#shame on you writers

[cosmicqvake]

Somewhat of a LONG rant/discussion ahead, just a warning. Ignore it if you would like.

This is regarding the Daisy/Fitz storyline in S5 (yes, we all know which one)

I’m basically going to discuss (and rant, ig) about how I think that, despite what a large portion of the fandom apparently thinks, Daisy’s pain and anger in S5 is valid. :,)

If you’re going to read this at all, please read to the end, I have so much to say and don’t want it to seem that I am in any way attacking Fitz either (I love and feel for him so very much too), this post just focuses more on Daisy’s experience.

The ONLY people I am blatantly attacking here are the writers for even writing this in the first place (shame on y’all).

Okay…

Daisy was tortured. She was strapped down by (doctor)Fitz against her will, drugged and tortured. He cut into her neck with a knife, tore the inhibitor out, which could have literally paralysed her (as Jemma mentioned at one point, which Fitz also knew), all whilst she was screaming in pain and begging for help.

(Also while two of her friends watched. >:) I love Deke and Jemma, and I totally get Jemma’s decision to try and talk Fitz down, but come on. Do better, WRITERS. Early seasons Jemma would’ve never allowed that.)

Not to mention, Daisy was horrified that when said device was removed, she was going to lose control and end up destroying the world, which many people in the future were constantly blaming/hating her for. She had seen it, she was CONVINCED that if the inhibitor was removed, THAT WOULD HAPPEN.

She wasn’t even begging for HERSELF on that table, she was begging him to stop so that she wouldn’t take billions of innocent lives.

And afterwards, Fitz admitted that he didn’t regret doing it. That he didn’t regret hurting her to do that. Imagine how that must’ve felt to Daisy.

And some people are saying that she’s ableist and out of line for holding him accountable and locking him up?

I’m so sorry, but what did you think she was gonna do? “Awe, that’s alright buddy, I understand :)” No, and no one should expect her to be totally fine with it, nor immediately forgive him.

She went through TRAUMA at the hands of one of her closest friends, someone she considered FAMILY. Her anger with him after that is justified.

Please hypothetically put yourself in her shoes for a moment. :,)

Her locking him up was also justified in my opinion, as how did she know it wouldn’t happen again? And that he wouldn’t accidentally hurt someone else? Under her watch whilst Coulson was away? After all, he was the one to reprogram the robot soldier that shot Mack- all so that he’d be out of the picture so that (doctor)Fitz could single out Daisy with no one being in the way. Same reason he knocked Deke out and waited until many members of the team were off-base.

This makes him potentially highly dangerous, whether he is in his right mind or not.

Daisy was put in charge by Coulson at the time and she had, not only herself, but the rest of the team to worry about, all whilst trying to navigate and deal with their foes, which also meant her going off base.

With the resources they had at the time (which wasn’t like… anything), locking him up was all she could do in that moment.

It was the safest option, as that way, he wouldn’t be able to involuntarily hurt himself or any others.

Yes, Fitz had a psychotic/schizophrenic break. No, that’s ABSOLUTELY not his fault and was just as painful for him to experience. But regardless of that, he had to be held responsible for his actions, especially when it resulted in him traumatising one of his closest friends/family.

Whether it was actually HIM or not does not take away Daisy’s pain, it doesn’t take away her trauma, she’s just as hurt regardless.

He still had to be held accountable.

Daisy holding him accountable for what he did is not ableist, nor do I think she’s a ‘girlboss’ or anything of the such for it (as I’ve seen other, more intense Daisy fans say… THAT’S not cool). I just think that she was defending herself.

The pain Daisy went through was still very, VERY real, and she had a right to hate him for what he did, especially with it still being so fresh.

BUT finally, I would also like to point out the very NOT cool thing that Daisy did/said even before this whole debacle, which was calling Fitz “Leopold” and “HYDRA”. THAT is not okay and I do not support her actions there. I could extend my thoughts on why, but it should be obvious. In my books, that is a step too far on her part, as what happened in the Framework was completely out of his control.

Her pain is real, and her anger is valid, but that was a step too far.

ULTIMATELY, in conclusion, I blame the writers for their decision to do this, to write this storyline in the first place, because they ruined the heart of Fitz and Daisy’s friendship by doing so, and that hurts SO bad. Not to mention, both characters did/said things so out of character and that was… UGH. It makes me so angry.

Neither of them deserved this.

Neither of them deserved the pain and trauma that came from it, and both characters deserved so very much better because BOTH suffered for it.

S5 really was CRUEL on my little agent family. ;-;

I know this opinion can be considered controversial, but I want to once again express that I sympathise with BOTH characters here, I’m just focusing this post more on Daisy because most others do not, and regularly attack anyone who even breathes in her defence during S5. I see Fitz’s side too, and I feel SO much for him as well (+ if I did go into how traumatic it also is for Fitz, this would probably be twice as long as it already is. Just know that I do see that too, I’m not blind).

Of course I feel just as much for him, I’m just tired of people always going at Daisy for not immediately forgiving him after such a traumatic experience, not only for Fitz but HER too. I’m tired of this debate within the fandom but I just wanted to express a part of my (overly extensive) view on it and be done with it because I needed to get it off my chest as someone who sympathises with BOTH characters in S5.

I have more points that could be made for both ‘sides’ (even tho there shouldn’t even be ‘sides’, both went through trauma, there should not be a debate on that) but this is already WAY too long so I kept it “short” (or shortER at least).

I’m very passionate about this subject and sick of the arguments (as both a Daisy and Fitz defender) so thank you for coming to my stupidly long rant (and I hope you all don’t hate me after this lmao)

[theluckiestlb]

girl...WHEN??? WHERE????

what are you talking about???? when you kept him isolated for 14 years??? when you robbed him of bodily autonomy???? when you exposed him to his mother's corpse to akumatize him, TWICE????

wait, wait—OH you mean when he was terrified for his life, literally begging you to stop after you beat him up. my bad.

no? OH, you mean when you forced him to leave the country and the love of his life.

Huh.

[grabby-smitten]

Now this is one of the reasons why there’s so much smut/porn written by women for women with male characters.

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

We should talk more about the fact Jason got swarmed and attacked by a mob as Robin, like??? Hello. He had to be left there because the mob was too violent with Batman near. He had to be taken to the hospital.

Look at those injuries!!

The next time we see him he's forcing himself out of bed and putting on the Robin costume thinking "I've gotta do what I can to help, even if it kills me!"

The next next time we see him he has walked into yet another violent mob

I cannot stop thinking about this story and the effects it probably had on him honestly. Do you think it's made him nervous in crowds, do you think it made him trust others just that bit less. How long do you think he was being attacked before he was found, the scene had cleared. "I've gotta do what I can to help, even if it kills me!",,,,

Just the concept itself! I don't know about you guys but being attacked and grabbed and trampled into unconsciousness sounds absolutely terrifying! Did he black out, still getting hit, thinking he was going to die? Knowing he couldn't defend himself as his injuries to took their toll? At their complete mercy?

1986-87 Legends, issue #2 (the attack), #3 (the hospital), #5 (getting up), #6 (defending heros from another forming mob)

2010 DC Universe: Legacies, issue #6 (flashback panel to Legends moment)

[waterlinkedgirl]

Musical Touken Ranbu: Hanakage Yureru Tomizu (The Shadows of Flowers Swaying In The Whetwater) english subs

About a month later than I'd have liked, but here they are! Even if its writing is a bit more messy than usual, its core is very solid. Of course, Chougi's live song more than got away with me (it's got Japanese Sign Language), so if you could, please watch it gently.

I dedicate this to the friends of mine who love Ichigo Hitofuri. May you be unapologetically yourself, right the way you are.

Keep in mind that this is only the subtitle file, timed and tled to the DMM senshuuraku and BD/DVD. The archive version will have a talk at the start, so the starting times of the subs will have to be delayed accordingly.

You can find the subtitles and my TL document here!

[gamelpar]

Dawn is the only movie of the reboot where the main gorilla doesn't die, while War commits the most horrific crime of featuring three (3) major gorilla characters and they all die

[thesongistheriver]

Merlin as a cellist, and these are my inspo pics: Tuxedo for performances, fluffy hair and glasses at home composing. Out of Yourself Into a Delirious Place

[the-love-witch-roleplays]

[jaylaxies]

if you can’t respect writers who are providing you w fanfics free of cost then you don’t get any rights to shit on them either.

[nvmadic]

GUILT AND SHAME - 04

link to last part: [x] synopsis: after a messy dispute revolving around your toxic boyfriend, schlatt takes matters into his own hands and puts your safety over his. some feelings are unearthed that need dealing with. words: 5,472 warnings: light drinking

Despite originally intending to go straight home, you made a spontaneous decision to prolong your trip by an extra day, much to Ted's insistence. Both Ted and Schlatt, after enduring the exhausting demands of filming episodes for Chuckle Week, were fortunate enough to find respite in a well-deserved day off. Ted eagerly assumed the role of a seasoned tour guide, unveiling an array of hidden culinary treasures and introducing you to lesser-known, yet captivating, local attractions. With meticulous attention, he skillfully navigated you away from the swarming tourist hubs, ensuring that you soaked up the genuine essence of the city firsthand.

The day was imbued with a bittersweet aura, carrying an underlying sense of urgency that compelled you to savour each passing moment, as you knew it would be quite some time before you'd reunite with Schlatt, given his overwhelming schedule. Every minute held a precious weight, and you conscientiously immersed yourself in the present, cherishing the shared laughter, heartfelt conversations, and secret glances that wove a delicate thread of connection throughout your day. Torn between the fervent desire to express your affection and the imperative to keep it hidden, you delicately tiptoed a tightrope of restraint, mindful not to arouse any suspicions in the discerning eyes of Ted. Every stolen touch, every lingering gaze had to be discreet, artfully concealed behind the façade of friendship.

As the evening gradually advanced and Ted sought solace in the confines of his bedroom, a newfound aura of privacy enveloped the space. Liberated from prying eyes and the burden of pretence, you and Schlatt nestled intimately on the sofa, cocooned beneath the comforting embrace of a shared blanket. His touch was exquisitely tender, as though he held your body as delicately as fragile glass, ensuring not a single crack would mar your being. Enveloped in his arms, he cradled you against his chest, exuding a profound tenderness. He made up for the day's absence of affection in a single, all-encompassing gesture. The sensation of his lips meeting yours was akin to quenching a parched thirst on a sweltering, humid day, each kiss like a sweet and refreshing gulp of cool water.

Upon your departure, as you turned the key in the lock and stepped back into the familiar embrace of your own space, a curious mix of emotions washed over you. A sense of emptiness seemed to intertwine with the comfort of being home. It was as if a fragment of yourself had remained, tethered to the precious moments shared with Schlatt. Yet, as the days progressed, the weight of his absence became more bearable, for you eagerly anticipated his nightly calls, yearning for the sound of his voice.

In those cherished moments, he would casually recount the events of his day, graciously sharing glimpses of his experiences and expressing his earnest longing to conclude his recordings and return home. In every word he spoke, there lay a genuine interest in your world, as he consistently inquired about your day. His voice, soft and tender, carried a gentle yearning, almost as if he desired to be involved in your own experiences.

As the night grew late and yawns filled the air, a symphony of comfortable silences weaved through your conversation. It became increasingly challenging to bring the call to a close as time slipped away. The hesitation to bid farewell lingered in the hushed pauses as if both of you yearned to extend the moment, if only for a fleeting moment longer. Eventually, with a bittersweet sigh, you exchanged goodnight wishes, promising to reconnect tomorrow.

Schlatt eventually flew back home and spent the next few days dedicated to recuperating from the exhausting week of incessant social interactions and filming. Although it was poignant to long for his presence, there was a certain beauty in the introspective moments when you realized how much you genuinely missed him. There were moments when all you craved was to be in Schlatt's presence, to savour the tranquillity of shared silence and revel in the knowledge that you were existing in the same space. It wasn't about engaging in conversation or filling the air with words; it was the comfort of his company, the unspoken understanding that brought a peacefulness to your soul.

After a few days of rest to rejuvenate his weary soul, Schlatt reached out and extended an invitation for you to spend the evening at his apartment. The thought of a relaxed night, enjoying a movie and sharing a couple of beers, filled you with excitement. No longer bound by secrecy or interruptions, this was a chance to deepen your connection and explore the budding feelings between you. As Schlatt swung open the door, a subtle nervousness danced on his lips momentarily before transforming into a warm, genuine smile. "It's nice to see you again," he greeted softly, his voice carrying a hint of genuine affection. Eagerly extending his arms in a welcoming gesture, Schlatt invited you into a warm embrace. With a gentle, hesitant step, you moved closer, allowing his arms to envelop you in a tight, comforting hold. "Nice to see you, too," you reassured him, nuzzling your face into his sweatshirt.

As you crossed the threshold into his apartment, Schlatt warmly welcomed you into his sanctuary. It was simply nice to finally see his apartment in person, and you were pleasantly surprised by the simple yet homely decor that adorned his walls. Framed photos of family and friends brought a sense of familiarity, while occasional candles and decor pieces added a touch of charm to the cosy ambience. While Schlatt had always maintained a sense of tidiness, it was clear that he had gone the extra mile to create an impressively well-kept space to impress you.

Lost in the moments of absorbing your surroundings, you were abruptly brought back to the present by the sharp crack and hiss of a can being opened. Startled, you turned your attention towards Schlatt and realized that he had taken the initiative and wandered off to the kitchen, already opening a beer. "Make yourself at home." He insisted, his voice floating back to you, slightly distant but filled with a warm invitation. The sound of the refrigerator door shutting with a succinct thump followed. With light and deliberate steps, you made your way to the inviting couch, your eyes immediately captivated by the beautifully arranged blankets adorning the cushions. Each blanket seemed to be meticulously draped as if Schlatt had invested time and care into ensuring their perfect arrangement.

As you eased yourself into the plush comfort of the couch, you surrendered to its embrace, feeling the weight of the world slide off your shoulders. The soft cushions welcomed you, moulding around your body, offering a sanctuary of relaxation. As you settled in, a sense of tranquillity enveloped you. Amidst the peaceful ambience, you could still discern Schlatt's distant presence in the kitchen. The muffled sounds of his rummaging reached your ears, a symphony of soft thuds as drawers closed and the delicate clattering of items being shifted.

After a momentary absence, Schlatt reappeared, his hands carrying a delightful array of snacks that he meticulously arranged on the coffee table. He carefully positioned a six-pack of cans alongside the tempting treats, pausing for a fleeting instant as he contemplated if it would suffice. Finally, he settled down beside you on the couch, his gaze reflecting a mix of anticipation and contentment. As his gaze shifted towards you, a faint trace of nervousness revealed itself on Schlatt's face. "I have a fantastic film in mind, unless you have something specific you'd like to watch," he said, his grin revealing a touch of excitement. His eyes danced around, subtly studying your features as if searching for a clue to your preferences.

You gently shake your head, settling it back onto the soft cushions of the couch, and gaze up at Schlatt. Sensing your relaxation, he reaches out with the hand closest to you, using his fingertips to tenderly massage your scalp. With an eager undertone, Schlatt softly declared, "We're watching Transformers then." Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand from your scalp and leaned forward, stretching his arm to retrieve the open can of beer. Taking a hearty swig from the can, he released a gruff exhale, the effervescent bubbles tickling his throat.

Eventually starting the movie, the two of you settled in sipping from your cans of beer and intermittently nibbling on the snacks. Amidst the unfolding scenes, Schlatt would occasionally pause the movie with his remarks, interjecting obscure and fascinating fun facts or drawing attention to subtle editing details. It almost seemed intentional, as if Schlatt strategically timed his interruptions to elicit laughter from you. With each witty remark or amusing fact, his eyes would twinkle mischievously, reflecting the joy he derived from making you chuckle.

As the night unfolded, a gradual intimacy permeated the atmosphere, drawing you closer together. You sought comfort in the secure enclave of his arm, nestled beneath a cosy fortress of blankets. With heightened senses, you became attuned to the serene rhythm of his chest, rising and falling in tranquil harmony, accompanied by the gentle cadence of his soft exhales. As you snuggled closer, finding comfort in his warm embrace, he hesitated to disrupt the delicate equilibrium by reaching for his drink. The allure of your shared embrace outweighed any thirst, and in that precious moment, he chose to forego finishing his beer, cherishing your touch and warmth.

As the movie neared its inevitable conclusion, your eyes briefly shifted to the coffee table, noticing the emptied ramekins and scattered cans that adorned its surface. At that moment, Schlatt's gaze found yours, his touch tracing a tender path along your arm. With a hint of tipsy mischievousness lacing his voice, he posed an innocent yet enticing question, "Want to do something fun?" The ambiguity of his intent added a layer of intrigue, piquing your curiosity and leaving you wondering what exciting adventure lay ahead.

Schlatt's question lingers in the air, his playful tone sparking a surge of anticipation within you. The possibilities, far-reaching and unknown, blossom vividly in your mind. You find yourself unable to resist the enticing invitation, your curiosity overtaking any lingering doubts or hesitations. With an insuppressible smile playing upon your lips, you lean in closer to Schlatt, causing the gentle touch of your arm against his to intensify. "What did you have in mind?" you inquire, a playful lilt colouring your voice, matching Schlatt's mischievous tone. Your gaze fixates on his face, searching for subtle hints, a flicker of desire that might betray his intentions. With an arched eyebrow and a teasing smile, you await his response, ready to embark on whatever thrilling adventure he has in store.

A sly grin, laced with mischief, tugs at the corners of Schlatt's lips, revealing a hint of his playful nature. With a relaxed posture, he leans back against the plush cushions of the couch, his body language exuding confidence and ease. His piercing gaze remains unwavering, locked onto you with an intensity that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. The soft glow of the room casts intriguing shadows across his angular features, highlighting the subtle stubble on his jawline and the glint of curiosity in his eyes.

"I thought we could play a little game," he finally reveals, his voice laced with a tantalizing hint of mischief. The timbre of his voice sends a delicious shiver down your spine, while his hand, still delicately resting upon your arm, begins its gradual ascent, caressing your skin with a featherlight touch. You find yourself mesmerized by the subtle trail his fingertips trace along the curve of your shoulder, their gentle exploration leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. As his touch lingers on your collarbone, you feel a surge of desire coursing through your veins, the connection between you growing more electrifying with each passing moment. Schlatt's captivating gaze holds you captive, his eyes filled with a mix of playful invitation and unspoken intensity. The soft glow of the room casts alluring shadows across his chiselled features, accentuating the hint of stubble on his jawline.

Your heart quickens its pace, the anticipation mingling with a hint of curiosity as Schlatt's voice drops to a low, smoky murmur. "How about a game of pool? I've been practising," he suggests his words carrying an undertone of something more profound than a simple invitation to play a game. You meet his gaze with a playful glimmer in your eyes, nodding in agreement. "How about this? Whoever pots a ball gets to choose a shot for the other person," you suggest with a teasing grin, a hint of anticipation lacing your voice. The challenge is clear as you lock eyes, both aware of the underlying excitement and potential for mischief that this game holds.

Schlatt's eyes widen, a glimmer of excitement dancing within their depths, as he absorbs your proposition. His head tilts ever so slightly, a mischievous grin spreading across his face like wildfire. The air crackles with electric anticipation as he leans in closer, his voice laced with a tantalizing blend of anticipation and unspoken desires. His lips curl into a devilish smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief and anticipation. "Oh, sweetheart, you've got yourself a deal," he retorts, his voice dripping with playful allure.

Your heart skips a beat at the easy familiarity in his voice, the gentle pet name slipping from his lips effortlessly. It's a simple gesture, but it sets your heart aflutter and sends a rush of warmth coursing through your veins. Schlatt's lips graze yours in a tender, lingering kiss, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. As he pulls away, an impish glint dances in his eyes, and he rises from the couch with a sense of purpose.

Entering the kitchen with a mix of curiosity and anticipation, your eyes are drawn to Schlatt as he skillfully retrieves an array of half-full liquor bottles from his well-stocked cabinet. The melodic sound of liquid swirling and glass delicately clinking fills the air, adding an air of excitement to the atmosphere. With a playful smirk, Schlatt arranges the bottles on the countertop, creating a colourful display of possibilities. "Pick your poison," he teases, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he surveys the selection. "But don't get too excited, I'll be the one potting the balls," he adds with a cocky grin, savouring the anticipation of the upcoming game.

Taking a moment to find your footing, you revel in the delightful buzz of the alcohol coursing through your veins, injecting a newfound boldness into your movements. Your fingers delicately grip the cue, feeling the smoothness of the chalk as you apply it to the tip, ensuring maximum control over your shots. Your attention shifts to Schlatt, his gaze locked onto the neatly arranged triangle of balls, his intense focus a testament to his unwavering confidence. The room seems to pulsate with anticipation as he prepares for the break. With a powerful stroke, Schlatt sends the cue ball hurtling across the smooth expanse of green felt, the resounding crack echoing through the room. The balls erupt in a frenzied dance, colliding with calculated precision and finding their destined pockets with almost mesmerizing grace.

Confidence radiates from your very being as you approach the pool table, "Good luck," Schlatt says, a hint of mischief shining in his eyes as he aims to disrupt your focus. With a focused gaze, you assess the remaining balls, searching for the perfect target. Your eyes land on a vibrant striped ball, beckoning you with its alluring colours. Taking a moment to steady yourself, you grip the cue firmly, feeling the smooth wood against your fingertips. Your mind calculates the angles, envisioning the trajectory of the shot. In a seamless motion, you bring the cue back and forth, delivering a decisive strike to the ball. The room fills with the satisfying thud of impact, followed by a collective intake of breath as the striped ball embarks on its journey. It dances along the edge, defying gravity for a suspended moment, before succumbing to the gravitational pull and gracefully finding its rightful place within the pocket. A surge of elation washes over you, a victorious smile adorning your lips as you revel in the precision of your aim.

A triumphant smile spreads across your face, the rush of accomplishment fueling your competitive spirit. "Looks like I get to choose a shot," you declare, your voice filled with playful triumph. Schlatt's eyes narrow, a spark of amusement dancing in their depths. His expression carries a hint of surprise as if he didn't expect you to make such a skilful shot. "Alright, surprise me," he challenges with a smirk, his gaze fixed on you, his dark irises captivating and intriguing.

You make your way to the kitchen, the clinking of the shot glass against the countertop echoing in the quiet room. With deliberate movements, you pour a clear liquid into the glass, the transparent liquid shimmering under the soft glow of the overhead lights. As you return, your footsteps almost soundless, Schlatt's eyes never waver from your form, his gaze fixated on you with a mixture of intrigue and anticipation. A satisfied smirk plays at the corners of his lips as he leans against the wall, cue in hand, exuding a sense of relaxed confidence. The room feels charged with a subtle tension, the air thick with suspense.

"Bottoms up," you murmur, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you hand over the shot glass. Schlatt's gaze narrows slightly, a mix of curiosity and wariness evident in his expression as he takes the glass in his hand. Without a moment's hesitation, he brings it to his lips and downs the liquid in one swift motion. His features contort briefly, a faint grimace tugging at the corners of his mouth, but he quickly suppresses it with a gruff exhale. He firmly plants the empty glass onto a nearby surface, his brows furrowing in mild surprise. "I didn't realize I had sambuca," he mutters, shaking his head as if trying to rid his taste buds of the lingering flavour.

As you lean over the table to line up your next shot, a playful grin dancing on your lips, you unintentionally press your behind against Schlatt's crotch. A jolt of electricity courses through your body at the accidental contact, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. However, Schlatt surprises you by stepping back, a mix of playful banter and confidence, yet conflicting with underlying nervousness evident in his voice. "Stop trying to distract me, sweetheart, it's not going to work," he jests, his tone laced with a hint of enjoyment from the fleeting touch. The moment hangs in the air, charged with a blend of tension and anticipation before the game resumes with renewed energy.

As you refocus on the game, a surge of anticipation courses through your veins, infusing your every movement with a heightened edge. The clack of the cue against the ball resonates through the room, a resolute symphony of determination. Your shot is executed with precision, the ball rolling across the green felt, but alas, it falls just short of the intended hole. Schlatt steps up to the table, his presence commanding and confident. With a masterful stroke, he forcefully strikes the cue ball, unleashing a powerful ripple of energy that reverberates through the room. The balls scatter and collide, their rapid movements accompanied by the abrupt clattering of their impact. Amid the chaos, a solid-coloured ball gracefully finds its way into a waiting pocket, eliciting a satisfied nod from Schlatt.

With a flicker of movement, he disappears from view, only to reappear moments later, clutching a shot glass filled with liquid gold. The radiant glow of the golden elixir dances under the warm ambience of the room, beckoning you closer with its alluring shimmer. He holds the glass delicately, his gaze fixed on you with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. As you meet his gaze, you can sense a subtle haze of alcohol swirling within. With a gentle yet deliberate motion, he extends his hand, offering you the shot glass. As your fingers intertwine, a subtle spark of electricity passes between you, sending a tingle of anticipation through your veins. Without hesitation, you raise the glass to your lips, the sweet aroma wafting into your nostrils, heightening your senses. The liquid dances across your tongue, its potent flavour bursting on your taste buds, momentarily overwhelming your senses with its intensity.

"Honey Whiskey," Schlatt smiles, his fingers gently wrapping around the shot glass as he takes it from your hand. He sets it down with a satisfied grin, his eyes lingering on the slight grimace that dances across your face. The taste of the potent liquor lingers on your tongue, leaving a mix of sweetness and warmth.

As Schlatt lines up his second shot, you can't help but admire the focused intensity on his face. His brows furrow slightly, showcasing his determination, while a subtle curve graces his lips. His commanding presence looms over the table, his tall frame exuding confidence and ease. With practised precision, he pulls the cue back, his movements fluid and calculated. The sound of the cue striking the ball fills the room, the force behind it evident as the ball rolls effortlessly across the felt, knocking a solid. It slows down, teetering on the edge of the net, its journey seemingly suspended in time. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch with bated anticipation. Every second feels like an eternity as the ball hovers on the precipice, defying gravity. And then, with a gentle final nudge, the ball succumbs to gravity's pull. It rolls, ever so slowly, until it finally finds its destination, sinking into the net with a satisfying clink.

Schlatt's cocky demeanour shines through as he turns to you, a self-satisfied smirk playing upon his lips. With a confident swagger, he closes the distance between you, wrapping his arms around your form. The warmth of his embrace engulfs you, creating an intimate connection between you. His teasing words fill the air, laced with a hint of playful charm. "We can stop now," he jests, his voice brimming with faux chivalry, "I wouldn't want to show you up. That wouldn't be very gentleman-like of me." His embrace tightens, pulling you into a comfortable side hug.

A playful glint dances in your eyes as you scoff, playing along with the charade of fake gallantry. With a gentle push, you jestingly push Schlatt away, your playful banter filling the air. "That's fine," you retort, a coy smile gracing your lips, "if you keep potting balls, I won't be able to bend over the table to hit anything." The puckish insinuation lingers in the air, suffused with a seductive undertone that ignites a playful spark. Schlatt's ardent gaze locks onto yours, a flicker of amusement dancing within the depths of his dark eyes. His lips part, poised to respond, but a brief hesitation stifles his words. Instead, a knowing smirk curves his lips, his gaze momentarily tracing the contours of your body before returning to meet your eyes. The air between you crackles with unspoken tension.

A gentle heat spreads through your body as Schlatt's hand brushes against the small of your back, leaving a lingering sensation that sends a shiver down your spine. You can't help but feel a flutter in your chest, a mixture of excitement and anticipation that intensifies with each passing moment. As he ventures deeper into the kitchen, your mind swirls with a potent blend of emotions, unsure if it's the electric tension between you or the intoxicating effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins that fuels the rising heat within you.

Once again, Schlatt reappears, a shot glass held delicately in his hand. The translucent liquid within seems to shift and shimmer, captivating your gaze. With a mix of eagerness and a subtle hint of apprehension, he extends the glass towards you. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you accept the offering, raising the glass to your lips. As the liquid hits your tongue, a sharp, bitter taste assaults your taste buds, leaving behind an intense sensation akin to swallowing acetone. The burn travels down your throat, eliciting a grimace as you swallow the potent concoction. Schlatt's lips curl into a combination of amusement and a faint grimace as he observes your reaction. There's a hint of satisfaction in his eyes as if he relishes in the mix of surprise and amusement that his concoction has provoked.

"I'll let you play now, otherwise I'm going to be sober," he remarks with an innocent tone, taking a step back from the table. However, he doesn't stray too far, lingering nearby. The warmth of his presence envelopes you, a tangible reminder of his proximity. As you prepare to line up your shot, the sheer size of the table requires you to lean over again, unintentionally pushing your rear upward into the air. The suggestive posture draws a mischievous glimmer to Schlatt's eyes as he appreciates the view. As you focus on perfecting the angle of your shot, meticulously pulling the cue back and forth, you're suddenly aware of the large presence of Schlatt behind you. His hand, warm and gentle, caresses the curve of your hip, sending a shiver of anticipation coursing through your body.

"Go away," you playfully retort your tone a mix of feigned annoyance and longing. Although you need full concentration, there's a part of you that doesn't want him to leave. "Alright, alright," Schlatt chuckles softly, his touch reluctantly retreating from your body. He takes a step back, allowing you the space and concentration you need for your shot. Despite the light-hearted exchange, the absence of his touch leaves a subtle longing in the air, a desire for his presence to linger just a little while longer.

With unwavering determination, you position yourself, aligning your body and mind for the impending shot. The weight of the cue in your hand feels familiar, providing a sense of stability and control. Your focus narrows, blocking out any distractions as you immerse yourself in the challenge before you. Thoughts of strategy and precision consume your mind, mapping out the path of the ball in your imagination. As the tension mounts, a surge of adrenaline courses through your veins, heightening your senses. You inhale deeply, savouring the momentary calm before unleashing your precise stroke, the cue gliding smoothly through the air. The resounding crack of the cue meeting the ball fills the room, a harmonious echo of determination. The ball, propelled by your skilled stroke, dances across the table, gracefully navigating its way past obstacles. With every calculated movement, the tension in the air intensifies, building towards a climactic moment. And then, as if guided by an invisible hand, the ball finds its mark, slipping into the pocket with a satisfying thud.

A triumphant smile graces your lips as you turn to meet Schlatt's gaze, your eyes locked in a captivating exchange. The room seems to pulse with an electric charge, the air heavy with a blend of desire and playful challenge. The flicker of anticipation in his eyes reflects your own, creating an intoxicating dance of unspoken attraction.

"You're not too bad yourself," Schlatt comments, his voice tinged with a husky blend of admiration and amusement. His gaze lingers on your form, unabashed desire evident in his eyes. The typically laid-back demeanour he exudes teeters on the edge, his natural confidence bordering on a brashness that can barely be contained. With each step he takes closer, the space between you diminishes, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, creating a tantalizing sensation that sends shivers down your spine.

A surge of exhilaration rushes through your veins as he closes the distance between you, his touch sending sparks of anticipation dancing along your skin. The gentle brush of his hand against your arm ignites a trail of sensations. As he leans in, his lips find yours in a fiery, passionate collision. The kiss is electric, a whirlwind of intense emotions and pent-up longing. Your bodies meld together, responding to the magnetic pull that draws you closer, as the world around you fades into a blur of sensations. The heat between you intensifies, creating an all-encompassing vortex of passion and fervour. At that moment, nothing else matters but the intoxicating dance of your lips and the undeniable connection that binds you together.

The world around you melts away, leaving only the two of you entangled in a passionate embrace. Schlatt's hands, guided by both desire and a hint of recklessness, traverse the contours of your body with a familiarity that sets your skin ablaze. Every touch is a symphony of pleasure, each caress igniting a cascade of electrifying sensations that leave you breathless. As fervour takes hold, the game is forgotten, its subtle existence eclipsed by the explosive burst of passion that consumes you both.

As you pull away, a mingling of emotions floods your senses, swirling within you like a tempestuous storm. Your breaths come in shallow gasps, your chest rising and falling with the intensity of the moment. Your eyes meet Schlatt's, searching his gaze for a glimpse into his emotional landscape. In the depths of his eyes, you catch a spark of intensity, a reflection of the myriad emotions that swirl within him. Nervousness flits through your veins, a delicate tremor that accentuates the gravity of the situation. The vulnerability that accompanies an intimate connection dances on the edges of your consciousness, weaving its way into your thoughts. A tinge of self-doubt tugs at the corners of your mind, silently questioning if you're ready to fully embrace the depths of what this moment may hold.

Lust, with its alluring pull, courses through your veins, casting a hazy veil over your senses. The simmering heat that pulsates between you is a magnetic force, drawing you closer with an irresistible pull. Desire rises within you, an intoxicating blend of raw need and longing. Your body yearns for more, craving the touch of his hands, the taste of his lips, and the euphoria that awaits in the depths of passion. Happiness, too, dances within your being, a flickering flame that warms your heart. The connection you've forged, the palpable chemistry that funds the air, carries with it a sense of joy. At this moment, all worries and cares seem to fade away, replaced by an innate bliss that radiates from within.

Heart pounding, you take a moment to steady yourself, allowing the swell of emotions to settle. You meet Schlatt's gaze once again, determination shining in your eyes. You know what you want, even amidst the whirlwind of sensations coursing through your being. And with that certainty, a playful smile tugs at the corners of your lips, a silent invitation to continue on this exhilarating journey together. As you reach out, your fingers intertwining with Schlatt's, you take a step forward, closing the gap between you. A renewed sense of anticipation fills the air, igniting a fire within you that refuses to be extinguished. At that moment, you both surrender to the waves of desire, exploring the uncharted territories of pleasure that lie before you, ready to delve into the depths of this intimate connection.

"I want you, Schlatt," you speak with underlying nervousness, although sure of your own words. A surge of vulnerability intertwines with your resolute desire as you voice your innermost desires. Your words hang in the air, heavy with anticipation and a fragment of nervousness that lingers like a delicate mist. Schlatt's eyes lock onto yours, a sea of emotions swirling within their depths. Surprise passes through Schlatt's features, momentarily breaking through his typically confident facade. His gaze softens, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability that mirrors your own. There's a pause, a fleeting moment where time seems to stand still as he contemplates his response.

A breath escapes his lips, the sound carrying an undercurrent of raw need. His gaze never wavers from yours, locked in a captivating exchange that transcends the barriers of words. The air around you thickens with anticipation, the atmosphere pulsating with magnetic energy. Schlatt's voice, tinged with a husky vulnerability, resonates with a fervent intensity as he finally finds his words. The admission spills forth, baring his desires with a breathtaking honesty that leaves you captivated. "I've wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you," he confesses, the weight of his words hanging in the air, charged with the weight of his longing.

With a rush of exhilaration coursing through your veins, you lean in, closing the physical and emotional distance between you and Schlatt. The taste of alcohol lingers on your lips, intertwining with the budding passion that brews within. Your kiss is passionate and hungry, a meeting of lips that speaks volumes, transcending the confines of words. It's a dance of tongues and desires, a symphony of the senses that leaves you both breathless.

link to the rest of my work [x]

[nogoodsheepstealing-greatgrandma]

Ghost Laena: Have you looked after our girls Daemon?

Daemon: No, but to be fair honey, you did set yourself on fire. It was always going to be downhill from there.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

given that seems to be the new popular take in the fandom at large since totk got out: let the record show that I'll gladly let myself get repeatedly manipulated by the wind waker speech and be foolishly moved by its implications over rejecting space for humanity and vulnerability in the monstrous and the dispossessed, and then feeling weirdly smug about severing that fleeting attempt at connection and deem it obviously insincere

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

in later seasons it's always either dean is being so very Dean and sam is just an empty vessel of plot fulfillment or sam is being so very Sam and dean is getting stupidly angry and claiming his son is not family. can they not simply write both characters well. it's truly like there's a limited amount of accurate characterisation to go around we need to ration this shit

[beatx-mavie-archangelx]

hi the arcana fandom i was wondering did we give up or did they manage to block us all?

[blackhairedjjun]

i am begging people on this site, especially new kpop fic writers, to use tags properly. only put tags that are relevant to your post.

i am SO TIRED of the tags i follow being clogged with unrelated shit because someone thinks it's a good idea to spam tag their posts with everything kpop-related even if it isn't remotely related to what the post is about. all it does is make the tag page useless! you are making it harder for people to look for what they actually want to see!!

IF YOUR FIC DOESN'T ACTUALLY CONTAIN SMUT, DON'T TAG IT AS SMUT. i am SICK of people tagging their sfw fluff or angst fics or even fics that are only a tiny bit suggestive with smut because they think it will give it more reach. you know what that does? it means that people who have smut tags blacklisted CAN'T TRUST THEIR BLACKLIST AT ALL. how the hell am i supposed to know if my blacklist is working properly if people keep tagging their sfw fics as smut? and i can deal with it fine bc i'm an adult anyway, but what about minors who are repeatedly told not to interact with smut posts? and then you hide all the sfw posts in the smut tags anyway so minors can't even reliably tell what they should and shouldn't interact with.

stop hijacking the tumblr tag system to treat it like an algorithm, it's a tool for navigation and filtering. the more you misuse it the worse you make it for everyone on this site.

[bonebabbles]

God the new ultimate guide sucks

It's not JUST the awful art, either. The art's just worth mentioning because even if the book's info had been terrible or contained nothing new, really cute art can make it still worth having.

But, no, it's even full of recycled lines we've been hearing for years like "Bramblestar Can Match Squirrelflight's Fire Not Contain It," and that's when it DOES get everything right. These entries leave out major, important details (making them bad summaries) and are sometimes even straight-up incorrect.

SUMMARY THOUGHTS

Leafpool is said to have watched Brambleclaw kill Hawkfrost to save Firestar-- but for one, no, she was not there because Ashfur was still leading her and Squilf towards the scene. For two, no, Brambleclaw did not kill Hawkfrost just to save Firestar, it was self-defense. Hawkfrost had him pinned and was going to kill him.

They're REAL cute about Leafpool's death, too, neglecting to mention WHY the Sisters needed to be saved at all and just saying Leafpool's "generosity" lead to her death in that cave-in.

I'm not even going to get into everything on Bramble's entry jesus christ.

Sagewhisker's entry is ESPECIALLY fucken' dandy, framing Yellowfang's Secret like she was simply waiting patiently for Yellow to realize her 'destiny' and not actively shoving it on her at every opportunity.

Leopardstar's entry states that romantic interest in Tigerstar was part of her motivation. "Perhaps she'd hoped he would be her mate" please speak to a woman irl for once in your life.

Gray Wing's entry forgot that the reason he "blamed himself" for Bright Stream's death is because he was literally staring at his big strong brother too much and tripped on a root in front of him. It IS his fault she died.

Clear Sky/Skystar's entry is just obscene. "He regretted abandoning his son and after a fire, he encouraged him to live with him" instead of "saw his teenage child was useful now and bullied and belittled the kid and his uncle into letting Thunder come with him." "Retaining his fierceness towards his cats and outsiders which caused his son to leave" instead of "murdering, brutalizing, and abusing everyone around him caused Thunder to leave." I'll just say this tho; "Fierce" is an interesting way to spell "Cruel."

It's interesting that they don't point out that a major part of Jagged Peak's arc was proving he was "Just As Good" as every other cat in spite of his disability, thanks to his introduced-and-pregnant-in-the-same-book wife becoming his life coach, only earning Clear Sky's respect after being allowed to physically lead a patrol in Blazing Star. Instead they frame him finding his place through taking care of kits, which... was something he seemed to resent in the actual series, considering how the books suddenly treat Gray Wing's protective treatment of him as a terrible thing in Blazing Star because he "didn't give him a chance". But at the same time I actually strongly dislike Jagged Peak and his messy, frustrating character arc so I'm not really UPSET with it. Just... noting it. I suppose this is the official direction they're taking away from it?

Shadowstar's entry is barely even 3 paragraphs yikes.

SHORT STORY THOUGHTS

And if you're wondering if the 4 brand new stories they smooshed into the end in a desperate attempt to make the rush job worth buying are good? No. Of course not. They're all slop.

Story 1: Firestar and Graystripe

First one's a marginally cute story about Graystripe and Firestar which is setting up the framing device linking the mini-tales together. They both remember this situation where Firestar fell into a ditch wrong. The punchline is that Thunderstar remembers it perfectly and they're both like, "WOW! Too bad Thunderstar's memory sucks!"

It's not terrible, but it does feel a bit pointless. But, hey, if you want more Firestar and Graystripe in the series that tosses them fanservice at every turn, who am I to judge?

Story 2: Dovewing and Ivypool

The next one is the Dovewing/Ivypool reconciliation passage everyone's talking about. It's... fine, but immensely dissatisfying to me.

Dovewing is apparently having problems adjusting to her Clan, grapples a little bit with the fact she has no friends but is going to be finding meaning in helping tigerHeartstar "bring the new ShadowClan into existence." She ultimately decides that she needs to talk to her sister, and begs for reassurance that Ivypool believes in her, feeling that her support can help her get through this difficult time in her life.

I think its biggest problem is that Dovewing was not the right choice for the POV here.

Dove was never the one responsible for the rift in their relationship. Ivypool is. Ivypool is the one who was jealous, willing to sabotage anything that would put Dovewing closer to Tigerheart, and continues to be generally aggressive towards her. So when Dovewing is reaching out to Ivypool in hopes of them reconciling, it feels wrong because Ivypool is the one that should be reaching out to Dovewing. SHE is the one who has some things to apologize for, and to show how much she loves and misses her.

It's even kind of frustrating, because Dovewing can never catch a break. She has to have these problems to force her to reach out, Ivypool even ends up suggesting that she leave and come home and take her kids with her, but in the end even a LITTLE bit of assurance from her aggressive sister helps.

I feel super bad for Dovewing, man. She deserves better than this cheap writing. What was the point of such an unsatisfying, rushed reconciliation, shoved into a crummy field guide, when we KNOW from the newest book that they're just going to use tension between them as part of the drama anyway?

shouldn't have even been written, imo. Even ends off with, "They'll always have each other :)" which is so... cliche. It's TIRED. Are any of you really happy with just getting a retconned platitude in a good-for-nothing field guide, instead of seeing complicated, INTERESTING feelings in a main book?

Story 3: Alderheart and Twigbranch

A tale of Cherryfall getting sick during TBC and Alderheart sneaks back into the territory to treat her. Also Crowfeather has a scene where he yells at him. Charming.

Twigbranch comes up with a diversion while Alderheart does his work, which is cute. It's a fine story.

Story 4: Clear Sky

Trash. Three dogs spawn in the middle of a gathering so that Skystar can have an uwu big boy sendoff saving his grandkit. Then he goes to StarClan and throws a fit because they can't give him ANOTHER life, becoming so upset that he attacks the nearest woman. Naturally, Shadowstar brushes it off because it's not the first time Clear Sky has pummeled her in the midst of an adult tantrum and this book series thinks violence is fine if their favorite sadboy does it.

Then Gray Wing brings him to the magic mirror pool where you can see the living, to confirm that Star Flower is ok and that makes him feel better.

Then it launches into Firestar saying "ouuuugh yum I LOVE the taste of his butthole. Clear Sky is so misunderstood, He Just Loved Too Much."

to which Graystripe responds, "Yes, he was a good and amazing person and his farts smells SO good, and can you believe that some people think StarClan punished his Clan for his arrogance? As if he ever did anything wrong, ever?"

Firestar, indignant, refutes it with, "Ugh!! StarClan would NEVER be interesting, we don't punish living cats we just float around and make vague, frustrating prophecies that do nothing but pad the word count. Why cant ppl understand that, gosh."

who wrote this? Gray Wing??