, jealousy, misunderstanding, GN Reader, MC Reader

Warnings: major insecurity,

Synopsis: You see Sylus with someone else, causing a misunderstanding between the two of you

It definitely wasn’t one of your best days. Your hair had been dull from exposing it to too much heat, and your skin was facing a breakout. He’d seen you at your worst and best before, and besides, Sylus didn’t care for those things so you didn’t think much about it when he called you over.

Maybe you should have.

She was everything you weren’t, everything people said you lacked, with a beautiful smile and perfect teeth. He called her closer to whisper something in her ear, to which both of them laughed, before she noticed you, gracefully bid her farewell to Sylus, and walked to the door.

“Will I be seeing you at the banquet tonight, sir?” She asked, turning slightly.

“I’ll let you know.” Sylus turned his attention to you, his lips curling up, and suddenly it did not feel so genuine. It felt cunning, manipulative, and the second you found your own brain blaming you for insecurity, you realised your thoughts were being manipulated. He wasn’t using his aether core or evol, it was all a plot, a power play to lift up your spirits and let you down, over and over again. Right?

“…you coming?” Sylus, whose voice was generally hard to ignore, had been talking about something.

“What?” You frowned, not sitting down or making yourself comfortable in his office like you usually would, which made him stand up and walk towards you.

“Would you like to come with me to the protocore auction tonight?” He repeated, staring deep into your blank eyes. He said he could see people’s deepest desires, and at that time you didn’t know what you even wanted.

“I’m actually busy.” You cautiously stepped back, feeling worse than you did when he first called you there. It hurt worse than your heart at its weakest state, than your throat all those times you’d scream when nightmares terrorised you, probably more than any other time an opponent hurt you.

He was about to say something, but a bailing ring on your phone interrupted you. You glanced quickly at who it was— Tara— and excused yourself to pick up the call, a cheerful voice saying something about being bored on her week off, and without a pause, you replied saying you’d be there.

“Really?!” She exclaimed, and you also realised how you’d been neglecting your friends, spending your free time with him instead.

“Really.” You replied solemnly, just walking out of his manor, only dropping a text that a friend needed you for something important.

You thought he’d chase after you, try to stop you, at least text you to stay, but he did nothing of that sort, and you were soon at Tara’s house with a pack of beer, chips, and hidden feelings.

“Maybe you should see other people.” She suggested, looking down at your palm to read the lines. “It seems like you’ll have many romances- ooh, I know, why don’t we go out tonight? Maybe we’ll find the one!”

“Tara, we’re not finding ‘the one’ at the club.”

“You never know!” Although she took the week off to recover, she was quite jumpy when getting ready, helping you too. It was pleasant to have someone like that around in times like those.

You looked better, finally, dressed well with your hair done, although you shouldn’t have done that considering how weak it was, but it felt nice to just feel adored for the first time in days. Tara took you to a tiny get-together with some of her team, the club thankfully not being too crowded. You got along with her friends, the free cocktails helping you get your mind off things.

It seemed you really hit it off with Andrew, captain of the analytics division, who also didn’t seem to mind Tara partying on her time off. “Everyone should have time off every once in a while.” He said, as the two of you watched her dance her heart out with a smile on your faces… and then trip on her own feet and fall.

The two of you rushed to her, helping her up, and calling a taxi for her. She insisted for you to stay and enjoy, telling you she’d be fine by herself. Andrew started to scold her for being reckless but she told the Taxi driver to step on it before he could finish, earning another laugh from you.

The cool breeze made you shudder, and the team leader gave you his coat. You thanked him shyly, the two of you talking for a while outside, until you spied a shiny eyed crow perched on a light pole, immediately ticking you off.

He was with someone else, so why was he interested in what you were doing? You put your arm on Andrew, leaning in to whisper something in his ear, holding his hand as the two of you went back inside.

Back at the base, Sylus watched you through Mephisto’s eyes, not having attended the auction himself as you wouldn’t be going.

“So that’s why you blew me off.” He mumbled to himself, turning off the screen after commanding Mephisto to make sure you got home safe.

He wondered what happened, where he went wrong, how he could fix things. You seemed down for a while, so he set up a perfect date night for the two of you, acquiring tickets for a ball in another city, having a designer deliver garments that would suit you personally earlier that day, because a week ago you told him you wished to attend one of those while mindlessly scrolling through the Pinterest board on your phone. He thought he’d surprise you, but then you hurried away from him, making him think something bad happened.

Now he supposed you just liked the simpler things in life, and a simpler man, too. Is that who called you when you ran without a bye? When he stared deep in your eyes and saw disgust again? You hated him, right? You liked someone else, right?

“Have it your way, sweetie.

Now I won’t chase after you.”

-x-

Pssst if you liked this, i wrote this concept (with a follow up happy ending chapter) for ZN too, I’ll link it in the reblogs!

Also let me know if you want a Part 2 to this and what it should be!

[originalaccountname]

re: Chuuya being passive in regards to the directions his life takes and making the most of what he's given while Dazai has been making active decisions as to where he wants to go with his life

I really don't think Dazai being on the side that saves people is him fulfilling "Oda's final wish" or "his promise to Oda", but rather that it's 'just' him choosing to listen to a friend's advice.

In his final moments, Oda decided to brutally and recklessly break through Dazai's loneliness to tell him that staying in the darkness in hopes of finding a reason to live was akin to hitting his head against a wall. It managed to shake Dazai to his core, and made him ask Oda for guidance:

There wasn't any "promise me you'll do it" or "I'll do it for you" in that moment. It was one friend telling another "I intimately know what you're going through, I can't tell you how to fix it, but I can tell you how to make it better". It's about sharing insight and hoping your friend will know you have their best interests at heart.

Dazai joined the Port Mafia on Mori's suggestion, but only after he had already decided a life close to death would be interesting. Dazai left the Port Mafia on Oda's suggestion, but only after he realized he wasn't finding what he craved there. Dazai will join the Armed Detective Agency on Taneda's suggestion, but only after he has tested their skills and judged them adequate. Dazai will listen to advice, but Dazai chooses his paths, and does not do it for anyone else, no matter what they want.

We can see it in Dead Apple too, when Dazai, alone at the bar, muses about Oda being right on "the side that saves people being more beautiful, if the point is to keep living". (that's a lot to unpack, but) the important part here is that Dazai is directly commenting on how he's been applying Oda's advice. He's not asking if he's been doing good, doing enough, because what Oda told Dazai was to go help others to make himself feel better, and Dazai here finally says "yeah... I see why you told me that".

It's not that there isn't a special place for Oda's last words in Dazai's heart, but that they're not his life's purpose; they're the path he followed in hopes of figuring that part out. "Be on the side that saves people" was the promise of something new, something better, hope handed in the darkest of moment... but Oda's last words were not a wish for Dazai to grant.

[valkyrieromanoff]

God bless your dad's genetics… Dilf! Anakin x son’s girlfriend!reader

PREVIOUS

CHAPTER FIVE: SAUNA

synopsis: trapped in a sweltering sauna with Anakin, a tense confrontation unravels hidden truths about his fractured marriage to Padmé, leaving you torn between guilt, forbidden desire, and a fragile connection that defies reason.

warning: age gap (Anakin is 44 years old and the reader is in her early 20s), cheating, alternate universe, angst

words: 3.0k 

a/n: hello there, I confess that I started writing thinking it would be something hotter, maybe something happening, but then I started listening to 'Love is pain' by Finneas, and it ended up being more depressing than I imagined, anyway, I hope you like it ;) I appreciate the comments to know if the story is flowing for you too

Say it's not okay to feel that way It's real, you may not make her happy So what's wrong with me? If honestly, I wanna be the only way she can be

You left the pool in a rush, every step feeling heavier than the last. Avoiding Anakin had become a survival instinct. You muttered something about a headache to Luke, your voice barely steady, and excused yourself, desperate for escape. Anakin had suggested walking you to your cabin, concern evident in his eyes, but you’d refused—your heart pounding, your resolve teetering. You had to get away before you slipped further, before the line you shouldn’t cross blurred beyond recognition.

In the sanctuary of your cabin, you stripped off the bikini and stepped into the cold shower. The icy water hit your skin like a shock, chasing away the warmth he’d left lingering. You lathered soap onto your body, each motion deliberate, as if scrubbing away the memory of his touch—the way his hands had grazed your thighs, the way his eyes had traced every curve.

You closed your eyes, letting the water cascade over your face, but the memories were relentless. His rough, calloused hands on your skin. That low, gravelly voice that curled around your senses, sending shivers down your spine. Heat pooled in your core, an ache that refused to be washed away.

Stop it. You forced your eyes open, breath unsteady. This was dangerous—a free fall with no safety net. You couldn’t let yourself get lost in these thoughts.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel, needing something—anything—to pull you back to reality. Grabbing your phone, you opened the notes app and started a list. Pros and cons. Maybe seeing it in black and white would make it easier to resist.

Cons: he’s married, he’s Luke’s father, he’s much older. It’s reckless. Dangerous. Wrong.

Each point was a red flag, glaring and impossible to ignore. Rationally, you knew this. But your heart pounded, a traitorous rhythm that whispered other truths.

Pros: the way his eyes lingered on you, seeing more than anyone else, the warmth of his touch, the strength in his hands. That smile—dangerous, disarming, a weapon you had no defense against and the way your body responded, drawn to him like a magnet, every nerve alive and yearning.

You stared at the list, fingers trembling. The cons screamed caution, logic, self-preservation. But the pros—the pros were written in fire, each memory a brand on your skin, a temptation that refused to be ignored.

You can’t let this happen. But deep down, a darker, quieter voice whispered back, What if it already has?

_____________

“Come on, it’ll be nice…” Leia stood insistently at your cabin door, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe the massage will even help with your headache. You know, sometimes it’s more psychological than physical—stress and all that.” Her voice softened thoughtfully, her genuine concern shining through.

Beside her, Padmé nodded, the white terrycloth robe draped elegantly over her frame. “If you don’t like it, you can leave early,” she added gently, her tone soothing. “Just try to relax a little. You seem tense.”

Her kindness cut through you like a knife. The warmth in her voice, the sincerity in her eyes—it felt like a cruel reminder of the line you’d already crossed in your mind. Padmé wasn’t some distant, untouchable figure; she was right here, extending her hand to you, offering comfort. A good woman. A devoted wife. A loving mother.

How could you do this to her? The bitter taste of guilt churned in your stomach, rising like bile. She didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve the betrayal lurking in the corners of your heart, the passion you’d allowed to bloom for her husband.

It had been easier when you’d painted her as unreachable, cold—a distant figure, more concept than person. A political figurehead. A symbol. But now? Now she was real, flesh and blood, standing before you with empathy in her eyes and concern in her voice. Each word, each gentle look, felt like a condemnation.

“I don’t know, I…” The words barely escaped, your voice a whisper, cracking under the weight of shame. The air felt heavy, thick with unspoken truths. You couldn’t pretend everything was okay, not when the guilt was a stone in your chest, pressing down, suffocating.

Warm tears blurred your vision before you even realized you were crying. Padmé’s eyes widened, her brow furrowing with concern. She stepped forward, her hands resting gently on your shoulders, guiding you into an embrace.

You clung to her, your sobs muffled against the soft fabric of her robe. Her touch was comforting, maternal—everything you didn’t deserve. Each tear that fell was laced with guilt, each sob a silent confession. She held you, whispering reassurances, her kindness only deepening the ache inside you.

“Why are you crying, dear?” she asked softly, pulling back just enough to search your face.

The lie slipped out before you could stop it. “I… I miss my parents.” The words tasted hollow, but Padmé’s smile was understanding, her eyes filled with a compassion that twisted the knife deeper.

A few minutes later, the three of you walked together to the spa, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken truths. Leia and Padmé, already dressed in their robes, went straight to the massage area. You watched them, the weight of your guilt pressing down, a constant reminder of the betrayal you carried.

An employee handed you a robe, gesturing toward the changing room down the hall. Each step felt heavier than the last, the simple fabric in your hands a tangible symbol of the role you played—the lie you lived.

The mirror in the changing room reflected not just your image but the conflict etched in every line of your face. This trip was meant to be an escape, a simple act of kindness for a friend. But here, in the quiet moments between words, it was becoming a battle you weren’t sure you could win.

Should you turn left or right? You hesitated, brow furrowed, as you left the locker room. The ship felt like a maze, each identical hallway blurring into the next. It must be the last door at the end. You convinced yourself, hands stuffed into the pockets of your fluffy robe, heart pounding with an unease you couldn’t shake.

The moment you pushed open the fogged glass door, a wave of heat enveloped you. The air was thick, oppressive, making your cheeks flush from the contrast with the cooler hallway. Your eyes scanned the room—large wooden benches lining the walls, steam rising in ethereal curls.

This isn’t the massage room, you realized, your pulse quickening. There should have been stretchers, calming music, not this suffocating heat. You turned to leave, but the sound of approaching footsteps froze you.

Anakin.

He stood there, a white towel wrapped low around his waist, another draped around his neck. Droplets of sweat glistened on his skin, catching the flickering light. His hair, damp and tousled, framed those piercing blue eyes that locked onto yours.

Panic surged. You spun around, hands fumbling with the door handle. It wouldn’t budge. Desperation mounted as you pounded against the fogged glass.

“You’re going to hurt yourself. Stop.” His voice was calm, almost soft, but the weight of it made you freeze. His fingers closed around your wrist, gentle but firm. “They lock it for the duration of the sauna,” he explained.

You jerked your arm away, as if his touch scalded you more than the heat. Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you avoided his gaze, staring at the floor instead.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me for twenty minutes, angel,” Anakin murmured, his tone laced with something dangerous. He took a step closer. “Are you sure you want to spend that time sulking over there?”

You shrank back, clutching your robe tighter. “Don’t touch me,” you whispered, voice trembling with something between anger and fear.

His smile didn’t falter. That infuriating, knowing glint remained in his eyes. “You didn’t complain about my touch earlier today,” he said, the words a sharp jab, dragging the memory out into the open.

“Is everything a fucking joke to you?” The words escaped in a rush, your voice raw, quivering with anger and shame.

Anakin raised his hands, his expression a mix of confusion and defiance. “Wow, angel. What the hell bit you?”

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the thick air. Moving past him, you sank onto the sauna bench, eyes fixed on the floor. “Why?” The question was barely more than a whisper.

He frowned, pacing, frustration etched into every line of his body. “You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

“Padmé.” The name was a raw wound, guilt twisting in your chest. “She doesn’t deserve this. She’s… she’s kind. She’s everything.” Your voice cracked, the words a confession and an accusation all at once.

Anakin’s jaw clenched, his steps faltering. “Oh, so you’re feeling guilty, and you decided to take it out on me?” His voice was sharp, defensive, but there was something else beneath it—a fracture, a hint of something deeper.

Tears pricked your eyes. “You don’t deserve her.” The words were out before you could stop them, trembling with conviction.

He stopped pacing, exhaling a strangled sigh. For a moment, he stared at the door, as if the answers lay beyond it. “You don’t know shit,” he muttered, frustration threading through his voice.

You stood, anger and shame boiling over. “I know you shouldn’t have cheated on her.” You pointed a shaking finger at his chest, each word a stone thrown, heavy with accusation.

Anakin’s eyes flashed, something raw and dangerous surfacing. “Look, angel, I didn’t do it alone.” His voice dropped, low and rough. “In fact, you seemed pretty eager at the time.”

The truth of it hit you like a punch, leaving you breathless. His words weren’t just a defense—they were a mirror, reflecting the darkness you were trying so hard to avoid. You’re just as guilty. The realization twisted inside you, a storm you couldn’t escape.

Before you could stop yourself, your hand collided with his cheek, the sharp crack echoing in the steamy room. Shock and guilt hit you immediately, your eyes wide, breath shallow. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, stumbling back. But before you could escape, Anakin’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, his grip firm, knuckles white.

“Do you want to know the truth?” His voice was low, rough, the words simmering with something raw and dangerous. “Do you want to know the fucked-up truth about the ‘happy family’?” His face was so close to yours that your noses almost touched, the heat between you both stifling in more ways than one.

You swallowed hard, locked in his intense gaze, fear and something else—something thrilling—warring in your mind. He let go of your wrist, the sudden release making you stumble, falling onto the bench.

Anakin sighed, running a hand through his damp curls, his eyes distant. He sank onto the bench beside you, the space between you filled with a heavy silence. He didn’t look at you; instead, his gaze fixed on some point in the past only he could see.

“Padmé was my first love.” His voice was quiet, a mix of nostalgia and sadness. “I met her in school. She was a few years ahead of me, barely noticed I existed, but I swore I’d marry that girl one day.” A small, bitter smile played at his lips. “I met her again in college. I was nineteen. It was like those years had only made the feelings stronger. We thought we had everything figured out.”

You watched the way his fingers twisted together, the vulnerability in his posture unfamiliar. He was always so controlled, so intense. This was different—raw, unguarded.

“I proposed on our third date. Stupid, right?” He laughed, but it was hollow. “We got married that year. We were barely adults, but the love… it felt invincible. We thought we had our lives in our hands.”

You listened, your heart aching at the weight in his voice, the way his words carried the residue of dreams gone wrong.

“I joined the army right after. Months apart, letters are our only connection. It was hard, but it was worth it, our love worth it. Padmé got pregnant, and when I found out I was going to be a father... It was the best day of my life.” His eyes flickered with a light that dimmed as he continued. “I left the army when the twins were born. Padmé had just been elected, and I always knew she was always going to outshine me… Her future would be brighter”

His knee brushed against yours, the touch grounding, almost accidental. Yet it felt like a tether, holding you in the moment.

“The first few years were... perfect. Like an eternal honeymoon. I had everything I’d ever dreamed of. The wife. The kids. It felt like nothing could go wrong.” His voice faltered. “But it did. Slowly. Quietly. I don’t even know when we fell out of love. Was it the mornings waking up to an empty bed? The nights she worked late, barely noticing me anymore? I felt like I was falling down her priority list”

He laughed, a broken sound. “Maybe it was my fault. My jealousy of some stranger she met while I was gone. The arguments. The things I said that I can’t take back. I tried, but… she cried. And it was always my fault.”

You didn’t say anything, each word settling like a stone in your chest. Your heart ached—not just for him, but for Padmé, for the ghost of the love they’d lost.

“Leia and Luke were ten when we finally sat down and had a real conversation. We laid it all out. Everything.” He paused, his hands clenching into fists. “We should have divorced. We both knew it. But Padmé had just been elected to the Senate. She was already under scrutiny, criticized just for being a woman in power. If we divorced her career could have collapsed.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. This wasn’t what you’d expected. The image of their perfect marriage crumbled in front of you, replaced by something real, something flawed.

“We stayed together. Not out of love, but because we couldn’t afford to fall apart.” He finally looked at you, his eyes raw, haunted. “That’s the truth.”

You opened your mouth, searching for words, but nothing came. What could you say? He’d laid bare a part of himself you’d never seen, and the weight of it pressed down on you both. The guilt you felt twisted deeper, sharper, yet there was something else—a desperate need to comfort him, to ease his pain.

Your hand hovered near his, hesitant, the boundary between what you wanted and what you should do blurring. “Anakin…” you whispered, your voice soft, unsure.

He didn’t pull away, but the space between you was heavy with everything unspoken. In that moment, all you wanted was to bridge the gap, to offer solace. But you knew the line was thin, the risk too great. So you stayed there, the silence wrapping around you both, an unsteady truce in the heat of the sauna.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” The words slipped out, barely more than a whisper. Your hand rested on his, a tentative connection.

Anakin’s eyes softened, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “It’s not like we go around telling people.” There was a bitterness in his voice, a weight beneath the casual words.

You swallowed, the questions swirling in your mind too heavy to hold back. “But how? It’s been years. You’ve been married for over twenty years… How did you make it work?” Confusion and curiosity tangled in your voice, the pieces of his story not fitting the perfect image you’d held of his family.

He tilted his head, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You’re a curious little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, his tone lighter, but his eyes held a depth that pulled you in. He turned your hand, his fingers sliding between yours, the contact sending a jolt through you.

His voice dropped, quieter now. “We’re married on paper, but that’s all it is. Separate bedrooms. Separate lives. We stay married because… well, it’s easier that way. For Padmé’s career, for the image we’ve built. We can’t marry other people, but we… find companionship where we can.”

Your mouth fell open in surprise, the confession hitting you like a wave. This wasn’t the story you’d imagined.

Anakin’s expression was unreadable as he continued, his voice calm, almost detached. “I’ve had my fair share of… casual encounters. And Padmé has had hers. We have an understanding.” He paused, his eyes searching yours, as if waiting for judgment.

The words felt surreal. “You just… ignore it? The other people?”

A flicker of something—pain, maybe regret—crossed his face. “We don’t talk about it. We don’t need to. It’s none of my business what she does, just like it’s none of hers who I spend my nights with.” He exhaled, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “I’m sure she and her secretary, Sabé, have something. I’ve never asked. It’s… easier that way.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts. You tried to process it, to reconcile the man before you with the image of the family you’d known. There was a sadness in his voice, an emptiness that tugged at something deep inside you.

Your thumb brushed gently over his knuckles, the gesture instinctive, an attempt to offer comfort. “That… sounds lonely.”

His eyes met yours, the mask slipping just enough for you to see the truth beneath. “It is.” The admission was soft, raw. A single word that held years of quiet suffering, of nights spent in an empty bed, of dreams that had slowly unraveled.

Your heart ached for him, for Padmé, for the fragile facade they’d built and maintained for so long. You wanted to say something, anything, to bridge the gap between you. But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, you sat there, your hand still in his, the heat of the sauna wrapping around you both. The silence was heavy, but it wasn’t empty. It was filled with everything you couldn’t say—the understanding, the guilt, the unspoken connection that pulled you toward him, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

[the-elegant-necromancer]

Knightfall on the brain

Cinder knew her power was just another shackle, another leash, another master dictating her life. She only had one wish, one terrible wish, to live free and happy.

Here she was betraying another master for just the smallest chance at freedom. Her life on repeat as she tore her own collar off with her bare hands. Clawing and fire she dug her hand at the shoulder. Obsidian blades, sharper than anything on Remnant.

She screamed in equal parts hate and pain. She dug until she could feel the tendril at the core of the wicked thing.

She caught it. The last collar she would ever wear. Maiden flame ripped through the grimm abomination. She wrenched it free with a chorus of crunching bone and snapping sinew.

At last she pulled the damn thing free, its horrible tentacle thrashing about trying in vain to invade her body again. Fire erupted from inside the grotesque thing.

Cinder threw it to the ground where it writhed with a terrible screeching nearly as though it was laying curses at Cinder. She didn't care.

She clamped her hand to the hole she had now made at her should and seared it closed with maiden flame. Compared to the arm coming free it was nothing, or she had started to go numb. She was probably going into shock. She couldnt she didn't have time for it.

Standing in that dark hall as all of team RWBY and JNRO came up on her. She said she didn't want to work with Salem anymore that she wanted more to life.

She asked what she needed to do in order to prove she didn't work for Salem anymore

"Get rid of the grimm arm" It was Jaune, he snapped at her, as though he had the idea already.

Without hesitation she did as he told her not even entertaining any of the other people there.

As she finished searing the wound shut she shook trying to stay on her feet. They all looked, horrified? Disgusted? All but him, Arc, he was smiling. it was slight but she could see it.

Starting to collapse he was there again, catching her before she hit the cold stone. He moved his hand to where her arm was now missing and did something. It felt warm, like tea on a cold day.

Comforting.

He was using his semblance on her, helping her heal.

Why?

It felt so nice being held by him, is this what it was like to be comforted? She understood it now, or better.

"I did not expect you to... actually... didnt even hesitate"

Still wincing at the remaining pain as it slowly faded she couldnt quite control her mouth in that moment "Did I pass?"

As he kept up with his semblance he huffed a single laugh "You passed, heh, you passed with flying colors."

"Doesnt that mean a get a reward?" She dazedly asked still reeling from the pain

"And what would you possibly want at a time like this?

"Be the one to wake me up?"

"I dont?"

"A maiden needs a kiss to be woken and freed from the spell. "

"Ah, wow, okay..."

"Please." She pleaded, she never pleaded, that was the old Cinder, she was free now, she felt new, alive.

"As you wish."

At the protest of almost all of his teammates he leaned down. It wasn't a hot, or passionate affair. Only several seconds and she was once again starting up at those handsome blue eyes.

"Wake up Cinder."

Something was different. She felt, better, but only in her mind. Everything was clearer, easier to see, easier to deal with, easier to just feel things.

"Finally..." She couldn't help the few tears leaking down her soft cheek "Finally I'm free. Thank you... Jaune."

[digitalsymbiote]

Oh

Jinx in Arcane S2E7

I'm

I'm not normal about this

Holy shit

[faceless-ghostt]

well... welcome back to Meme redraw hell ig. Pt 5

will these ever end? idk, probably ┐⁠(⁠´⁠ー⁠｀⁠)⁠┌

(references and rambles under the cut)

I'm still not completely happy with how I draw Thad but I'm getting there slowly, incredibly slowly. Same with Kon, he's not there yet but he's much closer. and I swear that isn't the usual outfit I draw him in, I swear I can do better ToT

Mindless rambles about my struggles with designs aside I've been trying to post more, mainly to get me back in the habit of drawing, but I am working on a larger, not large, but larger project that may or may not have to do with a Young Justice 98 and FNAF mash up and one of the characters is absolutely fucking me over. So I'm just doing easy drawings until my brain agrees with my arms enough to actually draw what I want to draw. I don't think these drawings are things I'll put on the Internet because they are just random drawings, but I'll probably share them to the YJ98 discord server. but I personally think this is a fun AU I am currently making and it will be forced on the world soon, kicking and screaming.

idk why I'm even rambling, probably because it's 2:30 in the morning and my brain is melting from multiple weeks of shitty sleep but ajdgakudgshsixhsv

uh, shameless plug moment, Join the YJ98 discord server that is pinned on my profile, it's fun and great and I want to yap with more YJ fans!

[crustyfloor]

when yr blog title says till will survive do you mean he will power through and girlboss or he will get out physically alive and have the bare minimum shred of survival instinct and is a husk

??? look here WATERDROPLET

I know Till still has it in him man, even after all this time and after all he’s been through he still hasn’t fully lost his spark or his will….i believe in Till,,,i believe he’ll fight his way out like he did before, like Mizi was the muse of his energy and spirit in round 2, whatever he’ll get from round 6 could be his new reason. But, even if he gets on that stage a more broken, and beaten man than he was in round 6, even so to the point where he’s just a corpse of who he once was, with barely any fight left—His candle hasn’t burnt out yet. Till can fight this. AND HE WILL BOUNCE BACK. TILL WILL SURVIVE ROUND 7

(there’s really no saying how he’ll be coming into round 7 but….i have faith they haven’t completely killed his spirit yet)

[lucabyte]

🐮

[theotherrichardpapen]

...because any moment may be our last. everything is more beautiful because we're doomed.