#that's so cool. You should make things. Pretty things! ugly things! anything you want things!

[visceralhit]

The coolest thing about art is that you can just make it. Anyone can make it. All it has to do is be something you feel. Good, bad, Doesn’t matter. Only you can make the thing you’re making. Just do it. 

[fantasylandloser]

marriage pact pt.2

summary: the besties are getting used to their new relationship

Warnings: smut, mdni, oral (fem recieving), mentions of dry humping, mentions of implied bi!reader, Stevie's happy trail makes another appearance, public sex?? (not actually penetration), lmk if i missed anything

pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

A/N: thank you to all the people who showed part one so much love, especially everyone who had v unhinged things to say (i love you the most) also i gave us a cool ass, loving mom

part 1

*****

“I’m just saying, we should talk about it eventually.” Steve tells you, unable to conceal the smirk on his face. He stood in the doorway of your bathroom watching you evade questions he threw at you about your past hookups. Essentially he didn’t really care, he was the last person in Hawkins who should have the privilege of caring about who other people hookup with. But he was a little curious, considering your face went up in flames as soon as he brought it up. Also maybe slightly jealous.

You huff at Steve’s persistence, dropping your mascara back into the bag. “Are we going to talk about all the people you’ve hooked up with Steve?” Annoyance laced your tone at his line of questioning, but he knew your annoyance was just poorly concealed embarrassment. 

The two of you were supposed to be getting ready to meet up with Robin, Eddie, Nancy, and Jonathan when he randomly asked you about the past guys you’ve been with. He was already dressed and now he was waiting for you to be, curiously watching your every step. 

“We’ve talked about me for years. Everyone in Hawkins has talked about me.” He laughs, a little self deprecating. “We’ve never talked about you, and we don’t have to.” He’s moving in on you arms, caging you into the counter, shaggy hair sweeping from his forehead. “I’m just curious, not judging you.” Your eyes meet his sincere ones in the mirror, the kicked puppy look he’s been giving you since you were kids working like a charm.

“Billy Hargrove fingered me in our Anatomy class, junior year.” You start, your face red as you shift your eyes, from Steve’s shocked ones. “That was before he..”You trail off not knowing exactly how to word your next thoughts.

“Beat me to a pulp?” Steve offers, with a sardonic grin.

You nod with a sheepish smile. “Sorry.” You really mean it, too. You felt so bad after you saw Steve like that, bruised up by a guy that had been touching you.

“Not judging, remember.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and despite the ugly feeling of jealousy sitting in the pit of his stomach he really wanted you to continue.

“I always knew he had a thing for you.” He says, thinking of all the times he’d catch Billy staring at you. He’s pretty sure that’s half the reason he beat his ass. Steve would always have an arm around your shoulder or one of your legs in his lap. 

You go back to distracting yourself as you put your eyeliner on. “And don’t be weird about this later,” You say, which gives him warning to brace himself. “Eddie took my virginity in the back of his van senior year.” You say it so casually that Steve’s sure he didn’t hear you correctly. 

“Eddie?” Steve says, his face wearing his shock. “You mean like Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson?” You slap his arm at that.

“Don’t call him that.” You defend, which Steve rolls his eyes at, knowing Eddie loved the nickname.

“Our friend, Eddie? Who, we happen to be seeing tonight?” Obviously too flabbergasted to remember his no judgment rule, you quickly remind him. 

“I thought this was a judgment free zone.” You murmur, too mortified to even look at him. This brings Steve back to himself.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m just surprised. Didn’t see that coming.” Steve’s hands are on his hips and you know he’s about two seconds from pacing a hole through a floor to wrap his head around it. You can’t help but think he’s adorable for stressing himself out about a question he asked you to answer.

“Yeah we hooked up for a while I guess, but then-” You’re cut off by your own thoughts, sheepish at the thought of your next words until you look at Steve’s puzzled expression. “Then Tommy threw that huge party and you got drunk off your ass and told me we were gonna get married and I just-” You shrug, pretending to be oh so busy with your eyelash curler. “Broke it off with him the next day. Didn’t wanna lead him on, when my head was… elsewhere.” Thinking of you. You tell Steve all this without making a morsel or eye contact. It should really scare Steve how good you are at playing casual with your feelings. 

“Oh, honey.” The kiss he plants on your shoulder is sweet, as he secures his arms around you. “I really love you.” Steve whispers, and it’s not the first time he’s said it, but in this context it is. The words are so much heavier after the shift in dynamic between the two of you.

“I love you too.” Again you say it so unbothered, so naturally, that Steve would think you didn’t mean it if he couldn’t feel the way your pulse quickened. 

“So, after Eddie?” He prods. You take a second like you’re contemplating telling him. 

“If I tell you, you can’t tell Robin.” Steve looks confused but agrees regardless. “You can’t tell anyone.” You reiterate. 

“Okayy, based on what you’ve already told me I’m not sure how it could get worse.” Steve says. “But I’m not judging.’ He adds after his little sentence. 

“Last year, Tammy Thompson, once.” It’s all you say before Steve understands and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. 

“I don’t know you at all.” He states dramatically. 

“In my defense..” you began, “The only reason I didn’t tell you was because like right after I had been talking to Robin and told her that I went to the mall with her and then, she randomly mentioned that she used to have the hugest crush on her. And then she told me that the two of you hooked up before and it was weird. Because I never in a million years thought we would have any overlap.” By the time you’re done with your explanation, Steve is still looking at you in shock.

“You don’t tell me anything.” He lies, unaware of the pout that’s formed on his face.

“I tell you everything important.” You counter. You look like you’re thinking, biting your bottom lip nervously. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal for you.”

Steve is all over you before you can overthink any further, and he’d never tell you but you look like you’re about to launch into tears. “Baby it’s not a big deal… I’m just surprised I didn’t know this about you.” He finally understands some of your hesitancy about opening up about your sex life. You were scared to be judged, by him of all people. 

“That was the shortest list ever, if it was me we would have been standing here for hours.” He jokes, it's another self deprecating jab and it’s one you can’t ignore. 

“Stop doing that. Be nice to yourself.” You scold lightly. 

“It’s true.” You knew Steve was no longer a fan of his own promiscuity. You know that he had some regrets about it, but you couldn’t for the life of you understand why.

“It’s hot.” When the words leave your lips, you find yourself turning around in his arms, tilting your head up to get a better look at him. You meet his eyes, watching the bewildered expression on his face.

“It’s really hot for me, that my boyfriend is more experienced than me. Now.. you can teach me what you know.” You elaborate. Steve’s eyes are watching your lips intently.

“Call me that again.” He requests, his voice gruff. You hold his gaze even though your entire body is on fire from the sudden intensity.

“My boyfriend.” You say softly. The first time you acknowledge him as such. He’s leaning in to kiss you when you duck under his arm, not allowing him to smudge your newly done make up or make you any later than you know you are.

“We’re late.” You remind him, grabbing your shoes. 

“Fucking tease.”

*****

Your night out with Steve and your friends, paled in comparison to waking up to him. He’s holding you tightly against him. No shirt on his chest, per usual. A large hand splayed under your shirt and against your stomach. His heat is almost too much for you and you consider rolling away briefly but that’s the last thing you want. 

Without ever opening your eyes or moving, you flail your legs to kick the blanket off you, only pausing when you hear a throaty chuckle vibrating beneath you. You freeze realizing you’d been caught looking silly.

“You hot?” He asks, ever so attentive. Usually when the two of you slept in bed together, there was a respectful amount of space between you, now your limbs were intertwined and your heart beats synced. 

“Mhm.” You hum, still half sleep. You wouldn’t know it but Steve woke up about thirty minutes before you and he was also feeling like the bed had turned into a sauna overnight, but he’d rather burn to death than wake you up. 

Still groggy from sleep, you whine when Steve removes himself from you to turn on the fan and remove the covers the rest of the way off of you. Much to your relief. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower.” He tells you, letting you know he wasn’t coming back to bed. You were unsure of how he did that. Getting up as soon as he woke up. You were more of a wake up and rot in bed for two more hours kind  of girl.

You hadn’t realized, you’d drifted back off to sleep until Steve’s waking you up. “Wanna get up for me, so we can spend some time together?” He offers.

“We could go play basketball at the gym.” He tries again when you don’t budge. This has you perking up slightly. For a reason unknown to him, every time, even in high school, if he mentioned anything to do with basketball you would be there. At first he thought you wanted to play, especially since you proved yourself to be useful on the court, but when he mentioned it to you, you looked disturbed at the idea. 

You’re rolling out of bed without answering, but he knows that is your answer and you’re just adjusting to the morning again. So he goes on making sure to cook you a good breakfast. 

When you finally emerge from the bathroom, freshly showered you find Steve behind the stove looking very boyfriendish. You can’t help circling your arms around his waist as you inhale his scent.

“Morning’” There’s soft music playing from his phone but other than that the house is quiet. 

“Good Morning. Baby.” You grin into his shoulder, feeling oddly domestic..

After eating breakfast with Steve, you made your way to the gym. You’re stopped a million times because this is Hawkins and everyone knows Steve, the once golden boy basketball star, and you who graduated top of your class with a long list of extracurriculars. But most people still only referred to you when speaking about Steve and that was okay with you.

Playing with Steve is never actually about winning for you. The win is seeing Steve like this. Sweaty. In his zone. So fucking focused. You were competitive everywhere else, but on the basketball court, you were all about Steve. He played less now that you were older, so when he offered you couldn’t help but jump at the chance.

You’re barely paying attention to the game because Steve is everywhere. You’re losing really badly even though he’s taking it easy on you. You don’t care.

“Where’s your mind at, honey?” He asks, dribbling the ball he just stole from you and shooting it. You pretend to be frustrated, pretend like you actually care if you lose, like you’re actually giving your best. Steve knows better, but he doesn’t push it, figuring you were just tired still. 

When a group of guys Steve played basketball with came into the gym, begging ‘king’ steve to join a game with them, Steve almost declined until you made some comment about being tired and going to sit on the bleachers for a break.

You knew the real show was about to start, and that he’d love a chance to show the guys from high school how he’s still got it. Steve’s gearing all the way up when they start picking teams, and you know based on the line up it’s going to be an aggressive game.

You’re dazed while you watch him play for the next hour. He’s concentrating hard, yelling out an instruction to his other teammates, in charge, sweating so hard that he keeps lifting up his shirt to wipe sweat off his forehead and revealing that happy trail. Your composure is crumbling quickly. 

And you don’t realize the way you’re looking at him even though you know you’re thirsting hard. He sees though. About halfway through the game when he’s checking on you during a time out. You give him your water bottle to drink out of even though you hate sharing germs, run your fingers through his sweaty hair, and give him two kisses despite the fact that he knows he tastes like sweat, and that you have an audience. 

After that he realizes how hard you’re watching him and he knows he has to show out for the end of the game. Everytime he glances at you, you look so invested. Like you used to in high school when you suddenly became interested in basketball again after a long hiatus during your pre teen years. Except now there’s a new detail that Steve has noticed. You’re squeezing your thighs together so hard, he thinks you’re about to burst. He can’t help but wonder how long you’ve been that way and if that was the reason you’re so intrigued with basketball, with no interest in playing. 

Steve made sure to win. Made sure he earned every filthy thing he was going to do to you. When he walks up to you, you don’t realize that you’ve been caught. Not when he’s dragging you behind him, not even when he opens the door to the men’s locker room, ushering you inside. It’s when he locks the door with you against it that your brain finally kickstarts into realizing what’s happening. 

“Steve we’re gonna get caught-” You start but your voice is lodged in your throat when his fingers dip into your shorts. You know what he finds when he does, and if you didn’t the smirk on his face would have told you. 

“All this from watching me play, honey.” The condescending lilt to his voice, has your brain turning to mush in the best way. That mixed with the way he’s running his knuckles over your  folds. 

“Steve”  You try again, more firm when you hear voices passing from outside the door, but your voice just turns into a whimper, as you try to cope with the way he’s touching you. 

“Shut up for me, so I can focus.” He shushes, yanking your shorts down. You gasp when he does so, but step out of them nonetheless when he gestures for you to do so. This is his first time touching you like this since you dry humped him for all he was worth in the family video parking lot and you’re curious about where he’s going with this. 

He grabs your panties, balling them up in his hand before coming back up to you. “Open your mouth.” You do without a second thought, letting him stuff the underwear into your mouth.

“Fuck you’re a good girl.” He notes before dropping to his knees. “Prettiest pussy, I’ve ever seen.” And he’s not talking to you really but to your pussy. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder before going in, licking and slurping at you like a starved man.

You’re pretty sure it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. He’s so sloppy about it and you love every second.

When he leans down a bit to fuck your hole open with his tongue, his nose nudges your clit. Your moans and whimpers are concealed by the makeshift gag, but the way your hand flys to Steve’s hair to hold him in place lets him know exactly the effect he’s having on you.

He chuckles when he feels you clenching up on his tongue, already so close and he’s just barely touched you. He presses you deeper into the door when he feels your knees buckling, moaning into your cunt at the feeling of you tugging his hair. 

Steve wishes he didn’t need you to be quiet. He wishes he could hear every single one of your whimpers and moans. Hear you calling him ‘Stevie’ in that whiny little voice, but he also knows he doesn’t want anyone else to hear you. Not when you’re all his.

You tumble over the edge pretty quickly, tears cascading down your face, which is the first thing Steve sees when he stands back up, licking his lips. He’s rubbing your overstimulated clit, when he pulls the damp panties out your mouth, releasing all the built up sounds from you. 

“Aw, honey.” He coos, wiping away the tears with your panties. He’s fucking filthy. He kisses you after that, so tenderly that you almost forget how he’s toying with you.

“Stevie..” There it is. Steve thinks to himself. He kisses you again trying to hush your moans.

“You like watching me play, sweetheart? That turns you on?” He asks, still massaging your clit.

“So much.” You admit. Steve wants to laugh at how gone you are, but he’s affected just as much as you.

“Not very nice, that you didn’t tell me.” He says. 

“M’sorry, Stevie.” You’re getting too loud and Steve has to shush you as he hears voices in the hallway, suddenly remembering where you are.

“It’s okay baby, you gonna cum for me?” As soon as he suggests it, he knows it's coming and his lips are back on yours, silencing your moans.

******

“Dude, why are you staring at me?”  Steve asks you, his face red. You stared at him all the way home from the gym. You stared at him when you got home and it had been an hour later, both of you showered and supposed to watch a movie, and you were still staring. 

“I just think you’re kinda rude.” You say.

“I’m rude?” Steve asks, flabbergasted wondering what he could have possibly done in such a short period of time. His mouth hanging open.

‘“Yes because I have had, I want to say maybe like three- four orgasms with other people, in the span of multiple years and you’re telling me this whole time you knew how to do that twice in the span of not even like ten minutes.” Steve’s once red face was now taken over by a cocky grin. 

“Like dude. How did you do that? I’ve never done that before.” You can’t even bring yourself to care that you’re inflating his huge ego. You’re genuinely confused and you’re thinking it has to be witchcraft.

“It’s easy when you’re that turned on.” He tells you, but you shake your head.

“I’m always that turned on.” You dismiss, making him laugh at how genuine you sound when you say it. 

“Always?” He asked, to which you nod. 

“You walk around here shirtless every morning. Of course I am.” You say simply, and Steve can’t help but be surprised at your sudden frankness.  “And even then I can’t even make myself cum twice. Especially not that fast.”

“So, let me get this right.” Steve starts with a mischievous grin. “You’re saying when you play with yourself, after seeing me shirtless you can’t make yourself cum twice?” He’s teasing you for your slip up and you know it. You can’t help rolling your eyes.

“That’s what I said, Steven.” You say playfully, your eyes narrowed. 

His eyes narrow back at you before he’s tackling you to the couch, tickling you. Laughing at your shrieks, and the sight of you trying to wriggle away from him.

“I’m sorry!” You let out in between gasps for air and laughter. When Steve finally lets up you pinch him for being unfair. 

When you finally catch your breath, you realize Steve is staring at you with a look that can only be described as adoring. 

“Here you go, again.” You say with pretend exasperation, and shaking your head. You’re only teasing him, so that you yourself don’t turn into a pile of mush like always. Steve rolls his eyes at you, realizing just how much he’s missed your banter, these last couple days. You’d gone shy on him, when getting used to the changes in your relationship and he was glad to see that your sass was back in full swing.

“Come give me a kiss.” He insists, gesturing to his lap. 

“Why are you always trying to get me into your lap?’ You ask before settling down on top of him anyway. Nothing sexual about it, as you press a quick kiss to Steve’s lips before trying to move again. 

“I like you here.” He says before pulling you back down on top of him to get another one. “If that’s how you rush touching yourself, no wonder you can’t make yourself cum.” He jabs, even though that’s not what you said. 

You’re about to respond, when you hear someone clear their throat. “Mom!” you yelp in surprise, practically flying off of Steve’s lap.

“Well this is an interesting way to be welcomed home.” Your mom looks almost amused at the display in front of her. The other part is as shocked as you feel, knowing she was home way earlier than she was supposed to be.

“How long were you standing there?” You ask, mortified, You’re seconds away from having the worst meltdown of your life. 

“Long enough to know that you should invest in a vibrator. “ She goads, sending Steve a look. He’s redder than a tomato, knowing that the woman who’s known him since before he was ten heard him say that. 

Your mom is way chiller than she should be, considering the circumstances, but she’s always been that way. Unbothered and entertained.  If that was your dad standing there, you both know this would be an entirely different story. 

‘Oh my goodness. Kill me now.” You mutter dramatically.

“No need for theatrics. I knew last week when you came home with that hickey on your neck. You didn’t even bother to try to cover it up either. Where’s the respect?” She jokes , as you hide your face behind your hands at your carelessness. 

You’re sure that life cannot get much worse than this.

“Good for you guys. But no and I mean it..” she started seriously “no funny business at all, on my couch.” When you groan she doubles downs. “I’m serious that couch was expensive.”

“Okay mom, we got it, thank you.” You say pulling Steve up from the couch and towards your room, too mortified to make eye contact with her.

Once you and Steve make it to your room both of your horrified faces meet… and you’re doubling over in deranged laughter. 

*****

tags: @smilesworldsposts @livsters @ali-r3n @em-guitar-pick @wolflover1005 @lexingtoon @eds1986

p.s. some of these didn't work and idk why

[blegh-110]

ii. "you told me i was pretty when i looked like a mess" | Sam Monroe

Pairing: older brother's best friend!Sam Monroe x fem!reader

Summary: Best friend’s older brother!Sam Monroe who you could always count on when you were 13 and he was 15.

Warnings: None

Word count: 976

Next Part

Your hands shook as you applied some tinted lip balm, the tube almost slipping out of your hand because of the sweat forming. 

It was the night of the school’s winter dance, and you were asked to go with a boy who was in your Spanish class. He sat in front of you and always asked to copy your homework, and you’d oblige because every single time he’d say “you’re amazing” and “what what I do without you?” And the occasional tease, “these better be right, or i'm gonna have to ask someone else.” 

It felt too good to be true when he asked you to go with him to the dance, but he was just so nice to you when you saw him. In the end, it was too good to be true when you overheard his friends ask him why he chose you and not the girl he actually liked. 

“She’s been letting me copy her homework, I thought this could be like a ‘thank you’.” 

“But it’s fucking awkward, none of us know her, our dates don’t either, and she’s not really talking. She's just there.”  

You did feel out of place the entire time. Apparently the girl he liked was friends with the other guys dates, they all ran in the same circle and you were the odd one out. While they had their inside jokes and well established friendships, you barely knew your own date. And he didn’t really bother to include you. So you did end up just sitting and listening and wishing you could partake. 

The second you found out his true reasoning to ask you out, the tears came and you wanted to go home. But how? Your date’s mother was the one to drop everyone off. Your brother was out with his girlfriend, and you knew he’d be pissed if he had to leave and pick up his crying, little sister. And the last thing you wanted was to get bombarded with questions from your parents if you did go home so early. 

You called the only person you could think of. You weren’t sure what the plan was, but you just didn’t want to be alone. 

And just seeing him, someone who you feel safe in the presence of, you run into his arms and let the tears flow. It was hard to make out from your watery explanation, but he understood what happened and held you just a little tighter. Despite his anger, there was nothing he could do. They were still in middle school and Sam was a sophmore in high school, he’d look like the loser if he went inside and beat up a kid two years younger than him. 

“Oh, god.” You said as you wiped away your tears only to see the blackness from your mascara. You could only wonder how pathetic you look. This was supposed to be a special night, and it had barely begun before it turned into the worst night of your life so far. 

“Stop that, you still look pretty.” He wipes your cheeks with his long sleeve, trying to wipe away your mascara but really just dragging it around. 

“Thanks.” You whisper, not really believing it.  

“No, I’m serious. You got that kind of Courtney Love-Hole look, y’look cool.” He leaned back to get a better look at you and smiled. You loved when he smiled, when he was happy and sweet, especially towards you. And in the moonlight, he was even more handsome.

With it being winter and cold outside, Sam gave you his jacket and slung his arm around you as he began to walk you home. You thought you could die at that very moment and be the happiest girl in the world. 

“So what should I do to whats-his-stupid-fucking-face?” He knew wasn’t going to do anything to the kid, but he wanted to lift your mood. You smiled and shook your head. Honestly, you wanted nothing to do with him but you played along.

“Just punch him real hard in the face, I want it to be swollen and ugly.” 

“Yeah, yeah that’s good. And let’s take his money, I’ll- no listen to me,” he interrupted himself at your snort and continued, “I’ll kick the back of his knees, hold him down, then you take the five dollars out of his pocket, got it?” 

You giggled as you imagined it, kicking the back of his knees. You saw him do it to your brother after he slapped the sunburn on your shoulder and that was the most you had ever laughed. You’ll never forget your brother’s shock and pointed finger to the smaller slap mark on his back, “she did it to me first, look!”

“Nah, she wouldn’t do that.” 

“And we’ll get hot chocolate with the money.” And he pointed to your favorite cafe and walked towards it. 

“Sam, wait, I don’t have any money on me right now.”

“That’s okay, it’s on me. Something good has to come out of tonight.” He dragged you to the building, and in there he bought you a hot chocolate with extra milk. Which was something you appreciated because you burned your tongue really bad drinking your hot chocolate a few weeks ago and he saw. 

What followed was some talking about movies, music, and embarrassing stories(your favorite one being that he fell off his chair in class because he was leaning backwards). Then a trip to the park where you two spun on the merry-go-round until you couldn’t see straight or stop laughing. 

And when he finally took you home, he gave you a short peck to your head and wished you a good night. It was that moment you believed he liked you as well, and you dreamed of what it would be like to be boyfriend/girlfriend with him.

banner by @dollywons

[quartz-oc]

》 Cynthia ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩

"Man, that girl is creepy!"

"Yeah and she looks and moves weird too.. Almost like some puppet."

"She's a little too pretty to be a puppet. More like.. Some doll.."

"Do you think she has ball joints like a doll?"

"No idea.."

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Name: Cynthia (Real name: ████████)

Age: 16

Birthday: February 29

Class: 1-A

Club: Sewing and Stitching Club

Height: 174 cm (5'8)

Hobby: Sewing

Homeland: ████

Likes: Pretty things

Dislikes: Things that ruin pretty things

╭┈ • ┈ ୨୧ ┈ • ┈╮

Introduction

Cynthia is an average girl. She loves frills and clothes like an average girl. She loves to dress up and do make up like an average girl. She loves to make friends and hang out like an average girl.

Except she's not.

She doesn't act like an average girl. What is that stiff movement? She doesn't even talk like an average girl. Where is her voice?! I haven't even heard her talk at all! Does she even have a voice? She stares too much. Where is the light in her eyes? She's... well.. a little creepy.

After being sent to NRC from a different world, she's been the talk of the whole school about if she's even a real person.

Did the Headmaster let in a possessed doll? Does she have a condition? Her moves are so robotic. Is she a robot?

Well, the thing is... We don't know! She doesn't say anything! She doesn't even care! Wow!

Personality

Despite her appearance, she tries her best to be kind and generous to the people she wants to be friends with. She's always giving gifts to her hands with things she finds pretty or hand-sewn clothing. Don't ask how she knows their sizes.

She also does not speak so she uses a lot of gestures and hand movements. It is unknown that she has a voice or not.

She doesn't really mind that people spread rumors about her. She kind of uses it to her advantage, making everyone run away if she doesn't like them.

She's very particular about touch. Skin to skin contact absolutely disgusts her and even initiating the touch makes her skin crawl. She only allows touch if she initiates first when she has gloves on.

She treats a lot of her friends or people she likes like delicate glass dolls; like they can break anytime under the slightest of pressure. And I don't mean figuratively. It's literally. Her hugs and small tugs on the sleeve are very gentle and light.

Cynthia also dislikes showing skin so she dresses modestly but fashionably. Because of this, people believe she's hiding her "doll joints" under pretty clothes.

She really adores cute and pretty things. Frilly dresses, cute cat charms, pretty hairstyles, people she likes, small animals, and etc. If anything of those are ruined, she gets scary.

People who ruin pretty things are ugly and should just d̷i̷e̷. That's what she believes. It's honestly such a harsh statement but that's how she thinks. Although, don't worry, she's not that sensitive. Her being that mad only happens to a few people and she understands certain situations.

When she's really mad, she can act very impulsive and her actions get a little creepy at times. Like if you bullied someone she liked, she would follow you home. Oh? You have a stray cat that you take care of when you're on your way to school but you're an actual shitty person? That cat isn't there anymore.

(Don't worry. She gave it to someone who can take care of it. She's not that evil 😭😭 Her goal is to only scare you.)

She doesn't really think of consequences when she's feeling something intense which can lead her into horrible situations.

Small Trivia

• Cynthia hates P.E. because she has to get all sweaty and touch people

• Her favorite color is pink despite herself wearing mainly blue

• Many of the first years had to get used to her staring problem because sometimes she's not seen blinking

• Crowley knows she's from a different world but she won't say which because she literally can't

• She sews Grim so many outfits and he thinks he looks cool in them

• She spoils Grim a lot because he reminds her of something familiar but it's a far memory

• Crewel is impressed by Cynthia's sewing and wishes to teach her more but she always ends up wanting to do her own thing

╰┈ • ┈ ୨୧ ┈ • ┈╯

"I don't even have a voice box! I had to borrow this one.."

[dat-town]

my first and last forever

Characters: Taesan & female reader

Setting & genre: fluff, established relationship, college au

Summary: You celebrate your first anniversary with your fashion designer boyfriend, so you stress over what to wear. Not that it matters, he loves you either way and his present is proof enough.

Warnings: birth names are used, teeny tiny suggestiveness because i couldn’t miss out on the reference for this cover, also cheesiness??

Words: 2.3k

Author’s note: happy birthday to my fellow leo (baby)! this is inspired by the fact that Taesan likes to customize clothes and this video where Leehan and him went to a stained glass workshop with a fan. title from Taesan’s self-composed song So I can say you’re beautiful (eng trans.)

Having an indie fashion brand owner boyfriend means quite a few things for your closet.

Number one, your clothing style starts to resemble his because he looks way too cool, gives great advice on how to match your pieces and he keeps buying you stuff.

Number two, except for a few items that never fail to make Dongmin crunch his nose in silent judgment (come on, it’s a Christmas sweater, it’s supposed to be ugly!), most of your clothes match his. Woonhak always comments on your couple look which in turn makes your boyfriend roll his eyes but you know that secretly he likes it.

Number three, you have pretty much every collection in every color of his brand’s clothes and those become your favorites (right after stealing Dongmin’s clothes).

Number four, choosing a date outfit without his input is killing you. When you don’t know what to wear usually you just ask him or send him options and let him choose but not this time though. You know he wouldn’t care even if you put on the bright yellow sundress he once compared to a children's crayon because he thinks you’re pretty no matter what but you would like to impress him, it’s your anniversary after all.

You weigh your chances as if you were on Who wants to be a millionaire?: you can ask the friend group over chat excluding Dongmin of course or give a call to his yapper best friend in case he knows something.

“No,” Jaehyun says immediately when he takes the phone call that you decided to make.

“Hello to you too. I didn’t even say what I want,” you pout, surprised at his reaction.

“Right but Dongmin has been going on and on about you guys’ anniversary for months I swear, so of course, I know what’s today and no, I’m not telling you what he’s planning,” Jaehyun rambled but you could tell it was clearly a rehearsed speech. He had expected this. Also you couldn’t help but internally coo at the thought of your indifference-looking boyfriend speaking so much about your upcoming celebration.

“Not even a little hint? How should I dress?” You voice out your dilemma and you can clearly hear Jaehyun laugh at your pain on the other side of the line.

“Ask your fashion designer boyfriend.”

“But I want to surprise him! He told me that anything’s fine and that’s not helping. I know him, I know we aren’t going to a super fancy restaurant or for a hike but still, there are so many options!” You whine and Jaehyun huffs.

“Dress comfortably and don’t wear too much jewelry but that’s all I can say,” he says before making a weak excuse that he gotta go, so he hangs up.

You sigh but manage to narrow down the options to two vastly different styles. One is a pale pink layered dress with ribbon strips which is very unlike anything in Dongmin’s wardrobe but he likes you in pink and he has a tiny bit of an obsession with you wearing ribbons or any strings tied. His mischievous ass likes to tug on them to see how much it takes for them to come undone or to get you annoyed. The other outfit is a fake leather, side slit skort with fishnet tights and one of his designs, a black crop top with colorful lettering. All three are also definitely things your boyfriend likes on you, so you’re stuck.

It’s time to ask the audience.

you guys!!! HELP [image_64735.jpg] [image_73628.jpg] which one should i wear? woon baby ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ you don’t laugh it’s a serious dilemma sanghyukie I would go with the first one you thank you, hyuk, you are a godsent princess wonnie ✨ OMG the pink?!?! is that a question? annabelle i vote the black one pls film the brainfreeze he gets when he sees you in that myungjae lol i second that sungho 💪 Please don’t cause him lasting damage 🙏 woon baby i love chaos so … the second donghyun-ah 🐠 👍 you [added a poll to group chat “daily dongmin gossip”]

The black outfit wins by one vote. You thank the guys for their input and start to get ready because you are already a bit too late compared to your estimate.

You dress up, do a smokey eye shadow makeup with cherry red lips, put on boots and pull your hair up in a high ponytail. Looking into the mirror, you know this look doesn’t seem anniversary-like at all with how dark it is but you are convinced Dongmin would like it and would even wear something similar. One last look in the mirror and one whiff of perfume applied, you are out of the door to catch the metro.

Your boyfriend is easy to spot even in the crowd at your destination station. He’s leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone, looking as disinterested as one can be. He wears custom made sneakers, ripped jeans and a My Chemical Romance tee you bought him. You indeed match. He hasn’t noticed you yet, so you decide to sneak up on him. You’re two steps away from him when you see the corner of his mouth twitch as if he’s trying to suppress a smile but his posture doesn’t change. You know that you got caught but because Dongmin tries so hard to let you have your fun, you pretend not to know. You crash into his side, rise on your tiptoes and press a quick kiss on his cheek with a giggle. It leaves a slight pink color behind on the skin, the same as the tips of the boy’s ears. It only makes you smile harder.

“Hi!”

“Hey,” he turns to you then, pushing the sunglasses up onto the crown of his head and somehow he manages to artfully mess up his black locks without looking silly while you are busy scrubbing his cheek clean. The next thing you know is his feline eyes zeroing in on your choice of clothes and he visibly swallows, you can see the bob of his Adam’s apple, which tells you that you made a right choice but he plays cool.

It reminds you of the first time you spoke, when he came up to you between university classes as you were grabbing a drink and asked if you would model for his fashion brand. Or well, he was rather offering you a part time job for a few thousand won. He was very serious about it but you were no model and your art university had a whole website for such scouting, so you were a bit suspicious.

“Why me?” You tilted your head, keeping eye contact because you literally couldn’t look away. Dongmin has always had the most beautiful eyes that sucked you in like a black hole.

“I think you would look good in my clothes,” he said and your eyebrows immediately shot up at the implications behind his words which he soon caught up on too. “I mean, my brand’s clothes,” he corrected himself and suddenly he looked shy. He wore all black and an intimidating bad boy aura and he was getting flustered by you.

“Show me?” You asked him with a sweet smile, stepping closer as he whipped out his phone to show you pictures on his brand’s Instagram (@giant_mountain_clothes). If you hadn’t been taken before by his charm, you were definitely impressed then by how cool his designs actually looked, so you followed each other on social media and agreed on a date for the photo session.

When the day came, Dongmin was all professionalism as he handed you the clothes (jeans with a pattern that looked like graffiti, black and white crop tops with pretty cool line art and typography) and he gave instructions both to you and the photographer about the poses and camera angles. By the end of it, you pretty much thought you had misunderstood his intentions last time. It would have been a bit disappointing if the modeling session turned out to be an awkward experience.

“Not gonna lie, at first I thought it’s just an excuse to ask me out but it’s very cool that you already have a brand like this during uni. And the clothes were super comfy, so I will make sure to stock up before you get famous,” you spoke up playfully after the photographer left and it was just the two of you alone. After changing back to your own clothes, you were allowed to roam around in the studio slash warehouse but you turned away from the sketches on the table when the silence became too loud, facing Dongmin who cleared his throat as soon as your eyes met.

“Well, would you have said yes?” He raised a brow, all nonchalant, but you smiled.

“Try asking,” you challenged him which made him laugh and the rest is history. One year has passed and you’re still going on strong.

Later you got to know that all of his previous models were either his friends or a friend of a friend, so him asking you was actually a big thing. Once you were added to the big friend group chat, Jaehyun couldn’t stop teasing him about it and telling you endearing details about how nervous Dongmin apparently was before that first modeling session of yours. Because of course, there were more following that.

Snapping back to reality, you tilt your head while looking at your boyfriend.

“Like it?” You ask as innocently as you can but your breath hitches when Dongmin slides a hand over your bare side protectively and leans closer to your ear.

“Very. Might ruin your lipstick later,” he promises in a low voice, his warm breath tickling your skin, then he pulls away but keeps his hand on you as he leads you out of the metro station. He walks slower deliberately, so you could keep up with his long legs.

“So… will you tell me now where we’re going?” You can’t help but inquire because curiosity has been bugging you so much. Dongmin asked you to make your day free in advance but he didn’t say anything about his plans and he gave no hints either. Unlike you who accidentally told him about the concert tickets you bought (which he first laughed about because of your overdramatic reaction but his face lit up nevertheless as if you brought him down the stars), he was too good at keeping secrets.

“You will see soon,” he grins at you with his boxy smile like a promise and doesn’t crumble even seeing your pout. He must really want to surprise you because that usually works.

And surprise he does when he takes you all over Insadong, to the second floor of a crammed, colorful building in the middle of an artsy district of the city to a jewelry studio.

“Wait… wait! Is this what I think it is?” You turn to your boyfriend with widened eyes when you see a poster about custom ring workshops beside the entrance. “Han Dongmin, you’re such a romantic!”

“Am not,” The boy denies immediately but he’s not looking into your eyes, apparently too busy searching up the confirmation email on his phone.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” you mutter, smiling from ear to ear as you attach yourself to his side and crane your neck to look around in the studio. Now you understand why Jaehyun suggested wearing less jewelry for today’s activity.

You can’t stop smiling even as you are sitting down at a table after receiving protective gloves and an apron instructed to take measurements of the finger you want to make the ring for. You immediately reach out for Dongmin’s hand. There’s something intimate in the way your fingers slot together and you pay attention to every knuckle and even the needle scars on his fingertips from his hard work.

Dongmin is an artist and good at craft like that, so obviously the ring he makes for you is prettier than the one you make for him but he doesn’t seem to mind it at all. He doesn’t want perfection, he wants you with all your flaws and clumsy metalsmithing skills. It takes a few hours and a bunch of help from your instructors but you walk out of the studio with matching couple rings. Dongmin isn’t big on PDA but you can get away with holding his hand, the new rings still warm to touch grazing. You love holding his hand or just playing with his fingers; you love the casual intimacy of it, that you get to be close to him like this, connected in such a simple yet meaningful way.

At the metro, you nudge Dongmin’s side to make him look at you and there’s only fondness in his eyes which makes you feel spoiled. He always looks at you as if you were special.

“Thank you. I love it so much,” you tell him, wanting to commit this moment to your memories. Right next to the first time he told you he loves you. It was an accident, something he blurted out during play fighting while you acted pseudo sulky and you were so surprised you almost fell off the couch because he was an actions over words type of guy. You couldn’t make him say it again once realization hit both of you but you loved him in spite of it. Because of it. You just love him.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” Dongmin smiles and you melt like every time he calls you that. You close your eyes and lean your head on his shoulder, the ring bearing his initials feeling like a promise on your finger. He’s mine, mine, mine and I’m his, his, his, your heart chants all happy.

you [image_83464.jpg] woon baby i want to be the ringbearer at the wedding!! princess wonnie ✨ aww couple rings so cute! myungjae don’t flaunt your relationship in front of our single asses me when? TT

[icycoldninja]

Not sure if someone had asked for this, how do you think Sparda boys + V would react to their s/o showing them scars if one has them or showing them off by accident without intention to do so? Be it visible or barely visible scars, natural causes(?) scars received by accident, surgical scars or just anything like that. The story behind them doesn’t have to be exclusively traumatic for the s/o as long as they’re not inflicted by self-harm even though some may be looking pretty severe but that’s for your preference

Yeah, sure, here you go.

Sparda boys + V x Scarred!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante didn't mean to walk in on you changing, it was completely by accident, he swears it on the last 2 cents in his wallet.

-He doesn't understand why you were so upset about it, though. You guys were already dating and you'd seen him naked plenty of times before, so why were you so reluctant to return the favor?

-Then he remembers catching sight of some nasty looking scars that seemed to have resulted from painful injuries.

-He quickly pieced together what this meant and immediately regretted everything. He marched right back to your room, knocked on the door, and apologized through the wood.

-He could hear your sniffling and when you invited him to come in, was at your side in an instant. You told him about how you got these scars and how you thought they were so ugly, but he corrected you, saying your scars aren't ugly, they're beautiful.

-To prove it, he kisses you all over nearly every night, reminding you how perfect you are and always will be.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil didn't expect for you to barge in and ask to talk to him. Judging from the nervous expression on your face, it was something very serious.

-He sat down and listened to you patiently as you explained there was something about yourself you'd been hiding, but wanted to show him now.

-Then he watched as you pulled away your clothes to reveal deep scars from surgeries you had to have as a child, explaining how you got each and every one, looking to be on the verge of tears as you did so.

-He held you when you cried about how ugly you thought you were, and while he didn't quite understand this rollercoaster of emotions, he assured you that he loved you no matter what.

-He encourages you to not feel insecure about these scars and to show them off proudly, as they are a testament to your strength for enduring those surgeries, showing how you pulled through and are now thriving.

-He will Judgement Cut anyone who dares to make fun of or degrade you because of your scars, because no one does that and gets away with it, ever.

□ Nero □

-You and Nero were out walking on a hot summer's day, but for some reason you had decided to cover up completely with a long sleeve shirt and pants.

-Nero asked you if you were hot and uncomfortable, which you were, but you denied it and kept on walking, pretending everything was fine.

-Nero knew things weren't, and continued to question you until eventually you broke down and told him you were trying to hide your scars.

-You then led him to a private place and showed him the scars that littered your body, which you had gotten during an accident when you were younger.

-Nero was shocked, to say the least, but he wasn't going to shun you for this. Honestly, your scars were pretty cool.

-Whether you want to show them off or not, Nero doesn't want you to think they're something to be ashamed of. Your scars are part of you, and so you should treat them like any other body part, and at least accept them if you won't be proud of them.

● V ●

-V just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. He had been in your room, looking for something he'd left there a while ago, when you emerged from the bathroom, fresh out of the shower and completely naked save for a towel barely covering your privates.

-Your scars were deep and were one of the most prominent things on your body. V had never seen them until now and h3 was quite amazed.

-But amazement does not equal disgust. In fact, V's reaction was the very opposite, he welcomed you and your unusual beauty, remaking how your scars made you appear as though you were a painted canvas.

-You didn't anticipate this warm reception, but were grateful all the same. His acceptance made it a lot easier to explain how you got those scars and all the issues related to them.

-V listened, and once you were done, informed you once again of what he thought, and encouraged you to not feel ashamed of such things, and to instead embrace them.

-Do take his advice, it'll do wonders for your mental health.

[inkskinned]

everyone talks about the clothing store and honestly everyone is expected to wear stuff from that store and you're a little young and curious, and what's the harm of looking. it's in all the magazines and everyone knows okay some of the things are ugly but! like generally everyone thinks we should be wearing these clothes. they're elite. they're precious. they are a symbol of wealth and status.

you walk into the clothing store and see a very nice sweater and you've been wanting to stay warm so you pick up the sweater. it turns immediately into a horrible fizzing froth, rushing over your skin, faintly acidic. it's tacky, it leaves behind a residue. horrified and a little ashamed - did you do it wrong? - you reach out blindly and your hands find a shirt. that one dissolves too. you think of the phrase you break it, you bought it. how much money did you just accidentally spend on that shirt and that sweater, both things that you'll never be able to wear.

more confused than anything, you turn to the first person you see, but she's experiencing the same thing, her brows furrowed. "i've been here since i was 13," she says. "one of these days i'll actually get to try on something."

you were raised with horror movies, so you look for an escape instead of trying to stay. you go to the front desk and wait in the front line and when you finally get to the front, a very angry man is sitting there, scowling at you. "i think your store is broken," you say to him. "i can't pick up any of your clothes. they don't work."

it is as if you have said something vile. every person within earshot takes a step back from you. the man gives you a cool look. "these clothes are good for you," he says.

"no, i know that," you've read about them, "but i can't seem to actually hold them."

again, everyone seems to think you've said the wrong thing. some of them are holding shirts, so obviously some clothes work. those are the people you hear whispering first. lazy. someone murmurs. i managed fine, you hear. i just had to keep trying.

the man taps a sign next to him. in big bold print: not everyone can have this.

"okay, um. if you're not going to be helpful, i'm just going to... not buy this," you manage, feeling yourself flush with heat. why are you so embarrassed? their clothes are the thing that aren't working.

"i don't have time for people who don't dress themselves well," he says. "it's disgusting."

you don't know what else to say because actually you dress fine, you're pretty sure, you're just not in their clothes. you leave the store.

but your hands are still tacky from before. you find yourself weirdly sensitive about your clothes. maybe you should go back in, try again? there were people who were able to make the clothes stay present, you might have just been doing something weird.

plus there's the rest of the world. how people look at you in airports. how shame rushes over your cheeks during job interviews, worried you don't look "professional" enough. the people across you are all wearing those clothes, and you're not. in the doctor's office, the nurse's eyebrows skyrocket. are you sure you actually went into the store and tried on the clothes? you're staring at her - i'm here to see about my cough, not about my wardrobe.

but of course it fucking matters. when you google it, you find out that most people can only hold onto the clothes for about two years or so, and then they fizzle out too. that the clothes only "stick" for 5% of customers. it just means that any person in those clothes matters more. it's a scarcity. at first, you're horrified by the idea of something that almost never works. but you learn it soon enough: being in the 5% means you have taste, class, are exceptionally pretty.

you try to ask why exactly it's these clothes, but you usually are answered with an eye roll. you ask why the prices are so high. why nobody seems to care about the way their clothes leave that weird strange residue for years later. there's a sizing chart online you find, hoping it might explain your weird inability to lift anything. most of the news articles all read the same thing - this chart was made by someone cruel and definitely isn't accurate, but for some reason it is still used as our golden rule.

so you go again. you fall too. it's worth it to try. even kind of ironically. even kind of privately, shamefully. this time you go and manage to hold onto socks, but it means you sometimes get that strange residue on your floors. you get used to the tackiness after a while, but when you manage to hold onto pants, you discover the tackiness spreads. sure, it's irritating - this sense there's a barrier between everything you touch, even you and your friends - but it's worth it, because people notice you're in those pants. and you don't want to be one of the 95% who lose them after all this fucking work you put in, so you let the tack get all over everything until it dries down into a fine powder that coats your floor in a brick red flurry. when you walk, your footprints look bloody, so you just learn to step gently.

and since it worked for you once, like gambling - you will come back. you will teach others how to get into the store. you will tell your own children - oh, you just have to keep trying at the clothing store. you will let others treat you badly when you are not wearing the right things. you will spend all that money over and over and over again and you will feel ugly if you are not wearing their brand. you are simply treated better if you dress like this. you feel better if you dress like this, secretly winning over your friends who are between sizes. it doesn't matter how much time you spend at the store, missing birthday cakes and parties because you're trying to make a dress look nice before dissolving. what matters is that when it works, all that relief and joy and peace rushes in. when it works, people finally love you again.

the diet industry promises you - it'll all be okay, once you're thin.

[thedeathlysallows]

Is It Over Now? (14)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon; Aegon Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon

Summary: Tore your banners down, took the battle underground

Warnings: canon typical Targaryen incest. Talk of infidelity, manipulative Aegon, mad Aemma, character death

taglist: @callsignwidow

The firm press of Aegon’s chest to your back is grounding in a way you haven’t felt for weeks. His steady breath calms you, centers you, so you can think clearly for the first time in ages. You find several things to be true at once. The first: Aegon wants you to kill Alys. The second: you want to kill Alys and possibly Aemond. The third: deep down (though not actually all that deep, just beyond surface level perhaps) you don’t really want to hurt Aemond in any way. Not more than you already have.

But you also can’t let this slight go.

Aemond is your husband.

It wasn’t all that long ago he was loving you, worshipping you. For him to abandon you is unforgivable.

Right?

As if sensing the direction of your thoughts Vermithor huffs and flaps his wings a bit harder, making it to Harrenhal in record time. You pat him fondly as you slip down from your saddle, Aegon’s eager hands reaching out to help you. He gives you a soft, adoring smile and you know what you need to do.

Aemond is yours.

But so is Aegon.

You’ve been so blind, so stupid. It can’t continue.

It won’t continue.

Finding Aemond isn’t difficult at all. In fact, he and Alys are the ones to find you and Aegon before you can take more than ten steps away from Vermithor. Your dragon hisses behind you as Alys opens her mouth to speak. She’s pretty, you think. With her dark hair and sharp features she looks eerily similar to your brothers...

Aemond is the first to actually break the tense silence. "Brother. Wife. Welcome to Harrenhal."

Anger rears its ugly head deep in your belly, setting fire to your veins. Vermithor shifts, tense and ready for a fight. "Is that all you have to say? Welcome?"

"Should I have anything else to say? I explained myself last time you were here, Aemma. I've done nothing that wasn't asked of me." Aemond observes you coolly. "Do you not trust me?"

No.

Yes.

You aren't sure who to trust to be completely honest. Aemond tells you one thing, Aegon another, and somewhere out there is your mother with another story.

So you answer a different question as you say, "I don't care what was asked of you, Aemond. I thought you loved me."

At last his cool demeanor breaks ever so slightly. "You know I do."

"Then why fuck some whore behind my back?"

Aegon lets out a fully belly laugh and your head whips over to look at him. "So you discovered the others as well? What a smart little dragon!"

"Others?" You look back at Aemond, feeling tears prick your eyes. "Others?!"

"I promise to explain-"

Alys trails her hand up Aemond's arm, resting it gently on his shoulder. Aemond relaxes ever so slightly. "You need to explain nothing, my prince. You're the blood of Old Valyria."

Confusion washes over you at their exchange and you turn to Aegon. He looks just as confused, an uncharacteristic worry lingering in his eyes.

"We're all the blood of Old Valyria. We're all Targaryens," you say in an attempt to test the hold she appears to have on your husband. "Blood calls to blood... doesn't it, husband?"

Aemond's hand twitches. "Yes."

Alys's grip tightens on his shoulder. "Is that why you've been fucking the King behind your husband's back? You dare get angry about his infidelity when you've never been loyal a day in your life? Like mother like daughter I suppose."

Aegon steps closer to you, whispering in your ear, "whatever hold she has on Aemond isn't normal. You need to get her out of the way now."

"Aemond is right beside her. I can't-"

"That's a lot of whispering over there," Alys calls out. "Perhaps you would like to share your mighty plan with the rest of us?"

"I'm deciding how to kill you," you state simply, enjoying how Alys's eyes grow terrified.

Aemond growls, pushing Alys's hand off his shoulder before stalking toward you. "Aemma, be reasonable. She's an asset to our cause."

You scoff. "Our cause? Have you forgotten whose daughter I am? There was a moment where I did, I'll admit, but no more."

You look at the two brothers, feeling your heart shatter as you realize what you let them do to you. All the isolation and manipulation and lies. You let them take your power without even realizing it.

"No more." You shake your head, willing the tears back. "Vermithor, dracarys."

Vermithor lumbers forward, fixated solely on Alys Rivers. The witch turns to run and you watch as fire spills from your dragon's mouth, consuming the woman in bright orange flames. Those same flames are reflected in Aemond's eyes when he looks down at you. He grabs you by the upper arms and shakes roughly.

"Why would you do that? We've lost everything now."

Aegon rolls his eyes. "Oh, relax, no we haven't. You told me yourself she hasn't had an important vision in-"

"She was pregnant."

You push Aemond's statement to the back of your mind, refusing to think about it right now.

Besides, the three of you have more than enough to talk about. More than enough grievances to air.

"We need to talk," you finally say. "All of us. About everything."

Aemond and Aegon nod in sync.

"Aegon and I will return to King's Landing on Vermithor. You can follow on Vhagar," you tell your husband.

He nods once more, still starring at the charred remains of Alys Rivers.

You can't find it in yourself to feel one way or another about her death, but you do regret hurting Aemond. The wedding band on your finger feels suddenly heavy.

"I do love you, Aemond," you whisper before mounting Vermithor. Aegon follows you, one of his hands resting on your lower stomach while the other stays on your thigh. Aemond finally looks over and snarls at his brother's hand placement.

"Is that enough anymore?" He looks up at you, jaw set in anger. "Can it ever be enough after all of this?"

"I hope so."

[minnlahzz]

amethio and silver with a kogal gyaru s/o.

requested

YEAH, YEAH! first time writing for silver in pokespe, a big roller coaster. this might be a bit ooc, also amethio's is set before episode 65. note this is strictly manga silver, not game silver! I apologise in advance if there's spelling mistakes i barely proof read.

— NOTE : LOWERCASE INTENDED

— AMETHIO

amethio is not one to judge, infact he's very supportive, because of his job he's seen many people with many different styles. he's seen many gyaru's before, so he definitely has common knowledge about why and how you guys do this style.

he'll try it, reluctantly and only once. you can put hair clips on him, and do his make up! he'll wash it off afterwards though, it's not that he doesn't like it, it's that he has a status to approve and the admins aren't really on friendly terms right now, sango would definitely love you if she found out you existed.

amethio likes to observe you doing your make up, he could watch you for hours and not get bored. and attentively too, he'd ask "what's that one for?" when curious what your make products do.

gives you random things at anytime cute key charms, hair clips, accessories, anything cute he's seen you look at before or bought. if you have pokemon yourself, he'll buy key chains of your pokemon to stick to your rotom phone. he'd use the reasoning "i saw this while on duty, and thought you'd like it" so sweet!

supportive, would volunteer to take your photos even if they look a little wonky... he's trying! he'll get better eventually and you'll have a portable camera director.

would jump everybody that gives you weird looks in his mind, judging is for ugly people.

— SILVER

when first meeting you silver did not judge or get weirded out, since its common around johto for girls to have this style. he found it pretty cool and charming.

please do geek out about your interests and things you'd want to do with your style, silver is interested and will definitely listen to your yapping spree.

tough to say, but silver would not try the style or would want anything to do with it. he doesn't hate it, but he's more comfortable wearing his own stuff. although if you give him something like a bracelet or hair tie he'll treasure it with his life.

he likes walking with you, and letting you go shopping! silver is technically a nepo baby so he has alot of money, and always volunteers to pay for you and your shenanigans. it's that whole scene you'd see a cute item and you ask him if he wants one. he'd go completely silent for a second thinking.

"hey silver, look at these silly phone cases!" you say, grabbing his attention. "a gengar phonecase?..." silver tilted his head, "no good?"

"If you want you can buy it, I don't really care." silver responds at you, as your pointing at the items. "but I wanna buy it for the both of us! we should get two, unless you don't like it?"

"no, no it's fine I don't really need one." he reassures, looking back at them and then your face second guessing what he said. right as you were gonna put the other one back to the rack, "you know what, I'll use it."

the sparkle in your eyes was so adorable, maybe he should give in once in a while...

silver wins the idgaf war, he'd use his phone in public with the phone case you bought! (with his money) even if gold asks him silver shrugs. "it's pretty cool." is his common response, another thing of winning idgaf war is that he's not afraid to approach somebody who was giving you weird stares.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

The Jealous One pt 9

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 3,196

The third time's a charm. 

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE, unedited

<Previous - Next>

“Woah… Didn’t know you were cool.” Tuffnut scoffed and laughed, his shoulders bouncing as he laughed from his throat.

“Shut up,” You grumbled. You hadn’t wanted them to follow you down in the first place.

You were under a dark niche, an overhang on the opposite end of the spire to the one that faced the village, on the side where Mildew lived but this bit was much closer to the base.

The air underneath was moist and heavy.

You’d come down with Hiccup, once. You’d spent the time loitering and listening to him rant, his neutral greens and warm browns looking out of place against the dark rock, while you did your own thing, leaning against the side of a dripping rock wall. 

You’d thought this place used to be something that belonged to both of you, but now it was more just a you thing… or maybe not.

You’d been feeling confused since you’d woken up in Hiccup’s hut in a spare set of your own sleepwear -when did he have the time to go get your sleep wear? 

You hadn’t even known he’d had it in him to care for anyone like that, in such an intimate fashion. You remembered a point in your teenhood in which he would have insisted you hand yourself off to Gothi- Really, the whole event had woken up a large number of twisty curly things and mixed with the slightly sour feeling in your gut- you were almost sure you’d never recovered from your violent illness.

You could still feel it tickling at your periphery, the sickness- It really would suck if you’d gotten sick again.

It had been a cold night last night and so some of the mud below crunch beneath your feet, thawing frost coating some patches and melting snow wetting others so thoroughly that you’d been up to your ankles in the sludge.

Your boots had a thick wadding of it even now, standing in the sanctity of your own secret cave- you own cave secret no longer.

You had your hands on your elbows and your shoulders hunched, and although it was true that you were mad, you were also incredibly cold.

“Don’t be lame,” Snotlout scoffed.

“Those who live in twig houses should not be swinging axes,” You grumbled, “And so I’d rather you keep all your stones to yourself.”

“What? What does that even mean?” Snotlout puffed up his chest from where he stood in front of you- he was closest to the exit of your little overhang, the one you now wanted very much to leave, though you loathed the idea of stepping out into the mud, much more liquid than it had been earlier, when you had stepped down into your crevasse and it had been still too dark out to cause any real melting.

“I called you dumb, dipstick,” You grumbled, knowing he would never take the time to pull that sentence apart on his own. 

He was stubborn and talking to him sometimes was like throwing knives at an impenetrable wall -the harder to work at it, the more likely you were going to hurt yourself- and you cursed him for it.

You also cursed his father for being such a dud- Snotlout would really be better off if he just thought, but wishful thinking could never be anything but wishful thinking and Snotlout was an old hunting dog- no new tricks for him.

“Downer,” Tuffnut scoffed as he hobbled outside for reasons unknown to you though not unwelcome.

“You know what would solve all your problems?” Snotlout asked. He responded right after, without waiting for you to ask, “Get pretty. Pretty ugly.”

You felt immediately more sour, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

You were even more sour as you felt something smack against the side of your leg.

You looked down just to be greeted by a thick wad of wet ground staining already dark grays darker- and at his squealing, you realized that the trajectory and force of Tuffnut’s throw meant that Snotlout had gotten splashed too.

“Yeesh,” You snapped, “You couldn’t have chosen a better time for a mud fight, could you?”

Mud against your skirt, you followed after Snotlout as he fled, shouting something squirrlish and manly about ‘stuff’ on his coat and yak dung.

He stopped right at the entrance of the cave and you ran straight into his back, rushing out after him, which had the unintended effect of shoving him roughly into the mud in front of him.

You nearly burst a lung with your laughter, half doubling over before whipping your head back as a large glob of mud slammed into your face with all the force inertia allowed.

You gawped, using both hands to pull the mud away from your eyes and wipe it off your face, flinging small spatters of it  against the rock walls and floor.

“That one was meant for Snotlout, but ‘eh,” Ruffnut, the obvious culprit, shrugged, her hands muddied, “I guess you’re good too.”

“Oh, Hel! Chief’s kid! Run!” Snotlout shouted. In the way they did when you were all kids and they’d been mocking you and Hiccup in different ways.

At the word ‘Chief,’ the Twins startled suddenly like bucking sheep, tripping over their feet to sprint away and make for the forest as fast as they could, jumping down ledges and bolting.

You gaped and watched as they all ran off, staying standing where you were, then you began to laugh nearly hysterically as Tuffnut tripped over a long slip of mud before falling violently on his face. 

He only just barely made it back into a scramble a moment longer.

Hiccup stood straight just before the clearly-made-worse field of mud, clearly caught off guard.

“Hi,” You said, with what must have been a dopey grin on your face and mud all over your being.

The others- you were slightly annoyed by how they’d run at the sight of the Chief’s son despite being his almost good friends.

From the chilly walk up the Chief’s hill and into his dwelling, which was dark and slightly cold, which must have meant that the Chief himself was still blessedly absent, off on some overseas trip or other.

“I should… Probably go.” You said, turning. You weren’t sure why you’d come up in the first place, the walk you took spent in silence- you’d need to hurry back to bathe so that your waning cold didn’t spike once more.

“You don’t have to.” Hiccup said then, “I was- I mean, I was- You can, then me? Or I can, then you- No- I had Toothless heat up the bathwater, earlier, and I-”

You tilted your head to the side, looking at him, greasy brown hair and all- Toothless’s fire always ran hot and so, ah, he must have gone for some herbs, then- Gothi planted a few at the base of the mountain, and for those with scarring and the right knowledge of plants, they made for an okay blams, which was the point. The old healer had probably gotten tired of the rabble crawling up to her hut over nothing and making their irritations worse.

“We can... Split the water,” You suggested weakly, shrugging crusting shoulders, tilting your head to a large wooden bucket of water off to your side- nearly large enough to hold a person.

You stayed huddled by the fire, your hands to a mug, your lips teasing the edge of it.

You wore a tunic that wasn’t yours, that hadn’t fit Hiccup by multiple sizes but still smelt like Hiccup anyways flopping over your hands- he’d probably used it to stuff his pillow or the like, because it smelt a lot like residual smoke and him.

You borrowed from him a pair of undershorts, too, and they remained the only thing keeping your bottom half from the grained wood floor- besides the soles of your feet, your knees being pushed up nearly to your chin.

The bath bucket, Hiccup had placed up in his room, probably intending to enjoy the luxury of being able to bathe up in the loft. Unfortunately, he’d conceded the right to bathe up there to you, settling for a bucket and washcloth.

The water, Hiccup was too lazy to bring it down as he’d brought it up.

You figured you would figure it out later as you dried, but by the sounds of it Hiccup had probably just ended up tilting the whole bath out his window, dumping the water that way- There was a stain on the side of his house from when he’d done it before and a gouge where he’d cut out some suspicious looking rot, probably a consequence of the undue moisture and fading waterproofing. 

You wanted to puff at it, but you knew you were much too lazy to pail up any water for yourself.

You looked to the side but remained no less stationary as you heard him come down the stairs and settle, standing an appropriate distance away. He was nearly looking at you but his eyes were angled in a way which said ‘not quite.’ 

You couldn’t fathom why, however, unless he was being shy about your dress, though you couldn’t see why he would be concerned or avoidant- he’d put you in his things, after all.

By the light of the fireplace flickering warmly at the fronts of your legs, his hair was more than auburn in the light, looking lighter and fluffier than normal now that he’d washed out the grime, probably with a slight bit more fervor than usual, though you were slightly aghast by it and confused as to why.

You’d definitely felt softer about him since he’d cared for you, sick as you were, though you were surely unsure of where the two of you stood.

“Hello,” You said, breaking the silence which felt heady and warm.

“...Would now be a good time to apologize?” Hiccup started, his prosthetic and the floorboards squeaking as he shuffled.

You blinked your eyes open, staring at Hiccup for a moment. He looked almost earnest. “...I guess so.”

“I’m sorry.” Hiccup started, “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

You shrugged.

“Are you free? I mean, I could start… I could start bringing you on trips with the Riders?”

You startled slightly, the peaceful atmosphere between the two of your disrupted slightly- and suddenly you could feel again where spots of Hiccup’s tunic were damp, mostly in parts you’d done a poor job of drying, you could feel the few bits of grain that dug into your rump through its fabric and you could feel how the room was still a smidge too cold against your back, except it wasn’t anything you thought of fondly, more something that sent uncomfortably shivers running up your spine.

That was the exact opposite of what you wanted- it would be a  reminder of all the ways you didn’t belong between them, bearing witness to exactly how you always would mess up their rhythm. 

You didn’t like the idea at all. You struggled to come up with a way to explain it to him.

“I don’t… I would just be dragging you guys down. It’s not like I have a dragon, or anything, and you guys have… years,” You said self consciously. You tried to keep your voice from cracking at this part, though you couldn’t really tell if you minded, “-Of experience, together. I think I’ve only been there for a few, you know, before everything.”

Hiccup started and he opened his mouth to speak before closing it.

“That’s my fault.” Hiccup said guiltily, “I should’ve… I trained dragons for the others.”

You knew that especially then as you turned further to the side, the meat of your leg coming to rest against the Haddock’s wooden floor. You could feel all the grooves in it against fresh, just recently damp skin.

“And I… I left you.”

“Yeah,” You said, curling your knees up and refusing to look at him, “You did. But that was in dragon training and I wasn’t there. I didn’t make the cut, I guess.”

 Admittedly, you were a little upset, but as it always went, you hadn’t done much to let it show until now.

They didn’t hide it or anything, but still. Even if the others didn’t hang out much outside of Dragon Riding, they still had tons of experience together. 

You hated being together with everyone at once even in the Great Hall. being there had been a hard reminder, one you’d shake off soon enough.

“It’s different now.” Hiccup protested, taking a step forward.

You wondered if his stump hurt, still. You felt bad about distracting him- you hoped he hadn’t caused himself pain, foregoing the nice bath and hauling all the water out of his window anyways.

“Is it? I mean,” You demurred, slightly out of it, “I still don’t… I don’t have a dragon, so. I can’t fly with you or anything and I know that’s really important. Isn’t that why…?”

“What? No, no, even if it was, we can work on that.” Hiccup smiled awkwardly, “I can- Toothless and I can do all the heavy lifting- not that you’re heavy, I mean… If- if you’re not sure, then-”

“I don’t know.” You started, looking down, “Maybe. But… Why? Seriously, Why now? I don’t understand…”

And you refused to look, not deeply. You didn’t want to, knowing that it usually hurt. Instead you chose to believe that he was either deathly ill or mad- two likely culprits, the last one foremostly. 

You settled your mug to the floor, standing and moving close up to him, one hand grasping his arm as you pressed yourself closer, your other hand coming up to feel at his forehead.

It was wonderful- to feel, to hold, to touch- but you didn’t focus on that, on the uneven feeling of his skin in one parts and the lumps under others and you didn’t focus nearly enough as you probably should have on the light, damp sheen over his forehead, or how nice the burning under his skin was against your palm, nearly oppressive despite the fact that you were the one to make the first move.

You couldn’t tell if it was burning or not to an unreasonable extent -not just by touch- and any redness that must have shown itself, clutched against peach skin, was obscured by the red light of fire and the darkness of shadow.

“You’re not sick now, are you?” You mumbled with some vague concern.

“Ah- N-no.” Hiccup said, his hovering, twitchy hand coming to rest along your waist.

With his eyes reflecting the flickering light of the fire, contrasting against brighter greens and baby colors, you thought that this moment that you’d found yourself in- It was like something out of a dream you’d had when you were younger.

You’d wandered into it unintentionally, and past your musings you’d nearly expected to wake up in your bed at fifteen years of age once again, sleep interrupted by the furious screaming of a bloodthirsty dragon. It would be nice if you did.

This moment, you knew, was not as kind or as dream-like as it seemed, for if it was, there would be more than a broken friendship and hesitant camaraderie between the two of you- a great deal more.

You kept your face blank as you slipped away slightly, ready for the warm, solid grip of Hiccup’s palm on your waist to become something colder and more absent. However, you paused- You hadn’t so much as tugged yourself away from his palm as you’d let it lay there, coming quickly to notice the sureness by which he held it against you, not at all giving as it should naturally be when someone was pulling away, nearly unwilling to let go.

“You’re not trying to win me over anymore,” You asked suddenly, “Not in the typical sense?”

“I-” Hiccup started before his eyes flickered away, his other hand sliding against your waist. “No.”

You did your best not to think of how he might have held Astrid- how you were sure you’d seen him touch Astrid in the same way, which sent twinges up and down your spine and touched your bruising ego, covered in irritating, old, slightly raw burn marks.

None of that mattered, though, because this wasn’t what that was- of course it wasn’t because he’d never treated you that way, and wasn’t that nearly a problem? It wasn’t that you couldn’t look beyond yourself to know, but to treat it in that way- to find it, to know it to be fake or even real or to entertain the fantasy would also hurt- it might sting and rage at your softer parts in a way that made you want to cower, and so you pushed all yearnings and musings and other sad things farther away.

“What are you doing?” You leaned in slightly closer, eyes searching, feeling more serious than not, even as your bare knee brushed lightly against his clothed one.

Hiccup sighed breathily. You could almost call what he did a wheeze.

“...I’m sorry.” Hiccup said, and in an action that surprised you and had your neck straightening and your eyes opening wider by a slight margin, he placed his face securely into your shoulder.

You could nearly feel his lips against your neck, in the place where collar bone met shoulder, and you resisted your own urge to shudder and sigh, all your shaky breaths held deeply inwards.

You mumbled softly, leaning back into him and resting your head against his neck, “I forgive you. I really- really forgive you. And… And I’m sorry too.”

Sorry for dumping water on his head, for being so crass, even if he deserved it- and sorry for everything you’d lost, too, along the way and before the journey.

You tightened your arms slightly, your eyelids shutting tighter as you took in the shape of him, how he felt, ever so warm against you, his hands moving from your waist to your back, his arms pushing and wrapping against your sides, constraining and nice made nicer as the heat of the hearth in the floor beat and flickered steadily on.

Hiccup smelt fresh, like river-washed clothes and a bit like mildew all mixed in with something that was surely Hiccup, something heavy growing finer, much different to the scent you were sure had belongs to him, noted down when you were nothing but young teens tussling and chittering around in forests and along village pathways. 

You hummed into his neck, your eyelashes grazing gently against the skin and baby hairs there and sighed, your voice thick and catching, raspy and muffled by the parts of his skin pressing into your cheek and the seam of fabric warm and almost scratchy against one side of your nose.

You knew  on some level that this might never happen again. So, you desired to enjoy it before you couldn’t- before, once again, you became bitter, before you felt rupturing-ly petty and frustrated and sad.

[boneblushed]

The Archer

-> you’re drunker thank you should be, sadder than most. Good thing Rafe’s sober and rational.

a/n sometimes, writing IS therapy 😬

You’re staring at the sky when he finds you.

Constellations blur into an obscure patchwork of iridescence, the sweep of greys clouds causing a strange sort of fascination. It’s all very pretty, really. You aren’t. The Earth is beautiful and you’re drunk.

You’ve had too much. Not in a bad way; you were hoping to take the edge off, and you might’ve overshot it just enough to make your voice hoarse. And your vision funny. Good thing you don’t need perfect eyesight to recognise the boy who invited you here.

He’s got this deep, gravelly timbre you’d recognise just about anywhere.

“Here, baby,” he murmurs now, having materialised in front of you with a glass of water. It’s cool and wet as he coaxes it into your palm, a pull of ice down your throat as you tip it back. He sneaks a kiss on the bare, exposed skin as you do so, unable to help himself.

“Mm,” you hum. He pulls the glass away. A gloss of condensation lingers on your lips.

That’s the first thing he notices, guiltily, as he takes a seat beside you. The second thing, the thing that informs his aforementioned guilt, is the fact that there’s cruel, salty tears as the base of your lower lids. You lean forward and look up at him, your eye contact rich with sorrow, and they fall down your cheek like raindrops on petals.

His heart aches so bad he thinks he’s having a cardiac event.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs. He sounds perplexed. More tears fall, and he springs into action, catching them on his thumb.

It’s rough pressure on your cheek. His palm curls around your jaw, his fingers gentle on your earlobe.

You sigh. “M’sorry,” you mumble, chagrined.

More tears. “Why?” He asks.

“Crying again.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, and he means it. He shrugs off his jumper and places it on your shoulders, his strong arm around it. The weight of his muscles press warmth into your skin.

You blink in lieu of nodding, lean into his touch. Now relaxing against his side, you gaze up at him, unshed tears wetting your eyes. It’s a sad sort of earnest, and he begins to ache harder. “Can I ask you something?” You say quietly.

“Anything.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “I love you.”

You don’t have it into you to reciprocate the sentiment right now, no matter how badly you mean to. “All your friends are here,” you mumble.

He raises his eyebrows.

“And none of mine,” you add, a stray tear punctuating the insinuation.

“Because they were busy, baby,” he murmurs softly.

“Because,” you breath in shakily, this ugly, heaving sob, “I have no friends.”

“Sweetheart —”

“I have no one.”

Rafe pulls you into him firmer, harder, a squeezing pressure that almost hurts. It’s grounding. “Don’t. You have me,” he says quietly. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

You hate being vulnerable like this, especially in public. The stars shine bright above you, ever-present, and the party goes on despite your world standing still.

You blink up at him, the wetness of your tears darkening your eyelashes. Rafe’s chest squeezes. He means it so much it’s going to give him a fucking aneurysm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he answers, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “You’ll always have me. Even when you don’t want me.”

“I’ll always want you,” you mumble, smiling a little, voice muffled by the kiss.

His fingers are rough on your jaw, warm palm dwarfing your neck as he holds your lips against his. “Thank fuck,” he mutters, his roguish grin audible. More osculate pressure. “I’ve already started referring to you as Mrs Cameron in my head.”

[ghosttotheparty]

‘hey, how’d it go?’

‘uh. not great.’

‘shit. tell me.’

‘ well, it started kinda fine. she kept, like, looking at my neck, but she didn’t say anything. but we got along pretty well.’

‘ did you hook up?’

‘ well. we were going to. but it was… i don’t know. weird.’

‘weird awkward?’

‘yeah. like it just… jesus, i don’t know. it felt wrong? but not, like, wrong wrong, just. weird.’

‘sure.’

‘it was like we didn’t know what to do.’

‘how far’d you get?’

‘we made out. but when i went to take my shirt off, she said— i’m not exaggerating— oh my go-od.’

‘jesus, steve.’

‘yeah. honestly i don’t even know why i fucking bother.’

‘what do you mean?’

‘ i dunno. guess i knew i’m fucking ugly now, i guess i just kinda… i don’t know. hoped it wasn’t that bad. but i’m an idiot, so.’

‘jesus, steve, shut the fuck up.’

‘huh?’

‘you’re not— fuck, there was so much wrong with all of that, oh my god.’

‘eddie.’

‘no— okay, alright. steve. you’re not ugly.’

‘she recoiled, eddie.’

‘okay, well, cindy alden is a bitch. i remember her from school, she’s always been awful. don’t laugh, i’m serious, she’s terrible.’

‘okay, eddie.’

‘you’re not ugly.’

‘i’m…’

‘steve. you’re not ugly. your scars are cool.’

‘think you’re the only one that thinks that.’

‘well my opinion is the most important, so.’

‘okay, eddie.’

‘look. your scars are metal as fuck. even if you don’t think so.’

‘…’

‘when you see my scars, do you think they’re ugly?’

‘wha— no, of course not.’

‘so why do you think yours are ugly?’

‘…i dont know.’

‘have you actually looked at your scars? taken a really good look?’

‘i don’t really want to.’

‘look at them. now.’

‘eddie.’

‘come on, stevie, humour me.’

‘…okay. i’m looking.’

‘have you noticed how they, like, kinda swirl a little bit?’

‘…noticing that now.’

‘don’t they kinda look like storm clouds?’

‘…’

‘steve?’

‘yeah. a little bit. guess that’s… kinda cool.’

‘and the colours? aren’t they pretty?’

‘you’re trying to make me feel better about myself.’

‘yeah. i am. aren’t they pretty?’

‘…yeah. i guess.’

‘and our scars match. that’s pretty cool. they’re like friendship bracelets.’

‘some fucked up friendship bracelets. but yeah. it’s kinda nice that i’m not the only one.’

‘you’re not ugly, steve. even with your sick-ass scars, you’re ho— you’re so cool.’

‘yeah? you think i’m pretty, eddie?’

‘…anyway. don’t worry about what cindy alden has to say. you’re good. and you’re not an idiot.’

‘okay, eddie.’

‘don’t okay, eddie me, i’m serious. you’re pretty smart, steve.’

‘okay, maybe i’m not an idiot, but i wouldn’t go so far as to say i’m smart.’

‘well, it’s a good thing i’m not asking you, isn’t it? don’t sigh at me. you’re smart.”

‘eddie, i don’t mind being the dumb one of the group, it’s fine.’

‘no, it’s not, steve. you’re not the dumb one. just because you’re not a science nerd or something doesn’t mean you’re not smart.’

‘in what way am i smart?’

‘you’re observant as fuck, steve. i’m serious, you are. dustin and robin told me about how they only realised the russian code was coming from hawkins because you were the only one that recognized the music in it.’

‘…’

‘we only figured out we could communicate from the upside down because you heard dustin. no one else heard him.’

‘you guys thought i was crazy.’

‘yeah, until we heard him too, and then i thought holy shit, this guy’s got ears like a fuckin’ bat.’

‘…’

‘you knew how to drive that rv right away.’

‘didn’t have much of a choice.’

‘what i meant was that you’d never driven an rv before.’

‘…‘s true.’

‘you’re really smart, steve. you’re… resourceful. and intuitive, and observant, and it doesn’t matter if you don’t know science-y shit.’

‘…okay.’

‘and even if you weren’t smart, it wouldn’t matter. you’re more than your body and brains, stevie.’

‘what else am i, eddie?’

‘jesus, where should i start? …okay. you’re really sweet.’

‘sweet?’

‘so fucking sweet, steve, you’re one of the nicest people i know. even in high school, you were nicer than the other douche bags. and now you’re… you’re kind, steve. even if you’re being bitchy. you’re kind, and considerate, and patient when you need to be.’

‘…okay.’

‘and you’re… you’re funny. i know all the kids make fun of your jokes, but i laugh at all of them.’

‘thanks.’

‘you’re a good friend.’

‘am i?’

‘remember what i said about you being observant?’

‘yeah?’

‘i swear you can walk into a room and just… know. like, if anything is wrong, you pick up on it immediately, it’s insane. and you always know exactly what people need. you’re… safe.’

‘…safe?’

‘yeah. safe. everyone’s totally comfortable around you. the kids fucking adore you.’

‘really?’

‘yeah. the other day we were hanging out while you and robin were at work, and erica sighed very loudly and complained that she missed you.’

‘erica said that?’

‘erica fucking sinclair said, and i quote, i miss steve.’

‘…that’s really nice.’

‘you’re a good guy, steve, seriously. you’re selfless and brave and kind, and i love how you look after everyone, and how your eyes light up when talk about your sports, and how you get all mushy about the kids when they’re not around, and—’

‘…’

‘look. you’re, like, the best. and it— it breaks my fucking heart to hear you talk about yourself like you’re some piece of shit.’

‘…’

‘steve?’

‘…’

‘fuck, are you crying?’

‘…no?’

‘fuck, steve, i’m—’

‘eddie?’

‘yeah?’

‘i… i have to tell you something.’

‘what is it? are you okay?’

‘…i’m falling in love with you.’

‘…what?’

‘i’m sorry, eddie.’

‘no, don’t hang up, stevie— you’re— are you sure?’

‘yeah. i’m sure.’

‘but you… what about the girls?’

‘i was… i was trying not to— to fall for you, but you… fucking christ, eddie, you’re so…’

‘so?’

‘so good. you’re so perfect.’

‘fuck.’

‘im sorry, eddie.’

‘don’t apologise, stevie, i’m— i’m in love with you too.’

‘…say it again.’

‘i’m in love with you, too.’

‘holy shit.’

‘are you okay?’

‘i’m okay. i’m… can you come over?’

‘…to yours?’

‘or— or i can go to yours, i just— i wanna see you.’

‘you do?’

‘i wanna… i wanna kiss you.’

‘fuck. fuck, fuck, ow, okay, i’m—‘

‘what just happened?’

‘i fell off my bed, i’m fine, i can be there in a few minutes.’

‘are you sure?’

‘holy shit, steve, yes, i’ll be right over.’

‘okay.’

‘okay.’

‘wait, eddie—’

‘yeah?’

‘…i love you.’

‘fuck. i love you too. i’ll be right there, stevie.’

‘okay.’

[deathmetalunicorn1]

If I had to describe Lilia Vanrouge without trying to spoil Twisted Wonderland, I’d say that he and Buddha would most likely be best buddies, Zerofuku would love and respect him, and he would be the ‘Nightmare Duo’ with Loki *Of Pranks* especially towards each other (He’s a really funny and cool character)

Plus I would 110% believe that if Child!Reader ever asks him “Are you my Fairy Godmother?” He would instantly say ‘Yes’ in less that a Heartbeat (He’s a silly character) All his cards are really beautiful, he knows he’s a cutie and likes to show it off (Also today is his Birthday and he pulls on your heartstrings to come to his party, or else he’ll cry *He uses his cuteness*)

He would also definitely call Child!Reader ‘Baby Bat’

Here are some Emoji’s that fit him 🦇🍅🎸🖤🩷💚

I decided to do this request with Eri!reader as I feel like that would make it adorable. This character does sound like a lot of fun!

-You didn’t know what to make of this new person who came to Valhalla and was hanging out with your family members.

-He and Buddha were almost always having tea and eating snacks together, and you had seen him always be really nice to Zerofuku, who looked up to him like a big brother, Zerofuku told you that you would like him too.

-You were a little shy, as you normally were with new people, staying close to those you trusted until you deemed a new person safe, as you knew that your family would always protect you.

-Zerofuku did tell you that Lilia and Loki had gotten into trouble and had been put into timeout, after they had gone on a prank-spree, pranking anyone they could.

-You knew Loki was funny, as he would always hide behind you if he got into trouble, and he would pull harmless pranks on you, like dumping flower petals over you, which always made you laugh.

-You began to follow Lilia, which is what you did when you wanted to get to know someone, as you would watch them from afar, investigating them.

-Lilia knew you were doing this, and he had learned from Loki, Zerofuku, and Buddha, that you were a very fragile child and that he should let you come to him in your own time, else you would be scared of him.

-Lilia didn’t want that! So, he made sure to never do anything scary around you and soon you were getting closer and closer to him, wanting to see his pretty cards up close and you wanted to have a tea party with him too.

-When you finally got the courage to approach him on your own, but Zerofuku and Buddha were also there, Lilia beamed brightly down at you, “Hello my little bat- I could feel your cute little stare!” He ended his statement with a wink, surprising you, he looked so pretty up close!

-You looked a little shy, looking over at Buddha who gave you a grin and a small nod as Lilia held out one of his hands, so you could take it, letting you be in charge before you looked up, your eyes sparkling lightly, “Are you my fairy godmother?”

-Silence filled the room before Lilia collapsed out of his chair and to the floor, clutching his chest as Buddha roared with laughter while you were confused about what happened.

-Lilia couldn’t stand it- you were just too cute!

-He quickly got you a chair for the tea party before he gave you big puppy eyes, “Y/N- my birthday is tomorrow and I’m having another tea party- will you come?”

-Your eyes went huge, hearing that it was his birthday as you smiled, killing all of them with cuteness, “Can I?” Lilia wanted to hug and cuddle you close, but held back, for now.

-He did not hold back the following day, when you presented him with a crayon drawing of himself and you holding hands, with ‘my fairy godmother’ written out on top, misspelled and a little messy, but he collapsed to his knees, hugging you close as he ugly cried, “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever been given!!”

-You were happy that he liked it, as you had worked really hard on it! You liked this funny man, he was a bit loud at times, but he was always really gentle and kind with you, so it was hard not to like him.

-When you called him big brother for the first time, he was sure he saw a light at the end of a dark tunnel, which strangely sounded like Buddha and Loki laughing.

-Lilia loved the idea of being your big brother, at least one of them, as he was quick to realize why you were so special to all of them, he would protect you with his life!

[bacchuschucklefuck]

Can you expand on what you mean by Baron being "too cool" to really fit a horror monster? It's a very interesting concept and I'd love to hear your thoughts. Is it that they're too active/involved/tangible and it detracts from their scariness?

I feel like I should preface this with a wall of disclaimers lmao 1/I am a hardcore, down-to-the-marrow, avid, deeply sincere horror enthusiast, esp. horror creatures. this usually means my mileage is vastly different from the average populace's, and my scaredy bone has been disintegrated by longterm exposure. most things in a piece of horror media won't scare me! so I practically never use that on its own as the scale to talk abt horror experiences, but when something does scare me it's always a special occasion to be treasured. 2/canon d20 is never really meant to be horror horror, and for good reasons: it doesn't fit the company's output, it takes a kind of carelessness in production estimation that is always a huge risk, it's often vulnerable in a way that kinda goes against how TTRPGs usually facilitates vulnerability, and for most people it's just! stressful! d20, even with the "horror-themed" seasons, generally just plays with horror tropes and stays focused in its goal of being a comedy improv tabletop theater show. 3/fantasy high's chosen system is DnD, which as I've mentioned before is before all a combat-based game system, which means the magic circle of play is drawn based on stats that facilitate and prioritize combat. want or not this affects every interaction you have in the game, and given fantasy high's concept from the ground up (everyone's going to school of DnD stuff to get better at DnD) it's doubly relevant. 4/This Is Fine I have no quarrel with this. my meters are internal, I do not ask this show to be anything it doesn't advertise itself to be, and what it is is fucking great! I like it! when I expand on this ask's question it will be like a physicist going insane in a lab. that's the mindset we're going in with.

disclaimers done. my stance on horror as a genre is that it's a utility genre rather than a content genre or a demographic genre; it is the discard of narratives. it's the trash pile. horror, above being scary, is about being ugly and messy, it's the cracks on the ground any story inevitably steps over to stay a genre that isn't horror. the genre's been around long enough to develop a codex and a general language that medias and makers and enthusiasts of the genre can use to talk about and build onto, but if you go into individual pieces there's really no unifying Horror Story. one person's beautiful life can be another's horror story, it's just how it is.

this makes The Monster a deeply intriguing piece of the genre. thing is a monster is in a decent percentage of any story - it's just when the antagonist force steps into something past a certain line traced out in the story's world. monstrousness is in pretty much every western fantasy story, it's in any story with a hero and something to vanquish or win; more than anything it's a proxy of that thing up there. the line in a narrative's world. the monster is the guard of the unknown lands, where heroic, civilized people don't tread.

what does this mean in the context of horror? the genre is about that perceived lawlessness, that "unknown land" so to say. we're in the monster's home. that's the literary context that we often walk into a horror piece with; the monster knows more than you about where you are. it may not understand you, but it holds more information than you, and with that it moves swifter than you, has more covered than you, and is more assured in its existence in this context than you. it's a struggle to catch up to it, it's nigh impossible to get one over it, and you're never sure it'll 100% work, because you just don't have the information necessary to.

with that framing you can kinda see where I'm coming from here: horror's often about the breaking of rules. I always think a monster's most effective when it breaks well-established rules of both existence and visual storytelling. think Possum (2018) or Undertale's Omega Flowey or the Xenomorph Queen - unique change in medium, unique change in graphic, unique change in design language, etc. in that sense I actually really like how canon baron plays out: they don't really function like anything else in the fantasy high universe, the bad kids have not managed to kill them when they've felled literal gods, their domain in fhjy literally introduces new mechanics to encompass their existence! from an experience design standpoint they slap mad shit. BUT! I can't help finding their character, like as a character riz (and the other bad kids, eventually) interact with, to be very... coherent? in design. this is kinda hard for me to articulate in words, it's more often a sense you get once you've looked at enough of these scrumptious fuckers, their general design and the way they show up is just kinda too clean, so to say. always kinda newly made? fresh unboxed. it, once again, makes sense for their lore - they are looking for more about themself from riz - and their function - they're an antagonist in a game experience, they're meant to be interacted with in a way that produces results and meshes with the existing magic circle - but that shininess takes away from the implied history they should have dominion over and the person they're haunting doesn't.

from another angle there is kinda something there about how put-together canon baron is as a concept; the domain they call home is riz's deep-seeded fears, extremely vulnerable things he's drawn borders around to quarantine and refused to walk into. things that from his perspective would irreversibly shatter certain pleasant fictions his world is built on top of. canon baron, While Extremely Cool, I feel is kinda too neat to connect with and signify the apocalyticized mess that'd result from this paradigm shift. the part where they're in riz's briefcase and looking through every mirror is Very Cool And Fucked Up! but ultimately the show draws a line around them as well, by making game-physical, tangible spaces they're in (the mirrors and the haunted mordred manor) and put riz and the bad kids there only when they need to confront stuff. riz is meaningfully narratively away from baron's unknown land for most of fantasy high.

with that and all of my disclaimers in mind my conclusion here is if canon baron wants to be a Horror Monster they'd have to cross way more lines. be a Lot more invasive. hence (holds up my class swap baron like a long cat)

[iamunabletothinkofablogname]

Isn't it SO fun to be harassed and bullied at school? /sarc

People call me a "FUCKING WEIRDO!" (Yes, that's word for word.)

They make faces at me like I'm sort of disgusting slob. (And they SHOW it and they WANT me to know they think that!)

Along with that, one kid pretended to gag and throw up at the sight of me, and used solar eclipse glasses to not look at me.

One kid called me ugly today! (YAY! /sarc)

They poke and prod at me like I'm a science experiment.

They fear the fact I smile all the time, that I tend to keep an emotionless expression in my eyes. (I'm only following Alastor's advice!)

They love to annoy me... But it's getting tiring.

Only a select few enjoy my presence, they keep me in and go along with my antics. My friend group likes having me around. And other kids I don't know much and we're neutral with each other.

I know I'm "weird" by their standards. But what's the fun in the world without differences?

I know I took on the persona of "weirdo" in my class. I want to go up to a teacher and cry. Because I didn't deserve to be treated like this?

I didn't deserve to be told "You know you should kill yourself" when I'm already suicidal. Did I?

Get told I'm retarded like 10 times already? Maybe more? (I'm not even exaggerating...)

And considering I might have mental illnesses such as possible autism, that's even meaner. At this point I'm not living, I'm surviving.

There's a reason why I've given up. My best friends are on the internet. I don't think without them I would be able to live today. Why do the people who care about me, share my interests, accept me for who I am, respect me, and TREAT me like I'm a human being, so far away?

I know I may be Xenogender, but that's no excuse for treating me no better than some sort of inferior species.

I see no one else getting treated like this, I'm the subject, no, the OBJECT of their bullying.

What the fuck am I supposed to do??? What do you fucking EXPECT me to do??? "Be yourself"??? I AM being myself, and you're fucking BULLYING me!? AM I SUPPOSED TO PUT ON SOME SORT OF MASK? I AM SMILING, MOTHERFUCKER, YET YOU STILL BULLY ME WHEN I DO HAVE A MASK!? /not you, to them

Like, please. Let me rest. Let me have a normal day where I don't have to face discrimination. Where I get treated with love.

I get treated so awfully so much, that I don't even know who I am anymore.

I lost myself.

My catchphrase has to be "I'm so done-" because I said that more than I needed to.

I feel like the next time someone does anything to me, I'm just going to burst out crying.

🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂

I hope you're doing alright right now, first things first, i need to let you know that you do matter, and you certainly don't deserve to be treated as subhuman as they treat you, I only wish the worst upon them <3 They are bitches who are a waste of oxegyn, they need to put you down to feel something or feel like they matter, and for that they are the weakest most disgusting subhuman people, genuinely hope they get more fucked up than they ever made you feel ����

It's pretty obvious that they're trying to make you feel shit, and i wish i was there to fight them off or comfort you when it happened, i said it before and i'll say it again, you don't deserve any of this. You deserve to be happy, and to feel like you are loved and cared for, the way they treat you is uncalled for and it's disgusting [them, not you, your cool] And agreed, your gender or your neurodivergence shouldn't be the reason you get bullied, they aren't things you can control, or things you have to change, they are litterally a part of your being/existence, I can't believe all of the shitty things they're doing, you don't deserve it. Have you tried to tell anyone? [although that doesn't work often, it's worth a try]. It seems like it's really affecting you, whether you admit it or not /nbr /npa I'd reccomend telling a teacher/principle [the meaner the teacher the better], if that doesn't work fight back, physically i wouldnt reccomend but if you have to, do it. Theres not much we can do about bullying, which is fucking shitty, but please hang in there at least and take care of yourself, i care about you and love you /p

I hope it gets better and they stop, they're pieces of shit who shouldn't be making you feel like this, they're insensitive cunts who should have their face cut up, hope they get bullied those fucking assholes

[lastoneout]

Okay I'm finally sitting down to properly watch the PJO series so here's an episode-by-episode live blog I guess. (Fair warning, I haven't read the books since I was a teenager, I am a smidge of an apologist for the films, and my favorite adaptation so far has been the musical.)

Episode One:

All of the actors are doing a really good job, I especially like Sally.

The costume design for both the monsters and the humans is pretty killer. I want Percy's sweater.

I also love the little seaside cabin and want to live there!!!

This is such a mild gripe BUT as someone with dyslexia I wish there was a better way to visually depict it without like, doing the swapping letters thing cuz that's just not what it's actually like at all.

Gabe maybe feels a little too funny. Like I'm supposed to hate him and think it's justified that he deserves to be turned into stone at the end, this version of him is really.....toned down, and his banter with Percy and Sally was fun to watch. I should hate him, but really he just came across as unpleasant. Less abusive asshole and more "old married couple who share interests but can't communicate without shouting" you know?

Loved Grover's little "I'm 24 actually" lmao that was great.

Not a fan of Percy immediately recognizing the Minotaur within a millisecond of it appearing before the audience even got a good look at it. Like, I just sat there thinking "how can he even see it?" rather than feeling scared of a big monster barreling at them.

The action is uh....fine? Feels a little lackluster. Or kinda....divorced from the rest of the show weirdly?? Idk it makes me feel like I'm watching a movie of a movie if that makes sense?? But we'll see where they go with it. (I know banter during a fight isn't realistic and people make fun of Marvel for it, but like...it helps to have at least a little talking. We don't wanna be Man of Steel.)

I feel like there's been a few "slightly out of sync ADR" moments but they weren't too distracting.

Pacing into Sally saying goodbye felt a little long, kinda took the shock of her dying out of the scene, but the actress REALLY sold all the emotional beats so I'll forgive it.

I LOVE the credits sequence!!! Reminds me of the designs on that one box set of the books in a really cool way.

Episode Two:

Oh yes the ugly ass neon orange shirts are here bless!

FUCK YES THAT'S DIONYSUS BAYBEEE!! My ONLY note is that he def could have turned up the energy a little, but that's probably just bcs I love how loud and unpleasant he is in the musical and I also know how unhinged this actor can be.

Chiron is such a delight <3

I like the cabins too, way better than how I imagined them as a kid reading the books lol

Oh, I can see why the new fans fell for Luke so hard.

Grover assuming a human being squished would be like an old banana is very funny. Felt very book-humor in a good way.

Clarisse!!

Oh damn actual disabled half-bloods, very cool!

Minor but I can't actually tell what Percy did wrong with the bow? Weird editing I guess.

Aside from that I actually love a good "fuck up" montage, I honestly wish it were a little longer.

Probably doesn't matter but I don't get having them burn the food after they've started eating? I thought that was a before you sit down type thing.

Percy burning the blue candy to try to talk to his mom was sweet tho T_T

"real friends" hahahaha.....yeah.......about Luke.......

yay! hazing!

Oh I love Annabeth already >:D

Thalia.....is pronounced differently than I thought....?

(I'm sorry I'm too much of a fan of 'Tree on the Hill' for this exposition dump. That shit hits harder when coming from Grover.)

Percy giving Annabeth the "actually I suck and my self esteem is riding on this so like pls don't ask me to do anything hard T_T" talk is just, so good lmao

ofc he doesn't know what's going on Annabeth you didn't tell him anything

Okay the action is a lot better when it's between the actual characters and doesn't involve a 3D monster, though I still had trouble following all the hits Percy was taking.

Oooh I can see why people did so much art of Percy being claimed that was a good shot.

FUCK YEAH TELL HIM YOU'RE SALLY JACKSON'S SON

(I hope they kept the Oracle in the attic...)

Okay I have to go do some things and then I'll be back for more!