#source: ice age 2

[fullmoonhijinks]

Ryan: So you think Dylan's the one for me?

Laura: Oh yeah! He's tons of fun, and you're no fun at all. He completes you.

[nerdasaurus1200]

Jinx: Can I kill him, Caitlyn?

Caitlyn: No.

Jinx: Vi, can I kill that dude?

Vi: Of course you can, Pow-pow.

Caitlyn: Violet, we have to be consistent with her.

[waterfire1848]

[ Bruce as Batman telling a story to kids to calm them down. ]

Bruce: They lived happily ever after! You can’t get more satisfying than that. One big happy family. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Kid: Then where’s your big happy family?

[ Bruce goes silent. ]

[incorrect-anything-quotes]

Shrek: (referring to Fiona) You think she's the girl for me?

Donkey: Oh, yeah. She's tons of fun, and you're no fun at all.

[sleeplessdreamer14]

[rewriting the story so that Sophie and Kate didn’t start off so well since she’s rivals with their boyfriend]

Sophie: This is how you resolve conflict? No wonder you’re single!

Kate: [scoffs/attempts to ignore them]

Sophie: Oh come on, am I talking to myself here?! I say ‘he’s not that bad’ and you say ‘grrr.’ I say ‘can we talk about this?’ and you say ‘grrr.’ I don’t call that communication.

Kate: [rolls eyes/growls]

Sophie: See? That’s your answer to everything.

[immature-mel]

The Melvins in the Season 2 finale

⏳Melvinborg: *explaining his final plan to get his younger self into Eliteanati academy; Which is taking an old concept from George and Harold’s comic and turning it into an obstacle course*

✨Melvin: That plan is so dumb! I wish it had a face so I could smack it!

[thebunnyremix]

Junior: You calling me a liar?

Neptune: I didn’t say that.

Junior: You were thinking it.

Neptune: …

Junior: …

Neptune: [whispers to Yang] I don’t like this guy. He reads minds.

[sturniqlo]

KISS IN THE KITCHEN- MATT STURN

summary: both Matt and Y/n find themselves in the kitchen at two in the morning alone. Blurb

cw: cursing, brothers best friend trope, suggestive material (no actual smut), almost getting caught

masterlist | join my taglist | part 2

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2:16 AM read the digital clock that was propped on Y/n's nightstand. She huffed and turned to the other side facing the wall. It was probably the tenth time she has turned to the opposite side trying to fall asleep. She shouldn't have drank that iced coffee before bed.

After turning around one more time, she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed and her feet met the cold wooden floor. Y/n made her way, barefoot, to her door and opened it and a cold breeze made it way to her. "Holy fuck." She gasped, her brother must've moved the ac once more.

She felt her nipples harder up against her oversized tee. Making her way downstairs, the creaking of the stairs made her cringe, not wanting to wake anyone else up in the house. Through the dark, she made her way to the kitchen and opened up three fridge getting herself a water bottle, keeping the fridge open for a light source. "Hey." Someone said from behind her. "What the-" She yelped, spilling some water on her shirt. She turned around and sees Matt wearing a tank top and pajama pants hung low on his hips.

"Matt?" She whisper yelled. "Shit, my bad. Didn't mean to scare you." He chuckled, reaching in the fridge for a water of his own. "When did you get here?" Still at a whisper. "Around seven? Daniel texted if I wanted to spend the night." He opens his water bottle. Y/n got home at nine, probably why she didn't know he was here. "I didn't see your car when I got here."

"I had to park in the next block over, there was no parking and I didn't want to take your spot in the driveway." She hummed in response. "So, why are you awake at-" He looks at the stove. "Two twenty eight in the morning?"

"Cant sleep, I drank coffee earlier so I fucked up with that one." Y/n giggles. "You?" She takes another sip of her water. "Your brother snores like a middle aged man, I might crash on the couch." He walks between Y/n and the counter, putting his hand on her waist to get by.

She cant help but get goosebumps all over and clench between her thighs although it was a small gesture. Y/n leans against the counter and tries to shake all the dirty thoughts out of her head. "I just realized, we've never been alone together. Just us two." He walks back from throwing away his empty water bottle. "Really? I- I've never noticed." Y/n stutters.

"Really." He nods, walking up to stand in front of her, placing his hands on the counter, caging her in. "O- oh." Her heart starts beating fast. She's always found Matt attractive. Hot. Every name in the book. "Why're you nervous? Thought you always wanted this, I see how you look at me all the time." Matt grabs her jaw so she can look up at him. "Do you want me?" He says.

"Yes," She nods. "I want you." With that, Matt placing his lips on hers. They pull apart to see if they were okay with it. When nobody completely pulled away, Y/n kissed him again. The kiss was mix of tongue and teeth clashing. Messy, just how Y/n imagined it. "I've wanted this for so long." Matt pulls away to kiss down her jaw. "Fuck- me too." She gasps at Matt sucking on her neck.

She tugs on his hair and brings him back to her lips. If this was the only time she'd have Matt like this, she was going to make last. They could still taste the faintness of the minty toothpaste on each other. Matt brought his hands under her shirt and massaged his cold hands onto her warm waist while her arms came up around her neck, her hands slightly tugging on the hair on the nape of his neck.

His hands crept up her soft belly to underneath her breast. She gasped against his lips. Matt squeezed her tits and she whimpered when his thumb circled her nipples. Matt grew harder at the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. Wanting her shirt off, he brought his hands to the bottom of her shirt. "Can I?" He whispered against her swollen wet lips. "Please." She nodded.

When the shirt came above her breast, Matt was awed at her bare chest. As it was going to come off above her head, they heard the stairs creek and Y/n pulled her shirt back down as Matt was frozen. "Hey guys. Why are you two up?" Her brother enters the kitchen and sees Matt looking into the fridge. "I- uh I couldn't sleep and came to get water." Y/n awkwardly held up her unfinished water as she was breathing heavily, but her brother didn't notice as he was still half asleep.

"And I- you were snoring so I came to crash on the couch and found her- uh here." Matt scratched his neck. "I'll- I'll see you two tomorrow." Y/n said and left the kitchen leaving the two boys in the kitchen.

Back in her room, she sat on her bed in disbelief. Did that actually happen? Something that she's been wanting for so long just happened? Y/n could still feel the softness of his lip on her, his hands all over her body. Yet, she still had the ache in between her legs.

Ten minutes later, her phone buzzed on her nightstand. Picking it up, she saw a instagram dm from Matt.

matthew.sturniolo

keep your door unlocked

i'm going once daniel is asleep

[felassan]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "To celebrate DA day, I've made a bluesky account that I'll keep active for a few days to talk about my work on Inqusition or Veilguard! After a few days I'll lock the account, because I'm not a social media person. Happy to talk until then though. I want to say straight off: the reception to Emmrich, Manfred, the Mourn Watch, and the Grand Necropolis has been heartwarming for all of us who worked on those people and places. Thank you all very much!" [source, two]

Rest of post under cut due to length and spoilers. [Post Two, Post Three]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "In the meantime, I do want to talk about a couple of things I saw floating around regarding Emmrich: 1. Emmrich being 52 or 50. I think people got 50 from data mining a character file, but we can't do a ranges in those files. As in, I couldn't input 50-60, it had to be a whole number. I put down 50 as an early ballpark, then went more accurate in later audition scripts. 2. Fifty-two is a old number I threw into an early document before his art or character was totally final. (And which caused another developer a headache because they thought it was accurate, I never updated it. Sorry about that.) 3. "Wait, how old is Emmrich then?" Once I saw his final character art, I felt more mid to late 50s. MAYBE early 60s. But unless we specifically state a character's age in the game, it's all malleable. I honestly would just adjust it to your impressions unless stated otherwise. 4. I've also seen comments on how weird it is for Emmrich to act like there's an age-gap in the romance if your Rook is around his age. And you're right. 5. The reason is because Rook WAS younger when those scenes were written and worked on. I felt it'd be odd if I never addressed the May-December aspect, especially as it hooks into some of Emmrich's worries. 6. By the time that shifted, it was really too late to change without catastrophic repercussions to the excellent cinematics and music and other things that depend on line delivery and timing. 7. To be clear: you can feel how you want about the age gap coming up at all! But that's how the discrepancy came about. 8. "Is there a way to reconcile Emmrich acting like my Rook is way younger than him if they're not?" Great question! I have several suggestions: -Accept it's an error. (True, but unexciting) -Emmrich considers a gap of 3-5 years scandalous. (Funny, albeit a bit cartoonish.) -The Mourn Watch has perfected swapping out organs, and Emmrich is nervously hiding that he's way older than he looks out of vanity. (Untrue, but funny.)" [source thread]

User in reply to point 6. above: "I'm personally glad it was too late to change because their argument about it is genuinely my favorite scene in the entire game! 😭💕 It's such an important moment to me" / Sylvia: "Thanks! That one was one where I was all sweatily trying to balance things out, with tone, with pacing, etc. Really glad it came together for you. (Cine and the actors did heroic things there to get it feeling just so!)" [source]

More snippets:

Emmrich's favorite ice cream flavor? Rum raisin [source]

Lots of people on the dev team shared the vision of having a bunch of gothic weirdness in that pocket of Thedas [source] (Necropolis/Nevarra)

Sylvia "especially liked writing the Mourn Watch origin, it was fun to write a fellow nerd for Emmrich to chat with" [source]

Sylvia poured some personal worries and fears into writing Emmrich [source]

On Vorgoth and their nature: "I'm a little leery of saying anything, partly because I'm cowardly avoiding publicly defining anything more until/if I ever need to. And partly because I did want them to be a fresh unknown. Sorry!" [source] "I'm glad you like Vorgoth, but I'm afraid I don't have much for you that isn't in the game. I deliberately wrote them so as to leave room, if we ever revisited them, or for Vorgoth to remain mysterious, if we did not. I'm sorry if that's not a very satisfying answer!" [source] "I will say, it was fun to throw in a few lines about Vorgoth's art collection. Their passion for it is sincere and deep. (I wanted all the Watchers to have a little non-death related hobby or interest, because they can be so singularly focused.)" [source]

Dwarven Mourn Watcher is a rare origin combo for Rook so Sylvia wanted to call it out [source]

On the outcomes of Emmrich's quest: "I tried really hard to make the options equally viable, and more up to the player's interpretation or preferences of what it would mean for Emmrich in their view. It's been interesting seeing reactions to it, which hinge sometimes on various single lines pushing people one way or another!" [source]

"The Grand Necropolis is always eager and ready for a new member of the Mourn Watch to grace its ranks." [source]

User: "I loved Emmrich's view on death and what his personal quest ultimately went on to say about the nature of death itself, and how the beauty of mortality lies in its impermanence and unpredictability." / Sylvia: "I really wanted to dig into those themes, and everyone in cine and art and level design and editing and the whole team honed in exactly on the vibe. The floral stuff especially, I was so thrilled when I played through the Memorial Gardens' with the art and lighting in." [source]

User: "I experience thanatophobia and that first conversation w/ Emmrich was so affirming and helped me describe my own anxiety to others" / Sylvia: "Thanks, the thanatophobia was, as you may've guessed, a personal experience for me too. I'm glad it was something that helped a little." [source] "I suspect that phobia is way more common than people think, and part of the reason Emmrich talks about it was to express that sentiment out loud. I find it helps sometimes just to acknowledge it." [source]

What languages does Emmrich speak other than Trade? "I think he'd be familiar with Tevene, since there's surely many, many old texts about magic written in that language. Kind of like a doctor that knows latin through their work. I also named that MW alphabet "tomb-script", though I'm not sure if it has a spoken component or not since it never came up in-game. If it does, he'd be able to speak that for sure." [source, two]

User: "Playing as a Mourn Watch Rook has been an absolute delight!!!" / Sylvia: "Thank you so much, I really liked writing those branches of the dialogue. Since Emmrich's so focused on necromancy, it was fun having a Rook who could be both casual and knowledgeable about it." [source]

User: "In your opinion, what outcome do you prefer for a romanced Emmrich (lich/non lich)?" / Sylvia: "Interesting question! To be honest, I'm afraid to answer it properly in case anyone takes my answer to be a canonical one. I really wanted either path to feel equally interesting/correct for whatever you decide fits your Rook's relationship with Emmrich. (We're also in the strange waters of meta-reasoning. I GAVE Emmrich his fear of death-Sorry Emmrich!-which makes me feel a little culpable for that, even though he's entirely fictional. And that might prey on my mind when trying to decide. A very odd experience!)" [source, two]

What music genres would Emmrich be into? "Classical music is very much playing to type for Emmrich, but I feel it's also correct. He'd enjoy a nice concerto or an organ recital. Or, if he's feeling daring, a bold new Orlesian opera! But I don't think his tastes are too outré in that area. That said, I saw someone post something like "Leave Emmrich alone, let him attend the Depeche Mode concert" while listening to Depeche Mode's "Violator", for the first time, which made me laugh. (Great album. If he could get over the shock of synths, Emmrich might enjoy "Waiting for the Night".)" [source, two]

When writing Emmrich the devs wanted to try and hit the gothic romance vibe [source]

Does Emmrich mix his own fragrance/cologne? Does he ever vary it by the season? "I think Emmrich goes to some of the many perfumers that have set up shop in Nevarra City around the Necropolis, just because he trusts their judgement and expertise. I hadn't considered him varying it by season, but that's very fun! I certainly think he has more than one bottle of scent." [source]

User: "How does Lich Emmrich have sex?" / Sylvia: "I don't mind the question! But my answer's a bit boring: I generally stay at arm's length on the more explicit romance stuff, just because if it's not stated or shown in-game, I don't want to bring in a canonical answer that might affect what people imagined. My general preference for romantic scenes that get physical is to leave blank space somewhere, so players can imagine what happens next. It's not the ONLY way to do it, I think there's legitimate artistic reasons to go more explicit. But that's how I approached Emmrich (and before him Josephine.)" [source, two]

User: "The scene with the fade glow where he touches your hand haunts me in the best way" / Sylvia: "Aw thank you. Our animators and audio people made that scene way better than I could've hoped! They took such care with everything there. I want to say that little eye-peep from Rook was added in by one of them, which was the perfect touch." [source]

User on Emmrich: "i’m curious whether you think he’d prefer dogs or cats (or both, or neither)" / Sylvia: "I think he'd consider cats and dogs a little too noisy and messy for his tastes. Not like a nice, quiet plant or skeleton! (Weirdly, I actually had a scrap of banter going over this exact subject at one point. It got tightened down to the exchange with Harding about the pig he used to hug when he was a kid.)" [source, two]

Sylvia was trying to tease Nevarra with the Tevinter Nights story Down Among the Dead Men [source]. "It was really fun to tease the Necropolis, so to speak, in TN, and I'm grateful we got to actually let players through its gates at last." [source]

User: "if Rook chooses to save Manfred and keep Emmrich mortal, what would Emmrich wish to become of his body once he did pass on?" / Sylvia: "Good question. I think he'd want to remain active and useful in death. A guide for other Mourn Watchers, or posted as a mystic guide somewhere dangerous, or perhaps an oracle in the library." [source]

User: "when and how was it decided that Emmrich would be romanceable? I remember reading that he would not be a romance option." / Sylvia: "I'm not sure where that came from, because I pitched him and then shortly after that we decided the entire cast was romanceable. That was fairly early on in the development of Veilguard, as I recall it. (Could've been a crossed wire?)" [source]

Trick Weekes: "Sylvia wrote the fantastic Emmrich "the Vol-carnage" Volkarin and everything that happens in Nevarra while dealing with a lead writer whose attitudes about corpses and undead are... not dissimilar from Taash's." [source] / Sylvia: "I still remember when you gave the very accurate feedback "I think we need to give players whose Rooks aren't into corpses some roleplaying choices to express this" and I was all "Ohhh yeaaaaaah." (Thank u Trick, you were right)" [source] / Trick: "Specifically, being able to express this without locking themselves out of the content! (For non-Sylvia folks) Given my issues with corpses, Emmrich as a whole was SUPER Not For Me, so I gave one caveat and then said, "For the rest of my critique, I will be impersonating his target audience." [source]

Sylvia on the secret origins of Manfred: "After I pitched Emmrich, I started jotting down notes and thoughts on his plots, his quirks, all that kind of stuff. It was very early on Veilguard, anything was still possible. We were chatting in the writer's room about it one day, and I think we'd just seen some early concept art for Emmrich. And our lead writer Trick Weekes joked that Emmrich looked like a man who'd have a skeleton named Manfred. And I laughed and went "Yeah he does!" And then I thought about it. It's wild in retrospect, but that one comment spurred a train of thought that led to the core of Emmrich's arc. He may've ended up a very different character without it! tl;dr: I stole it from Trick." [source, two, three, four]

"I got to play with a pretty free palette when defining the way Emmrich and the necromancers view death and spirits. But I tried to keep it within the confines of existing lore. That's one reason why that scene where Emmrich talks about Manfred to Harding goes into "the eternal question" of whether a soul actually returns with the dead or not. Nevarra has distinct beliefs, but I thought it'd be interesting if its people argue over their interpretations of those beliefs." [source, two]

"the other writers also suggested a bit later on that the big choice dig more into Emmrich's philosophies. Initially, it was more personally focused on his fears, which made it 'relatable' but pettier. Without that correction, I think it would've been weaker, I totally needed the team push." [source]

"I have a few guides to graveyard symbology, and it's so packed with references and meaning." [source]

User: "Did any of your own fears & experiences, make it into the writing of Emmrich? If yes, is it information you’re comfortable sharing with us? If it’s too personal to give any details, that’s fine as well. Also, across the other games, who do you think Emmrich will get along with best?" / Sylvia: "some of his fears are absolutely personal. The reflexive-compulsive panic over death is something I'm very familiar with, and I wanted to explore that through him. Because I suspected it was not uncommon, and worth examining. The question of who he'd get along with from the other games is surprisingly tough! Because without asking the other writers about their characters, I wouldn't know for sure. So I can only really speak to Josephine with surety. That said: -I think Josephine would be polite, and grow to like him, but would never entirely be over the ostentatious necromancy. -I think Emmrich meeting Sera would be the funniest match." [source, two, three]

"Peter Cushing was also one of my go-tos as an example of what I wanted Emmrich to be." [source]

"(Huge shout out to all the animators and level designers making Manfred run, quite literally. Like 95% of his personality lives in his movement, I think they nailed it.)" [source]

On Emmrich: "I tried to put a lot of passion and sincerity in his love for the dead, and I admit the Necropolis was THE big place I wanted to see in Thedas myself ever since reading about it in a codex." [source]

User: "Thank you for letting him have that cemetery dream date!" / Sylvia: "Having the date in the cemetery was one of the first things I wanted when thinking about the romance." [source]

"Josephine was the first time I was entrusted with a new character and a new romance at once, and that'll always be special to me." [source]

User: "How much input did you have in Emmrich's appearance in the podcast?" / Sylvia: "In the podcast, none myself. I believe it was handled by a third party but reviewed by a few people at BW, I don't know too much past that. (We did provide a descriptor and character rules. Stuff like "Emmrich never swears" and "always says amongst" and broader, more thematically useful things.)" [source]

User on Emmrich: "Are you planning any other external-media stories for him?" / Sylvia: "Thanks very much, The Flame Eternal has a special place in my heart for being the first time Emmrich got to be center stage in a story. (And very flattering to hear about the cross stitch. That's so cool!) I can't speak to any external-media plans, I'm afraid. That's not an implied hint about anything existing or not, it's just literally outside what I'm allowed to chat about. It'd be fun to do something like that again though!" [source, two]

"I must give full credit to Nick Borraine, Emmrich's voice actor. He got the compassion and tenderness the character needed right away." [source]

"And glad him being closer to your age resonated, I really wanted someone older out on an adventure. No reason that has to stop at any age IMO." [source]

User: "do the mourn watcher/nevarra in general raise their pets after they die to keep them around? like a dog skeleton with a whisp in it?" / Sylvia: "To be honest I hadn't thought out this one, but it's a very good question. I'm not sure how common that would be, or even if it's permitted to have pets running around the family crypt. (I definitely thing people would WANT to do it.) You know, I think I'm going to have to leave this one in the vague quantum foam of the future. I think I'd want to not only double check existing lore, but answer that in-game (or in a book or etc.) if we ever need to. (Hope that's not too much of a cop out. Sometimes I like to leave questions I'm not sure about alone, because until it's in an official game or story, it doesn't quite count.)" [source, two, three]

User: "as someone who shares emmrich's anxiety about mortality, getting to spend time with him, and in the grand necropolis and with the mourn watch, was genuinely soothing" / Sylvia: "Thank you, I'm glad he was a comfort. It's a familiar fear for me too, and I'd hoped he would connect that way with people very much." [source]

On the giant ribcage 'ceiling' in the Necropolis: "sadly, even I don't know all the mysteries of the Necropolis. (Which is to say it's a very cool bit of art but has no stated origin yet. Could be a large dragon, a giant...or something weirder!)" [source]

On TN story Luck in the Gardens: "It was nice change up, writing in first person and with someone so rascally. I've got an enduring affection for the Lords after writing Hollix, the scamp." [source]

User: "I just love his genuine enthusiasm for everything he does. If the other party members had fan clubs Emmrich would be the president of each and I love that for him" / Sylvia: "Thank you! I really wanted him to embody a kind of expansiveness and generosity of spirit, to stand in contrast to the eeriness of his abilities." [source]

User: "What was your inspiration for Josie?" / Sylvia: "My girl! When I came on to Inquisition, there'd already been work done on setting up the spine of the main plot, and figuring out the overall cast. But one of the advisors was a little murkier. It just said "Diplomat" on the white board. We knew we wanted someone in that position, but not who. So in a game where you were out exploring, killing demons, etc., but also had a big organization to run? I immediately wanted to make a Diplomat firmly there for you. Somebody you could hand the keys to the entire Inquisition to while you were out, and know it'd be in good hands. I also thought it'd be fun to have someone from Antiva, since that area wasn't covered yet by anyone in the cast. And I needed her to be polished, smooth, but heartfelt, because of that aforementioned trust. And that was the core of Josephine! Her voice actor, Allegra, brought her to life with such lovely charm, and hearing those early sessions also helped me further hone her tone." [source, two, three, four]

"Our music supervisor Ron Dazo hit it out of the park with Emmrich's music IMO. And so glad you liked Hezenkoss! Just very fun to write as a character." [source]

User: "Did any specific watcher raise MW Rook?" / Sylvia: "Good question! I kind of left that one alone because I wasn't sure if I wanted to let Rook define that themselves, or leave it open, and also I'd have wanted a full conversation on it. In the end that was a little out of scope so I left it unsaid. Which is to say that it COULD be Vorgoth who helped raise your Rook. And that stands until/unless we give a definitive answer (or let you choose from a range of answers) one day." [source, two]

"It was such a pleasure for all of us to finally get to explore the Necropolis, I am very glad we got to throw open the gates." [source]

User: "I was wondering if there were any Mourn Watch details you wished you had more time to explore? I was so struck by some of the ethical implications in your stories" / Sylvia: "Geeze, now that's a question. I mention it with Emmrich, but there's some resentment over the power the Watchers hold as THE mortalitasi of the Grand Necropolis, between them and the other orders. There's something to that situation I liked. There's also questions of how they select people for the order. What their standards are, how closely they work with benign spirits. And how they cultivate those relationships. How deep does that go? I also mentioned in a codex "the lives and bodies of those who tamper with the undead of the Necropolis are forfeit unto the Mourn Watch." which is pretty chilling. What's that punishment like, exactly? And in general, writing about anything weird or unexplained in the Necropolis brought me much enjoyment, and it would be fun to dig around how the Mourn Watch deals with (or what they want out of) all these mysteries and entities." [source, two, three, four]

"Geeking out with Emmrich about spooky stuff was a delight to write." [source]

"I liked writing someone older this time, it was something different for me and rewarding in some unexpectedly different ways. (And thanks especially for the nice words on DAtDM - I was very excited to introduce people to the Mourn Watch there!)" [source]

"Ah, tomb-script. I named it but it was our concept artists who went developed it with the hexagon shape-language of the Mourn Watch, which I loved. Conceptually: I think it's used purely an occult or sacred language. Something for the graves, or books on magic, but not everyday things." [source]

"Some trans people kindly offered their help with some feedback on some of the romance lines and others, which absolutely made them much better." [source]

"Trick Weekes actually wrote a ton of the banter where Emmrich inquires into qunari artifacts and customs, and Taash talks about what it was like to grow up under a scholar. I really dig the dynamic they unearthed between the two there." [source]

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Plot: You have a past with Agatha, one as old as your ages. Your roads often met, but more than once, she left you behind. Now, once again, your paths cross, but this time; it is intentional.

Taking place around Episode 2 of the series. Might continue it if it gets popular or leave it as a small one-shot. Give it a shot and let me know

You were a rare type of witch, one whose path not many chose to follow; but not you. The very same moon you observed and talked to as a child was the very same source of your power.

The very same moon shapes you as you grow, your moods and natures shifting like the never-ending phases. Both light and darkness resided within your soul, one path sometimes more tempting than the others and vice versa.

It was under that that you learnt to do your first spell, that you practised your Latin, and it was under the same moon that you met her...

Agatha Harkness

Under the full moon had you gathered with her and her coven, to praise the Godess around the fire; bodies void of any clothing as your magic grew wild and free.

After that, you met again and again; sometimes by mere coincidence.

Your ever shifting nature was what had kept others away, keeping you confined to a small neutral space between two covens but never able to truly join any of them. Your complex thoughts that guided your kindness and also led you down dangerous paths became a mystery for Agatha to explore... to study.

The meetings became intentional, the unique aspect of your mind was something she welcomed and encouraged; the very first sparkle between you.

Sometimes your sweet words and smiles seemed to melt whatever ice was threatening to form around her heart; seemed to bring light into days her thoughts were too dark.

And sometimes, your mischievous nature assisted her with crazy plans; noses buried behind stolen scrolls of forbidden magic.

During those moments, sparks always seemed to fly between the two of you. Sometimes, they were small, hiding behind brushing hands and contagious smiles. Other times, those sparks threatened to ignite an immortal fire; fueled by long touches, lustful looks, and forbidden secret kisses.

It never went too far, and it never became something permanent. You learnt to live with it, also unsure if this could ever work out or if it was a momentarily escape from the solitary life chosen for you.

You never judged her decisions but never tried to change her either, even when you could see the dark path she favoured was becoming too much.

You opened your door for her when she first fel like an outcast, and again after, she had taken down her coven. You offered her your house and a change of clothes, a warm tea and a shoulder to rant.

Yet when she told you of her plans, when she asked you to join her... you politely declined. This was not the path you wished to take, and whether she was hurt by your words or not, remained a mystery; true feelings hidden behind sarcastic words and fake smiles.

Eventually your paths parted and the years passed by. However, fate seemed to draw you back to one another like two halves of a whole; supernatural powers trying to keep you together.

It never lasted for long.

Your door was always open and sometimes, those old sparks seemed to reappear but by then, Agatha's mind had been taken by a need for power.

Once again, you did not follow, only watched her walk away from you for yet one more time. More than once, you thought to call her out, say you changed your opinion and join her; or even try to shift her goal... but you never did.

Like the silent moon watching over the earth, you did that... just watch. You became her light when she needed you but never dared to take the next step; your conflicted thoughts and emotions stood in the way.

Somewhere in the future, she stopped showing up, and you wondered if she had settled down at last or someone had taken her down. Both scenarios made your heart ache, and thus, you chose to forget; lock away any memories you had once created.

It worked and you continued your solitary life, never setting for a place too long and never looking at someone the same way you would look at Agatha.

Now, you had a small business right beneath your little apartment. It was not something fancy, simple crystals and tarot cards for those interested. You also offered star and even zodiac readings, being perhaps what truly ade you famous amongst your customers.

The moon always guided you, the stars spoke to you even when placed on a simple imaginary map. The houses dividing the sky exposed their secrets to you; both of past and future.

So it was no wonder all kinds of people walked through your door; some more believers than others but all with the same curiosity about their lives.

Yet you did not expect that one calm day, the bell above the door would ring and a familiar face would step into the shop.

"Hello, Hon" the husky female voice you had almost forgotten reached your ears like the sweetest melody.

Your breath caught in your throat for a moment, before your mask settled back into place. "Agatha" you greeted her back, offering her the courtesy of standing up from the wooden chair you occupied behind an old worn out desk.

Her blue eyes locked onto yours with the same intensity they had all those years, invisible flames dancing behind your irises; threatening to mix and burn everything to the ground.

As you stared into the face you often searched for amongst the stars, that little locked chest at the back of your mind was forced open. The memories you had suppressed all those years flooded your mind, making your heart beat twice as fast as both happiness and pain dominated you.

"It has been too long" Agatha said, her voice acting like a beacon that saved you from drawing in your emotions. "Missed me?"

Her signature smirk was still there, eyes flickering with mischief and tempting pink lips stretching faintly; yours for the taking, if you dared to step closer.

It was then you noticed that someone had one with her. A teenage boy, stood tall behind her; trying to observe some crystals but his eyes often lingered to you.

You didn't know whom this boy was but your mind rushed to scenarios, wondering if he was her son; the product of love with someone other than you. Even if not by blood, Agatha had chosen it; letting him take your place after she got tired of you turning down her offers.

You were not sure and did your best to remain calm, not let anything show and not lose control of yourself. Your mind was both your blessing and your curse, its mood as uncontrollable and unpredictable as the rising tide; controlled by an ethereal power far beyond your reach.

Agatha seemed to understand where your gaze lingered, the teenage boy feeling slightly uncomfortable under the vague expression casted in your eyes.

She rolled her eyes at the drama. "He is my pet, not much of an importance" she explained dryly and then sent a warning glare to the boy, ensuring he would not utter a word.

The situation was delicate, it needed proper handling. If it was up to her, she would have left him in the car, one window barely open for some air but she couldn't.

Well, she could try but the boy was persistent and at that moment; Agatha did not truly think him being there would change something.

Considering how welcoming you always had been over the course of centuries, how considerate you have been of her well-being and how willing you were to help; even when a part of you clearly wanted to stop her.

"What do you want?" You managed to ask, your voice sounding as cold as you wished it to be.

The moon was not yet full, the tide had not fully risen and there was still power to hold everything at bay.

Her timing could not have been better and something told you, that she knew it. Never having forgotten how unique your thoughts were and how they matched the white moon that offered its light when the two of you met in secret.

"I plan to walk down the road, you see. And I am in need of a coven" she said simply, making it hard for you to detect whether she was even slightly affected by your meeting after so long. "Are you in?" She asked next, not giving you much time to debate.

The clock at the wall was ticking in sync with your beating heart as you processed an answer.

Perhaps this one should be different from all the others... just this once.

.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

[nhlclover]

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 | 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

summary: you finally get to watch will live out his childhood dream, but become a source of comfort when the game doesn't end the way he'd hoped.

warnings: childhood friends to lovers, tooth rotting fluff, use of flashback scenes (which are italicized), appearances from wills family + macklin (very briefly), sad will after the sharks lose

word count: 2.20k

notes: i had so much fun writing this oh my gosh. sucks that the sharks lost but will had a good game (and so did macklin but this isn't about him right now)

The roar of the crowd felt deafening in your ears as you watched Will and Macklin skate out onto the ice, the bright lights of the SAP Center shining down on them like a spotlight. You clutched the teal jersey tighter around you, the number 2 stitched onto the back. Your heart swelled with pride as you watched Will glide effortlessly across the rink, his movements a graceful blend of power and precision.

“I can’t believe it’s really happening.” his mom said, voice trembling with emotion. You glanced over at Colleen who was clutching her chest with a smile that looked like it could light up the entire arena.

Next to her, Grace, Will’s sister, wiped a tear from her cheek as she reached for the both of you, pulling you into a hug as you shared this moment together. Even Will’s dad Bill, who was always so composed, had a telltale glimmer in his eyes, his lips twitching into a smile of unmistakable pride. You’d watched him grow from a gangly kid into a young man now living his dream. And now here he was, skating in his first NHL game.

It was a warm summer afternoon nearly a decade earlier when you first met Will …

You sat in a heap on the grass, chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath. A fresh scrape ran across your knee, a testament to your failed attempt at learning to rollerblade. The purple and green skates on your feet had been a birthday gift, and in your stubborn independence, you were determined to teach yourself how to skate. But the balancing part was proving much harder than you’d imagined, leaving you bruised and scraped after several falls.

As you sat there, huffing and pulling out tufts of grass in frustration, you heard a voice. “You okay?”

You turned to find a boy standing there, about your age, with shaggy blond hair falling into his eyes. He held an oversized hockey stick in one hand, donning black, sleek rollerblades on his feet. Will, as you'd soon learn, had just moved into the house next door. He smiled with a confidence that seemed far too big for his small frame.

“Yeah,” you muttered, wiping at your tear-streaked face, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. “I just…fell.”

Will nodded, studying your skates before dropping his hockey stick on the ground. “Want me to show you how to stop falling?” he asked.

You tilted your head. “You could do that?”

“Yeah! I’m a pretty good skater,” he said with a proud grin.

Will helped you to your feet, keeping your hand in his as he eased you back onto the pavement. You spent the rest of the afternoon with Will teaching you how to find your balance. He patiently caught you every time you wobbled, never laughing when you stumbled. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you could glide down the sidewalk without feeling like you’d crash into the pavement.

“Thanks,” you said shyly, tugging your skates off for the day.

“You’re not bad," he grinned, leaning against his hockey stick like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You just need a little practice."

“Will! Dinner’s ready!” a voice called from the nearby driveway. His mom, Colleen, waved him over. He glanced back at you, still seated on the sidewalk, and smiled. “See you tomorrow?”

You nodded. “Definitely.”

From that day forward, it was always “you and Will”. He became your constant companion. Through scraped knees, missed goals, and late-night talks, you grew together.

It was during your sophomore year of high school when things began to change. You noticed the way Will would look at you a little longer when you were talking, his eyes lingering on your face like he was trying to memorize every detail. You’d find yourself holding your breath when he’d sling an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into one of his endless jokes, but the warmth of his touch would linger long after he let go.

One late night after a particularly tough game, Will dropped by your house, his hair still damp. You were sprawled out on your bed, textbooks and homework scattered around you when he knocked on your bedroom window. He always did that, never bothering with the front door.

“Need a break?” he asked, pushing up the window and climbing in like he'd done a thousand times before.

“Definitely,” you laughed, shoving your books aside, letting him sit on the bed beside you. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, but there was a nervous energy about him you hadn’t seen before. He ran a hand through his hair, hesitating. “I was just thinking about something.”

You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. “About what?”

“Thinking about you,” he said plainly, your heart stuttering. “And about how I always feel better when I’m around you.”

You felt your stomach twisting into knots. “What are you trying to say, Will?”

His eyes searched yours for any clue that he should either stop or keep going with his confession. “I guess… I’m trying to say that I like you. A lot.” he laughed, shaking his head as if trying to brush away his own nervousness. “Like, more than a friend.”

Your breath caught, the world narrowing down to just you and him at that moment. You’d thought about this, dreamed about it even, but hearing him say it made it feel more real than you ever imagined. “I…I like you too, Will,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself.

The smile that spread across his face was the most genuine, heart-stopping thing you’d ever seen. “Really?” he asked, disbelief colouring his tone.

“Yeah,” you said, laughing softly. “Really.”

Without thinking, he leaned closer to you, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You could feel his breath against your skin, his eyes flicking to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, voice trembling.

You nodded, and the next moment, his lips were on yours, soft and hesitant at first but quickly growing more confident as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. It was everything you’d imagined – and more.

When he pulled back, his face remained close, breath mingling with yours in the quiet space of your room. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he confessed, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek.

“Me too,” you whispered, your heart still racing.

After that, you were no longer just best friends. You were something more, something that had been quietly building for years, just waiting for the right moment to finally come to life. Now as you stood in the packed arena years later, watching him take to the ice, you felt the past and present intertwine.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, a few slipping down your cheeks despite yourself. Will stopped along the glass in the corner, looking up into the section where you sat. For a split second, your eyes met, and even from a distance, you could see the brightness and unmistakable joy in his gaze. He gave you guys a small wave before looking back to the ice, taking a playful hit from his teammate.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you whispered, squeezing Grace’s hand.

The game itself was a blur of excitement and nerves. Every time Will touched the puck, your breath caught. You watched him fight for possession, skate with the kind of speed and agility that only came from years of practice.

The first two periods were played well by the Sharks, with them taking a 4-1 lead, but the game soon slipped closer together towards the end of the third. When the Blues tied it with 45 seconds remaining, your heart tensed, the end of regulation buzzer echoing in a silent arena. Will didn’t see the ice in overtime when the Blues ended the game within the first 40 seconds of extra time. A collective groan sounded through out the arena, fans quickly clearing out.

Your heart sank, knowing how much this moment meant to Will. You watched as the team walked down the hall to the locker room, heads hung in disappointment. You spotted Will, Macklin patting him on the back, a small gesture of solidarity, but you could see how much it stung for both of them. They had given their all, but sometimes that wasn’t enough.

Fans continued to flow out of the stands, the usual post-game chatter was quieter, a stark contrast to the earlier excitement. A staff member instructed you to stay in the stands while Will changed and did media. You stood with his family, exchanging hugs, and offering words of comfort, but your eyes kept flicking back to the tunnel, waiting for him. 

Minutes felt like hours, until finally you spotted Will climbing the steps into the stands, changed back into his game-day suit, his damp hair falling in curls over his forehead. His face was a mixture of exhaustion and frustration, but the moment he spotted his family, a small, tired smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Will made his way toward you all, the arena now almost empty except for a few lingering staff members. Colleen was the first to meet him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, and he buried his face into her shoulder for a moment, letting out a deep breath. Bill clapped him on the back, offering a few quiet words of encouragement. Grace was next, standing on her tiptoes to hug her brother, whispering something in his ear that made him smile faintly despite everything.

And then, his eyes found yours.

For a second, you weren’t sure if you should say anything, if you should be the one to comfort him after a loss like this. But when he stepped closer, his body radiating exhaustion and vulnerability, you knew he needed you. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, his chin resting on top of your head as you hugged him back, tighter than you ever had before.

“You played amazing,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

He didn’t say anything at first, just held you closer, as if drawing strength from your presence. His heartbeat was steady against your ear, but you could feel the tension in his muscles, the disappointment lingering in the air.

“That fucking sucked,” he finally muttered, his voice thick with frustration. “I wanted to win so badly.”

“I know,” you replied softly, rubbing his back in slow, comforting circles. “But you’ll get another chance. Tonight wasn’t the end.”

You felt Will shake his head. “I could’ve done more, I should’ve gotten on the sheet.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your hand resting gently on his chest. His eyes were a mix of frustration and exhaustion, still tinged with the adrenaline from the game. “Will, it’s not all on you. It’s a team game — you know that. You can’t carry it all on your shoulders.”

He exhaled sharply, his hands still holding you close as if he was afraid to let go. “Yeah, but… I wanted to, you know? I wanted to prove something.” His voice faltered, and the vulnerability in his expression tugged at your heart. You could see how much this moment meant to him—not just the game, but his debut, this night he'd dreamed of since he was a kid. And even though the team had lost, all you could see was how proud you were of him.

“You did,” you said, your voice steady and sure. You brushed back a lock of blonde hair that fell over his eyes. “You proved that you belong here. And not just to everyone else, but to yourself. This is just the beginning, Will.”

He stared at you for a long moment, the weight of your words settling in. You could see the way his tense shoulders started to relax, his grip on you loosening ever so slightly as if he was finally allowing himself to believe it too. A small smile, soft and tired, tugged at his lips. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek.

You smiled back, leaning into his touch. “Good thing you don’t have to find out.”

Will let out a small chuckle, the sound lightening the weight between you. “I can’t believe you came all the way from Boston for this.”

“Of course I did, Will. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” you smiled. 

“I love you,” he breathed out, and before you could say anything else, he kissed you. It was warm and soft and tasted faintly of the Gatorade he’d probably chugged all game, and it was everything you needed to feel how much this moment meant to him.

When you finally pulled away, Will kept you close to him, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you,” he murmured, the words barely a whisper. “For always believing in me.”

“Always,” you promised.

[ruoshik0]

A ghost’s core is it’s most important and only organ. It holds the true essence of it’s soul. All the emotions and all the subconciousness. Yet the core itself only acts as a power source. A rather powerful one, but ultimately, only a power source that happens to hold a ghost’s subconcious.

As such, the core does not store memories. Memories are useless to a dead being, after all. It’s not a brain. This is the reason why most ghosts do not recall any point of their living life.

Although it is possible to, if one tried hard enough, remember certian things of importance, most fully-fledged ghosts do not care enough to put in the effort.

So when Danny died yet another tragic death, filled with ectoplasm and electricity, and came back into the Realms as a full ghost, he couldn’t care less about the living world even if he tried.

Once fully dead, Phantom automatically just knew everything a ghost can do, how to do said thing, what’s the norm and what’s not, and other things that ghost know by default.

That was the norm for the Realms and it’s residence. What was not the norm was- Phantom, who had defeated the High King of the Infinite Realms whilst still somewhat alive, became the young King by default too.

The knowlegde of what to do, how to solve conflicts, and how to act kingly came to his mind all at once.

And the fully dead Phantom accepted this as his role in the Realms and immediately began his training to become a worthy king.

All his mentors from when he was alive taught him everything he would farther need to know. The history, the social hierarchy, his keep, and the resposibility that came with being king.

Gradually, his appearance started to change too. He became more… Kingly. The armor he wore when out and about was pristine. The sword he carried was elegant. The crown took form of a collapsing star sometimes, other times a galaxy. Rarely took shape of an actual crown. It had renamed itself The Crown of Ice. Taking it’s name after the current element of his core.

Pariah dark’s core changed it’s element more than a couple of times during his reign, only after experimenting with almost all elements in existence did it settle on fire. Each time, The Crown’s name changed accordingly.

Yeah, so, ghost cores need experimentation to find it’s most suitable element. So The Crown of Ice is really only temporary.

Ring of rage on the other hand, names itself after the personality of the holder. And no one other than the crown bearer cannot hold it. Pariah Dark was always angry, at almost every moment of the day. His rage did not subside.

Danny however was a peaceful one. Stern when needed to be, but almost always calm and peaceful. So the ring had named itself The Ring of Peace.

After only about 300 days had passed in the mortal realm did Danny get coronated. And after only about 2 hours had passed did he get summoned for the first time.

Infront of him were people he did not recognize personally. An orange haired young adult with teals eyes and rather big eyebags, a black haired young adult whose appearance was unkempt, and lastly, a black man who seemed to be the equal age as the black haired woman.

There was no denying that they seemed to recognize him. And there was no denying that his core hummed happily at the sight of them.

Master of time had told him his little misadventure a limited amount of time. He never really name dropped them though, only showed the past through the screen of the past long gone. And he can certianly feel that he at least knew these mortals.

For a minute or two, none spoke, opting to instead think of what to say. Eventually Danny opened his mouth. Only to then be interupted by the orange haired mortal to run up to him, step inside the summoning circle, and hug Danny tightly. The other two followed closely.

Danny did not know these people. He had duties to return to. He couldn’t spare any time humoring mere mortals. Mortals he possibly knew when he was alive but couldn’t care less about at the moment. He knew this.

Yet his core thrummed and hummed and purred happily at the unfamiliar feeling of warmth. He let his gaze wander whilst pulling up hesitant hands to return the mortal gesture. There by the door were two more mortals. One a woman with a red one-piece suit and the other a red haired, freckled man. They stood there, motionlessly and with tears pooling over their eyes.

His core practically jumped when he caught sight of them. Coming to the conclusion that perhaps he also knew them, Danny raised one eyebrow at the two. As an indication to just come here and join the hug.

The simple move was received as those two then ran up to the still hugging group and gave their own tight hug to Danny and the rest.

Not knowing what to do with these strangers he certainly knew when he was a mortal, Danny just stood there. Perhaps one day, he would come to care about these humans just as much as his core did too.

Right now though, he had duties and they hugged long enough anyway. So, he forced the hug to end and unsummoned himself.

[finsplurtz]

Hello, I don't know if you make orders or not, but if so can you make one with Yuji or Izuku aged, Smut please, something like sex while everyone is asleep and Yuji or Midoriya won't stop making noise so they have to be quiet so as not to wake up to others

i’ll hold u tight i love you

might hear — izuku.midoriya

— dom ! male.reader x sub ! Izuku Midoriya

— contents : alcohol mention , u get drunk , u fuck with lots of ppl around , kinda sucks

warnings : none .. inthink

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Everyone had gone on a trip during the summer, you and your beloved boyfriend were invited and were happy to join.

the whole trip was fun, it was extremely hot out, you guys walked around the city and got ice cream. there was a small beach area that was owned by…. Yaoyorozu and she was more than happy to let everyone use it to stay the night.

nobody went to sleep early. everyone stayed up drinking and laughing at whatever they could. Izuku was a bit of a lightweight… he knew he couldn’t handle alcohol so he stopped after 2 or 3 cans.

you on the other hand…. you kept drinking and drinking. you weren’t a lightweight, so you drank lots. a bit too much.

It was about 2 in the morning, some of the others had passed out on the couches and floor, others passed out after vomiting all the toxicity out of their systems, and you were swaying as you tried to clean up the place a bit. izuku had you do it.

“‘zzzuku…. should we leave the light on ?” you asked the boy who hummed before turning the lights off in the main room. you blinked and stumbled back, it was pitch black you couldn’t see a thing.

“zu..” you tried walking forward but you felt a hand gently grab yours and pull you towards a room.

“don’t be loud” Izuku whispered as he led you to the dark room, the only source of light being that from the moon, shining through the large window.

The bed was taken, some inflatable mattress’s were unoccupied, some blankets on them.

“did ya drink..?” you whispered. Izuku only gently pulled you down onto the mattress.

“whatz wrong…. are you.. mad at me..?” he was basically ignoring you, it had you a bit confused. you could see his face clearer after your eyes adjusted to the dark.

“…no…let’s try to get some sleep. kay?” he gently stroked your cheek and gave you a small kiss. maybe it was the alcohol but it made you feel all fuzzy and needy.

you guys got under the sheets and you pulled the boy close to you, nice and tight. your chest against his back as you gently rubbed his tummy.

“who elze is in the room..?” you quietly asked.

“ochako n tsu. sero also….” he named the people he saw once he walked in. the rest of them were scattered around the cabin.

“mm….should’ve gotten the bed..” you sigh subtly thrusting your hips into Izuku’s who shuffled getting more comfortable.

.

.

“d’ya have fun..” you asked another question. “yeah. we did a lot today… super tiring” you hum in response. another small thrust, your hand slithering into his shorts. he was quick to grab your wrist and freeze.

“yn…”

“what’s wrong..?” you ask innocently as you gently run your fingers against his entrance.

“d..don’t…” his breath hitched as he tugged at your wrist, his dick slowly hardening.

“nnh.. just let.. me..” you licked and kissed the back of his neck as you rubbed at his cock, switching between his wood and his bottom.

Izuku had to cover his mouth, he was panting heavily and squirming on the mattress.

he kept trying to make you stop but the pleasure was slowly slipping into his mind. his dick was leaking a bunch, you used it as lubricant to ease your fingers into his hole, stretching him gently.

he was biting his fingers, twitching as you massaged his insides. you were a bit sloppy due to the alcohol but it was fine, your wet kisses against his neck and shoulders really had him going.

he was in the mood before he heard uraraka talk in her sleep, he flinched and pulled at your arm harder to get you to stop but you rubbed against his sensitive spot, your fingers poked at it so good. he bit his lip and bent as cum ripped out of him.

“haa…shit..~” he quietly cursed to himself. you were quick to get his shorts and draws off and align your aching cock against his hole.

you slipped an arm under him and placed two fingers in his mouth while you held his hip with the other hand.

“keep quiet… don’t want them to hear..” a smirk could be heard in your words. you slowly pushed into him causing him to arch and roll his eyes back.

his hands scrambled to hold onto you, his walls clenching around your cock.

It was way too quiet in the room, sero’s faint snores were the only thing that could be heard. This was an uncomfortable position, you grabbed Izuku and placed him on top of you. he wrapped his arms around your shoulder as you kept his legs wide open and slid yourself back in.

he tried to hold back any erotic sounds as you were nuzzled deep inside him. you were quick to start bouncing him on your cock, hitting deep making him shake.

“ngh-! mh..!” he brought his shaky hands to cover his mouth, looking around the room paranoid. you started to huff a bit loudly the faster you went, his dick was leaking some more and it made you want to go ferrel.

you felt one of his hands clasp around your mouth to keep you quiet as he panted faster and unevenly.

with just one more thrust, you exploded inside of him. your hot cum coating his warm insides. he let out a small whine as he came all over himself, throwing his head back.

you kissed his chest and slowly got him off of you. he let out another small moan when you re-entered him to keep all the cum inside him.

he heard a bit of shuffling around the room and was quick to fall asleep.

the next morning they woke up a bit late, you were knocked out with your dick still inside him.

“finally awake, midoriya?” sero asked as he cleaned the place up a bit.

“uh- uhm yeah…” he nervously responded. you moved around in your sleep with a groan, Izuku gasping and holding onto the sheets feeling you move around inside him.

“gonna get up?”

“mhm just…give…. me a couple minutes..” Sero smiled before leaving the room, you and Izuku being left alone. he felt you wrap your arms around his waist tightly and fuck into him some more.

strained whimpers leaving the smaller. “stop stop s-stop..!” you let out a small laugh giving him a good morning.

he had a tummy ache the whole ride home

a/n: this is kinda ruff sry will do better xx

[writingwithcolor]

Dark features/people as blessed, white and light people as sick

ladyoftheseastuff asked:

I'm writing a fantasy story where the world is permanently covered in snow & ice. The people share a common culture & are loyal to their city states, but they are not homogeneous in appearance; there will be many, many characters coded as PoC. The main religion centers on the sun, & those with dark features are 'favoured' by the sun god, while pale people or anyone who has white/blonde hair are thought vulnerable to "snow sickness", a disease caused by environmental factors (1/2) & have other rules and customs to gain religious approval. It's dangerous & infectious but not well understood. It affects social standing and opportunities, but it's meant to be tied with ideas of youth, vitality, & fear of aging & sickness: it's not limited to those coded as white. This is a cultural detail and not part of the main conflict, but I want to avoid unintentional allegories/parallels & fetishization. Is this a concept that's too close to crossing any of those lines? (2/2)

This feels less like a means to show dark skinned people in an empowering light and more like a weak attempt at subversion. My primary concern (which you have not specified) is how do the "blessed" class treat the "sickly" so to speak. We have fantasy stories like The Grisha Trilogy and Girls of Paper and Fire, which deal with magical ability/feature-based segregation and conflict.

In both cases there is a sense of entitlement which comes with hailing from the "favoured" class, quite obvious, since there will always be an inherent othering metaphor whenever you create such a division, whether it was meant to be a source of conflict or not.

However, the two mentioned series use the "magical people are blessed, non magical people are to be pitied" arc which is somewhat more subtle than divisions created just on the basis of skin colour.

Disclaimer as I do not have albinism or vitiligo: The latter can be extremely harmful, and not just in a racial context, but in cases of albinism, vitiligo etc.

~Mod Mimi

The pitfalls of subversions

While it is always lovely to see dark features considered in a favorable way, there are some issues you may come across. Such a story could easily end up dressing those you wished to uphold as bad guys in the readers' eyes, even if the story's society and the sun god etc. thinks they're amazing, and white and light people as the victims of dark people, deserving reader sympathy. This may especially be the case based on how these groups get treated in the story.

These sort of subversions lean dangerously into "reverse discrimination" plots which are not overall accurate or favorable allegories for your real, human audience. There being diversity on both sides doesn't necessary fix this issue or remove racial or ethnic implications. On that note, and as Mimi mentioned, being demonized and ostracized particularly for skin and genetic disorders like albinism is already a thing. What does your concept say of them?

I think Dark/Black as good and Light/white as bad is a doable concept. Your concept differs a bit from simply subverting black/white tropes. This is not just Black good guys and night skies being peaceful or neutral. It's not just white/light villains (as opposed to victims) or snow symbolling death or sickness.

White and light people are quite blatantly being declared as sick and unfavored and they may very well be victims in the reader's eye with the dark people being the villainous, unsympathetic bunch. Is this your intention?

More to consider

Such a concept requires thoughtful, careful planning and intentional writing. You should have an understanding of what your story implies to the readers and the real-life takeaways.

I think it's possible to make dark skin the favored skin of the sun god without it meaning white/light people stand in a negative light and are sick or unworthy.

Consider what it is that you like about the concept of your story. Can you keep the essence of whatever it is that excites you about your ideas, without denying a whole group of people favor? If not, how will you go about telling such a tale that is not meant to symbolize a sort of reversal of roles discrimination?

Why does the sun god get to determine what is good?

Are there other gods that might have different strong opinions? Perhaps who is favored varies by time of day, season, region, culture, god?

Can dark skin get its favor without white and light features being deemed unfavorable as a whole?

How big of a deal does this favor have to be? I advise reconsidering it being the point of discrimination to white/light people for all the reasons already described.

No matter the directions you go, please research and get the appropriate beta-readers for feedback on the in-depth concepts and story.

~Mod Colette

[prideprejudce]

I feel like people have read into Alicent's response to Rhaenyra's ultimatum in both good AND bad faith ways, but i feel like I haven't seen much of what Rhaenyra was feeling about it!!

Personally, I feel like the ultimatum she gave Alicent was the product of 3 different motivations- first, it was the obvious political move to kill the usurper to her throne, duh. The second, is that I think Rhaenyra is super aware- and terrified of- being trapped in a cycle of loss, being passed over for a son, and her claim to the throne standing only because of what she represents not her as a person. Thats its own whole fascinating character essay i cant get into here lol.

But the third reason is that I THINK she has a desperate personal obsession with being chosen by Alicent over Aegon, and leans into the ultimatum as a way to extract what she needs from Alicent-- to be chosen and prioritized over her father's son, and be the centre of Alicent's attention (romantic or not).

The directors/writers have mentioned one of the crucial aspects of Rhaenyra and Alicent's relationship is how many times Rhaenyra reaches out, only to be rejected by Alicent over and over. I think Rhaenyra, as someone who really internalized going after what she wants from a young age, is a bit spoiled, and is obsessed with Alicent's continuous rejection as both a novelty, and a deep source of insecurity.

Rhaenyra has a bit of magical thinking where she really does think that if she just pushes hard enough she can change the world into the shape she wants it to be, and I think when Alicent CONTINUES to deny her, she gets more and more frustrated.

Double this with her general issues around being passed over for a son, first from her father with baelon, and then COMPOUNDED with baby aegon stealing both her father AND alicent's attention as alicent prioritized birthing and probably caring for her son over rhaenyra's sulking when Rhaenyra was in the most pain she had been in yet in her life.

I think Rhaenyra is HIGHLY resentful about not just aegon usurping her throne, but also the lack of attention during the HEIGHT of her teenage years, where she already has a contentious relationship with her father AND .....stepmother?? first love??? sister?? (targaryen family incest issues are a wonderful icing on top of this cake)

It was very clear that the reason Alicent married viserys was SPECIFICALLY to have more children, and that Alicent CHOSE (from Rhaenyra's perspective) to put herself in that position JUST after Aemma died from the same cause, becoming a mother rather than staying with Rhaenyra and daydreaming about riding off into the sunset. In Rhaenyra's mind, she lost her mother to the promise of a son, only to lose Her Alicent™️ to ANOTHER promise of a son right after. This is probably the deepest rejection Alicent could have given her.

The entire second half of season 2 is more denial; Rhaenyra's marriage proposal of their children is rejected, Alicent rejects Rhaenyra's bastard sons in general, and Rhaenyra's choices by extension, then driftmark happens, then the ENTIRE USURPTION happens, rejecting Rhaenyra's claim to her own birthright.

Rhaenyra even tries AGAIN in season 3 - extending herself to go into Alicent's place of comfort to sue for peace, even telling Alicent bits of a personally sacred religious doctrine only to be rejected AGAINNNNNNN.

(I could write forever about how Rhaenyra indulges Alicent's religious but never gets the same back on her own customs)

Yah, I think when Rhaenyra sees Alicent next, its not just that the ultimatum is a political necessity, but its decades of rejection culminating in 'you need to choose and prioritize me over everything, including your son, bc i cannot take anymore rejection from you, and I cant handle NOT being the most important thing in your whole world tbh :)' Especially on the heels of her newfound radicalization i feel like Rhaenyra sees Alicent's 'Choosing Rhaenyra' this time as a Holy Blessing and the last crucial piece she needs to self actualize.

(Also never forget all of this takes place in the targaryen CESSPOOL that is Rhaenyra having Alicent as a sister/step mother/half employee?? Alicent was at least her subordinate at one point/only confidante/possible first love-- theres probably alot of projection on Rhaenyra's part for what Alicent's approval means to her)

sorry this is so long the word rejection has ceased to mean anything to me at this point

"Rhaenyra sees Alicent's 'choosing Rhaenyra' this time as a Holy Blessing and the last crucial piece that she needs to self actualize"

what if we all just set each other on fire

[siri-ike]

Empty, chapter 3

A dp x dc crossover fic

P.S. if you notice a spelling errors in any of my posts, please let me know so i can fix them.

Chapter 1 chapter 2

It's hard to tell how long they were sliding for. It felt like ages, yet only a moment. It felt like they had become friends, though they had never spoken. He didn't even know what her life had been like, why she had run away or why she chose this day. He only knew that he wanted to help her. And if that meant leaving all that conflict behind, so be it. He can find more elsewhere.

Eventually, they stopped at a far away park. The sun had gotten low enough that no matter where you looked, you had a 50% chance of being blinded. He made sure to drop her in a patch of grass so as not to hurt her. She was quick to get up and run into the park. Didn't even question the ice. He supposed he could leave her to her plans, but it's not like he had any of his own. So he followed.

All the way to the other side of the park where an officer picked her up like a wet cat. She kicked and scratched, but her limbs simply weren't long enough.

"Out late, are we? Do your parents know where you are, Maggie?" He asked, not putting her down.

Maggie? Oh, right, that other guy called her Margaret before. They must know each other.

"Let's take a look in that bag, shall we?" He took the bag and dropped her to the ground.

"NO! NO! It's mine! You can't have it!" She screamed desperately, trying to reach it. And that's enough. He swooped towards the cop and then through him. Leaving him half frozen, holding her bag. Now that he was still, she could jump up and grab it.

The sun was setting by the time she stopped running. They were at a train station underground. Light barely made it in to outline every surface with an orange glow.

The girls shadow got fainter the deeper into the tunnels they went. And it almost looked as though he had one of his own.

She stopped at a rusty old train cart. She had to put her bag down in order to force the door open. The inside looked like a museum. Everything had been taken out to make room for plastic cases full of jewelry like broaches, necklaces, and earrings, but also things like cutlery, candle holders, shiny wrapping paper. Most of the stuff here looks worthless.

Oh, no.

He was helping a thief. Worse than that, he was helping a kleptomaniac. Was that officer trying to help? Did she steal from the guy who was yelling before? Stupid. How could he be so stupid?!

Klank!

He looked down to the source of the sound. A menorah had fallen to the ground. The sound echoed through the train car and down both tunnels. Who steals a menorah? Sam would be furious.

A better question is: who is Sam?

His gaze wanders back to the girl, surprised to see she's looking at him too.

She just stares at him. Not directly. More so at his torso area. He tries moving over but her eyes follow, sort of. He looks behind him, and there it is.

His shadow. It looks human. Like if a person were just floating in the air. But, that can't be. He's not-

"you're not real." Her voice is much smaller this time. "you're just a filament of my imagination" She insisted, unconvincingly.

"Ok, even I know it's figment, and I'm one of the dumbest people I know." He floats lower. "But, you're right. I'm not real." He sits down on the cold metal train floor. "I might have been once. A long time ago. Sometimes I can see people, in my mind. they're blurry. But they're always the same ones." He lets out a breath of cold air. "A boy with glasses and a girl wearing all black. Those two are usually together when I picture them. Then there's a taller girl with red hair, she feels so warm even though I can't touch her. Then there's a man and a woman, he's big and square and she smells like oil, all the time." He brings his knee to his chest. "I'm not sure if they were real either. Maybe I just made them up." He curls up, trying to hide what would be tears if he could produce them. "Sometimes I, I-" he pauses to gather the courage to confess.

"I hope I made them up."

For a moment, he sits there. Letting the guilt consume him. But after a while with no response. He looks up.

The whole train car is frozen. Icicles have grown from the ceiling the display cases are incased in layers upon layers of ice.

And an 8 year old girl stands in front of him. With a look of horror, permanently carved on her face.

Chapter 4