#that fucking green bird /affectionate

[crxssposts]

need to tell you about him … he makes me feel so bad for him WHY ARE YOU CRYING STIOP IY ILL STARY CRYINF ILL DO THE LESSON PLEA

i am a weak little boy . duo is such a cheeky little guy .

btw old screenshot I’ve got . a 9 day streak now 😼😼

[the-monkeies-girl]

once again your honor i am a soft bitch and love it when people put their head on shoulders and new fucking CHARACTERS FOR ME TO WRITE? someone sedate me

Caesar's arms moved fluidly when he used signing. It was something that was hardly noticed by the other Apes but it always left you in a trance-like state as you gawked at how he formed words with the thickness of his touch. You knew how they felt against your skin, you knew how they felt inside of you as a lick of unexpected exhilaration toke note. Caesar noticed as he always did, your scent distinct and drove his other senses.

You wanted that now--- You wanted to be a part of Caesar in the most selfish of ways that were possible. How you... Always wanted that, tilting your heady body against his as the Ape King came to a slow stop with his silent verbiage to let another Ape of the Council speak.

It was a slow fall you had against him as it always seemed so diluted. Caesar accepted it in silence, Apes were known to be affectionate like this outwardly. There was quiet praise that you were falling suit into that tradition as his Mate. You can feel the fur of his bicep tickling at your face, rising and falling soothingly with his breathing as you came to rest your entire side against his own, head finding its resting place properly against his shoulder.

Soon he'll take you again once the meeting wrapped up and he could get you alone, Caesar promised with a shift in his position next to you to be more openly accepting of your heat against his fur coat.

Noa and you were always shoulder to shoulder when together, it felt almost as natural as breathing as your mirrored stares shot towards the horizon as it cusped upon the evening time. It was flushed water pastels against the sky and against the greens of the trees that controlled the outland of the Village. It aways reminded of Noa's eyes, sliding your glance towards him to admire his profile as if you did not know everything about it already. He was beautiful--- There was never any idea to deny that as Noa... Rivaled the sunset and the sunrise on a daily basis.

Soon, you would have to return to the busy nature of the Clan off in the distance, but for now, you were allowed to enjoy the moment of solitude with the Master of the Birds.

The way that the crisped Sun dialed itself away felt relaxing against your skin, feeling blazing as Noa's shoulder shifted to catapult a lingerance of tickling down your bicep. Smiling fondly, you tilted your entire body into his own and never once expected anything less than Noa to brace himself and hold you. He always would, you knew as you turned your head and placed a kiss against his shoulder cap before positioning your neck to rest your head against his shoulder. Noa looked at the crown of your head for a moment before tucking his nostrils in to get the waft of your scent that kept him going.

"A few more minutes?" You whispered to Noa and slid your eyelids shut.

"We can stay... Entire night... If you wanted to." He was hushed in tone right back, not wanting to ruin the moment as the words cascaded into your hair, muffled and adoring in all aspects.

Blue Eyes felt heavy as you rocked your own delicious body against his larger frame, able to substantiate your weight with only the help of his hands against the flare of your hips to help you stay positioned. Your hands carded into the fur of his upper arms as you rode down from the high of ecstasy. Carefully, he moved his long arms to cage you in against him, crushing your chest against his own and coming to fruition your forehead making sweaty contact with his own as you muttered what sounded like Blue Eyes' name for only the Ape Prince to enjoy.

There was hardened breathing on his side that seemed to tear into the healed and silver dripped scars against his chest, able to see the shift of your jugular that bounced as you lubricated your throat. With a drop of your neck forward and to the left, you pressed your head into the crook of Blue Eyes' neck, taking in the musk that clung to his fur.

He doesn't move, he keeps you against him as the Chimp falls into a more comfortable seated position with your face nestled into his shoulder. You were going to fall asleep, he knew that as he carefully propped his body against the rounded nest.

"'M so sleepy Blue..." The infliction in your voice was muddled as you captured a mouthful of the fur on his shoulder without recourse or regret. Blue Eyes chuffed at that and nodded. He'd always let you fall asleep on him as long as you were comfortable, Blue Eyes felt his own azure stare faltering as he pressed his flattened nose into your hair.

Koba was... Annoyed. Always, when watching you. You nearly slipped down the cliffside multiple times. Whatever you were wearing on your feet were not adequate for slick surfaces as were his dexterous feet. And it always brought more amusement by the delicate nature of which you held yourself, hand against the growing bump that was no doubt causing issues with your center of gravity.

Koba's hackles against his shoulders and down his spine rose out of innately sickened pride that he planted that for you, that you were suffering through even the most eased movements because you chose him to Mate with and you were carrying what little kindness Koba had to offer in the first place.

You were slow; slower than he cared to admit as a small hiss wrecked from his ajar mouth, the vibrations vivid against his glistening canines as you were suddenly picked up. Blinking, your line of vision came face first into the darkened and mildly thinned shoulder of Koba as you were twisted not-to-kindly onto the less steep ground in front of him with another growl.

"Useless Human. Cannot even... Walk!"

Before you could mutter even a thank you, Koba was stalking away on all fours, quickened in pace as he did not want anyone else of the Colony to see him in a slacked moment of vulnerability. You knew though--- And that was enough to capture a smile against your cheeks.

Ash had always been quiet. Not that it was a problem, you quite enjoyed the longer afternoons that you spent with him, Blue Eyes and River at the water of the river near the Colony. Away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life around the business of the other Apes, there was a minored sanctuary from that as you watched as Ash crouched beside you, hand flying at a slightly slower pace to help you as you were still rudimentary at best with understanding the language. 'Caught a lot... of Fish today?'

"Only two, not very big."

You smiled shyly at that, admiring the way that his darkened body properly sat down next to your own and left a plume of Earthly sent to waver in the air. He was afraid to make eye contact with you and opted to stare outwards towards Blue Eyes and River who were still knee deep in the water.

You were tired hence your perched position near the shoreline where the Ape decided to join. The sun spilt in the from the leaves above as you tilted your body towards his own with a small yawn, your head tipped against Ash's shoulder which he stiffened to. "I'm ready to head back, I'm so tired."

Ash felt his heart flutter that much faster with the action but let you rest against him regardless. He... Liked the feeling and didn't want it to stop as the Chimp shuffled his shoulder to get himself into a more secured position.

Based on River and Blue Eyes, you were going to be there for at least another thirty minutes and he wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, that beating in his chest subsiding into something greater against his diaphragm when you nuzzled further in as you smiled at the acceptance that Ash showed you.

Anaya liked mangoes. Well--- The ape thought to himself, his stare admiring the ripened fruit that was between his already sticky fingers and one fowl swoop, Anaya tucked his tongue between them to card away the mess. Any sort of fruit was a pleasure to him as he ripped at the skin to get more of the pulp that lay inside.

You had been watching him with bated interest in the fruit from the log that you were sitting on, having already finished your meal as there was nothing in your wickered bowl. Setting that down quietly, you dropped onto your knees and scooted toward Anaya and playfully put your face into the crook of his neck so you could look down at the mango he was also admiring, facing in the same direction.

"That looks really good." You muttered into the shell of his ear and the Chimp felt the fur along his spine rise from the sudden closeness you presented to him. "Echo mistake to not take one before Anaya..." He turned his head slightly, muscles in his neck shredding so he could look at you as you drew into a seated position behind him, your head still resting on Anaya's shoulder longingly, "took them all."

"Not even a bite for your favorite Echo?" Anaya chewed pensively for a moment before a smile tore against his face as he drew more of the pulpy goodness between his blunted teeth, "May take bite... From Anaya mouth, if you want."

Luca had to be the definition of a gentle giant though you doubted that anyone of the Colony would understand the meaning of the phrase in the same way that you did as a Human. Even now as the two of you were seated by the sweeping bonfire of the Colony, he was as quiet and considerate of your presence.

He did not speak often; opting to use signed words which were never a problem. He had been teaching you a few phrases to help your communication barrier. The Gorilla looked down at you with an intense stare as you beamed a smile right back up at him after completing the mirrored word Luca showed you.

"Huh... So that's the sign for shoulder? I thought it was going to be hard." There was a joking tone in your voice as you spoke to the great Ape.

'Told... tiny human was... very easy.' The chortle and huff from deep in his chest was delicious and sent a vibration through your own chest as a result of your judgement free proximity. You always liked the dubbed nickname he gave you as you drifted your body in a bit closer to his overwhelming body heat.

Slowly, you signed once again; the word that was taught. 'Shoulder' and did your best to lean into that body part of Luca's as emphasis and to cure the desire you had to see just how smoothed and softened his body was. You knew he had muscles, but they themselves called attention at the broadness and openness of which Luca held himself when he was with you. It was difficult, but the affection was accepted as you more or less pressed your body weight into his bicep, that itself being the size of your head.

"Okay, well...How do you sign... Arm?" Your eyes were ample to watch Luca raise his hand in your line of vision to repeat the process again.

[petalsthefish]

“I need you to do me a favor.” Lily Evans never knew how quickly the sound of her voice made his heart race with anticipation.

James Potter glanced up from his homework, hastily scribbled during his break on a bench in the courtyard. The autumn leaves cascaded around, creating a picturesque scene behind his girlfriend, whose hair glistened like the fiery foliage in the sunlight. With a quick motion, James tucked his quill behind his ear, took her hand, and guided her to stand between his legs.

“Of course, what do you need?" He extended his hand to trace her freckles. She was so accustomed to his closeness that she didn't even flinch as his fingertips brushed against her face, rekindling a familiar fire in his belly.

She chewed on her bottom lip adorably, like she was contemplating something, before she stated firmly, “I need you to get detention.”

James raised a brow at her with disbelief and let out half a laugh. “Are you asking me to break the rules?”

A surge of excitement tingled through him. Lily usually upheld maturity and morals, often emphasizing the need for school leaders to maintain a higher standard of behavior. Sirius dubbed it a constant high horse, whereas Lily favored the term confident leadership. James leaned more into Sirius’ path, but he knew as head boy he really ought to not be a hypocrite.

Sometimes though, detention was inevitable.

Lily settled onto his right knee, her arm draping his shoulder casually as she implored, “I am begging you actually, because I heard Mulciber is the prefect covering detention and I don’t want to be stuck in a room for an hour with him…he creeps me out.”

“Why are you stuck with Mulciber?” James asked as his finger twirled a bit of her hair, “it’s Friday, you have off from head duties.”

Lily’s green eyes rolled back to emphasis her annoyance, “no, I don’t, I have detention.”

James nearly choked on his own spit from surprise, “wait, you have detention? How?”

“I told Professor Kettleburn to fuck off,” she said it so nonchalantly, he actually let out a little laugh as she continued, “I told him to fuck off because he was telling everyone werewolves are low life bums who deserve to rot in Azkaban.”

That struck a nerve. James knew why it had annoyed Lily too. Their best friend Remus was a werewolf. Kettleburn knew that too, all the teachers did. Only a few of the students were aware why Remus looked so sickly and stayed aloof unless he was with his friends. For Kettleburn to outright say those things in class knowing there was a werewolf at Hogwarts—James’ blood boiled at the thought of the sick intentions behind the lecture.

James gently pushed Lily off and stood up, “Well, I’ll be right back.”

Lily got a dejected look as she took his spot on the bench, “wait, where are you going?”

James pulled his sack up off the ground, stuffing his quill and notebook inside. “I’m going to put tiny dung bombs all over Professor Kettleburn’s office.”

Lily tilted her head, “but he’s probably in his office.”

“That’s the point.”

“He might murder you,” Lily said, “and I prefer my boyfriend alive, for snogging.”

He chuckled at her reasoning, cheeks warm as he thought of their last snog only that morning which had made them both miss potions. “I’m breaking a rule, like you asked me too do.”

“I mean Kettleburn would deserve it,” Lily murmured as she examined chipped paint on one of her fingernails, “he’s a miserable old ass.”

James leaned down to kiss her cheek swiftly as he heaved his bag onto his left shoulder, “I’m killing two birds with one stone love, see you at five for detention!”

He leaned back just in time to watch the diamonds in her green eyes light up. She ruffled his hair in an affectionate manner before he stood up straight.

“It’s a date,” she mused, “we can snog the whole time and piss Mulciber off.”

James cackled as he sauntered off, grateful he had three dung bombs left in his school bag’s back pocket from when he’d set some off in Ravenclaw’s locker room at quidditch. They would work nicely. Aware of the inquisitive eyes on him, he pulled one of the bombs out, ignoring the titters of the portraits watching him. Any students he passed saw the look in his eyes and kept running.

The bell for class would ring in five minutes, so he had to be quick and efficient. He took a shortcut through the bougainvillea portrait, arriving at Professor Kettleburn’s office in record time. Kettleburn was at his desk, ready and available to be rained on by dung bombs.

James knew he wouldn’t get his homework done at all now, but he was doing his girlfriend a favor, and who was he to say no to a little mischief?

[mlmxreader]

Big Boy | König x m!reader

Anonymous asked: Ooohhh König with a short boyfriend? Someone jokingly asks about the height difference and his bf says “I have to climb him like a damn tree every time I want a kiss, it’s annoying.” And König’s like “you can ask me to bend down, you know.” “Nah, you’re my personal jungle gym.”

summary: König loves his pilot boyfriend, even if he is a bit of a pain.

tws: swearing, smoking

König was a lot taller than you, and although you did love him ever so dearly, you had to admit: it could be a pain in the backside and a half to be physically affectionate sometimes. But you made it work, and although some of your fellow pilots in the RAF did tease you for it, it was all in good nature and was not anything other than banter.

Often, when you were off of work for a while König would come home with only one thing in mind: cuddling you; he loved how you seemed to fit so well in his embrace, your head on his chest as he laid a large hand between your shoulders and an arm around your waist while some old song by Sodom or Slayer played quietly, too tired and worn out to talk, too overwhelmed with seeing you at last to even consider opening his mouth, he always kissed you too much for that.

But his favourite thing by far was when he would come to the air field; he loved to watch you land your plane - the Red Kite - while Perveen, Bashar, Pahwa and Cohen landed behind - their planes being the Golden Eagle, Peregrine Falcon, Red Tailed Hawk and Bearded Vulture respectively. What made König love it so much though was not the planes themselves or how they were painted to look like the birds they were named after, but it was how you reacted to seeing him stood on the tarmac.

Without fail, he would bring a thermos of your favourite coffee and would have two cigarettes ready to be smoked; when you first became his boyfriend, you said once that you loved a coffee and a smoke when you landed, and König never forgot.

He was dressed down as he stood on the tarmac, a camo print hoodie in dark green and trousers of the same, but sporting a bright orange beanie hat. If he remembered correctly, you had gotten that hat for him for his birthday as a present a few months after you first started dating, the thought of which made him smile as he felt the rain gently tap, a warning that it was about to start pouring.

Although it was going to be awful, the weather was actually on König's side, as it had meant an early return for the pilots who had been out on a training exercise, it meant his boyfriend would return early.

He watched the Red Kite eagerly, and when it came to a full stop and you climbed out, he grinned.

"Ah, fuck! Shit! Shit! Fucking shit! Why'd it have to fucking rain right as I fucking-" your little rant of complaints came to a halt when you saw König.

A grin spread across your features, and you quickly made your way towards him, running until you crashed right into his body, pressing your face against him as you tightly held onto him. "Hi, Maus."

König eagerly returned the embrace as he smiled. "Hallo, mein geliebter... bist du gut?"

You nodded. "Now I got you, yeah... ich bin sehr gut... und du?"

"Ich bin super," he admitted, unable to stop grinning as he held you tightly. "Wie war dein Flug?"

You shrugged. "Okay... fuck, I missed you."

He gently pulled back, and when you jumped into his arms to kiss him, he couldn't help but to laugh softly; kissing you back eagerly before he gently set you down again, resting his forearm on your head.

"Hey, (y/n)!" Parveen called, grinning from ear to ear. "How'd you kiss him?"

You shrugged, waiting for him to get closer before you dared to answer, "how'd you think? I have to climb him like a damn tree every time I want a kiss, it's annoying as fuck, mate."

König looked down at you for a moment, his brows furrowing. "You can ask me to bend down, you know, Bärchen."

Gently, you tapped his stomach as you shook your head. "Nah, you're my personal jungle gym... besides, it's like a positive reinforcement thing."

He cocked his brow, trying not to smile as he let his hand slip to your shoulders, resting between them as he slowly moved his thumb up and down, letting you lean into him. "You could still ask me to Kuss you."

"I'd rather not," you shook your head, licking your lips as you smiled. "It's more fun this way."

"Why don't you just punch him in the stomach?" Perveen jokingly asked. "That'll make him bend down."

König glared at the Squadron Leader. "Don't encourage him, bitte."

You were about to open your mouth, let off some smart ass comment, when König shoved his hand into his pocket, and gave you a cigarette and a lighter; he bent down, picked up the thermos, and held it out for you, doing his best not to smile when you eagerly lit up your cigarette and held it between your lips as you opened the thermos and let the stench of coffee hit you.

Sure, you could be a pain, you could be a nightmare, but König adored you, and he honestly couldn't wait until he had you back home; he couldn't wait to feel you in his embrace and to hold you so tightly, bouncing on his heels slightly as he waited for you to smoke your cigarette and drink your coffee. He knew you loved and needed it.

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

[fazedlight]

Tattoos (fluffy supercorp ficlet, post-6) “The wild days of youth,” Lena said jokingly, holding out the to-go box of potstickers to Kara from her comfy seat in the Tower. “I just didn’t want to stop.”

“What was the appeal?” Kara asked, reaching for a potsticker with her fingers, popping it into her mouth as Lena pulled the box back.

Lena smiled in amusement. Classy as always, she thought, as she reached for her chopsticks. “I suppose it was just… the expectations. A Luthor should not be so uncultured.”

Kara was making small grabby fingers, so Lena rolled her eyes affectionately, passing the box of potstickers before reaching for the pan-fried green beans. Kara popped another potsticker in, her voice muffled from the food. “So it was an act of rebellion?”

Lena hummed. “My arm tattoo was first, the day I turned eighteen. A simple bird, something that could fly - it always seemed like freedom to me. Same reason I got my pilot’s license.”

“What came next?” Kara asked curiously, curling up on her spot on the couch.

“I went big. The ‘Purity’ script on my back.” Lena smiled, somewhat embarrassed. “It was kind of an ironic tramp stamp. I wasn’t as, uh, extroverted as some of my friends. Veronica was kind of wild at parties.”

Kara laughed. “And then the circles?”

Lena grew pensive for a moment, before nodding. “Lex turned the sun red, and I… just couldn’t breathe. I found myself thinking about my mom a lot.”

“Your mom?” Kara said gently, pausing from her food to look up.

“She… talked a lot, about past, present, future. It’s one of the few things I remember her saying.” Lena glanced down at her wrist, where three circles of growing sizes lay in a line. “I just wanted to commemorate that. That whatever I was going through now, I would be able to get past it.”

“Oh, Lena,” Kara said, a little sadly.

“It was a long time ago, Kara,” Lena said emphatically, her voice… perhaps a bit contemplative, but content. “Things are better now. You make things better.”

Kara smiled softly for a moment, before wondering out loud. “And the pain didn’t bother you?”

“Not really,” Lena said. “It hurt, but it was… meditative? Something to focus on, when I needed to distract myself.”

“That makes sense,” Kara said thoughtfully. The two glanced at each other, before quietly resuming their meal.

Lena reached over for a paper napkin, smiling in a bashful way that crinkled her nose. “So am I the most tatted person you know?”

“Oh no, definitely not!” Kara said, as she popped yet another potsticker in her mouth, looking down into the container for her next one. “Kate has way more tattoos than you,” she muffled through her food.

Kate Kane? Lena thought, with a twinge of… something. She forgot that Kara had even met Kate before. “Oh really?”

“Yeah, like everywhere,” Kara said, reaching for the scallion pancakes. “She even has a dolphin on her butt. It’s super cute. Just don’t tell her I told you,” she said with a laugh.

And Lena’s mind froze. A moment passed, before it slowly started turning again. 

Kara- 

Kara has- 

KARA HAS SEEN KATE’S ASS?! 

“That’s nice,” Lena said tensely.

Kara glanced up from her food, examining Lena closely. “Are you okay?”

“Yup,” Lena said, failing to get the stiffness out of her voice.

Kara’s eyebrows crinkled in concern, as she set her food back down on the coffee table - a large feat, really, considering that there were still three potstickers left. “Are you- are you jealous of Kate?” Kara asked curiously.

I didn’t know you liked women, Lena thought desperately. Why didn’t I know? “It’s- I’m fine. It’s fine.”

Kara tilted her head. “You can always get more?”

“What- no, Kara, it’s not her tats I’m jealous of.”

Kara blinked. “Then what are you jealous of?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

Lena paused, taking stock of her options. Kara isn’t currently dating Kate, Lena thought to herself. That much was certain, Kara didn’t mention visiting Kate at all, and Lena was pretty confident that whatever they had before, wasn’t going on now. And it did mean that Kara was into women…

Maybe they had a chance? “I like you,” Lena said, trying to keep the grimace off her face. “Romantically, I mean.”

“Oh- wait- really?” Kara said, stuttering. “I’m not sure how that relates- I mean, I didn’t think you- I-” Kara coughed, pausing for a moment to clear her throat. “I like you too. Romantically.”

“Oh,” Lena said, her eyes widening as Kara smiled shyly. “That’s… that’s good.”

“Yeah,” Kara said, smiling softly. “I want to… take you out on a date?”

“I would like that,” Lena said.

Kara’s foot bounced, a nervous sort of excitement in her body, the two sheepishly resuming their meal, with the occasional warm glance, thoughts floating by their minds on what the future might hold.

Until, eventually, Kara’s expression grew a bit pensive. “What’s wrong?” Lena asked.

“Nothing!” Kara said. “I’m just not sure how we got here from talking about tattoos.”

“Oh, I… I just didn’t realize Kate was your ex, that’s all.”

“My ex?” Kara said, her eyebrows furrowing again in confusion. “Wait, I- you thought- oh.” “What?” Lena asked curiously.

“Lena, I-” Kara paused, holding back a laugh. “I saw her tattoos in battle. I needed to use my x-ray vision.”

“... Oh,” Lena squeaked.

[moonspirit]

that Eremika headcanon was everything, Eren would be so shy canonically. Like,,, touching??? Mikasa??? Is that even respectful??? Would his mother curse at him from the afterlife?? Meanwhile Carla in the afterlife shouting instructions on how to kiss.

But I bet he'd gradually learn how to do it and he'd want to do it more intensely, like hold her close, kiss her neck, but he'd stop on his tracks and think he's being a jerk for wanting to touch her. Meanwhile Mikasa is as red as her scarf and she fights not to crush him in a hug.

Hahaha xD its not even about respect anon, I think he just straight up doesn't know the ABCDs of romance and seXuAl connection that Grisha probably skimmed over sometime (but then quickly gave up cuz Eren was bored out of his mind thinking about being c a g e d - i n. So he taught Armin instead.)

Carla regrets everything. She's like: ಠ⁠︵⁠ಠ I did say my son was special for simply being born into this world but my god, he's a fucking IDIOT-

Listen tho, Cabin Eremika is where the spice is AT. Cabin Eremika don't just kiss and cuddle, they MAKE OUT. It does take a few tries tho. But gradually this illiterate (derogatory but affectionate) gets it!

Cabin Eremika is why the world looks so beautiful; blue sky, green grass, flying tatakae seagulls birds, butterflies, flowers....

[wannab-urs]

In The Next One

Summary/Warnings: Dieter thinks you’ve been together in every past life and he’s lost you every time. Vague-ish smut. There’s a thing with a knife, but no actual slicing lol. Graphic and explicit descriptions of mental illness, drug abuse, etc. Dieter does mild self-harmy things. Implied biting hard enough to break skin during one scene? And as always with my poor dieter baby, suicidal ideation… and more? Idk just be fucking careful with this one. Love y’all. (WC: 1550)

A/N: I went to a Boygenius concert and became immediately obsessed with We're In Love, Lucy's song about Julien. The whole past lives... to be known is to be loved... just the whole general vibe. It immediately made me think of my baby Dieter so here we go.

Series Masterlist | Dieter Bravo Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

Isn't it enough that we stripped down to our skin? Cold and porcelain like bathers in a painting

Dieter wraps his arms around you from behind. You’re chopping an onion to make dinner. He slips his hands on top of yours, holds the knife in your hands and chops with you. You tilt your head into his where it rests on your shoulder affectionately. You let him guide your hands for a moment. He keeps his grip on the knife, but drops your left hand, guides the knife to his left palm. You freeze, forcing his hands to stop.  

“Woah, Dieter. Babe. Stop. What are you doing?” 

“Blood Oath.” 

“Like that weird movie we watched? Son of Rambow?” 

You pull the knife from his fingers, set it on the cutting board, wrap his arms back around you. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles into your shoulder. “Like Son of Rambow. Just want you to know how much you mean to me. Want us to always be connected.” 

You turn to face him, press a thumb into both cheekbones. Your eyes burn and so do his, crying onion tears. You press a kiss to his torn lips.

“We don’t need that.”

 “You could ruin me, you know that? I don’t know if I can ever be without you.”

He pulls away from you. Fidgets with the rings on his fingers. Digs a hand into his hair and tugs hard. You step right back into his space, pull his hand out of his hair and right back around you.

 “Hey? Made for you. Remember?” You press your lips into his scruff covered jaw. Gently smooth his hair back out. Slip your hands over his shoulders and down his back. Pull him so hard into you it feels like you’re trying to mold him to your body. “I’m not going anywhere Dieter.” 

You pull his ugly sweater over his head. Set it gently on the counter. Toss your own t-shirt on the floor. Press your bare chests back together. Let him feel how real, how solid, how corporeal you are. All the way here even when he is not. You keep your bodies pressed together and pull him to the bathroom. Undress him fully and pull him into the shower with you. Forget about dinner and let him fill you instead. 

And I told you of your past lives, every man you've ever been It wasn't flattering, but you listened like it mattered

Dieter taps the ring on his middle finger against the glass mug of green tea in front of him. Chews his lips as he works up the nerve to tell you a theory he has. Something important. You have to know. 

You sit across from him, looking out the window. The park you spend so much time in just visible from your booth. You’re watching a pair of hummingbirds dance around each other. 

“Do you remember the night we met?” Dieter traces the triangle on his forearm instead of looking at you. You drag your eyes from the birds.

“Most of it. We were kind of fucked up, so the details are hazy. Why?” Your finger joins the path he traces on his arm, following just behind. He changes direction so your fingers bump each other at the highest point.

“I think we’ve always been together.” Dieter doesn’t elaborate. You’re used to his non sequiturs. He doesn’t have a train of thought so much as a shipping yard of them. A little maze like. Disconnected. You remember something you said that night. 

“I asked you why it felt like I’ve known you my whole life. And you said ‘Maybe you have.’” Drugs may have made you say it out loud, but you knew then just as much as you know now that you were made for each other. You had always known him, somehow. 

“I think, in all my past lives, I’ve had you and I’ve lost you.” Dieter pulls a piece of dead skin off his lip. Sucks the iron tang onto his tongue. “I think I’ve never known a life without knowing what it’s like to be without you. And I think it’s going to happen again.” 

He knows he’s been getting bad again. He broke your phone. He almost hurt you. He can’t figure out which thoughts are rational and which ones aren’t so he just drowns out all of them with all the drugs he can get his hands on. He isn’t so numb that he can’t see the way he’s hurting you though. He has to make sure you love him. He can’t fucking bear it if you don’t love him anymore. 

You dig a fingernail into wrist, make a crescent shape in the skin. He focuses on the tiny pain, lets his mind still. You press your lips into his palm and settle his hand on your cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere, Dieter. If I left you in my past lives it was all so I could find you in this one.”

Will you still love me if it turns out I'm insane? I know what you'll say, but it helps to hear you say it anyway

Dieter paints a portrait of you. He smears the canvas in cerulean, plum, vermillion. Vibrant colors that match your aura. You find him at the window, forming the shape of your lips with a thumb, brush between his teeth.

“Beautiful.” You whisper it into his neck. Drag your lips down the column of his throat. He pulls you into his arms, spits the brush to the floor. 

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

You look into his eyes, shining with tears but dulled by so much pain.

“No,” you lie. He looks away from you. A sob catches in his throat. He chokes on it. He knows he’s insane, knows he should try the hospitals again, knows that wouldn’t work. It never does. 

You pull him to the bedroom. You kiss the tears off his cheeks. You strip each other bare. You press your love into his skin with your lips, tongue, teeth. With your fingers and hands. You kiss him so hard it hurts. He slowly responds to your touches, the dull ache in his eyes fading to something deeper, open, vulnerable. He pushes inside you and stays there for a moment, relishing the fact that this is the closest he can be to you. You don’t try to make him move. Just pull him even closer to you. Wrap yourself around him and pull him close. He moves his hips shallowly, barely separating from you at all. Grinding into you. He devours your lips, your neck, your shoulder. You settle your teeth into the space where his neck meets his shoulder. Bite until you taste salt and iron. He wraps a hand in your hair and pulls your mouth to his. Buries himself in you with fervor now. Decides he’ll leave bruises inside you to keep himself there even when he’s gone.

In the next one, will you find me? I'll be the boy with the pink carnation pinned to my lapel

You’re snuggled up on your too small green couch. You’d had a huge argument. You had thrown buddha statues and crystals and incense holders at him and screamed that none of this shit was going to help him. He had to take his Fucking Medicine. 

He’d hurled his empty bottles of hydrocodone and oxycontin and xanax at you, like any of those were what he was supposed to take. Like any of that could help him. He’d dropped to the couch and curled into a little ball, his whole body shaking with sobs as he tore at his curls with trembling hands.

You had knelt on the floor next to him, pulled his hands away, cradled his head in your arms. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers into your chest. “I’m so sorry I’m fucked up again.” 

He buries his head deeper into your shoulder. You think he means he’s sorry his mental illness is acting up again. Or that he’s sorry he did too many drugs again. 

He means he’s sorry he came out wrong in this life just like all the other ones. You were made for him, but maybe he wasn’t made for you. Not this time and not all the times before and he won’t be next time and he can’t fucking take it. 

You climb up behind him. Press his deteriorating frame against you and try to pour all your love into him. Try to put him back together. You whisper to him about how much he means to you. That you won’t leave him. That you love him and just want him to feel better. 

He can’t be better though.

“I’ll try harder in the next life. I’ll try to be okay next time. I’ll be so good for you.”

“I’ll find you.” A promise you seal with a kiss to the crown of his head. If he finds you in the next life, you’ll take him as he is. You love him now and you always will. 

You drift off to sleep with your lips pressed into his hair. His breathing slows and slows and slows. 

I could go on and on and on and I will Go on and on and on until It all comes back

----

Series Masterlist

[lost-decade]

Just found the spreadsheet I created with the Wimbledon draw for my FE tennis AU and remembered I set myself the goal of finishing the damn thing by the end of actual IRL Wimbledon 2024. Which is not that far away fuuuuck. Also have two trips and busy times at work coming up

Someone make me start writing asap. Sharing a bit to hype myself up lol

It’s late afternoon by the time James is done with everything, thankful that he managed to dispatch Bird in just under two and a half hours after the epic battle he’d had with D’Ambrosio the other night. The air is still cloying as he makes his way to the Player’s Lounge, humid even though the weather has broken a little. The ground is damp, play suspended on the outer courts and the roof drawn over on Centre and Court One now. It must have tipped it down while he was in the presser.

The roof freaks him out, if he’s completely honest. This morning, before the match, he’d looked at the weather forecast and felt his stomach sink. There’s something claustrophobic about it, the lights, the echo, it never feels right, not here. It’s different in Melbourne, and at the US. Something about playing on Centre with the roof over sends his blood pressure into a spike, he’d almost prefer to go back to the old days of rain delays and endless waiting. Maybe that’s partly why he went out there with such ruthlessness today. Get it done.

He finds André in the Players’ Lounge, grazing on a salad and drinking a lurid green protein shake. “The King of the one-handed backhand,” he announces when he sees James. “Congrats man, that was a masterclass.”

“Thanks. Great win for you too, Frijns is a tough opponent. Still up for dinner later?” James asks, slipping into the seat next to him and popping the tab on a can of Coke Zero. André leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. “Yeah sure, Nobu or this…not much of a contest.” One of André’s favourite things to do at Wimbledon is to complain how the food in the restaurant isn’t as good quality as at Roland-Garros. James rolls his eyes but he’s eager to get out of here too. “I knew you were gonna win today, could feel it in my bones.” André drops his arm around James’ shoulder, giving him an affectionate squeeze.

“There’s life in the old knee yet.”

“They’re in a frenzy for you here you know,” André drawls, abandoning his salad with a face and pushing the bowl away. “You heard they’ve renamed the hill? It’s Rossiter Ridge now.” He dissolves into laughter, James following suit, hiccoughing into André’s shoulder. This is what he’s going to miss, almost as much as playing competitive tennis himself. How many people can say they get to travel the world with their best friend year after year. When he regains his composure and looks up, Pascal Wehrlein is scowling at them across the room.

“These young guys are so boring,” André complains, flipping his fellow countryman the finger as soon as Pascal’s back is turned. “Next Gen. I swear none of them know how to have fun anymore, media darlings with their entourages and Netflix documentaries. Half of them probably never got their dick sucked in their lives.”

“You’re still pissed off about that Laver Cup match last year I see.” James shakes his head, even though he does get it.

“He shouldn’t be in the Laver Cup if he doesn’t understand how a team works. That was the worst doubles match I’ve ever played in my life, it was a fucking nightmare. Anyway, been following this?” André points over to the TV. James shakes his head, looking up in time to see Jev hit a return wide, losing him the match. Mortara shakes his hand at the net before throwing his wristbands up into the crowd, the camera panning to Jev for a moment as he sits down at his bench gathering his things together. “Unfair that he looks so hot even when he loses,” André bemoans.

[witchofthesouls]

Can we pretty please have a little snippet featuring Unfathomable-humanformer!June who was once Megatronus, the Fallen Star? Who dreams the endless dream but ever so slowly is starting to wake up?

They who were of Primus but have dug down deep and found a place to belong in a wild, chaotic and savage world?

Can we hear of Jack, the last gift Solus ever gave?

(Ohhh, Unfathomable!June that was once Megatronus Prime would fuck up the bayverse, and it wouldn't be surprising if a child of Solus had a gift of prescience.)

_____

“They don’t like them,” Mikaela murmurs low in his ear, hiding it as a kiss. They’re pressed side-to-side and no one comments on the teenage lovebirds. “Watch close. Don’t be obvious.”

After the initial panicking and screaming, the company picnic is in full swing as the entire base was transported Elsewhere. There’s no difference between the sky and the leaves of the trees: so enormous that they dwarfed the aliens, the inky-black foliage is dotted by lanterns of starlight.

Mrs. Darby and Pilar are present along with the Foundation personnel. Some are human. Some are humanoid. Shadows not matching and shifting features, the subtle flicker of limbs in the corners of his eyes. Sam’s wholeheartedly sure that the other contractor’s cloth face is not a mask. The stitched smile and gleaming buttoned eyes are too unnerving with the yarn hair piled high.

A few of the personnel don’t care. A speaker that rivals the Optimuses’ height that moves as if gravity has no hold on their body, layers and layers of beautiful, rich robes with a veiled face, and the smell of license and decaying flowers. A living automaton, a self-declared Clockwork, taller than humans but shorter than Bumblebee, with several sets of multi-jointed arms and a gilded bird cage for a torso with live birds, gears clicking and chimes softly twinkling with birdsong from every movement.

Sam sees it, or he feels it. The lines are drawn in the sand. The tension beneath the calm picture. He thinks Agent Fowler knows it, too. 

(They’re so careful, Pilar and Mrs. Darby with a more human, softer face upon their metal bodies, but neither of them leaves the area, nor lets the kids out of sight.)

To a future of cooperation and security, the Head Speaker had said, and the buffet tables appeared without warning. Food for everyone, regardless of species.

But to secure what, he thinks.

________

Sam jumps out of his skin when he sees a sparkling -dark-framed and dark wings, it can only be Jack -in his designated space in the base. 

Blackbirds tilt their heads in his direction and there's an uncanny awareness in those beady eyes. The sparkling whistles and clicks like a bird and a few flap over to perch on his shoulders, chittering and croaking with affectionate pecks on the metal. 

"I like how you sound," answers Jack. “I like the songs.”

Sam has no idea what he’s talking about, but he isn’t surprised at this point. Their “new” arrivals aren’t as straightforward 

He peeks over a wing to see what the kid is drawing and it’s a mashup of things. Serpentine bodies and massive tentacles from a half-unfinished page with massive hands, different ones, rising between them. Bright armor with a burning sword. A black dog with burning coal for eyes. White trees full of eyes and porcelain masks upon feathered faces and bejeweled beaks. A girl set aflame in a yellow-red wash with a white-blue heart. A cross between monster and man, spider body taking several pages with limp hair pooling on piles of skulls and a wide jaw dripping venomously green.

“Jeez… You’ve been seeking to watch horror movies, haven’t you?”

The boy doesn’t answer for a beat, humming a tuneless song and those birds stare too closely at Sam. Jack sighs and turns to look at him with a mild expression, audials flicking.

"One day," Jack intones slow and sure, and Sam sees strange shapes flickering across his optics. "They will all wake up."

His hair raises and he's beyond unsettled, but the sparkling goes back to coloring the fantastical creatures and makes no mention of Sam leaving him.

__________

“Why are you here?” He asks Mrs. Darby, who’s puttering around in his kitchen.

“Visiting,” she replies airily. A pot boils on the stove and it smells delicious. His stomach growls, and her optics soften as she turns to ladle him a bowl. “Besides, your Bumblebee is getting worried. You haven’t returned for some time.”

It’s a stew and it’s brightly purple. He tucks into it because the Foundation will immune anyone to stranger things. “I’ve been busy with school.”

It’s not a lie. The words don’t sound hollow.

“Of course,” she hums and her words are gentle. “Education is very important.”

_____

“Parents worry. It’s their nature to fret over their children.” Mrs. Darby says, looming over his shoulder as he does math homework. “And they’re afraid.”

His skin pricks with goosebumps and he can hear his parents through the open window with their usual arguments over the garden. Sam looks up and stares into that knowing face for a long moment.

She hums and he feels rattled by her words, “That answer is wrong, Sam. Look here…”

His heart stops racing as she goes over formulas in an easier method to understand and she stays until he nearly finishes the last question.

“Are you afraid, too?” She breathes.

__________

(Mr. and Mrs. Witwicky have reasons why the Autobots should stay away. Some legacies are far too heavy to carry down.)

__________

(Some things change, but some remain the same.)

__________

Hanging in his peripheral vision is the indistinct form of Mrs. Darby. Her gaze is heavy and pitiless as he writhes in agony and terror beneath Megatron's and Scapel's hands.

< Here lies a choice. > The words vibrant in his head clearly, rattling his bones and his organs quiver. < What will you give to the fire to change this? >

He chokes on his tongue, words faltering, as the probe slithers its way down his throat and up his sinuses. The sinuous, metal feelers leave an icy-hot trail of its pathway within his body. Sam watches the very same sigils that haunted his waking moments flicker and sear over her frame and time simply stops-

Her jaw drops to the floor and within the chasm of her throat is the sharp cold of the ocean, the massive pressure squeezing his chest. Sam's plunged into the fathomless abyss and down in its depths, he sees life-

He sees the inevitable shifts of the world: the byplay between magma and lava on the mantle and forming the new crust, ocean currents cycling and cycling as it breathes and breaks across landmasses, and he's swept away in the flow of water, carried away and submerged into the patient rivers that carved down mountains. He seeps into the sand, melts across a hot sidewalk, and freezes in the massive hailstorm. He's the clouds and the rain and the steam that condenses on a mirror plane during a hot shower, the snowfall that sublimes in the desert, the nourishment of root systems, the glide over gills, the vapor on a living creature's exhale, the blood that pumps through hearts and muscles and sinew and coats teeth when a maw breaks flesh, and the groundwater that finds its way to geysers and hot springs.

Sam is everywhere and nowhere, and he can only drift farther  a-way  f-

              rom       him-      

self

-and he's cast into the ocean of deep space, the void entwined in the very fabric of the cosmos. He's the ice and gas and clay and dust and dust and dust and dust-

(-and the cycle restarts.)

He sees the death of countless stars, beyond beautiful in dying throes, and the birth of new galaxies between breaths; consuming black holes, the return to nothingness, and the ignition of raw power that sparks life; undiscovered, distant constellations so far, yet so close, their entire stories played in front of him in a bittersweet symphony; the origin of them all spanning across eons and the bizarre, untold connection between Cybertron and Earth, even in this dimension-

Sam is suddenly slammed back into his body, small and definite and contained in a physical form, weeping between the return of bodily agony as the music of the universe croons in his head and beckons him back into its never-ending dance of Eternity. A cool voice weaves into the tattered, leaking edges of his mind, buffering it against the cosmos, the sporadic jumps of the Allspark are made far tamer-

< I am the Shadow to the Light. The Void that walks upon this earth. The Madness that is within All. I touch everyone and everything and none can deny me and mine own. >

(and through his eyes, the Ancient Primes watch the alternative counterpart of their brother, the Fallen- a twice-fold god in another universe, the Shadow of the Thirteen and closest to the Unmaker by Primus; the Tempest, Typhoon, and Tsunami by Earth, champions a mortal with the bloody blessings of Daughter).

&lt; Behold, little fragment, an act of sacrifice and salvation. >

Sam witnesses a firestorm bloom before him, raging bright and furiously consuming, and he knows nothing else but the songs of the Allspark.

______

(Mikaela Banes screams to an uncaring world and a Primordial beyond her universe is the one that listens.

Mikaela Banes dies as she swallows the storm of a starseed and is reborn to match the soft fury burning in her mouth, the star-forge of her bruised, aching heart, and the brutality of a god that was hailed as the Undefeated.

Fate sunders and the future falls apart and resets.)

_______

Far away on a sandy beach, a boy hums a new song as birds whisper at his feet that a new Dragon walks upon this Earth once more. 

[ohmygillygoshoppler]

what are.... your headcannons for Epsilon and his people?? Ad Francis too??

oooooh! OOOOOOH! FINALLY!!! MY THEORIES!!! IVE BEEN DYING TO SHARE MY THEORIES!!!

loooooooooong post lmao. Heads up-

Okay okay okay, so I had a few questions about these people when I first started watching the show a gazillion years ago; like how many more of The People are there? How do their numbers work? Are they all clones, or just the Epsilons? How do they do what they do in their universe? Who the fuck do they work for? And why are things the way they are?

I have more questions than answers, but I will say that brainstorming about it has been so much fun~ So lemme just break this down as best as I can-

I personally headcannon that only the Epsilons are cloned from each other, every other agent is someone they either recruited through traditional means, taken from childhood or from birth, or cajoled into service as a form of punishment. We all know how easy it would be to pluck a few promising young birds from some orphanage somewhere; unnoticeable, unwanted, and untraceable to the masses, an organization like The People would jump on the opportunity, I think.

Okay, now for my individual agents, I have only a few things I've actually put to pen about them. Don't you just love having blank slate character to project all of your bullshit onto? I do!

Firstly, I have Irene which i'll be real, she's my fave Green Man to draw. She's.... so pretty... To me....

Her stoicism is linked directly to her environment. When she's on the clock, she one of the most precise, cunning, cutthroat agents around. But the split second she has the okay to relax, she's relaxed.

Her detail is a saboteur, so she is the one disarming traps, disabling security systems and breaking shit up so she and her People can get their jobs done. That being said, she likes to tinker, and can make even the nastiest, most beaten up and abandoned forest can come back to life-

She is insightful, observant and sometimes even playful. She just hides it under a perpetual frown. I was also thinking she would have some affectionate feelings toward Francis, as she's known him all his life , and adored Simone. I imagine Irene and Francis are kind of like siblings with a huge age gap.

Next up, my man Io, a former Hunter who since kicks it with The People after an incident in the 90's. He, along with Epsilon and Simone worked with the Secret Scientists to create a vaccine against lycanthropy. He's been an invaluable asset to The People ever since.

Io has special knowledge on medicine and even alchemy, occasionally making passing remarks about an old colleague that could turn wood chips to gold shavings. He also has a vast knowledge in matters of supernatural sicknesses and possessions. He has a bit of a morbid fascination with it, even going as far as to try and give himself pestilences only for the sake of further research.

I think he'd be pretty neutral about Francis, seeing as how it's not ease accepting some kid to be your new boss. At the same time, he knows where he is, so Io does what he can to keep their relationship strictly professional. However, in light of... recent events, he may be spending more one on one time with his fellow agents; more so than he's used to. We might learn more about him later...

And now WOOOOOOO, GRANDPAAA!!! LETS GOOOOOO!!!!! No, but for real, Agent Rohan is the oldest agent here, pushing 65, and he's still out here taking orders from Epsilon and making moves with The People, all the while fighting vampires, befriending warewolves, tricking the fae and dealing with alien incursions of every sort. He's up there in "Spooky Levels of Competence" with Simone and Grandpa Max, like, this man has seen some shit.

Rohan likes hunting, fishing, shooting, and camping out in the middle or asscrack nowhere. You know, old man stuff. He's the good kind of Boomer, ya know?

And he's still just a chill Old Man who just wants to retire to a secluded cabin in the woods with his Dog (not a dog, not a dog-) and live out his sunset years like a regular American man.

Fuck you, I know Agent Mccabe divorced his ass (they were never married lmao) but sometimes when they're together it feels like nothing's changed. Then they look into each other's eyes and remember how they've hurt each other oh fuck-

Epsilon is an extremely reserved and extremely stifled man, so much so that he stifles everyone around him. He believes that order and routine are the ways to maintain a safe and normal lifestyle, and so many times he is proven right. So much so he allowed himself to be tricked into letting his dearest friend leave for outer space.

He is a, "By any means necessary," type of man to a fault. Ruthless, calculating, and by any sense of the word, the Perfect Agent. Nothing phases him, it seems. However, there is something there, a reason he instills instant obedience and zero hesitation, and I think we can all find that out... together....

Here cooooomes the boyyy~ 💖✨✨ my boy, my baby; Francis.

Hahahaaaa, this one thing soooo highly of himself, hahahahaa~~ Ohhh, thats so cute. I love him for that. I will break him. He will know humility.

You know what happens when someone with no moral compass is thrown into the most fucked up situation? They find that compass, and they fucking use it. The boy must learn, and there wasn't enough time in the show to teach him. Now's my chance-

Speaking of, his Foolhardy Father taught him that thinking for himself was the wrong thing to do, and after Morrigan, he has to start thinking out of the box because there was never a protocol for this...

Also..... I know the fact he's a clone hurts him, like, we saw that shit in The Unblinking Eye, fuckin he hates following Epsilon's orders but what the fuck else is he gonna do? What else is there, this is what he was made for, right? He seems like the perfect guy for a character arc, and it kills me that he didn't get one.

I want him to learn to be his own person. Kinda want em all to figure out what their lives are, since they could all be butchered at any moment and only their killers would mourn them.

Speaking of Killers....

Miss Morrigan Monroe

"Whaaaaat?!?!" I heard you gawking, "Your Evil Bitch™ is with The People?!?! How???" And I'll give you the diss-

next post, this bitch is already so long. But just know, she knew the OG Epsilon and they fucking DO NOT VIBE.

She is hundreds of years old, has profound beef, and the shits on site, so sorry Epsilon. That's what you get for the sins of your father, Get fucked, I guess.

I know she's bad, but she's meant to be vapid, petty, recalcitrant, repugnant and deranged, mean and clever and scary beyond all reason- You know, the perfect woman, lmao. (I dont AT ALL condone the shit shes done or is gonna do but like, its gonna be nasty 😈😈😈😈)

[g0blinwitch]

Okay I need to talk about The Princess's Jewels for a hot minute

The Princess's Jewels by JYUN and Hong Cha is a webtoon that has garnered plenty of criticism over the past two years, and while I agree that it should be criticized, I don't agree with most of the current criticisms aimed towards it. Namely, the main character, Ariana. But before we get into the meat of the discussion you may be wondering what the hell the webcomic's even about. The Princess's Jewels follows Princess Ariana as she tries to become the ruler of her kingdom, partly because she doesn't want her aunt to rule it and partly because she wants to marry multiple men who she calls her "Jewels", who she also uses to help her gain more political power(she also thinks they're super hot). It's basically a reverse harem mixed in with a political drama.

The main criticisms I see most often lodged at the comic are as follows:

Ariana's a Mary Sue

Ariana is manipulative/a creep/pervert/slut

Ariana's boobs are too big(yes I'm serious)

The "Jewels" are Ariana's sex slaves

Now I feel as though these critiques are mainly rooted in misogyny(with the exception of 4, but we'll get to that in a minute) Yes, Ariana is horny, but I really don't see a problem with that?

Like yeah, a woman is horny, but these people are acting like she's insufferable for it. This leads us into the next criticism, that Ariana's a Mary Sue. Now yes, I'll admit, Ariana, by most people's definition, falls into the category of "Mary Sue". She strong, she's beautiful, everyone loves her and those who don't are the villains. Again, to that I say "okay, and?" There are much bigger criticisms(which we'll get into later) and this is the one you're talking the most about? Who cares if she has big tits and everyone loves her. Good for her, I hope she happily breasts boobily throughout the story. Moving onto the "Jewels are slaves" thing, that's just straight up a lie. Now assuming that they're using this first definition; "The condition in which one person is owned as property by another and is under the owner's control, especially in involuntary servitude."

I genuinely don't know that the fuck these people are talking about. You can maybe argue it for 2/5 Jewels, Huan Baek and Jade Melda(side note why the fuck is the blue character named after a green stone this will never not being annoying to me)

While the other three Jewels agree right away to be Ariana's "Jewel"(essentially her consort) in exchange for political power/protection, these two don't. Huan Baek out of a sense of loyality to the kingdom/its rulers who raised him, and Jade because he just straight up doesn't like Ariana at first. People use this as an example of them being slaves/Ariana seeing them as property but I don't see it. Is it because of the chokers? Is it because she calls them her "Jewels"?

The chokers, to me, feels like her giving her boyfriend a bracelet and telling him to wear it for her, and the Jewels thing is just an affectionate pet name. Again, would we seriously be having this conversation if a male character was calling a female character his Jewel?

As I mentioned before, there are plenty of other(more weighty in my opinion) criticisms to be had about this webcomic that I didn't really see being brought up as much. The darker skinned characters(namely Nell Phantom and Efrit Karsia) can both turn into/shapeshift into animals while the lighter skinned characters can't, which kind of comes across as a bit odd to me, especially when it seems to be a trait that only the darker POC characters have.

(Efrit also has a bird form but I can't find an image of him in it :/ )

There's also really gross fatphobia which I have yet to see a single person talk about

And(most importantly I'd argue) the artist HONGCHA is a pedophile.(Since the original google doc with the evidence from the og reddit post doesn't seem to be working, you can also watch it here, starting at the 15:10 mark.)

I'm not trying to say that the Princess's Jewels is this perfect webtoon, but I'd at least like to bring attention to the rampant misogyny I feel as though is dominating the criticism of this webcomic.

[b0njourbeachsvoid]

The funniest fucking thing about my future birds is the following:

I was thinking about possible names and how many people name them after their own favorite character but I was thinking it may be too obvious/"nerdy", so I settled for a specific category which implies a certain part of my hyperfixation (An organization in HSR is basically naming their top people after gemstones and so I had intended to do with my birds).

Then there's this mf (affectionate) asking me about any name plans, so I tell em I was thinking about naming them after Gemstones (or poisonous plants) but nothing specific yet and this mf goes "If you have a green one, you should name it Aventurine 🤓☝️"

And now I can name my bird after my favorite gambler and blame it on my friend instead of being the nerd :)

[tortoisebore]

OKAY SO FOR MY RAMBLE REQUEST i wanna know the losers’ love language

YES YES YES

this one got SO long & sappy im so so sorry gfjgnfjkgnjfkn

first i think growing up in a situation of neglect and abuse would have made it difficult for sirius to understand what it meant to intentionally give and receive love, and he'd genuinely have no idea what to do with overly affectionate people (like james!!!) for a long time. but once he got out of that home situation and had some time to process and start heal from it, i think he'd be extremely affectionate with the people he loves.

physical touch would be the biggest one--once he was able to understand that touch could be something gentle and precious, it became the easiest way to show people that he loved them. he was hesitant with it for a while because he was afraid that other people might be uncomfortable with it like he had been, but that turned into him having a super sharp eye when it came to understanding peoples' comfort levels with different kinds of affection without them needing to say it.

so by the time he & remus get together he understands himself a lot better in that regard. if you would have asked before, he would have said his only real love language was physical touch because it was his first instinct & what he had experience with, but he didn't really need things like gifts or acts of service to feel loved. like, he got quite enough of that growing up between all the extravagant birthday gifts he never wanted and the home staff waiting on him hand and foot his whole childhood & thinks he could probably go his entire life without experiencing either of those things ever again.

but then he starts seeing remus and everything turns upside down. on their third date remus brings him a tiny green glass bird trinket that he'd found at the thrift store they stopped by during their second date. sirius hadn't bought it then, but remus went back and got it the next day just because he said he'd liked it. so sirius gets home from their third date and puts it on his windowsill and stares at it for like.....fifteen entire minutes and decides it's his most cherished possession and if he could save one single thing from his entire room in a fire, it would be the bird. and then he gives remus a key to his apartment the week after that in retaliation because fuck it he's literally in love with that stupid sweet idiot & it was either that or ask him to fucking move in on their fourth date

and then it's their six month anniversary and remus is coming over for dinner and sirius is gonna whip up a nice little fancy pasta situation, but he gets held up because some moron decided to knock over an entire shelf of CDs on the back wall of the music store where he's been working the last couple of months. so he calls remus on the verge of tears & tells him he's going to be really late and maybe they should reschedule and he's so so so sorry, and remus is nice about it because he's always nice but sirius feels like absolute shit because he'd made all these plans and now he has to spend two fucking hours putting the shelf back together and reorganizing the CDs.

so he trudges home in a mood and he's so so sad and it's been the literal worst day ever, but then he gets home and remus is already there. he's lit candles and cleaned the kitchen and set the table, and he's done a really good job at attempting the fancy pasta situation sirius had planned even though he's a shit cook, and sirius' favorite cheap wine from the grocery store is on the counter next to a pretty little bouquet of flowers. and remus goes 'happy six month anniversary!!' and he's so fucking sweet that sirius just....,,.bursts into tears in the doorway. and remus is like "uhh!!! 😧 i'm sorry!! hey wait hold on I'm sorry!! are you okay!!" and sirius literally wants to tackle him to the ground because !!!! no one has ever worked this hard to make him happy !!!! no one has gone out of their way like this just because they loved him !!!! and that's a really fucking emotional discovery to make when he's just spent two hours alphabetizing five hundred CDs.

physical touch is still his number one love language because it's comforting and calming and he likes feeling desired, but the times that remus picks up his favorite chocolate on the way home just because he wanted to or does all the laundry on the weekends sirius has a hard time at work are just as meaningful as the times that remus hugs him from behind while he makes their coffee in the morning or walks with a hand in his back pocket when they're out together. he's not picky about the way that remus loves him, but sirius knows he tries really hard to do it in the most meaningful ways and that alone is enough to make him feel more secure and more cherished than he's ever felt with anyone else.

now switching gears, remus is an introvert. like, imagine the biggest introvert you've ever met and then multiply that by a hundred. he has an ongoing problem with tuning out in the middle of conversations because his social filter hit E out of nowhere, or staying holed up at home for three days trying to get energy back after a night out. his time and energy are rare and fleeting gifts, so quality time has always been the biggest way he shows people he loves them. but he's never desired someone else's time until sirius.

sirius is energetic and bright and and magnetic and he doesn't even have to do anything special to have entire rooms of people gravitating towards him. he could do anything he wanted, talk with anyone he wanted, be anywhere he wanted, but the fact that he chooses to give his time and attention to remus means more than any words or gifts or acts of service ever could.

he's really fucking surprised that sirius even agrees to go out with him in the first place, and even more surprised that he's completely present and engrossed in every moment when they are out together. he doesn't get distracted with his phone, doesn't stop and make conversation with every person that waves at him when they're at his regular coffee shop, doesn't try to fill every silence with thoughts or words that don't matter. he's entirely content to just be together, which is more than remus could have ever hoped to find in another person.

so one evening in the summer they're at remus' place watching reruns of a show they'd already finished, and remus is thinking he's never been happier in his life than he is in that moment--just sitting together quietly, sirius tucked into his side with his head on his shoulder, tracing little patterns onto his palm and giving a little laugh at the tv every once in a while. and then sirius' phone rings on the other side of the couch and he answers it on speakerphone, and it's marlene saying she got him a last minute ticket to that concert in the park downtown they'd been trying to get into for weeks. sirius perks up and remus deflates--of course sirius is going to go, and he absolutely should, he's been talking about this concert all summer, remus is just sad he'll have to leave--but then sirius goes 'ugh i'm sorry, i had something come up and i can't go tonight, you should take dorcas!!!' and he hangs up and just settles back in and remus is like '....hello?? why aren't you going??' and sirius just shrugs and squeezes him a little tighter and goes 'i'd rather be here with you' and remus loves him so so so bad he thinks he might explode with it

and sirius is also really, really good at knowing when remus needs A Moment. he's always been able to read remus like a book, even back when things were new, like he has some kind of sixth sense that lets him know when remus is Done and needs to go home and recharge. recharging also sometimes means being alone, and after a very brief period of misunderstanding in their early days, sirius gets it, and he understands like no one else ever has and gives remus that precious space when he needs it. remus knows that's difficult for him some days, so he works really, really hard to pay attention and make sure he's doing everything he can to let sirius know how much he loves him, even when he needs to be alone sometimes. if that means leaving work early to meet him for the walk home or getting up at the crack of dawn on mondays to grab coffees before sirius wakes up then so fucking be it, he'll go out of his way every single day for the rest of his life if it means sirius feels even half of remus' love for him

he also never would have thought physical touch would become so important to him until sirius. remus wasn't ever one to reach out first, and sirius had always been touchy--casual their first few dates and then leaning further into it; holding remus' hand as they walked from his work to the coffee place down the street, playing with his hair absently while they watched a movie or before falling asleep, trailing an delicate hand up his shirt in public and blinking at him innocently when remus sent him a warning look, giving a sweet little 'i have no idea what you're talking about' while dragging his nails down remus' spine, all evil and smug about it, pushing his buttons expertly until remus pulls him from the room & tugs him in the direction of home. but remus loves those moments now, cherishes them just like he cherishes everything else, and feels more wanted than he ever has before

sirius taught him a lot about how to love other people, how to study and learn them well enough to understand what they need, and ask for help when he got it wrong. he learned a lot about self-worth, about feeling deserving of the abundance of love that had suddenly crash-landed into his life, how to sit with it and accept it and give it in return, just because he wants to

[ladymorghul]

Love your blog so much!! And I live for your modern AU takes on the Targaryen - Hightower family because they're chaotic as fuck and I love them for it.

My question is: if the Greens are forced to do a drunk PowerPoint presentation party what are their subjects and why?

I think Helaena baby is going to share the knowledge on whatever hyperfixation she's going through at the moment (autistic! Helaena should be canon, imo) but I'm not sure about the others...any thoughts?

hey there!

thank you so much!!! i'm so happy that you do and i'm so happy you let me know 💕

hmmmmm good question. i know we see helaena with bugs in the show and that's probably one of her top interests, but i bet she hyperfixates on a lot of things. and yes, i also like the autistic!helaena headcanon. i thought of orla from derry girls when i saw her.

if it's canon, one of the topic is how to take care of baby dragons. i feel like since dreamfyre is the one dragons that brings forth most of the dragon eggs, even the dragonkeeps need helaena to handle dreamfyre and the eggs and the babies so she'd definitely love that.

i'm not sure about modern though. there's such a huge number of things helaena could like. maybe birds. or horses. or carnivorous plants. origami. mythology. or music she really likes.

i think canon aemond would do a presentation on how cool vaghar is because he's still reeling from being able to claim vaghar and he's obsessed with dragons. it's either that or he starts talking about the history of their houses and gets booed (affectionately) by aegon who falls asleep halfway through the presentation.

maybe aemond would do swords and daggers and just armour in general. maybe he likes fantasy warfare.

aegon would probably make a presentation that’s 3 slides on why presentations suck and it's just a bunch of pictures daeron took of him drooling as he sleeps in his chair during others’ presentations. otto has that look that says i am sooooooo proud of my grandson aegon. he'd end it with a clip of sunfyre (pet of your choosing) doing a cool trick.

daeron is 100% talking about some sport both in canon and in a modern au. for modern times, i choose football. for americans: soccer. idk i definitely see daeron as the charming sports guy but he's not an ass

alicent would make a presentation of her favorite books, some of which are period romances, but also.... i feel like she could start talking about some socio political cause that is important to her. she is a type of politician in canon after all.

[malottie]

1, 6, 12, 39

get asked things, dork (affectionate

welp, get your reading glasses out everyone

1: 3 things that shaped me into who i am

-1: luck. from the classic things like being born in a wealthy western country, being white (not inherently lucky but made me privileged/safer), having a relatively nice familly with no financial struggle, etc, to smaller stuff. like, it's a miracle i was never bullied in school. if it wasn't for that one person, maybe i would've died. i had free access to the internet since i was like 9, and somehow never stumbled on stuff that was inapropriate for my age

i consider myself quite lucky, despite all the hardships

-2: being trans. sorry to the people who think it's cringe when we make it our whole personnality, but it is litteraly so important. so central. i cannot fathom what i would be like if i weren't trans. that's just not the same person

-3: having weird ass parents. by that i mean that they're almost not like parents, more like... people i lived with that cared for me? i of course mean that in the sense that i don't have any special emotional attachment to them and all, but also that it doesn't feel like they raised me because they transmitted so little to me. my way of seeing the world, my hobbies, my fears, my political opinions, my general knowledge, my understanding of myself and others, my skills, i got them from, well, not them. the internet school, my friends, but not my parents. truly, i don't really know these people

6: best and worst part of being online

i've been here most of my life, so all the bad is just part of it. yes, that's where all the haters are. sure, all of the horrible things in existence can be found here. but that's also where my friends are. that's where community is. that's my only way of accessing at least 50% of what makes me happy. it has taught me so much about the world and myself, has held so many fulfilling experiences for me

if i had to choose 1 worst, i'd say transmisoginy i guess? i dunno, girl, i'm not even popular enough to get hate mail

12: a piece of advice i'd like to give

like i said in a previous post of mine i'm just 18. i'm like a baby. i feel like the least qualified person on earth to be giving advice. but i'll say one thing: advices are kinda bullshit. in essence they're opinions you think will be helpfull to someone else. but in my experience, they rarely are, especially when talking about life choices, mental health and the such. i watched hundreds of hours of self help videos, listened to people, went to therapy, and i felt like a fucking moron. i knew all the things, i had the advice, but it wasn't working. in the end, what helped me crawl out of the pit is time, love, and a bunch of stuff i'll never know about. find what works for you and ditch what doesn't; it's not because a piece of advice is true that it is helpful. searching for your solution will probably work better than just trying to apply the solutions others found

39: a youtuber i'm obssessed with

hard and specific

brennan lee mulligan? absolutely obssessed. a youtuber? not really

thegreatreview (he's french)? amazing youtuber. so fucking talented. obssessed? not really

dougdoug? obssessed by his entire cinematic universe for a while now. a youtuber? maybe 50%? it's all twitch streams highlights

john and hank green? ok i'll stop there

let's settle for brian david gilbert then, the man so nice they named him thrice. please buy his bed.

most well known for his Unravelled series on Polygon's channel, like the one about the sonic bible or the one about the smash bros osha violations, his personnal stuff is simply perfect, sometimes whimsical, like "i wish that i could wear hats" or "Pumpkin Cowboy", sometimes horrifying, like the one about the american healthcare system or "Teaching Jake about the Camcorder, Jan '97", often a mix of both, like "we like watching birds" or "earn $20K EACH MONTH by being your own boss". his comedic genius is at its best when it is also at its weirdest. he's also the guy who made the sibling dance song, i guess

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

some small pieces of au writing I did on the Reddit! c!prime horror stuff under the read more if ur not in the mood for that

—

“You named him Henry?”

Tommy pouted, throwing his arms around the feathered, massive beast that had taken up the majority of his yard. “Well, he looks like a Henry, doesn’t he? And he needs a name. Don’t be a bitch, Tubbo.”

“That’s a dragon.”

“Duh. I have eyes.”

“Tommy, that’s an adult dragon! A wild one, too.” Tubbo rubbed at the base on his horns, anxiously. “You know you can’t tame them when they’ve been wild that long. Just go get a baby like a normal person, or you’ll get eaten.”

Henry affectionately butted his head against Tommy. “Well, he seems to like me just fine. I think it’s a skill issue,” Tommy said flippantly, childishly sticking out his tongue.

—

The night was cool, and soft rains mixed with the dirt outside to make a peculiar smell. It still brought back unpleasant memories, but Tommy could rinse them from his mind easier now. He still had to change the bird feed, and check the cows, and plant some of the seeds on his new plot of land. Always having something to do, Puffy said, could help keep his mind off of things. It had been- Prime, eight years or so since he last saw her, it must have been, but her advice still rang true.

The wheat-field shone golden, the moon bright tonight. Tommy didn’t have the slightest cut of gold to his name here, but the wheat was a close enough substitute he could wake every day with a smile. His back ached and his hands were rough with bruises, but they were from something he loved, and not someone who he thought loved him. The pain was nothing, really.

And even if at night he slept with a sword close to his chest, this was coping, right? He was coping. He might not know where he was, but he knew he was safe on Big Man Ranch. The cows were soft and the chickens bit his fingers and the apples tasted slightly like dirt and every day a visitor came by.

Tommy imagined this must be what heaven was like. —

The first breaths of freedom Tommy took were of soot and ash.

For the first time, he silently thanked the world he wasn’t human, rubbing his exposed wiring absently, before breaking out into a run through neon streets, hiding under awnings and in corners to avoid the rain. His outer coating was waterproof- well enough he could swim, he saw it stated on the cheerful advertisements for companion ‘bots he spent too long looking at whenever he crossed them. He wasn’t exactly sure where anyone in this hellish maze of apartment buildings and factories would keep a pool of water, corrugated shacks housing sleeping people along the way far too common. Who could even afford him? The advertisements felt more like some sick joke for people living like this.

Or, hell, maybe the idea of owning a ‘bot kept them going through their miserable lives. He saw the dead eyed stare of everyone he passed, too busy doing something or other, work probably, to even take a good glance at his face. If anyone realised he was a T0M-3 out on the streets without an owner, he'd have been shut down and sent back to that gilded cage of a penthouse in seconds.

That was a second thing he never expected to thank the world for. Capitalism.

—

Tommy growled at the masked man, glancing up at him and staring daggers through him. “I'm not fighting in that fucking ring like a dog, you hear me?”

A painful, ringing sensation throbbed through the heavy steel of his collar, and vaguely, Tommy recognised the stench of magic before it glowed a bright green and agony flowed through him, leaving him shaking like a leaf. He bit his tongue, trying to prevent that bastard from hearing the satisfaction of him screaming, but he couldn’t stop the tears leaking out of his eyes.”

“I spent a lot of money on you, princeling,” the fucking bastard prick said, sounding almost bored, “and if you’re not going to pull your worth I might as well have you executed here and now. And I promise, it won’t be quick. Stop acting like a baby.”

“W-what, and die fighting fucking tooth and nail for your amusement?”

“I'd be a terrible investor if I let someone like you die, y’know. Stop acting like a little kid. I tried to be nice, don't make me regret that.” The threat in those last words made Tommy shudder. He knew stories of the mages overseas, the horrors they could inflict. He was determined, not stupid, and only marginally suicidal.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“C'mon, kid, no need to be so formal! Don’t think of me like an owner, more like… I’m taking care of you!” Patronisingly, the masked dickhead pet his head like he was a fucking dog. “Just Dream is fine, Tommy.” —

Tommy paced the walls of the cell, eyes darting back and forth, seemingly lost in his own head. It was far more comfortable than originally designed, Dream noticed idly- a fluffy rug placed hap-hazardly onto the obsidian floor, blankets piled onto the bed, stuffed toys that seemed to be years old, an old television and console against the wall. Sam really had gone soft, he supposed.

“Tommy?” He kept his voice gentle, soft. More to see how he reacted, if anything. He was curious.

Tommy turned to him, blue eyes wild and hair as unkempt as always, and beamed. “You came to visit! I knew you would, I knew someone would. I mean, you didn’t - you were just trying to help me, you wouldn’t get me locked up on purpose, you just wanted to help.” He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than anyone else.

It was impressive how naïve he still managed to be. The boy-king of the SMP, one would have thought that rulership would have hardened him, but it just turned him into an anxious shell. Not that Dream was complaining- he'd been able to control him like a puppet, and get him locked away once he was no longer necessary, and then the world was his.

But he did care for the boy, in his own way. Anyone else who destroyed L'Manberg- his first ticket to power, though to be sentimental he'd call it Wilbur's legacy or something- would be in a pine box at this point, but Dream couldn’t deny he appreciated the desperate devotion he got from the alleged leader, hanging onto his every word, desperate for a friend.

If he was to admit one thing to himself, it’d be that Tommy was really his only friend too.

—

Dream was a good patriarch.

Everyone always smiled when he was around, and talked cheerfully about how happy they were now. (He studiously avoided the wandering eyes, the slight strain to their grins. It wasn’t ignorance if you pretended.) He had everyone assigned to the jobs they loved and were best at, and gave them a warm place to sleep. (He avoided the sobbing when he walked past their rooms at night, how he had to lock and double lock them and still had to paint over scratch marks on the doors).

Life wasn't all work, of course though. He organised fun activities for his people, games and festivals, gave ample gifts, free time, everything someone would want. (And the walls keeping them in loomed large, and those who got too close… well, he had to give them a reboot.) He spent hours talking to his subjects- his siblings, and they never had a bad word to say about anything. (And the few times they got too close, he made sure to punish them.)

(And, sure, maybe Tommy still screamed and shouted and begged and cried, but that was Tommy.He just wanted something to be upset about, and he just wanted attention. And the reason Dream always kept close watch over him, never left him leave his side, was discipline, and not loneliness. He didn’t feel dissatisfied with fake praise and forced smiles. He didn’t.)

He had his big happy family. (At least, he could pretend he did.) —

“Oi, don’t pull at my halo, dickhead, that hurts!”

The boy pulled away from Dream's claws, whimpering, but the slack of the chains barely allowed him to move an inch. He tried to pull his wings over himself protectively, straining at the restraints hard enough that droplets of ichor leaked from the wounds that formed.

“Now, what am I going to do with you?” Dream hummed, ignoring the defiance of the child- good, that was a good sign. He'd Fall soon enough if he kept that up, and there was always a need for more pawns. On the other hand, just imagine the respect he'd get for keeping a proper angel bound in chains, and it’s not like the heavens would even care enough to take back such a young one.

Decisions, decisions.

“Fuck off! Fuck you! I'm- Wilbur is looking for me, bitch! And he'll smite the shit out of you, just you wait!”

“I'm sure he will, kid,” Dream said with a smirk, before pulling hard at one of Tommy's chains, shutting up his whining with the sudden pain. “But since it seems like you'll be here a while longer, are you going to tell me your name or not.”

“Haven’t earned one yet, prick,” he huffed. “But you can call me Tommy. Everyone else does.”

Tommy. Hmm, that definitely suited his strange captive. He just looked like a Tommy.

This was going to be fun. —

Tommy had lived his life on the seas as long as he could remember. The feeling of grass beneath his feet was foreign, a pistol between his fingers like breathing. Yet, he'd never met anything as terrifying as Captain Dream.

He'd thought it a legend- a ghostly-green ship sailing the stormy seas with a captain with a mask for a face- but if it was a dream, he sure as fuck had slept long enough Quackity would have had him keelhauled by now. Or at the very least mildly drowned. He could feel the weight of the eyes of the masked man from behind the simple, wooden mask, carved with a simple smile. He wasn’t sure why him, of all captives, or if that was good, but it petrified the shit out of him.

“That’s the one from Quackity's crew, you say?” His voice is mild, curious. Almost kind.

“Y-yes, sir-“

“I'll be keeping that one, then. They'll want him back, if he’s of any use, and I can use that. Throw the rest overboard. They’re useless.”

Tommy gaped in horror at the idea of his fellow captives all dying just like that. Not all of them were even fellow pirates- some were just civilians in the wrong place at the wrong time. “You-you can’t just do that!” he said, shocked.

Dream laughed. “You better learn quickly you can’t tell me what to do, boy, or you'll be a corpse by the time your precious Captain comes knocking.”