#thanks that was fun! these takes are the worst

[bahablastplz]

Battleground: Minho x Reader

Prompt: "Hii, i was wondering in you could write a one shot of alpha!minho x Alpha!afab. They met through their friend/roommate Jisung who is an omega, and they are enemies and Jisung has to break up their fights, but this one time they end up having sex while fighting for dominance." Content: Smut, angst, omegaverse, enemies to lovers, switch/dom Minho, switch reader, alpha reader/alpha Minho, afab!reader WC: 5000 Note: hi yes I got carried away with this but this was super fun to write. enjoy!

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You should have never trusted Jisung. This is often a motto of yours, actually, seeing as he’s responsible for nine out of every ten instances of trouble you find yourself in. But he has big pleading eyes and he can be so convincing that you throw caution to the wind every time he speaks. 

You needed a new roommate. Your old one bailed on you (thank god, because she was actually the worst). She was filthy and never cleaned up after herself. She left dishes in the sink, piles of trash for you to take care of, and was blatantly rude. You let out a sigh of relief when she told you she was moving and it took all of two days for her to fuck off for no apparent reason. She left your life as violently as she entered it, however, leaving piles and piles of her junk for you to take care of as well as half of the rent once again. 

You wish that you could lie and say that you could afford it by yourself but you simply couldn’t. It was just too far out of your spending limits and so… you needed to find a new place to live. 

When Jisung suggested you come to live in his spare bedroom, it really didn’t seem like that bad of an idea. You knew the omega well enough; he wasn’t the cleanest in the world but he’s a step up from your old roommate for sure. Plus he was one of your closest friends. If anything, you knew you would feel comfortable around him. The only reason you had hesitated at first is because everybody always tells you not to live with your friends. Somehow you doubted this would be an issue with Jisung though. 

It would be fine, right? You’ve heard only good things about his other roommate, Minho. Jisung jokingly refers to him as his platonic soulmate sometimes but you don’t really know anything else about him. You were a little weary about sharing a living space with two omegas and all, being an alpha yourself, but you were no asshole alpha. They would have nothing to worry about. 

Once again, you should have never trusted Han Jisung. 

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“What are you doing? You’re going to scare her away!” You hear through the door of the apartment. You’re a little unsure when you hear muffled shouting and you feel an uneasiness in your stomach that you ignore but you can’t help to continue to listen. “Why are you acting like you don’t want her here?” 

“Because I don’t. We don’t know her!”

“You don’t know her. I know her perfectly well and you should trust my judgment.” You use this as the opportunity to knock on the door which swings open to a wide-eyed Jisung. He looks guilty of something and you’re confused before it hits you all at once. 

The apartment reeks of cinnamon. Every crevice and corner is dripping of the strong smell to the point you can hardly smell Jisung’s vanilla, even if you really focus. That’s when you come to the realization that Jisung’s roommate isn’t an omega… He’s an alpha. One intentionally covering the whole apartment with his smell before he even gets to know you to assert his dominance. You fight back the urge to roll your eyes at the stereotypical alpha behavior and you resist the urge to cover your nose at the smell. Just because Minho is being rude doesn’t mean you need to be rude in return. 

And before you can even say anything to greet him, he’s walking away and slamming his door shut. You give Jisung a look and he’s already looking at you apologetically. 

“I’m sorry,” he winces. “I really am. He’s not usually like this, I swear. I don’t know what’s going on–” 

“Jisung,” you interrupt. “You never told me he was an alpha in the first place!” 

His mouth opens slightly in a small ‘o’ shape. “I didn’t?” 

You sigh at him and take a deep breath. “Just help me with these boxes, okay?” And as if he’s eager to be back on your good side, he helps you without a fuss. 

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It’s two entire days before you even see Minho again. It agitates your own alpha, really, knowing that there’s someone else in your living space you haven’t gotten a proper chance to meet and scope out. But you’ve finally gotten yourself settled into your space and you have to admit it’s nice being so close to Jisung all the time. 

You stumble out of your room after an afternoon nap to find him cooking in the kitchen. It takes you by surprise, honestly, because for someone who has already tried to be so stereotypically alpha, it just seems like a very… omegan activity. You tell yourself it’s not polite to pass judgments on someone you hardly know, especially regarding their secondary gender, so you don’t say a word about it. You do, however, make an attempt to properly introduce yourself.

“Hello,” you say lightly. Minho’s shoulders tense up for a second before they relax. “I’m Y/N.” He doesn’t turn around and he doesn’t say anything. You make a face from behind him, where he can’t see you. What is his deal? You lean against the wall, trying to think of a way to make conversation. If this were anybody else, you wouldn’t bother but… you’re doing this for Jisung, after all. This is supposed to be one of his closest friends aside from you. “How long have you known Jisung for?” you try. 

“Longer than you,” he scoffs. This catches you off guard as you’re not quite sure what to make of the statement. Is he trying to be possessive over the omega or is he just trying to show you that he’s winning whatever competition this is? 

“Oh. How long would that be? I’ve only known him for two years or so, but we’ve grown really close–” Minho finally spins around and you make eye contact for the first time. His harsh gaze is the first thing you really notice about him, his feline eyes sharp as they stare daggers into you. He’s very pretty, you note, and it almost pisses you off even more. How can someone so attractive be such an asshole? 

“You’re not my friend,” he says, pointing a wooden spoon at you threateningly. “This was my space first and you have no right to intrude and try to be buddy-buddy with me. I don’t know you.” His words are blunt, to the point. He turns back around and… god, he’s trying to assert dominance again by shutting you up and ending the conversation here! Better yet, his cinnamon scent spikes and swirls around the room, haunting you. 

You won’t retaliate with your own scent. You’re better than that. But that doesn’t mean you’ll let some alpha think he’s better than you and shut you up without a fight. “Who’s fault is that?” you spit. Minho freezes so you continue. “Who’s fault is it that you don’t know me, hmm? I never asked to be your friend, Minho. But I’m not here to intrude and I’m not here to take over your territory and become the new head-alpha, okay? I’m here because Jisung invited me. I’m here because I need a place to live! Is it really so fucking bad to think that maybe you can be civil with me? Instead you’ve been defensive since the second I walked through that door!” Your anger is spiking and you need to get control of yourself before you explode on him. You turn around and slam your door shut before you can say anymore. 

Once on your bed you fight the urge to punch something. You certainly let yourself get riled up fast. It annoys you that someone you don’t even know has this sort of effect on you. But you close your eyes and will the anger away, telling yourself that maybe, just maybe, it’ll get better. 

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It doesn’t get better. It gets a whole lot worse, actually. Your first movie-night in with Jisung you actually get nauseous with how much he reeks of Minho. 

“Jesus, Sung,” you tell him. “It smells like you rolled around with him right before you came into my room.” 

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. It’s so hard to be mad at him. It really is. “He’s been extra clingy lately for some reason.” 

“For some reason,” you grumble. You know exactly why. “He’s trying to intimidate me to stay away from you, probably.” 

“What? Minho would never do that!” he says. You glare at him and he cowers down immediately. “I don’t know what’s going on with him,” he admits. 

“I’m tired of him making me feel like I’m the crazy one here! Everyone I talk to shoots praises out of their ass for him and meanwhile, I’m public enemy number one. I seriously don’t know what his issue is with me and I’m getting sick and tired of everyone telling me what a great person he is!” you rant rather loudly, ending with a great sigh. 

“Have you tried talking to him?” Jisung asks. You feel like you’re going to explode. 

“Yes, I have,” you tell him. “Multiple times. Each one ends in an argument or one of us storming off. I just can’t figure out what his deal is.” 

“Maybe–” 

“Sung, let’s just watch the movie, okay? I’m starting to get irritated and you’re not the one I’m upset with.” 

He concedes and snuggles in a bit closer to you, pressing play on the laptop. If you discreetly try to cover him in your own ginger scent? That’s between you and the moon goddess. 

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You find yourself in the midst of some sort of war and you’re on the losing side. Lee Minho has made it his life mission to inconvenience or irritate you in any way he can. 

Exhibit A: One morning you find yourself running late for class and you open your door just to trip over a conveniently placed pile of his shoes. Cursing his name in your head, you grab your backpack and run out the front door, just narrowly making it in time for the professor to start talking. Fast forward to the end of class when you pull out your folder just to realize that said folder is nowhere to be seen. Your homework which you spent over an hour on the previous night has vanished, gaining you a zero on the assignment. You’re sure you’re seeing red when you get home and your folder is on the kitchen counter.  

“I don’t know what game you think we’re playing, but sabotaging my grades is going too fucking far, Lee!” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says as he sips on a cup of coffee. You fight the urge to throw it in his face. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t try to make me late for class and hide my folder!” you say, waving the folder in his face. He looks irritated but it’s no match for how you feel. 

“Your belongings are not my responsibility,” he says with an eye roll. “Next time maybe don’t misplace your stuff.” You leave because you’re not confident in your ability not to punch him. 

Exhibit B: Poor Jisung has tried to set up an apartment movie night. It’s a good idea, in theory, to try to get some supervised bonding. Jisung even sits right in the middle, anxiously picking at his nails the entire movie. That’s only after Minho accuses you of burning the popcorn and fighting with you over which movie to watch. Jisung ends up picking it. It was going well until he stretched his legs out over Jisung’s lap and into your space. You shove his feet off of you faster than he put them up. The action makes him almost fall off the couch and spill his soda all over himself and Jisung. 

The omega stands up covered in soda and huffs. “I give up!” he cries out in exasperation. 

“It’s her fault for pushing me–” 

“Give it a fucking rest!” you cry out. 

Everybody ends up in their respective rooms that night. 

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 You didn’t want to go to this party. You really didn’t but you figured that you owe Jisung big time for turning his apartment into a warzone. The omega already has social anxiety and doesn’t love parties himself so you promised you would tag along. 

Minho is here too. You tell yourself you won’t interact with him but you keep catching his eyes from across the room. Deep down you hope that maybe the alcohol will mellow him down a bit and make him more tolerable. And maybe you use alcohol as a coping mechanism this one night. You’re stressed and a walking ball of tension every second of each day, not even able to relax in your own apartment. 

You always have an eye on Jisung when you party together. But you indulge in some tipsy flirting for once. This guy is super cute, after all… freckled face, long blond hair that frames his face, and a deep, sensual voice that makes you giggle and fawn over him. You amp up the usual techniques, touching his arm and laughing at all of his jokes. And when he leans in close enough that you feel his breath on your neck you don’t stop him. 

But somebody else does. 

One second you're bracing yourself for a drunken kiss and the next a hand is wrapped tightly around your arm, pulling you away. You smell burnt cinnamon before you even realize what happened and the anger that bubbles in your chest is unlike any you’ve ever felt before. You retaliate just as fast with an overwhelming mix of ginger that smells so strong it burns your nose. Before you can yell you’re being pushed out the door and into the cold of the night. 

“What the fuck was that,” you spit at Minho. You yank your arm out of his grip. 

“We’re leaving,” he tells you. 

“Like hell we are! You don’t get a say of who I spend my time with or when I decide to leave.” 

“I get a say when you’re making idiotic choices,” he answers, voice low. He spins you around until you’re pinned against the wall and his skin burns hot against yours. 

“No, you don’t. You’ve made yourself loud and clear that you don’t give a fuck about me. My bad choices are mine to make, Minho, not yours.” 

“You’re not thinking straight,” he tells you once he finally lets go. He looks like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “Felix… he’s… I know him from my dance studio, okay? Just.. trust me and don’t go home with him. You can’t kiss him. Not Felix.”

“From your dance studio? Wow, ladies and gentlemen! Lee Minho has revealed exactly one thing about himself! He’s a dancer!” you say with mock surprise. You stumble a bit and Minho steadies you by your waist. It only serves to piss you off even more. 

“Let’s go home, yeah?” he asks. It’s probably the softest you’ve ever heard his voice yet. 

“No. I think I’m going to go kiss Felix and you can go fuck off,” you protest. You cross your arms and you look away from him because his cheeks are also flushed from drinking and he worries his lips between his teeth so you can’t stand to see it. 

He takes a deep breath. “Y/N, I swear to god you’re going to walk home with me or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and bring you home myself.”

Before you snap back at him about how ridiculous he’s being, the door opens and Jisung steps out. “Guys?” he questions, looking back and forth between the two of you. You’re breathing heavily and your fists are clenched but your anger dissipates the second you see the disappointed look on Jisung’s face. He wanted you here to keep him company. To soothe his social anxiety and to prove that you could be there for him, to show up for him like old time’s sake. And just like that, the adrenaline high slowly fades when you realize you’ve let him down. Anger turns to sorrow and guilt and god, no you won’t let Minho see you cry but you bury your face into Jisung’s neck. You whisper an apology and tell him you want to go home. 

You can’t help but feel like Minho has won this round, in some roundabout twisted way. 

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You avoid leaving your room for the next day. You don’t really feel like you’re deserving of wallowing in your own sorrow, especially since the one who is impacted here is Jisung, not you. You’ve let him down. You don’t get to mope. So… what you’re doing is avoiding. Avoiding Minho and therefore avoiding any more conflict. 

It’s the next day you leave your room. You notice the scent of vanilla a little more sweet than normal and when you knock on Jisung’s door you notice he’s nesting. A mixture of your clothes and Minho’s are piled in his bed and you feel a pang of guilt in your chest. 

“You okay?” you ask. If Jisung is in preheat and you’ve avoided him for the past 24 hours, he’s probably feeling pretty antsy. He does let out a breath of relief when he sees you though and brings you in for a hug. 

But of course your timing is unfortunate because Minho unlocks the front door at that very moment. When he sees you in Jisung’s arms he growls, causing you and the omega to stiffen. Minho crosses the room in seconds and the smell of cinnamon behind you gets stronger. 

“Off,” he says low into your ear. You have half the mind to snap at him but Jisung’s vanilla scent burns. You back off, giving Jisung a small nod before disappearing to your room. The last thing you want to do is distress Jisung further just before he starts his heat. This needs to stop. It needs to end. 

Jisung leaves the next day to spend his heat in a hotel. Despite the apartment being more comfortable for him, the unit isn’t equipped to deal with the overwhelming scent of heats and ruts. You couldn’t afford a scent complaint fee. Jisung doesn’t complain as you help him pack his bags and you even help him into the hotel room. You offer your best support in helping him rebuild his nest though you don’t have the same omegan instincts as he does. 

“I’m sorry again,” you tell him before you leave. “For everything. With Minho. It’s… we’ll work it out. Okay? Love you Sung.” 

He gives you a sad smile. His heat should start by the morning, you would guess. You just hope he can be comfortable and not worry too much about you and Minho. 

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Minho is standing anxiously by the door when you get home. You half expect him to crowd you against the wall but he doesn’t, eyes glued to the floor instead. 

“You smell like him,” he tells you. 

“Yes Minho,” you reply sarcastically. “It’s like I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time. Jisung is my friend too. You don’t have to act all possessive of him all the time.” 

He hums. You feel your blood boil again. How does he get you so worked up to the point of your heart pumping a mile a minute every time you see him? 

“Minho. Be honest,” you start. He finally looks up at you. You can’t read his face. Your alpha goes back and forth between wanting to pounce on him and run away in fear. You need to do what you think is right. “Do you want me to move out?” 

You aren’t expecting his reaction. You expect him to laugh in your face. You expect him to be overjoyed. But instead he seems shocked. 

“What?” 

“What do you mean what? Don’t act like this isn’t what you wanted from the very beginning. You win, okay? I concede. You want your space? You want to be the only alpha again? This is it. This is your opportunity. I’m offering you a way out now. No more fighting. No more upsetting Jisung. If you want me gone, just say the word. Please. I’ll leave.” 

“Don’t.” 

“What?” You almost think you’ve misheard him but he takes a step closer and he looks at you with pleading eyes. “What is your gameplan then? Why make me miserable since the second I move in? Argue with me, tell me who I can and can’t kiss, for god’s sake make me fail a fucking assignment? If you don’t want me fucking gone, Minho, what the fuck do you want–” 

You’re cut off by his lips clashing against yours so hard your head would have hit your head against the wall if not for Minho’s hands holding you as if you’re something precious. Your teeth clank together but you’re breathing him in and reciprocating his affection just as violently as he gives it. When his tongue enters your mouth and you taste cinnamon you realize you’ve never hated the smell, never hated him… He kisses into you like he needs you to breathe, like he’s been in the desert and you’re his oasis. 

You’re not sure that a kiss has ever felt like this before. You think for a moment that you might not be able to kiss anyone again after this, everyone and everything lacklustre compared to Minho. Minho. Minho. Nobody has ever and will ever make you feel this burning, boiling… hatred? lust? desire? Whatever it is you feel, you’re not sure it could be replicated. 

When you wrap your leg around his waist he grabs under your knee, hoisting you against the wall. His mouth is all over you and he explores every inch of your mouth, your neck, your collarbone. Your hands take purchase on his shoulders, in his hair, you’re not sure but you want to feel every inch of him there is to explore. Cinnamon has never smelled so sweet.

Minho brings you into his bedroom and it’s the first time you’ve stepped foot into his space but you don’t take the time to look around. In fact, the only thing you notice is that his comforter is soft, soft against your back as he throws you onto his bed. Your clothes are all but shredded from your body and if you had claws you would have used them to get every inch of useless fabric off of Lee Minho’s body. It makes you angry that he’s still clothed, so angry that you forgo pleasure in replacement of ripping the clothes off of him harshly. He grins. He has that smug fucking grin on his face you want to wipe off and you kiss his stupid lips again. This time when you kiss you’re both completely naked and every part of your body that touches his is scalding. 

When you sit on his lap your bare pussy slides along his cock and you both groan. His hands are on your hips and in desperation you both move back and forth. Every time his cock catches on your entrance you both let out a hitched breath but neither of you can stop. 

“Fuck. I’m gonna knot you, you know that? I’m gonna fuck you so full and then knot you so that everybody knows you’re mine,” he pants as he ruts his cock against you desperately. Is this just another way for him to stake his claim over you? To show that he’s the true alpha? Oh hell no.

“You’re such an asshole,” you tell him with a hiss when he finally slides into you. He’s big. You already knew this from the (not so) dry humping just moments ago but it still pisses you off when he stretches you nice and full. “Stupid asshole alpha with a stupid big cock.” 

When he looks up at you it’s with adoration and it throws you off. His eyes gleam and his teeth are caught against his bottom lip in a sultry grin. He plants his feet against his bed and thrusts up into you hard and fast–you almost fall because you have no time to plant your hands anywhere for balance. But the almighty perfect Minho catches you before you fall because of course he does. His hands on your waist only hold you in place to give him the opportunity to fuck up into you with more force and the wet sounds that come from between your bodies are filthy… but only serves to turn you on even more. 

“You were saying about me being an asshole?” he asks. His voice is breathy and low and you fucking hate how much you love it. 

“If all you wanted was to fuck me this bad you didn’t have to act like such a dick,” you say through tight lips. Okay. You’re trying not to moan, to give him that satisfaction. Who could blame you? “You only made me hate you more.” 

“Fuck,” he says, throwing his head back. “It wasn’t on purpose… didn’t like you at first but all of a sudden it turned to lust and… can’t you feel what you do to me?” He punctuates his point with a harsh thrust and fuck, you vaguely remember him mentioning he was a dancer. Perfect body, perfect hips and thighs made just to fuck you like this. 

“How you treated me wasn’t fair,” you tell him. You need him to know and you’re lowering your hips, trapping your legs under his so he can’t bounce you up and down on his cock anymore. Your hand snakes up to his throat and takes purchase there, watching the way he gulps and his eyes turn heavy at the action. You feel a burning satisfaction at the way his hips buck into you involuntarily when you squeeze slightly. “Say it,” you coo. “I want to hear you admit to me that you know you treated me poorly.” 

You expect a fight from him because, let’s be honest, Minho always puts up a fight with you. But any ounce of opposition leaves his body the second his eyes meet yours. He looks regretful. He looks small. “I treated you poorly,” he tells you. His eyes never leave yours. “I acted like a child because I had feelings for you that were misplaced. I liked you from the beginning and I… fuck, I didn’t know how to deal with that and I pushed you away. I wanted you to hate me.” 

The confession that spills past his lips is the last thing you’re expecting him to say. Your grip on his neck falters and he uses his stupidly impressive core strength to sit up, bringing your lips into a kiss. It isn’t explosive, it isn’t word-changing, but it is sweet and apologetic and very Minho. 

He places you on your back and resumes his pace, bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders. At this angle he reaches deep inside you and the first time you gasp he resumes his brutal, relentless pace. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna knot you, please let me knot this pretty pussy,” he pleads. The first time he said it it was a demand; this time he asks from his soul, baring it to you and giving you ample time and opportunity to reject it. 

“Yes,” you moan. But if he’s going to claim you as his from the inside out, the least you could do is return the favor. And so you scratch Minho, raking your nails down his back until they’re sure to leave a mark. And when you’re both on the precipice you bite down onto his shoulder hard, just inches away from his scent gland. It’s not a mating bite but it is a mark, a claim. You suck hard into the bite just as he finishes, his knot expanding and catching on your entrance. You don’t release your mouth from his skin until he’s done pulsing inside you but to your surprise, he doesn’t stop moving his hips. Despite his knot locking you in place he grinds his hips into yours in small circles, putting pressure right onto your clit with his pubic bone. It’s too much, the stimulation of your clit, his knot, and the thick head of his cock hitting that spot deep inside you causing you to cum around him hard with a cry. 

You feel as if you’ve been electrocuted, little shocks going through your whole body with every wave of your orgasm. You almost wish he was bad in bed, if just to keep your dignity and tell him that he wasn’t all that. But with the gutteral noises he dispelled from your body, lying would just be a farce. 

When you’ve both finally calmed down and his knot finally deflates, you half expect him to kick you out of his room. You’ve built up your walls so high around him that it’s hard to imagine him treating you any other way. You’re anxious for sure, moreso at yourself for allowing yourself to be so hopeful. But Minho rolls over and grabs you, holding you close to his chest. Even when you squirm he doesn’t dare to let you go. 

“I really am sorry,” he tells you. A murmur into your hair. “I don’t want you to move out. I’m sorry for treating you the way I did. My alpha thought… that because we like you that maybe asserting our dominance would make you like us more. I know that’s illogical and just sounds  like an excuse but…” 

“I forgive you,” you tell him. “Well… maybe I don’t forgive you just yet. But I can if you prove to me that you’re done with the macho asshole alpha act. No more being possessive over Jisung. My friend by the way! Still haven’t gotten over that. And no more sabotaging my grades.” You shoot him a glare and he only looks at you sheepishly. Harsh looks turn into soft stares and all of a sudden he’s kissing you again. Your tension has already begun to melt away. You begin to see the charm of the Lee Minho everybody has told you about and you think, maybe… just maybe everything will be okay now. 

“I think we owe Jisung a gift,” Minho whispers into your hair. 

“I think we owe him a hundred gifts,” you wince. 

“He’s not going to believe his fucking mind when he gets back.” You laugh so hard your stomach begins to hurt. You think maybe you like the way Minho looks when he smiles. You think maybe you really like the way cinnamon and ginger smell together. You think maybe you could get used to kissing Minho and that burning, bubbly feeling in your stomach agrees. 

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[jkl-fff]

Alright, after an inexplicable hiatus of a couple months, I have returned to finally complete my watch of the Hammer Dracula films! (Don't know why I always have such a difficulty finishing things, even when I'm right near their ends. Perhaps it's because, on an unconscious level, I fear completing things. Perhaps because completing things means I have to allow them to pass out of my life and into the world, where I no longer have control of them. Perhaps because completing things means I have to find a new occupation for my time, as this one will no longer serve.) This last one, The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires, is astounding. Really astounding.

Credit where credit's due: I'm really impressed that they had the guts to try something so bold and different from the rest of the series (a kungfu Dracula movie actually set in China, partnered with a Hong Kong studio and featuring a majority cast of Asian actors). And for an exploitation film (it has no less than 3 scenes with many topless women, the most of this series) made in 1973, it had some surprisingly progressive moments. Specifically, it prominintely features a woman martial artist who is as capable as her 6 brothers (and more so than Van Helsing & his son). It features *2* interracial romances with no hint of negative judgment against them. Van Helsing is nothing but genuinely respectful and admiring of the Chinese characters (their knowledge as he always recognizes his own ignorance on matters of Asian vampires, their country's sophisticated culture, and their martial arts skills) from beginning to finish. And they touch on the interesting theological and worldbuilding question of Christian *and* Buddhist iconography both having power to repel vampires. Oh, also Van Helsing wears an adorable pith helmet in many scenes with a ludicrously long ribbon for no discernible reason. That's great.

But the rest of the film ... For one thing, where is Christopher Lee? The supposedly-Dracula is played by a guy who is obviously not him, and with make-up that looks more like he was supposed to play the Joker from the Adam West TV series. Up until he posseses (I guess) a Chinese guy, giving us supossedly-supposedly-Dracula with hilarious voiceovers that do *not* match his mouth or gesticulations. The 7 Golden Vampires are the most ridiculous looking monster costumes I've ever seen, their hoard of zombies are impossible to take seriously since they spend most of their time *skipping and bouncing* (an allusion to jiangshi legends?) and with a weird chattering in the music (representing evil laughter?), and the large group fight scenes are nonsensical (that's not how people fight in a group) and visually confusing (can't tell zombies from farmers). The martial arts choreography isn't the worst I've ever seen (except for the twin brothers who have to always fight while holding hands for some reason? and the vampire whose reaction to being fatally stabbed is to do a backflip?), but it isn't great either. And the weapons look like shiny toys.

Still, it was interesting to see a flip on gender at the end. The woman martial artist is captured and strapped to one of the topless bondage tables, yet frees herself (masculinizing her because of her combat skills?) while the Van Helsing boy (easily the least capable character in terms of combat skills) who rushed to rescue her is laid out on another topless bondage table and needs to be saved by someone competent (feminizing him?). And Dracula (true to form) has another weakass death scene where he gets easily impaled (hilariously easy given all the fight scenes the Golden Vampires performed) *by throwing himself at Van Helsing* and then slumping onto his own topless bondage table to die (also feminizing him?).

Interesting ideas, poor executions that make it just seem nuts.

Still, this was a lot of fun! Thanks again, OP, for compiling and sharing this list!

with dracula daily in full swing and the arrival of spoopy season, i thought i might spend my bedridden day collecting links for all to enjoy the entire hammer horror dracula canon. feel free to check out my pinned for my personal thoughts on watch order, etc.

starred movies i particularly recommend as they follow a timeline, with unstarred movies mostly being extraneous/filler (yet amusing nonetheless).

⭐️horror of dracula

⭐️ brides of dracula

dracula: prince of darkness

dracula has risen from the grave

taste the blood of dracula

scars of dracula

⭐️ dracula a.d. 1972

⭐️ the satanic rites of dracula

legend of the seven golden vampires

happy watching!

[hopefully-helpful-daemon]

I've been doing nothing but playing Marvel rivals for weeks now, so I thought I'd do the Batboy's (and co) mains!

Dick is Black Panther. The worst (in a good way) Panther main you'll ever meet. He takes out the enemy supports so fast that you'd think he was cheating. He gets yelled at by the enemy team every game he plays. He does get target banned in higher ranks, but that doesn’t stop him, he's just as good on Spiderman

Cassandra plays vanguards and only vanguards. She'll play whichever one they need in that game, but has the most time on Hulk and Doctor Strange. When asked why she doesn't switch, she said that she doesn't take up a lot of space irl, so she likes being the one to protect people in the game :)

Jason is either Punisher or Bucky. He will not switch, and to be fair, he's so good with them that he doesn't need to. That doesn't stop the rest of the fam from dragging his ass with how much they make fun of him. Real creative, playing a superhero game and picking the ones that have guns.

Tim will switch depending on what they need. He has Lord on so many characters that they start questioning if he's blowing off hero work to play. He likes playing Magik the most, but if the other team is triple healer, then he'll switch to Psylocke and absolutely demolish them. He's the dude that switched characters 12 times but still had the most kills and lest deaths.

Damian tried to play Hela his first game, realized that none of the others were playing strategists, and hasn’t switched from them since. Mantis is his best, he's insane on her and is somehow always keeping the others healed still.

Steph is a Moonknight truther through and through. Yes she's sitting in a corner shooting her ankhs, it's part of his kit! That's how he's supposed to be used! She isn't useless on him and doesn't need her ankhs to do damage, but she'll still be using them thank you very much!

They have not, and will not, convince Babs to play with them. She was an Overwatch playing for a time, broke three computers and 7 keyboards. She knows how a game like that will end for her and she's not doing it again.

Harper is a Hela main. She ends most matches with 0 deaths and almost double the kills of the next best on her team. No one knows where she's at during the game but she's terrifying and they’ve seen people actually run from her before. they banned her and Dick playing together after the first time when all of the enemy team left on second point.

They try and get Bruce to play with them, but he tells them that he's not good at the game. This is a dirty lie and he holds the highest rank in the family. He just finds it embarrassing to play with them because he gets really into the game and has said shit on vc before that he'd never want his children to hear. The day he got put on the enemy team as some of his kids was the best day of his life (B won but it was a tight match)

[whysoblue2]

Perhaps this has been asked before, but why can't Kallamar's spouses be resurrected? Is there something physically preventing it or has made the resurrection impossible? I almost wonder if that is going to be the plot of Kallamar's tale. Kallamar finally having enough of this tragic love lost fate. After all, everyone else around him has defied fate. Leshy found love despite being a monster. The Lamb defied fate by surviving despite being a sacrifice. Narinder defied fate by being freed from his endless torment. So why can't Kallamar also defy fate? I'd admire his determination but if the story of Leshy's crusade will teach him anything it'll be the price of rewriting fate and history. Considering the teaser image of Kallamar's story seem to have the Fox lurking around too I fear too that Kallamar may be tempted into a typical Faustian deal. His spouses back, in exchange for something he can't truly runaway from. It's all just speculation, but fun to think about. The squid deserves happiness like anyone else. Let's just hope the price for it won't be too high...

I'm not going into the part about the fic, cause you know No spoilers! But I enjoy the speculations, so thank you for it! I can tell you about the whole resurrection thing tho: In my Au resurrection is a very big deal, a costly ceremony that takes a lot of energy out of the cult leader and is officiated only in a few instances. Mostly if the person who died did it for the cult or has proven incredibly loyal etc. it's something one must earn. Kallamar's spouses are 4 and nowhere near the status required to be resurrected (we'll find out later all of them were dissenters, this is something I can mention w/o spoilers really, it's just common sense.) The person who is resurrected also risks the zombification thing (the name now eludes me), which is a condition that is not straightforward to treat I imagine, I know in the game we just wave crystals in front of everything and people are healed by the worst trauma of their life, and it's also a danger for the other members of the cult. Finally, I imagine the sheer unrest in the cult if you could just make resurrection a usual occurrence. Why not my grandma? why not my sister? And so on and so forth. If you do it too much, it's not special at all in the end! In short: resurrections happen, but at a cost and not too often. They are rare like the skull necklaces. They all seem way too powerful to just give away! I really hope this insight into my AU helps. Sorry for being vague and thank you for the ask 💙

[henghost]

Twig Liveblog for Arc 20 + Epilogue

i finally did it! after over a year of slogging through ball-stabbing battles, i have finished reading wildbow's "twig." in the future i'm gonna write a goodreads-review-style overview of my take on the whole thing; this post will merely focus on the final arc and epilogue.

i basically think it was the worst arc of all time because the infante lost.

but seriously: the first half of the arc, despite the presence of the infante and the striking landship imagery, was quite boring, more ball-stabbing, etc. not to mention kind of an anti-climax--the infante falls too easily, too tits-engravenly.

the latter half, though, the search for hayle and fray, was great, albeit a little drawn out--the most fun i've had with twig in months. the whole time i was thinking "isn't this a little oedipal, wibblybibble? kind of a retread of worm?" but then there's that beautiful moment in 20.18 when sy "splits"--it recalls the moment in gravity's rainbow wherein slothrop "becomes a crossroads"--and goes from first-person singular to first-person plural and kills hayle in one of those nerd-chill-inducing Wildbow Epiphanic Moments. and the thing is, it is oedipal--it's only that it takes Oedipus seriously. sylvester comes of age exactly at the moment he breaks the triangulated repression-mold (hayle-fray-sy) that has tormented him these past 1.5 million words.

i found it to be a powerful meditation on the revolutionary potential of transindividuality, a theme present throughout the book that here achieves its sublime conclusion. being revolutionary not only means flesh and blood battles but a revolution of the mind, overcoming the fascist strictures of individual "subjectivity." this is possible, as sy demonstrates, through love.

the epilogues were great too. this is a point i'm stealing from @bug4932 but the emily chapter was great, especially because of its transgender content. and the final epilogue chapter was so fun and triumphant and funny. twig is great because wildbow puts his most interesting ideas--a kind of deleuzoguattarian transhumanism--on display, and they are nowhere more felt and interesting than in these final passages.

more thoughts to come, but thank god i'm done with all that--parts of it sucked but it was very rewarding, and i'd recommend it as a next read to anyone who loved worm!

[waynes-multiverse]

Alex, this was amazing!! I absolutely loved this! I think I laughed throughout without pausing. Like, I was cackling vividly 😂😂

Dean:

He’s not sick. Because he doesn’t get sick. Dean claims he has the constitution of a horse, but you still take the beer out of his hand before he can take a sip at 10:00 a.m.

That already took me out. First two lines. Bravo. You've done it 🤣

I'm guessing this is post Chuck lmao

“I’m find,” he insists, even as he begrudgingly accepts the gentle pressure of your hand on his back and shoulder, pushing him down to the bed.

You know why I picked it 😝 (👏👏👏) And not the flannel and the runny nose, yikes. Loved this exchange (and callback) lol

He knows that you care about him. That you love him. But this is one of those moments where it hits him, just how much.

Took a brief second from laughing, so I could push tears out of my eyes 😭

But absolutely agree, you'd have to wear Dean down and force him into it lmao

Beau:

His coughing sneeze makes you grimace. You didn’t even know someone could sneeze and cough at the same time.

Back to laughing. My God, that was the sneeze of the century 😂😂

“Nah, can’t be sick. Gotta lot of work to do today,” he says.

Mutually exclusive, obviously 🤷‍♀️

“How long until I’m allowed out, warden?” he asks.

Seems like the man flu hasn't swallowed the charm either 🥰

He stops you by grabbing your wrist. “Hey, uh…can I have some chicken noodle soup later?” “Of course, baby. I’ll swing by the store now and get some stuff for you.” “And some saltines?”

And that's the moment I realized Beau's like my husband when he's sick 😂 (🙄)

It's like you were in my house and wrote a transcript of the last man flu epidemic of 2024 😆🤌

(PS: Real proud for finding that gif 😂)

A good add-on for Beau would be talking about his symptoms and aches... constantly loll. ("Babe, my throat is still dry and very weird right here. I googled and it says it could be laryngitis, cancer or the Marburg virus." 😂)

Ben:

Oh and then, Ben. Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben... I thought for sure he'd be the worst, like this virus is a personal attack on his virility 🤣 But I was pleasantly surprised when you brought in memories of his mother 🥹😭

“Fuck,” he groans, dragging a hand over his face before he turns onto his back.

That immediate fuck got me so hard 🤣🤣

He’s a sourpatch grumbly patient who only begrudgingly stays put in bed when you ask him to.

Ah, yes, gramps 😂🫶 (And he honestly shares that with a lot of old man in hospitals and nursing homes who have to be repeatedly told to stay in bed lol)

“Hey, sweetheart,” he calls to you from the bedroom, his voice croaking all the while. “I’m getting you a yacht for Valentine’s Day. You want it all white, or throw in a bit of gold? Actually, check out this one with the navy trim.”

*snorts* Of course the brat's online shopping for yachts 😆

“Why can’t you put some fucking steak in it or something?” he grouses. He tries and fails to hide another wet cough. “Why can’t you just eat what I lovingly made, just for you,” you snipped back.

Oh God, all their bickering was amazing! It's honestly always one of the most fun things when writing SB – the sheer frustration of the reader 😭😂🙈

And I loved the addition of Priestly!! 😍💚💙🤘 (I've been thinking of finally writing that one-shot for him lol)

“Aw, that’s still good,” he argues.

Great idea, man. Add a stomach bug to that man flu lmao

“Know what would really make me feel better?” he hedges. He tries to guide you down to him by tugging on your hand, but you resist him.

I could also totally see him turning into a Monica there 😂

“When you’re feeling better, you can ask me that question properly.”

Oh, oh, thank God! The relief I felt 😂 I mean, it's so, so sweet, but also you're very sick, dude, and germy... like, it's a lot 😆

(And I also sincerly hope there will be a proposal follow-up one-shot/drabble... maybe? 👀)

I loved this so much! You were spilling nothing but truths here! 😂💯🩵

HEADCANON: Man Flu

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader || Beau Arlen x Reader || Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader || Boaz Priestly x Reader

HC: When Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Boaz Priestly get sick, how would they act when you (try to) take care of them?

AN: After reading I Got You by @bettystonewell (Dean x Reader) and The Best Kind of Medicine by @lamentationsofalonelypotato (Soldier Boy x Reader), I realized that I've never actually written a sick-fic before. Here it is in headcanon form, since you guys seem to like these! lol 💜

Also adding Priestly to this lineup for the first time because some of you have been requesting more of him recently. 😉

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, hurt/comfort, sick-fic, some needy affection-starved men who don't want to admit they're needy, lots of fluff.~

Dean Winchester

He's not sick. Because he doesn't get sick.

Dean claims he has the constitution of a horse, but you still take the beer out of his hand before he can take a sip at 10:00 a.m.

He's too busy interrupting himself, namely by coughing half a lung, wheezing, blinking teary eyes -- the whole phlegmy nine yards.

Sam shakes his head, casting you a look that frankly says, Good luck.

He knows his brother is stubborn as hell, and one of the things Dean dislikes most is being fussed over for "no reason." Being seen as weak. Not being able to just shrug his shoulders and shake it off.

To be fair, Dean tries. Except this time it's accompanied by a body shiver and a reluctant sniffle. His pallid face is drawn, and his usually strong and solid frame looks unsteady as he leans a hand on the War Room table.

"Okay, come on, Rambo. Let's get you back into bed," you say, guiding your boyfriend back to the room you share with him.

"I'm find," he insists, even as he begrudgingly accepts the gentle pressure of your hand on his back and shoulder, pushing him down to the bed.

"Sure you are, baby," you say with a smirk. "You're in the primb of libe."

Dean shoots you a narrowed look. Damn you for forcing him to binge-watch all those episodes of Friends late at night when you both can't sleep.

Right now he's Monica, trying to convince you he's in tip-top shape, while you're Chandler, just trying to get him to use tissues instead of his flannel sleeve to wipe his runny nose.

After taking his boots off, you get him to change out of his jeans and back into his sweatpants. Then you manage to get him to lay down under the covers with the promise of coming back with medicine and soup.

"I don't want soup, damn it," he grumbles. You just roll your eyes and rub his arm.

"Just rest. I'll be back with the Vicks."

As you might expect, Dean is not an easy patient.

He refuses to drink tea, but he does down the pills you bring for him, with a measured toss of his head that still makes his head swim. He groans.

He swallows a couple of cautious spoonfuls of the soup, pausing when he realizes that its warmth actually feels good down his sore and scratchy throat. It tastes pretty good too, especially with the warm, buttered slices of bread on the side.

"You made this?" he asks.

"Mhmm," you nod, smiling. If nothing else, good food will pacify this man. "Chicken and wild rice, made especially for you."

"Hmm. S' good," he nods in reply. He manages to finish the bowl.

He has to admit, if just to himself, that he does feel like shit.

He won't admit that the way you're rubbing his back, the gentle pressure of your nails between his shoulders and down his spine relaxes him, makes him feel better.

He knows that you care about him. That you love him. But this is one of those moments where it hits him, just how much.

It's a little overwhelming. A heavy swell of pressure fills his chest, so he tries not to let himself think about it for very long.

(He fails.)

After he's done eating, you take the plates away and help him back into bed. You linger there, slipping your fingers through his soft brown hair and pressing a kiss to his clammy forehead.

"I really need you to rest, okay," you say quietly. "If you need anything, just text me or Sam. Don't get out of bed."

Dean grasps your hand before you can move away from him. Since you're probably going to wash your hands anyway, he lays a kiss on the back of your hand.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Beau Arlen

Sheriff Beau Arlen is the type to run himself into the ground because he's so damn into his work.

He wants to do well in his station of responsibility, and he feels like he has to make up for his performance during the summer madness of Buck Barnes and Avery...and everything in between.

You just have to make Beau realize that he needs to slow down, before he well and truly burns himself out.

You put your foot down one morning.

He tries to get out of bed but has to pause, his head swimming. He takes a couple of steadying breaths while sitting on the edge of the bed.

You notice with a frown. "Hey, you okay?"

"Fine. Just fine," he answers a little too breathlessly. He raises a hand to his head. His throat is sticky and coarse. He wrinkles his nose when he also feels a sneeze coming on.

"Just need a...a...mugh-ah-ha-hugh."

His coughing sneeze makes you grimace. You didn't even know someone could sneeze and cough at the same time.

"Aw, babe. You're sick," you say as you move over to him, resting a hand on his back. He shakes his head and groans.

"Nah, can't be sick. Gotta lot of work to do today," he says. His voice is like gravel blended with broken glass. It would actually be sexy, if for the distinctly un-sexy way he tries to clear the great wad of phlegm from his throat.

He tries to rock himself onto his feet, but there he sways on the landing. You hurry out of bed to grab his arm and steady him.

"Oh no, you don't. Back into bed," you say.

"Aw, sweetheart. I'll be fine--"

"No. Lay down. You're not going in today," you say more firmly, all while you tuck the man back into bed with the blankets covering him.

"All right, all right. No need to be so pushy," he can't help but tease.

It earns a small smirk on your face. It seems like his man flu hasn't yet deprived him of his sense of humor.

"I thought you liked that though," you reply. You sit on the edge of the bed and rub his chest. He groans in defeat.

"Can't believe this," he grumbles. "Today of all days--"

"There's always going to be another case. This is your body telling you that you need to slow down," you tell him. "So how about this. I'm gonna call in one of my sick days, and we'll bunker in together."

You stroke his bearded cheek. He quirks a smile, grabbing your hand and squeezing warmly.

"How long until I'm allowed out, warden?" he asks.

"Until you can stand without keeling over," you dryly reply. A smile tugs at your lips. "Remind me to stop by CVS to grab you a Life Alert."

"All right, har har haugh--" His sarcasm ends on a very real, wheezing cough. Your amused smile drops. You relent from your teasing and stroke his chest once more.

"Okay, just rest. Let me get you some actual medicine and I'll be right back."

He stops you by grabbing your wrist. "Hey, uh...can I have some chicken noodle soup later?"

"Of course, baby. I'll swing by the store now and get some stuff for you."

"And some saltines?"

"Saltine crackers on the side. Got it."

You're about to head to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you start getting ready to go to the store, but once again, Beau's needy hand stops you.

"Before you go, some tea with honey and lemon would be good. Just something for my throat," he croaks.

You smile and nod. "Yeah, for sure. That'll be better for you than coffee."

"Oh, and can you gimme that quilt over there?" he asks, pointing to your favorite knitted blanket at the edge of the bed. You graciously lay it over his form and drop a kiss onto his forehead.

"And some cough drops. Thank you, darlin'," Beau adds.

Your lips begin to press together, but you nod and continue getting dressed.

You can already tell this man is going to settle into you taking care of him just fine.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Neither of you thought it was possible, considering his super genes that allowed him to eat and booze and drug harder than Andre the Giant and Keith Richards put together.

But one day, your over six-foot super soldier goes down hard. The warning signs came the night before, when you could hardly sleep with the way he was snoring like a grizzly bear.

In the morning, he wakes bleary-eyed with a runny nose and a coughing fit hard enough to shake the bed.

"Fuck," he groans, dragging a hand over his face before he turns onto his back. "This's gotta be some kind of bullshit hangover."

You move over to him in bed and feel the intense warmth of his clammy forehead. Your brows draw together in concern.

"No, I think you're sick."

"Not possible," he grumbles. "I haven't been sick since..."

Well, since he was a kid, probably. He won't admit it, but he's surprised he still has that memory lodged in the back of his mind.

It comes to the forefront now: your hand on his cheek unknowingly mimics his mother's gentle touch, her soft, kind voice.

"Aw, my sweet boy. Let's get you feeling better."

He can almost recall the floral scent of her perfume, echoes of it in the shampoo you use.

Ben claims he's fine, that he doesn't need your help or want the medicine and tea you bring for him. (He tries the tea, grimaces, and spits it out when you're not looking.)

He's a sourpatch grumbly patient who only begrudgingly stays put in bed when you ask him to. He doesn't mind lying around and watching movies all day, not to mention episode after episode of Below Deck. It reminds him that he wants to get back into boating.

"Hey, sweetheart," he calls to you from the bedroom, his voice croaking all the while. "I'm getting you a yacht for Valentine's Day. You want it all white, or throw in a bit of gold? Actually, check out this one with the navy trim."

You roll your eyes to yourself when you step back into the room. You're carrying a tray with a large bowl of soup and a fifth of whiskey. He claims the latter will help soothe his throat, and you don't have the heart to argue with him when he's clearly feeling so shitty.

"You mean you're getting you a yacht," you reply wryly. "We live in the city. Where the hell would we put a boat?"

"In a yacht club, where it belongs," Ben retorts. He hooks an arm around your waist and peruses what you've brought him on the tray. He doesn't look all that interested.

"Look, I know you're not exactly a soupy kinda guy, but this'll make you feel better," you say.

"Why can't you put some fucking steak in it or something?" he grouses. He tries and fails to hide another wet cough.

"Why can't you just eat what I lovingly made, just for you," you snipped back.

He rolls his eyes at your attitude, but he pipes down. In that silence, he's conceding that you have a point. There was a time were all he had to do was glance in someone's direction, and there'd be some fucking moron to fulfill his every whim.

Now, you're probably the only one in the world that would actually do what you're doing...

Cooking for him, putting your heart into it, for the simple reason that you do care.

Ben takes the bowl of soup from your hands. Raising a brow, you offer him the spoon as well.

He eats without further complaint.

You smile and reward him with a sweet kiss on his forehead, brushing his hair back as you do so.

"See? That's not so hard, huh?" you can't help but needle him. "It's okay, baby. I'll take care of you."

He eyes you dryly, but he won't admit that there's a different kind of warmth coiling in his chest.

Boaz Priestly

"Uuuughhh, babe," he groans. "I feel like death on toast."

You're standing beside the bed with a smile playing on your lips. You brush back his for once un-gelled hair back from his face. It's weird to see it all limp and lifeless, slightly damp with sweat.

"Unironically, I should make you some toast," you reply. "What kind of medicine do we have?"

Priestly unearths his head from under his pillow to look up at you with miserable red-rimmed eyes and a sniffling, stuffy nose. "Can we count the tequila in the mini bar?"

"Maybe later," you laugh. "How are we on groceries?"

Priestly struggles to think. He takes your hand and rubs it back and forth across his chest. Maybe your sweet, loving touch has the power to clear away his congestion without him needing Vicks. Too minty.

"We have that pastrami I brought back from the shop," he says.

"That's six days old already," you shake your head.

"Aw, that's still good," he argues. "But uh, other than that, I think I have half a cheeseburger left from last night."

Last night's date at TGI Friday's, he means.

You heave a sigh. "Okay, clearly I'm going to the store. You just stay in bed and rest. Drink your tea."

He grimaces like a child. "I don't like tea."

"I know you don't like tea, but you need to drink it. It's good for your throat and your immune system."

He groans and flops back over onto his stomach. You bite your lip against a smile. He's such a whiny baby when he's sick.

Talk about Man Flu.

"Come on, be a good boy for me," you say, smacking him lightly on the ass. "Soon enough you'll feel better."

A smile creeps across his face where it's pressed against his pillow.

"Know what would really make me feel better?" he hedges. He tries to guide you down to him by tugging on your hand, but you resist him.

"Oh, no. You're not gonna get your germs all over me," you say.

"Hey, what happened to in sickness and in health?" he croaks. Even while under the weather, he's still plenty strong enough to grapple with you. He manages to yank you down. Laughing, you stumble into a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Huh, I don't remember exchanging any vows. You see a ring on this finger?" you tease, flashing your bare hand in his face to try and distract him and weasle out of his grip. "I can jump this ship anytime I want."

Priestly pouts. His arm hooks tighter around your waist. "Huh, guess you got me there..."

He turns his head and coughs roughly into his arm. Your amusement fades into concern and sympathy. You lay a hand over his chest while he struggles.

Once again, he clasps his free hand over yours. He glances up a bit hesitantly into your eyes.

"Well, maybe it's time there should be something on this finger," he murmurs.

You blink your eyes wider. Your head tilts, wondering if you just heard him right. Is this delirium fever talking, or is he serious?

"O-Oh yeah?" you ask.

Priestly tries to gauge your reaction. Seeing your face break out into a cute, shy smile raises the corners of his lips. Hope blooms in his chest, right beneath your hand.

"Yeah," he says, trying to clear his cracking throat. "I mean, if you're okay with that. If it's not too soon--"

You slip your fingers over his plush, chapped lips, and your smile brightens.

"When you're feeling better, you can ask me that question properly."

AN: 😆 I hope you liked the first ever addition of Priestly!! It was so fun to try and write him again (it's been a while lol). Feel free to imagine this vignette in the same storyverse as The Miracle Man and Code Red.

But I also hope you enjoyed the "Big 3," as I call them, even though Russell is starting to give Beau a run for his money on one of those slots. 😂 Let me know which guy you had the most fun reading on this one! 💜

And if you want even more fluff before Valentine's Day, check out my friend @waynes-multiverse who just posted her set of V-Day headcanons with Dean, Soldier Boy, Beau, and Russell: Headcanon: Valentine's Day 💕

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

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[alexandraisyes]

happy valentines day and i hope they dont take advantage of your absolute worst fears and kill ya too :)

OH MY GOD HIII HELLO HI OH IM SO GIDDY RIGHT NOW THANK YOU GENUINELY THANK YOU I HAVE BEEN BITING MY TONGUE FOR WEEKS FOR HER BUT NO MORE I FINALLY HAVE AN EXCUSE OH MY GOD HI HELLO

Welcome to my blog I'm so glad you've decided to drop by! I recognize you! Hiiii hiiii heloooo oh I'm so fucking giddy hi hi hi hi JESUS GET A GRIP

Sorry this is just like exactly what I've been waiting for for weeks.

Hi so you're either froffer or one of his friends!

Froffer's Main Account (They deleted their tumblr but they're still active on ao3)

So for context, for the chat, Froffer is 16 👍 They were friends with one of my mutuals before my moot turned 18 After my moot turned 18 they asked them to stop sharing NSFW content with them (Froffer tried to fight them about this but eventually gave in), and then shortly after my moot said they couldn't be friends anymore due to a variety of reasons (Froffer would tell them he would kill himself if they left, would tell them he doesn't care if he gets them in trouble, or their friends who tried to put up a no nsfw boundary around him, and all sorts of fun things). My moot blocked them so Froffer sent them a death threat, and has been harassing them since.

I'm putting photos under the cut because these are extremely triggering

So like to break it down. After being cut off he started sending death threats, sent his friends to harass them, and they are now claiming that Froffer killed himself (Froffer updated a fic after they sent these anons). I've been asked by the victim of abuse (because Froffer was genuinely abusive to them) not to name them, but I was given permission to share these.

So!

Fuck you.

I would say worse but I value my reputation.

I hope his valentines day is shit 👍

[anyamaris]

Title: Requited

Summary: A series of events lead to you having the worst day, and it doesn't help that it's Valentines Day. Your ex, who also happens to be your best friend even after your breakup showing up doesn't help the emotional turmoil inside of you.

Word Count: 2271

Pairing: Ex!BFF!Seonghwa x F!Reader

Trope: Exes to lovers/Fluff/Angst

Rating- T for teen/16+

Warnings: Vulgarity, some angsty thoughts and crying, allusion to previous intimacy as well as possibly bathing together, nothing explicit.

A/N: Well since Hwa is my ex bias, this seemed like a fun idea-thank you to @sanjoongie for suffering with me in regards to Seonghwa. You really helped me bring this to life for Valentines 🤍

Much love to @pars-ley for the GORGEOUS banner and you did it last minute (I told her last night and she delivered perfection!)

As always, so much love to @cafekitsune for the dividers, always supporting us writers 💜

“Ugh, why is this all here?!” 

You yank out the box from the back of the closet, letting out a frustrated sigh as you turn to set it down on the floor.

Your sleeve catches on a hanger and the small box tumbles from your arms, spilling everything inside.

“Goddamnit…” you huff, running your palm over your forehead to push back the errant hairs sticking out everywhere.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to calm yourself before kneeling to start picking up the mess.

It has been a long ass week and all you really wanted to do was guzzle down a bottle of wine and soak in a long, hot bath.

Ahh…a bubble bath, you think, then curse as intrusive thoughts fill your mind.

It’s been over half a year since you and your ex broke up, but it has been amicable.

The positives of dating your best friend and roommate, you think.

Well….ex boyfriend AND ex roommate.

Luckily, best friend was still ongoing.

Unfortunately, today was Valentine's day and you can’t stop yourself from the memory of last year with Seonghwa.

Today the loss of your relationship seems to be creeping in to taunt you from every angle.  

“Get out of my head, Stupid Seonghwa.” you mutter, finally stuffing the last of his random shit into the box.  

Of course it was a box he’d forgotten to take when he’d left.

Maybe he was having a great Valentine’s, not even remembering the romantic evening you’d planned for him last year.

Why am I even thinking about him?

Your break up had been mutual, yes, but you’d held back the little twinge of doubt about it.

Could you both have worked it out?

You’d both expressed the fear of losing each other completely after a series of arguments that neither of you were willing to compromise on.

Looking back, you can’t even remember what the arguments were over…

Laundry soap?

How to fold socks?

Leaving a towel on the floor?

The best brand of kimchi?

Who the hell knows. 

“Whatever.” you grumble, pushing off your knees to get up, grabbing up the box with you to take to the door.

He can come get it when-

A sharp, stinging pain rips through the arch of your foot and right through the rest of your body, causing you to let out the most offensive curse words your exhausted brain can conjure up.

The box you’ve just picked up drops, and luckily it doesn’t spill its insides this time.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you hiss out, moving your foot to look down at the villainous object that lit up all of your pain receptors like a christmas tree.

You freeze momentarily, then lean over to pick up the object that just destroyed your mood completely.

Of course it’s a fucking LEGO.

Park mother fucking Seonghwa-

Right at that moment, your doorbell rings and you just bite back even more expletives as you snatch up the horrid little plastic piece before making your way to the door.

“Coming!” You call out as someone begins to knock.

As if he was summoned, Seonghwa stands before you with a bright smile.

Instead of putting you into a good mood, his presence only makes you more irritated.

“Ugh…” you grunt at him, turning and walking away without another word.

“Nice to see you too,” he quips, coming inside even though he wasn’t invited.

“I’m trying to clean, Hwa, why are you here?”  

“Can’t I come by and say hello?” he asks, and you let out a slow breath.

You turn to look at him, as he sets down a small plant on your counter.

“What’s that?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at what appears to be a flower.

He looks at it, then turns a sheepish smile on you. 

Fucking hate how gorgeous he is, you grumble inwardly.

“I saw it and thought of you...why are you so grumpy today?” he asks, leaving the gift to walk over to you.

You run your hand over your face, shaking your head at him.

“I don’t know, just a long ass week, and I haven’t slept much, and….” you clench your other hand, the edges of the plastic Lego piece biting into your skin.

“-and then I stepped on your stupid Lego!” you thrust your hand out at him, palm up to present the disrespectful object.

“Ouch…sorry…” he says, walking over to take it from your hand.

He lights up, turning it over in his fingers, “It’s the missing piece I’ve been looking for!”

His brilliant grin has your insides crumbling and you hate that you’re feeling so emotional right now.

Why did he have to come by today of all-

“Are you crying? Did it hurt that badly? Let me see your foot-” he is suddenly ushering you to sit on the couch as you try to process his words.

Crying? You’re not-

You swipe at your face and let out a frustrated sigh at the moisture running down your cheeks.

Before you can protest, he’s kneeling before you, lifting first your right, then left foot to survey any damage done.

“I’m fine, Seonghwa-” you complain, but he just gives you a stern look before returning to his inspection.  

“Just a few little red marks…” he hums, rubbing his thumb gently over the spot where you’d stepped down on it.

You cross your arms over your chest, swallowing back the urge to kick him in his pretty face.

God, what’s wrong with me today?

“I didn’t think you’d be home, honestly.  Glad I took the chance.” He hums, looking up at you with those big brown doe eyes.

“Why? Cause now you have your Lego back?”  you snap at him, then regret it as a momentary look of hurt crosses his face.

He lets out a patient sigh, standing only to settle himself down next to you on the couch.  

“No...I just…” he shrugs, suddenly looking around at anything but you as he chews his bottom lip.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, noting how the long strands of his dark hair tease at his cheeks.

Before you can stop yourself, you unfold your arms and reach out to brush them back, startling him enough to stare at you in shock.

“Sorry…it’s gotten long.” you mumble, retracting your hand before you give in to the urge to trace your fingertips over his skin.

He holds your gaze, tugging on a strand and nodding in agreement.

“Do you…like it?” he asks softly, his eyes studying you.

“It’s…nice…” 

“Just nice?” He asks, a little teasing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“What is it you came for, Hwa?” you ask, redirecting the conversation.

He takes in a deep breath, then lets it out slowly before answering.

“Just...I thought because it’s Valentine’s and maybe you …” he looks down at his fingers, suddenly interested in the state of his nails.

“Maybe I what? Am a pathetic mess because I’m single?” You bite out, hating how your voice wavers.

His head snaps up, brows drawing together.

“No. Why would I ever think that? Seriously?” he retorts and then he’s turning towards you, reaching out to grasp your hands in his.

“We’re friends, best friends…I’ve never once thought you were pathetic. What the hell even makes you think such a thing?”  

Friends.

For some reason, that cuts deep.

It’s been months since you’d both agreed to not be together.

To preserve the friendship.

He’d even moved out to make it easier on both of you; you’d both given in to the physical aspect far too much even after things ended.

Yet here you are, ready to hiss and spit at that term.

“I don’t want to be friends.” 

You freeze as you realize the words have slipped out unintentionally.

“What?” he asks, looking crestfallen.

“Hwa…no…I mean…fuck-” you stutter, angry at how your eyes sting from fresh tears welling up.

He lets go of your hands, cupping your cheeks to brush away the errant tears starting to spill down your face.  

“Don’t-” you try to swat him away, but he slaps at your hands, slipping an arm around you to pull you into a tight hug.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly, tucking your face into his neck as he pets your hair.  

All of the internal struggles, the pressures of work, the sleepless nights…everything just seems to bubble up and you finally just feel the dam break.

Your hands fist into his soft sweater as you open your mouth and your heart just spills out.

“I feel so lonely, and sometimes it’s too much.  I miss you, I miss the stupid shit you do, I miss the way you get angry over how I leave my shoes or how I don’t dry things before putting them away.  It’s stupid Valentine’s and I was thinking about last year and all I want to do is just drown myself in wine and a bubble bath but I thought about you-” 

His body tenses in your arm, his hand halts, resting on the crown of your head before he’s slowly pulling you back to look at you.

“Shut up, I know it’s stupid, I know we agreed to be friends and I fucking thought I was fine-” 

The rush of words are cut off as his lips find yours.

Stunned, you freeze as the familiar sensation of his tongue prods at the seam of your lips, then you melt into his arms, opening up to allow him access.

His scent surrounds you, a small gasp escaping your parted lips before he’s planting kisses over and over on your mouth.

“I was going to tell you-” he says, breaking away for a moment before he closes the distance again.

“That I missed you too-”

“That I was stupid, I was wrong-” 

“I don’t even remember why we-”

You grasp his face, halting him before he can go on.

“I don’t either, why did we stop?” 

His eyes flick back and forth between yours, and he shakes his head.

That dark silky hair teases at his face and you feel the entire world fall into place.

Your lips quiver as your eyes fill once more, but this time it’s not painful.

It’s not in agony.

He blinks rapidly as he smiles as you, yanking you back to return his mouth to yours.

Time seems to stop, and bleed away as you cling to one another, basking in one anothers embrace before he’s breaking away from you.

“Hey…shhh…” he hums, pulling you into a gentle hug.

You nuzzle at his neck but he shakes his head as you brush your lips over that one place you know gets him going.

“Wait..” he protests, and you pull back to give him a pout.

“Don’t do that…you’re killing me here.” he chastises you, and your stomach flips as he gets a stern look on his face.

Fuck you’ve missed this.

He halts you once more as you go in for another kiss, taking your hands in his.

Confused, you tilt your head at him, about to ask him what’s wrong.

Before you can, he leans in to brush his plush lips over your forehead.

“Shh…I know how quickly things can escalate between us.  While I want that…I want you…I think rushing back into sex isn’t the way I want to begin again.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest, and while the ache between your legs argues against his logic, your mind and heart are in complete harmony about that sentiment.

Still, you give him yet another overdramatic pout.

He lets out a soft laugh, reaching up to flick his fingertip over your lip.

“Temptress.” he teases, and you can only grin as he tugs you back in to cuddle you.

Your entire body liquifies in his arms, and you run your hands over his shoulders, his back, his arms.

“Have you been working out?” you ask him, your voice muffled by his shirt as you rub your face into his chest.

He chuckles, his chin rubbing against your cheek.

“If you still feel the same way tomorrow, maybe I’ll show you.” he offers.

“Mmm…promise?” 

“I promise.” he answers, pulling away a little to look at you.

You hold one another’s gaze for a moment, then he stands and turns towards your kitchen.

“What are you doing?” you ask, watching as he rummages around, pulling out a stemmed glass, then finding a familiar cupboard.

“You said you wanted wine and a bath.  I’m going to give you exactly what you want, angel.” he hums.

Your heart thumps in your chest; firstly because he’s always been so caring and sweet, but also because of the use of his pet name for you.

“I love you, Seonghwa.” you blurt out, knowing you should feel embarrassed but the sudden admission but unable to find it in you to feel anything but relief at the confession.

He smiles softly as he pours the glass, walking back over to hand it to you before placing a kiss on your head.

“I know, angel…I never stopped loving you.”

His words linger in the air as he wanders off, tossing you a peeking glance before he disappears into the bathroom to start running your bath.

The familiar scent of your bubble bath fills the air as you take a sip of the velvety wine.

There’s still a lot to talk about, alot to discuss but tonight…

You stand, glass in hand and try to figure out how you’re going to get him to join you in your tub.

[4ragon]

If you're still taking requests: Klapollo - "A dance leading to a first kiss"

Oopsie doodle wrote too much.

Apollo hated dancing. That was just a fact of life. He had two left feet, negative rhythm, and self consciousness in spades.

Normally, this issue was rectified in avoiding dancing at all costs. He didn’t do prom or homecoming (not that he had anyone he would’ve gone with), he didn’t go to clubs or concerts. Hell, the closest he’d come was going to Clay’s Bar Mitzvah and doing some of those pre-choreographed viral dances, which, you know, kind of a while ago.

…Harder to avoid dances when it’s your boss’s wedding, however.

And yeah, Apollo knew intrinsically dancing didn’t have to look good to be fun. One look at Athena jumping up and down with Juniper and Pearl was enough to tell him that. But still, who in their right mind would want to crowd into a writhing mass of sweaty bodies and then proceed to be the worst looking one there? Noooo thank you.

“Ach, sulking all by yourself, handsome?”

Apollo grimaced immediately, glancing up to find Klavier resting his arms on the back of Apollo’s chair. He winked, and Apollo rolled his eyes.

“What, did you get bored of hogging the spotlight?” Apollo shot back, as Klavier slipped into the chair beside him.

“Ja, well, being the center of attention can be exhausting sometimes,” Klavier quipped back easily. “But I couldn’t help but notice we had one straggler sitting by himself in the corner. One with a very noticeable furrow in his very noticeable brow.”

“I do not—My forehead isn’t—I’m not the only one sitting out,” Apollo snapped back.

“Oh? But even Herr Blackquill is killing it on the dance floor.”

They both turned. Simon Blackquill stood in the center of the dancefloor, unmoving save for his arm that was being forcibly jerked around by Athena.

“...Well he’s at least participating,” Klavier amended.

“Yeah, well, I don’t dance,” Apollo said.

“Nonsense, you’ve been bouncing your head to the music this whole time!” A grin. “You’re doing it now, actually.”

“Wh—” Apollo went rigid. Oh god, he had been swaying to the music, hadn’t he? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Forehead, live a little.”

“I’m fine where I am now,” Apollo said. “By myself. With my Shirly Temple.”

“Ach, but we all know Frauline Temple loves to dance. How can you deny her that?”

“Wh—No, that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Come on, Herr Forehead, it’s a party!” Klavier leaned in close, grinning, his shirt dipping low on his chest and making Apollo’s throat go dry. “If it helps, I’d be happy to dance with you. We all know all eyes will be on me.”

“Oh, how kind of you,” Apollo muttered, eyes narrowing.

“Well what kind of celebrity would I be without the occasional charity?”

“Charit—What’s that’s supposed to mean?!” Apollo snapped.

“Oh? You don’t need my help and guidance in tearing up the dance floor?”

“Of course not!” Apollo snapped. “I can dance perfectly fine without y—” He cut himself off, but already Klavier’s smug grin had turned wolfish. A hand reached out, grabbing Apollo’s wrist and pulling him from his seat.

“Achtung! Well then, show me what you’re made of!”

Apollo yelped as he was tugged toward the crowd. And before he could make another protest, suddenly Athena and Trucy had grabbed onto him with a cheer.

“Apollo, there you are!”

“Come on, come on!”

“Wait, wait, I didn’t—” But already he was being swept along, with only enough time for a single glare over his shoulder as Klavier waved goodbye.

It…well okay, it wasn’t bad, per se. It was hot, and loud, and everyone was moving. But Athena was jumping up and down, hollering the words to the songs and Trucy had pulled glowsticks from somewhere and everyone was smiling and laughing, and somewhere in that mess of noise and movement Apollo found himself laughing too, swept up in the inertia of it all.

Until suddenly, the music slowed. Apollo blinked, head reeling as suddenly the crowd seemed to shift. The jumping was done, the laughing and the cheering. People began to move, some grabbing partners, some stepping away to grab their drinks.

Well, decided Apollo, that was enough dancing for at least another decade. Taking a gulp of air, he turned to head back to his seat.

And promptly walked directly into Klavier Gavin’s chest.

“Care for a dance, Herr Justice?”

“Wh…?” But Klavier was holding out a hand with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, and maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe Apollo still needed to hit a bad idea quota that night, but he said, “F-Fine, but just one dance,” and took the offered hand. And Klavier’s face lit up.

He didn’t recognize the song. It was probably something sappy from the early 2010s, the happy couple seemed like that would be their kind of thing. Klavier tugged Apollo forward, hands finding Apollo’s waste as he began to sway.

Apollo swallowed. Was this weird? Was this going to come off the wrong way? What way was it even supposed to come off as?

“Why so stiff all of a sudden?” Klavier asked.

“S-Sorry,” Apollo stammered. Then, “Wait, no, why am I apologizing?! This was your idea!”

“Ja, very true,” Klavier laughed. “Well, perhaps I should dip you? Maybe that’ll help loosen you up.”

“Wha—don’t you dare—!” As Apollo jerked back, he felt his feet get caught on each other. And then suddenly he was horizontal, Klavier steadying him.

“Are you sure?” Klavier asked. “I could always drop you instead.”

“Don’t you dare!!”

Klavier laughed, carefully hoisting Apollo back upright.

Apollo stumbled into him as he righted himself, finding himself laughing weakly. And then suddenly, he found himself face-to-face with Klavier.

For a moment, time just stopped. They stared at each other. Apollo could see Klavier’s eyes flicker down to his lips.

“Ach, mein apologies, Herr Forehead, I—“

And then, well, maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe Apollo still needed to fill his bad idea quota for the day, but he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Klavier’s mouth.

There was a second when nothing moved. Then Apollo jerked back, hands whipping away like they’d been burned.

“Uh. I.” A beat. “…oops.”

“Oops?!” A shocked, crooked, genuine grin cracked across Klavier’s face.

“I didn’t…I drank too much.”

“You were drinking Shirly Temples.”

“Mmhmm.” He turned away in a daze as the song melded into the next one. “Cool. See ya.”

“Apollo—“

“Happy wedding, Mr. Wright,” Apollo called, before quickly ducking into the closest bathroom.

[ghostymarni]

aaaahh!! @blackseakraft ✨🤩 tysm for the tag! Its an honor to get to know you, thank you for sharing ☕️

what’s the origin of your blog title: caf enthusiast to express my adoration for my favorite commander. for my username, I was an addictive overwatch player for 9 years since 2016. I’m a support player + a sniper, but during a Halloween event one of the icons was a ghosty pachimari, so I took ghostymari + added a letter for my name <3

OTP + ship name: I have too many

favorite color: black + dark green

favorite game: bioshock, overwatch, elder scrolls online, jedi fallen order, fallout 4 mostly for the music.

song stuck in your head: “if it doesn’t hurt” by nothing more

weirdest habit/trait: idk I’m just weird + chaotically sad?

hobbies: art, photography, home decorating, fashion (when I’m not being lazy), dancing (swing dancing, line dancing, + just going ham in a club dance floor 🦇🖤⛓️)

if you work, what’s your profession: I was hesitant on sharing because being vague makes me feel safe, but was like WHY NOT?! I’m a designer + co-account manager for hot topic at an apparel company. I used to have Spencer’s + Spirit Halloween under my umbrella before the company expanded. If you shop those stores you may have seen my terrifier Spencer’s collection last year ;)

if you could have any job you wish, what would it be? I’d live in the middle of the woods in a house built of stone and wood by the local lumberjack. I’d become a spinster, living off my garden, animals, + survival stock. a witch. I’d be a witch.

something you’re good at: sarcasm + dark humor

something you’re bad at: uuuhhhh taking my own advice

something you love: my kid

something you could talk about for hours, off the cuff: clones, universe conspiracies, you know, normal stuff.

something you hate: people who lack common sense

something you collect: right now it’s star wars in universe home items, mid century 60s-80s vintage + new inspired home decor/furniture

something you forget: everything. adhd is fun.

what’s your love language: acts of service, but mostly anything that doesn’t involve me telling someone to do something. If someone goes out of their way to do something just because they care, I take that so hard. I just don’t ask for anything + I don’t expect anything either.

favorite movie/show: star wars, the munsters, addams family, repo the genetic opera, greatest showman, red vs blue, the office, parks + rec, hubie halloween, sense + sensibility etc

favorite food: sushi mostly, but I just really enjoy asian food

favorite animal: I have a cat, so cat? we used to have ferrets, so I really like those too.

what were you like as a child: too obedient, I grew up in a religious cult; I turned out fine.

favorite subject at school: art. I had everything from extra art classes, photography, + even retook humanities because I loved the history + my favorite teacher was a plus.

least favorite subject at school: math

what’s your best character trait: traumatic sarcasm

what’s your worst character trait: goldfish brain, I promise I just get so distracted or forget stuff. Out of sight out of mind; I work too much.

if you could change any detail of your life right now what would it be? grim truth: I’d want to bring back my late husband but I know better than to mess with time or the balance of the universe. allons-y!!!

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? alan rickman. Idk how, but I’d do it.

@lonewolflupe @eclec-tech @badbatchposts @wings-and-beskargam @returnofthepineapple @jetii @baddest-batchers I’m always down to learn more about everyone if you wanna share. Respect if you don’t <3 vode please feel free to join in if you haven’t been tagged too

Get to know your mutuals!

What's the origin of your blog title? When I was in middle school, someone told me "you dress so goth, but your personality is so happy. You're like a really cheerful grim reaper. A joyful soul collector." And that's been my username for most everything ever since!

OTP(s) + Shipname: Oooh, right now it's Jayvik, and tbh I can't think of another one, this is one of the first ships I've been really really into tbh. Other dynamics focused on my blog have actually been more platonic, like Irondad

Favorite color: Red!

Favorite game: Dungeons and Dragons! Both as a player, and DM!

Song stuck in your head: The Challenge - EPIC

Weirdest habit/trait? I download thousands of still frames of tv shows that I love so I can make memes out of them. But I have to sift through and delete all the pictures that are blurry or unnecessary, which takes hours. I think it's super fun because I'm autistic and really enjoy sorting stuff lol

Hobbies: Writing, playing DnD, making memes, and hanging out with my friends!

If you work, what's your profession? Not so much a profession lol, I work at a toy store. It's a part time job while I'm in college, studying to be a radiologist!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Realistically? Radiologist. But ANY job I wish? Professional DM or Professional DnD player, like the people on Dropout or Critical Role haha

Something you're good at: I'm good at writing stories! I can write them well and write things that make people feel deep emotions, and I like that.

Something you're bad at: Recognizing when someone doesn't want help haha. I tend to try and fix things or help people when they just want to vent, and it ends up frustrating for both of us.

Something you love: I love stories. Any kind, I love so so many

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: My favorite shows and stories, my dnd campaigns and characters, my stories and ideas

Something you hate: Fascism. Bigotry. Willful ignorance. Fearmongering. Propaganda.

Something you collect: Dice!! I'm a dice goblin for sure haha

Something you forget: I often forget chores unfortunately

What's your love language? Physical touch and acts of service

Favorite movie/show: Ooh right now it's definitely Arcane haha

Favorite food: Sushi!

Favorite animal: Cats!

What were you like as a child? In a word? Unwell haha. I'm a good bit better now, still struggling with a lot, but better than I used to do

Favorite subject at school? English, I was always good at that class

Least favorite subject: Chemistry. I hate that shit so much lol

What's your best character trait? I think that I'm kind and willing to stand up for others

What's your worst character trait? I can be disrespectful to some types of spirituality unfortunately. It just doesn't make logical sense to me. I have two friends that are fully convinced that a cursed doll gave some youtuber testicular cancer. And I just can't see the logic or critical thought in that

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? Mmm. All of fascism shit is definitely damaging my calm so I'd love to change that specifically

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? Harry Allen. Google him he's a badass transgender cowboy

Tag as as many mutuals as you want!!

@sb-essebi @glitternightingale @blatterpussbunnyfromhell @captainhollowstories @kydrogendragon @misforvendetta @poetryinmotion-author @bocularteletheric @kai-ovillager @thatoneneuvichiliauthor @4amarcanethoughts @alexspearsxoxo @kotonni @buckybucananbarnes @kakesuwolf @martybaker @patheticjayce @sleepycrowhours @aixabi @up-the-bracket @snoopyviktor @emdashflower @humanshapedstress @hellsalore @juuzousmom @softandslow @fangirlshenanigans04 @batmans-attic @lvrstrsh @bluemoyai @tearexxwrites @bodyofvvater @lifeandeathepub @areesespiece @lancesblueazaleas @monaisme @milkywaysipper @carmendyy @tseecka @heazueken @tophat-69 @velocitychroma @prjctdiva @gremlinofchaos @ourvectorviktor @kenjinx @jxmimac @gh0stedvhampir @voxconcordia @arcaneheraldslawyer

ngl I tried to tag ALL my mutuals that I have, but this was how many it allowed me to do before it made me stop lol so here's as many as I could fit!

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

https://www.tumblr.com/tlirsgender/741710503077871616?source=share

This is such a braindead take on radical feminism. It almost makes me want to terf out on main to clown on this idiot.

first of all she is white by own admission

secondly she is literally the one regurgitating online talking points lmao. not like she came up with the „terfs are white supremacist“ bullshit. which makes no sense because racism and white supremacy are hindering female class consciousness which is what radical feminism is all about - and radical change dismantling the system instead of working within the system. which is why we are against prostitution while these people want prostitution to be liberalised and regulated. who really hates women?

now of course im checking the blog and completely unsurprisingly this is a fandom blog, where is the gendie generator.

love how she is white and says „white western conception of gender roles“ like men of colour dont also use religion to enforce strict, oppressive and misogynistic gender roles

i call female virgin socialised on tumblr anyone else wanting to place their bets?

„as if being just a woman is original“

she almost had me here

of course we have the usual dig against „assimilated gays“ and also calling kinks just being horny

and my absolute favourite is their top post: chocolate is the same as porn!

im almost proud i never saw her blog before but im already blocked

[screeching-painter-witch]

imagine you get a fancy new job and move into a fancy new neighbourhood. you want to meet people so you join a local book club. it is hosted by yue qingyuan and shen jiu

[xxplastic-cubexx]

From the same Storm mini-series 🥹

THE FAM 🥺

[fox-guardian]

Im so glad you also think the "sorry you had to draw [name]" comments are annoying 😭 like come up with a better bit pls. I almost prefer the jimmy nickname jokes over those comments

"sorry you had to draw jimmy" on a post with. 6 different drawings of jimmy (and a bonus mini one). like If I Didn't Want To Draw Him. I Wouldn't Have Done It Several Times In A Row. Did I At Least Draw Him Well.

[alfhildr-the-word-weaver]

I got thinking too much about Marwa from What We Do in the Shadows again and how she was canonically making observations of Jupiter and Saturn in the 1200s. Then I thought about how Elena took Damon to go watch a meteor shower, and I decided that Marwa and Elena should get away from all the vampire drama B.S. in their lives and go nerd out about astronomy together, and this moodboard sort of happened. I also thought about how Elena becomes a doctor and went ah, they are both women in STEM! So I ran with that as a theme too.

But yeah, Marwa needs a friend who will actually support her interests and engage with her intellectually (no shade to Nadja and the Guide, I'm glad they had a fun weekend watching Mamma Mia together which was literally the only time we got to actually see Marwa happy onscreen, but they have never demonstrated much interest in science that I can recall and I want Marwa to have an astronomy buddy), and I think Elena would be fascinated by her and her perspectives on astronomy from centuries ago, and they could learn about modern astronomical advances together. If I find the time and energy I might even write fic about it, but for now, here is a moodboard so that we can all bask in the vibes of my beautiful crossover vision together.

Image sources: x x x / x (the first frame of x gif + a screenshot from x) x / x + x x x

[3416]

the thing is, i wouldn't be nearly as bothered about mitch not being on the top line if it wasn't being treated as some kind of proof that he's never been good enough to play there and that it hurts the team or drags auston down when he does. i don't care about domi ultimately, he's an effective player (when he's not taking boneheaded penalties) and obviously it helps to spread out our best guys to make each line that little bit harder to play against by forcing the other team to decide how to matchup. whatever. i don't agree with keefe's choices there but i get the intent.

what i do care about is one of the best players this franchise has ever seen being treated like some kind of anchor holding the team (and auston specifically) back from achieving greatness and using domi's success with auston (BECAUSE of auston tyvm) to paint him as some selfish jealous (genuinely wtf @ this fanfiction in particular coming from an actual media guy) brat pouting over being ~demoted~ when he's never not done what has been asked of him (which is literally fucking everything) and has always been fully on board any time he's been paired with johnny!! or anyone else!! like these are all mitch's guys!!! he loves them and this team /so much/!!!! like i genuinely can't imagine the list of things he loves more than being a leaf is very long

i'm just so tired of so many (non-tumblr) fanspaces being dominated by people who have made an entire personality out of treating him like one of the worst things that's ever happened to the leafs (and, again, auston specifically) because idk they hate his dumb dad (welcome to the club weirdos!!!) and/or can't "forgive" him for his contract. even the critique of him in the playoffs is overblown in comparison to the rest of the team and the goalposts for what it means to be a ~playoff performer~ always seem to find a way to shift as needed to single him out as some kind of unique failure among the group which.. rme for all time

anyway sorry for venting lmao it's just such a bummer but WHATEVER here's to mitchell daniel marner having the best damn playoffs of his damn life!!!!!!!! go leafs go

ohhh anon. so many things i can (and will) say here, but you and i are totally on the same wavelength, lol. that's what has made this stretch so much worse imo... auston on a hot streak with two mid guys and workable chemistry (for now) all around, and we try spreading out the "offense" but actually... for the leafs... i think spreading the offense is less what we're doing w 1634 and more... shifting defensive responsibility off of our 'top' line and giving them easier matchups by putting the tougher ones with the mcmann-jt-marner line bc mitch is there now to take on some more defensive responsibility that isn't doable by players like willy/whoever else plays rw there. (which annoys me in it's own way bc it makes the 'top' line look more impressive stat wise while not even dealing with the most dangerous 'top' line on the other team, lol but.. it's still gonna require auston to be On Top of it all the time bc he's by himself defensively.. only reason it annoys me is the discourse afterward too like anyway). mitch and auston are our best all around players by quite a bit, lol, so i get WHY splitting them up works well too, but when people get mad that they're together so much... when they've proven to work better and be more dangerous year after year as a duo... i mean, peoples anger should be at the rest of the lineup that sometimes doesn't pull their own weight in that regard, lol. i get the experiment we're running rn. i'm not confident it will work, but we will see. i don't care if it does or doesn't... doesn't change the fact that ultimately, i know they want to play together the most and that hasn't changed bc of some randos that came in this year so. i genuinely think auston requests to play with mitch often after not being allowed to for a couple years, and this year he's sucking it up for the playoffs and trying something different for the sake of the team.

as for the way a lot of people treat mitch as expendable... it's so frustrating to me too... just the double standards abt him vs anyone else are insane. even tonight, seeing people lose their fucking minds over max reposting a fan's hype video without credit and assuming he made it (?? lol) and drooling all over themselves about how he "has the passion", but like... mitch had a video made last year and people were telling him to get off social media and perform better in the playoffs in the exact same spaces like. if he even comes on social media near the playoffs, it's always just hateful. honestly.... so many leaf fans don't deserve him and don't deserve to see a cup in their entire lifetimes either, lol. it makes my relationship with this team so much more complicated to have such a hate for the fanbase like that. like . this year, i just care so much less about the team as a whole too. i'm less connected to the overall results, lmao. i love the leafs and want my guys specifically to be able to win the cup in their lifetime more than anything, but i realllyyy don't care about some of these ppl on our team and i hate how the worst fans in this fanbase feel so vindicated over the dumbest ugliest shit. like i'd give anything to not have to see braindead opinions for a single day. as much as i'm rooting for them, if this isn't the year... well. we move, lol. i wouldn't die! (which is exactly why they'll prob do it this year lol) i'll feel competitive while watching the playoffs, esp vs the bruins, but like... whatever happens happens man. my men will be coming back and i hope some other ones won't, regardless of playoff results. sometimes it's even less about the player himself and more about the idiots attached.

all i literally care about this year is mitch's performance since we're going into a contract year for him. nothing he could possibly do would get people off his back but that, and somehow his points never seem to matter in the playoffs bc they're in games we're already winning ?? but yeah. the willy is our best playoff performer narrative makes me fucking laugh man........ like people will lower their standards and move their goalposts and do ANYTHING to make it seem like mitch is cancerous and the reason we keep losing and everyone else steps up when he doesn't and it's just a fucking lie. morgan is the only one with visible elevation in the playoffs imo, and . idk. maybe the way the team's structured rn and shifting players to different lines will work. maybe it won't. we won a round not doing it last year, so it's not like that's THE make or break thing and we haven't even seen this lineup play a single meaningful game in the last month fnlkdsjf or a singular playoff game so. it's all a LOT of big talk. at the end of the day.. if the leafs ever make it to the cup.. itll be 1634 passing it to each other and their names next to each other and that's all i want for them, honestly. leafs duo of all time regardless of the dumbasses the 23-24 season has emboldened.