#the idea that it has a Meaning usually serves the person doing the hurting.

[lightgreypurpleteal]

Like believing that all that suffering had to mean something or teach something. But it doesn't.

[clare-875]

Would you be willing to do One Piece characters with a reader who has a bunch of tattoos? And maybe if a person insults them or treats them differently because of it. I wore something with my tattoos visible and wasn't allowed into a business, I thought it would be a cool read 😂

Tattooed Hearts (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)

Pairings: Luffy x Reader; Sanji x Reader; Zoro x Reader Summary: His reaction to someone treating you differently or being rude because of your tattoos. Warnings: Hurt, Comfort & Fluff, Female Reader A/N: I'm so sorry that happened to you, tattoos are such a beautiful form of self-expression and no one deserves that treatment!! I decided to do the monster trio for this fic, I hope you like it!! <3 [One Piece Masterlist] _____

- Luffy -

Luffy absolutely adores your tattoos and thinks the unique ways they cover your skin are the coolest. Of course, he does. You were already a badass girlfriend with the courage and strength to stand by him as he became the Pirate King. But the patterns and ink that adorn your skin spark his curiosity as much as they perfect the image of you.

That's why when you are both wandering the streets of an Island, he may not initially notice the treatment you receive because of your tattoos. Luffy is already quite an oblivious person, and so does not pick up on the subtle ways food vendors and shopkeepers look at you and your skin purposefully. He is simply in his head again, joyous about the prospect of trying new foods and embarking on an adventure.

However, if there is something Luffy can pick up on easily, it is when you are uncomfortable. He turns to you when you seem a bit quiet and you haven't been chiming into his idle words. He observes the way you keep your head lower than usual, your tension as you squeeze your hands tight and subtly look around you. His first instinct is to look for danger, but when he sees none he simply goes to the second best guess: that you were hungry.

So, he would unravel one of your clenched hands in his and beam widely. "Come on [y/n], that place looks nice!" You would feel uncertainty fill you as of course as you have noticed the unfriendly stares you have received. "Wait Luffy, I'm not sure that's such a good idea-" But your boyfriend as usual has dragged you to a food vendor before you can finish your words.

Almost instantly, your concerns are answered, as the man who runs the shop takes one look at you and frowns. He turns to an eager Luffy and instantly cuts off his abundance of orders. "Sorry, we don't have any food on offer today." Luffy's confusion is almost immediate as he turns to the vendor and then to the food that fills his stall. "What are you talking about, there's so much food there, stop being stingy!"

The vendor sighs and then turns to you, your lips downturn, knowing whatever he has to say to you won't exactly be a compliment. "Fine, we might be able to make an expectation for you, but don't think we're serving anything to your lady friend." Luffy's eyes spark dangerously at his words, impatience brimming as he finally starts to realise the bias the vendor has against you.

"Why? We're both hungry!" The man grimaces, turning away from you and ignoring Luffy's angry words. "Are you sure you can even afford this, with all that ink on your skin?" It only takes about a beat of a second, and suddenly instead of going to give the man a piece of your mind, he had disappeared from view: Luffy had punched him to the floor without even a second thought. "Lu-" you start, eyes wide at the sight, but Luffy's face is of a rage you only see in battle.

"Hey, old man. Stop being rude to [y/n]. We just wanted some food, if you're not going to give us that, you're a waste of our time."

- Sanji -

Sanji loves you, and your tattoos are one of the things he absolutely adores about you. The way they so intricately cover your skin, and the intimacy he finds when you tell him what they mean and why you got them provokes such love in him he can't describe. It feels like you are letting him in, and showing a part of you from your past, it feels like he is learning more about you; the person he loved. He loves running his hands over them, loves the way they almost perfect the image of you in his mind.

He wouldn't be able to believe if you ever told him you were treated differently because of them. It might honestly break his heart if he hears you have been insulted or refused certain things just because of the art form upon your skin. They were so perfect and beautiful, how could anyone think otherwise? How could anyone treat you that way? Unfortunately, however, you have already started to notice the sparing looks of the locals on the island you are both wandering, tinted with looks of displeasure.

Your boyfriend is of course too lost in your gaze to notice at first.

He only seems to notice when your rapid words have faded into unsure sentences, and your body language screams of discomfort he curses not to have recognised earlier. "Love, are you okay?" He asks, concern brimming in his eyes, and gaze darting around you, seeing if there was a danger he had yet to notice. He only then seems to see how some of the people who walk the streets are looking at you more than he would've liked. "Love if you want we can leave-"

You find yourself shaking your head, not wanting to be a bother to your boyfriend but also not being able to form a smile reassuring enough for him. "It's okay love, I'm okay. We can keep exploring, I know you still need to pick up groceries." Sanji looks to you, and struggles to believe your words but ultimately nods hesitantly. "Okay love but if you want us to leave you know I'll be happy to-"

It is at that moment, that Sanji catches the words of a man passing by and talking to a woman who nods at his words.

"Tattoos are for people who don't know better, she'll regret them soon enough."

Your heart clenches at his words and the woman's incessant agreement. They look to you purposefully and knowing that you can hear them. However, what they fail to notice is that Sanji is filled with a sort of rage he had never felt before. He freezes but his legs are aflame and the man who walks by him stops, as Sanji lets go of you gently and steps in front of him. His anger is almost untameable, but honestly, what would anyone expect when someone insults his girlfriend?

"Say that about [y/n]-san again, I dare you."

- Zoro -

Zoro would be lying to say he didn't think your tattoos were just perfect on your skin. Though not very open in his compliments, you can feel his adoration in late evenings, his favourite thing being lazily tracing the patterns on your bare skin before you fade to sleep. You were just so hot and he has to sometimes compose himself - cursing himself for acting like the idiot cook - when he sees your more subtle tattoos peak from beneath your clothes.

He could not fathom thinking any other way about the ink on your skin, more like he had never thought too much about it. Your tattoos were as part of you as much as your limbs were and he couldn't have it any other way. That's why he struggles to notice when people treat you differently because of the art on your skin. The two of you had been wandering around a town on the new Island you and your crew had docked when the incident occurred.

Zoro, as usual, had somehow been getting lost despite you telling him to stay by your side, and after the hundredth time reprimanding him, you had decided to hold his hand in yours. Zoro had surprisingly been silent when you took his hand in yours, and you grinned when you saw the light blush on his cheeks. "Aww is the big swordsman embarrassed." You tease and he looks down to you, glaring but not removing the hold you have on his hand. "Sh-Shut up woman!"

You had been rambling on as always and Zoro had been humming as you did, entering the conversation and adding his own quips when he deemed it necessary. It was a wonderful time until of course, you had let a silence take over when you noticed some of the women who walked the streets staring at you strangely. You are confused at first unsure of why their eyes are trained on you, until you register the words of a few girls who pass by.

"She'll regret them in a few years, trust me."

"Yeah, do you think her boyfriend will leave her then?"

"He's hot, he's probably regretting dating her already. I mean who wouldn't going out with that-"

Suddenly, there is a sharp shinging sound and in front of the girls who had just passed, there is now a very familiar sword making them come to a very sudden halt. Their frightened eyes travel upwards and to the very annoyed man holding said sword who looks at them with dangerous intent. You are surprised to see that Zoro had noticed, but of course, he had. He was very observant when it came to you, and immediately realised when you stopped talking, baring a look of discomfort as you watched women stare at you strangely.

There are many things that Roronoa Zoro may tolerate, but disrespect towards you is one of the things he would rather die than abide by. His face has taken on a shadowed expression and even the women who had stared at you along the streets have frozen in place and looked on with shock.

"Care to share more of your foolish thoughts? Oh, what's that? Suddenly I don't hear your annoying mumbling."

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Ideas: Evil Plan

This trope is the reason "villains act, heroes react"; the villain needs to be doing something evil or the hero has no evil to thwart.

Some popular examples of Evil Plans:

Take Over the World: This is the most popular villainous scheme of all. The scale of conquest can vary depending on the setting and (or) the villain—some warlords are content to settle with conquering a city, a kingdom or nation, while Science Fiction or Fantasy overlords will go for nothing less than galactic, universal or even multidimensional domination.

The Evils of Free Will: A popular means to this end: by robbing everyone of their free will, they will have no choice but to serve their rightful ruler.

Assimilation Plot: Let's turn everyone into a single entity, whether they wish it or not.

Earth-Shattering Kaboom: Why take over the world when you can blow it up? Like Take Over the World, the scale of destruction also varies depending on the setting — some villains are content with merely destroying a city or kingdom (particularly if they feel the city or kingdom has somehow wronged them — i.e., revenge), while Omnicidal Maniacs may well wish nothing less than to destroy the entire universe or multiverse.

Kill All Humans. Related tropes: Feeling Oppressed by Their Existence: A character wants to get rid of a particular person or group of people just for existing. Absolute Xenophobe: Wants to destroy all other sentient life (human or otherwise). Omnicidal Maniac: Wants to destroy absolutely all life, sentient or not. Final Solution: The intentional extermination of a species/demographic is the answer to fix a perceived issue. Humanity's Wake: The outcome of this trope should the opposing species succeed in eradicating us.

In Their Own Image: Not happy with the world the way it is? Try tearing it down, and building it back up as something even greater.

The End of the World as We Know It: Not so much destroying the world or humanity as really screwing up civilization; though the former two may be involved in the bargain.

A God Am I: Forcing everyone to acknowledge their godhood (actual godlike powers optional).

Godhood Seeker: Make your character an actual deity.

Immortality Seeker: Pursue the quest for eternal life, no matter what foul deeds are needed to make it happen.

A Plot in Deed: Steal the deed to a plot of land and you'll own it, so why not steal the deed to somewhere good?

MacGuffin: Steal an ancient artifact with untold powers. This is usually done in the pursuit of one of the other Evil Plans.

Sealed Evil in a Can: Release the source of all Evil from its prison. This rarely goes well for the villain attempting it.

Revenge: You know that guy that wronged you in the past? It doesn't matter how petty or misplaced your grievance is, it's payback time. Time to kill him, or make his life a living hell.

Get-Rich-Quick Scheme: If you're already rich, get richer. Any scheme is fair game in the pursuit of the profit margin, be it theft, blackmail, or auctioning the world off to hungry demons. Unfortunately, this lust for wealth falls prey to poor planning.

Utopia Justifies the Means: You know how people keep hurting themselves and each other? Make them stop, by whatever means are necessary. No ill will required! Just like in Take Over the World, The Evils of Free Will often gets put into play here.

Dystopia Justifies the Means: People hurting each other? That's exactly what your society needs. Use all the means at your disposal to create a nightmarish dystopia where the forces of evil run rampant and people live in constant terror and corruption, just the way the villains like it.

Poke the Poodle: Their idea of evil is harmless behavior like cheating at Solitaire, jaywalking on an empty road, chewing gum in Singapore, pulling the "do not remove" tag off of your mattress, hiding your toothpaste, drinking the milk directly from the carton...

Source ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Damien Quotes

i want him to chuck a water bottle at me ♥︎

“You are a person that is overflowing with love to give, and that is not too much, that is fucking beautiful.”

“I’m not going to get mad, I just want to know who did this to you.”

“My fire is a part of me.”

“I can do good. That’s all I want to do. I want to help.”

“Now who whimpers?”

“Well if you four would stop teasing me, I could stop doing my best impression of a furnace.”

“I have never felt more flaccid in my entire life.”

“Oh, he thinks I’m funny when I’m mad? Huxley has no idea what I look like when I’m mad.”

“C’mon nature boy, let’s get natural.”

“Handsome man [he’s saying this with a :3 on his face you can’t convince me otherwise]”

“Huxley, I need you.”

“I want all this anger to mean something.”

“I can walk.”

“You’re always so gentle with me. With everything. I-I’m not used to that.”

“Body like yours needs a little worship, you know?”

“Yeah. I’m fine… I’m freaking out.”

“A-are you gonna serve, or what? [he’s too busy gawking at Huxley’s muscles to realise he’s holding the ball himself, not Hux]”

“The rolls aren’t aerodynamic enough. I can’t get enough speed behind them.”

“Huxley seems to think threats are a way I express love.”

“Who. Was. It?”

“I’ve gotten pretty good at screaming at walls.”

“You remember that positive outlook when you’re ripping out your happy trail trying to get dried cum out of it.”

“I spent a lot of nights thinking about all the stuff this body of yours could do.”

“Hey. I don’t just care about it as a morally wrong action for the sake of it. I care about you. You’re my friend. A good one. And my friend is hurting, and I can do something about it, so I’m going to.”

“You are the person I choose. And I’m so fucking grateful that you’ve chosen me.”

“He [Huxley] does make it hard to get mad at him, even when he is doing something asinine. It’s like trying to stay mad at a puppy. Just doesn’t feel right.”

“The bear’s cute… For the record though, you’re the only teddy bear I need.”

“I’m made of tough stuff too Hux… and I like it rough…”

“All I can think about is worshipping this incredible body of yours.”

“It’s all yours.”

“God I love how big your hands are.”

“I don’t whimper [proceeds to whimper]… only with you.”

“Pick me up. Turn us around. Press me into the wall. And fuck me.”

“Yeah we’ll see how great you think I look when I set your hair on fire.”

“Just because I usually want you to top, doesn’t mean I don’t love your ass.”

“I wanna feel every fucking inch of this monster.”

“Ugh I laid down on your cum and I’m pretty sure we’re glued together now.”

“All mine huh?”

“Huxley. Fuck me. I wanna cum with your cock buried inside me all the way to the base.”

“I’ll trade you goofballs.”

“Cute glasses.”

Honourable Mentions (Non-Canon)

“I’ve had friends before. I’ve never had a friend that I felt as close to as I do to you.”

“You feel good. Except your hair’s trying to go up my nose.”

“Fuck. God, you drive me crazy with just a touch. Just a look, honestly.”

“Now gimme.”

“If you wanna know which one I’d prefer, ask me. Directly.”

“Do you think this is what they meant when they say ‘Light a fire under your ass’?”

“Yes, I’d say my fire likes you very much.”

[notmorbid]

all-night pharmacy.

dialogue prompts from all-night pharmacy by ruth madievsky.

you're so alive, it's scary.

being a person doesn't come naturally for me.

what's the deal with this place?

you are my best and my worst friend.

are we horrible people?

i like the idea of having someone to come home to.

i can't tell if you're being cruel or if you're just dumb.

these aren't the decisions of a well-adjusted person.

the less you know about my life, the better.

everyone here is a liar and a cheat.

you deserve to have a life of your own.

a person can't be held responsible for what they don't know.

all relationships are transactional.

no one should have that much power over you.

it isn't too late to come back.

you're uninvited from my birthday party.

i love you, but you're such a cunt.

who do you think you are?

forced intimacy makes me lightheaded.

i know you're in there. let me in.

jesus. why do you have a knife?

what happened last night?

it was less embarrassing to pretend i didn't care.

maybe i'm not the mothering type.

i wish i could carry some of this pain for you.

i need a break from feeling so much all the time.

sometimes i can't tell if i'm asleep or awake.

whatever's going on, we'll figure it out.

i don't know what's wrong with me. i'm scared all the time.

this is the most i can imagine for myself.

if you're not asking yourself 'am i ruining my life?' at least once a day, you're not living at all.

you act like you're over it, but it's okay if you're not.

all my life, i've felt like a dead animal with its skin still on.

it's a virtue to rid yourself of anything that doesn't serve you.

i've never had a day of rest in my life.

i chase after you like a dog, leaving pieces of myself behind, and every time, you act like that's how it's supposed to be.

you don't take me seriously. i'm not a real person to you.

i can't play house anymore.

never say that name in front of me.

to you, other people are always the problem.

you can't reach a mutual understanding without spilling blood.

want to make fifty bucks?

the only way to really see a person is to lose everything you have in common.

you don't think we'll get caught?

our loyalty is to story, not reality.

just don't do anything that could result in a lawsuit or a tmz article, and you're fine.

i don't have the energy to keep up with your antics.

our most beloved delusion was that lying to each other was a kind of love.

speaking our fears aloud won't save us.

one day, the mask slipped. i haven't been able to wear it since.

i try not to think about my life at all.

a junkie can spot another junkie without a flashlight.

your voice reminds me of wool sweaters.

boundaries? i don't know her.

i'm just sick of doing the same goddamn thing every day.

you are obsessed with a projection that will never love you back.

think of me as a spiritually connected friend.

i know liars. you don't strike me as one.

you have iconically poor judgment.

has anyone ever told you about your past lives?

you're capable of tolerating a lot. frankly, more than you should.

friendship can be a slow burn. you don't have to consume it like a drink at last call.

i'll give you a clue. i work for myself.

you make me want to feel things again.

criticism is still a cousin of attention.

you don't have to pretend to like something just because i made it.

i know you crave being told what to do.

you don't have to settle for being a person things happen to.

you have desires. act on them.

bitch, does this look like an intro to philosophy seminar?

i thought i had quit you.

my favorite. how did you know?

i feel like my organs are cannibalizing each other.

how did i get here? that's not a rhetorical question. i'm actually asking.

i can't tell if i believe it, or if i'm making excuses for myself.

sometimes i wonder if it's healthy how much meaning you see in things.

you're always waiting for the universe to hurt you or to love you. usually in that order.

that's how it was in my family. reading the room was a survival skill.

where will all the animals go in the rapture?

a bunch of fuckups under one roof doesn't constitute a family.

my little saint.

time passes more slowly as a sober person.

you'd better not pull away from me now.

there's a russian proverb that goes, 'so much is ruined by saying it aloud'.

you wear your emotions like a name tag.

your resting face frightens me.

how are you both the most innocent and the most experienced person i've ever met?

i need you to just be here with me.

our dead deserve to see you happy.

i like the idea of being marked by you.

i don't know what i saw, but it was more than i wanted.

i know what i saw.

i can't tell which of the memories are real, if any.

i can't believe you're mine.

nobody warned me how terrifying it is to get what you want.

you're cute when you're freaked out.

sex is supposed to be unsettling.

there are things i need to atone for.

you can't go back like it's nothing.

i won't live in service of my dead's vision for me.

___ was a real person. a murder isn't a metaphor.

count five things you can see. four things you can touch. three things you can hear. two things you can smell. one thing you can taste.

banish one god, and you'll end up worshiping another.

i want to be with you, but i don't want to keep feeling like this.

you know everything about me, but you won't let me know you.

you aren't someone i can keep at a distance.

i've been reading about intergenerational curses.

resisting something isn't the same as not wanting it.

anything you say stays between us.

i can't decide if i like you.

most people only possess a third of the empathy they think they have.

will it get easier?

hope is a tricky thing: losing it is bad, but so is having too much.

i don't want the future to come. i have a bad feeling about it.

in cartoons, you don't start falling until you look down.

why are you here? where have you been?

how did you know i'd come looking for you?

you never asked what i was going through. you didn't want to know.

i didn't have the language for what was happening to me.

you were supposed to protect me.

there's a lot i don't remember. a lot i don't want to remember.

i wouldn't have looked for me, either.

we belong to ourselves now.

you know where i am, and i know where you are. maybe that's enough.

when i'm down, vigilante justice makes me feel better.

survival is provisional.

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Could I request for Clark? That the reader is expressionless. Also that the reader is calm, nurturing. But they only show their expressions when they are embarrassed, could it be spicy too?👀👀👀…

Why yes, I can😁 im so sorry this took so long, my mid year exams are actually kicking my ass😔

Heart on Your Sleeve

You're not really sure when it started- Maybe it was Thanksgiving with Martha, Jon, and Clark. His parents are both such lovely people, never thinking twice before helping out or offering a meal. And you are, too- Martha was absolutely overjoyed when Clark brought you over for your first family holiday. Clark was pretty sure his mother was going to cry out of pure joy when you offered to help cook and wash dishes.

"How's that grease comin' off for you, darling?" Martha's voice has always been sweet, like a bird chirping upon a window sill. If you didn't know the woman, you'd almost think that the honey-ish tone of her voice was mocking. But you did know your boyfriend's mother, and you absolutely adored her.

"It's alright, Ma." Your hands were busying themselves with the pans piled in the sink of hot, soapy water. The response was natural, coming without any thought or malice behind it.

Martha was silent for a short while, her eyes taking a moment to study the completely uninterested look on your face. Not that you knew you were making it, of course- it's just how you look when you're not going out of your way to think about your face while responding to someone. But coming from Smallville, where everybody always shared a smile even in the worst of times, it hurt a little.

When Martha slipped out of the kitchen, you just presumed it was to speak to Clark. About what, you honestly couldn't say. But as far as you were concerned, you just made some small talk with the mother of the man you plan to marry.

Later, after the dinner had been served and everyone was enjoying dessert in the living room, you noticed Clark had been unusually quiet beside you. He had his arm around your shoulders, but there was something subtle in his gaze that you couldn’t quite place. He seemed distracted, like he was looking at you but also through you.

“Clark?” You glanced over at him, noticing how his jaw was slightly clenched.

He blinked a few times before turning his head toward you. “Yeah, sorry, just… thinking.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot today.” You nudged him with your shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. You weren’t sure what had gotten into him, but you were sure it wasn’t anything serious. Clark was usually the first person to brush things off, so this sudden shift felt odd. “What’s going on in that handsome head of yours?”

Clark hesitated, then his eyes flicked to his parents in the next room. They were laughing and talking, clearly in their element. He sighed, his hand tightening slightly around your shoulder as if unsure how to begin.

“Earlier, with my mom,” Clark started, his voice barely above a whisper. “She… uh, she told me that you didn’t seem too happy to be here.”

You blinked, confused. “What?”

Clark bit his lip, clearly uncomfortable. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it, but she thought you looked like you were upset. Like, I don’t know... that you didn’t want to be here?”

You felt a pang of guilt twist in your stomach. The last thing you ever wanted to do was make Martha think you were ungrateful for her hospitality. “Clark,” you started, but he held up a hand, stopping you.

“It’s not that I think you did anything wrong,” he said quickly, looking at you earnestly. “But, you know, my mom… she’s just so used to everyone smiling all the time around here. She probably took it the wrong way.” He smiled softly at you. “You know how she gets.”

You winced, hating the idea that your default expression might have hurt anyone, least of all Martha. You never meant to come off as cold or unappreciative, and it stung to think that she could have seen it that way.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “I didn’t mean to make her feel like that. I really like her, and I love being here with all of you.”

Clark chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I know, I know you do. It’s just… well, you’re not the most expressive person, are you?”

You looked up at him, feeling your cheeks flush slightly. “I’m not trying to be. I’m just—this is just my face.”

Clark grinned. “I know. You don’t have to smile 24/7 to show you’re happy. It’s just, well… it doesn’t always come across like that.”

You sighed, feeling a little embarrassed. “I wish I could control it more. I don’t mean to come off as grumpy or upset.”

“I know,” he said gently, his tone soothing. “But maybe you could try to be a little more… expressive? For my mom, I mean. She just doesn’t always get it.”

You chuckled softly, imagining Martha’s over-analytical gaze as she scrutinized you. “Okay, I’ll try to work on it. Maybe I can throw in a smile or two for her next time.”

Clark laughed, his fingers brushing your arm lightly. “You don’t have to force it, but… yeah, a smile wouldn’t hurt every now and then. Besides, you’ve got the most beautiful smile, you know that?”

You couldn’t help but smile then, albeit a little sheepishly. “You really think so?”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against your temple. “I know so.” He pauses for a moment to give your temple a proper kiss, his large fingers moving to gently massage at your shoulder. "I know just how beautiful... all... Of you is," He whispers the last part into your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"Clark, cut it out," you chastise, giving his arm a playful smack as your cheeks burn red. Even as you voice the order, you both know you don't mean it. But you couldn't have your boyfriend being so playful with you right now- not with his parents sitting on their respective recliners merely a few feet away.

"Smiley, over here," Clark starts in a louder tone looking at his parents as one of his hands rubs at your back slightly, "isn't feeling too well. I think we're going to head up to bed for the night and see if she's feeling better in the morning." What. Utter. Bullshit.

It's not like Martha and Jon didn't notice, either- they were young and in love once, too. Either way, they'd be damned if they called you and their lovely son out for whatever may happen in his childhood bedroom. "I hope you start feeling better, darlin'," Despite knowing the lie Clark had just told her and her husband, Martha still mustered up the same empathetic look she's always given. In a way, it reminds Clark of the few times he got sick as a child.

It isn't long before Clark is practically carrying you up the stairs, giving his mother a small nod of acknowledgement as you both pass. It's funny, in a way, just how easily he could sweep you off your feet- literally. Before you knew it, the familiar 'click' of the lock on his door can be heard before he places you gently on the bed.

"Just how much of a reaction can I get out of you tonight, hm?" His deep, smooth voice vibrates against your lips slightly as he leans down for a kiss. The pressing of your lips is soft and intimate with his body hovering over yours. You could tell he wasn't laying his full weight on you. In fact, he'd probably suffocate you if he did. You'd be lying if you said you didn't want him to suffocate you.

You pretend to give a short, thoughtful look as you pull away from the kiss slightly, your hands coming up to rest on his broad shoulders. "Depends..." You whisper playfully against his lips, your breath brushing against him slightly in the close proximity, "how hard are you willing to try, Superman?"

In the darkness of his room, you almost could have sworn his eyes glowed red at the tease. There wasn't much time to ponder on it, however, as his lips come back down to connect themselves with your own again. Like last time, the kiss is slow and intimate, just like most of your shared kisses are. The soft presses of your lips goes on for what seems like forever, the two of you simply basking in the moment.

As always, your hands had started to wander. Trailing down from his shoulders and resting on his lower back. Clark nearly lets out a moan as your nails gently scratch at his lower back, lifting his shirt just enough for you to feel his bare, heated skin. "Take it off, baby..." Your begging is almost like music to his ears as you pull away slightly, cheeks flushed and breathing labored.

He can't help but let out a soft huff of a laugh at the request, however, muttering something along the lines of "Somebody's getting impatient." Clark doesn't hesitate to comply, though, as he grabs the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head. Just like always, his torso is perfectly chisled from his collarbones all the way down to his V-line.

God, his V-line. You were practically salivating like a rabid dog as the article is thrown off the side of the bed and forgotten about. "And here I thought you were a goody two shoes, Smallville," your voice came as a tease in the dark room, both of your bodies just barely illuminated by the moonlight streaming from the windows as your hands reacher out to trail over his sculpted chest.

At that, Clark merely lets out a snicker. "That's a new nickname," he muses, leaning back down to nudge your shirt up your stomach with his nose. Light as a feather, his lips start to trail kisses up from your stomach, leading all the way up to your sternum. As he reaches the wire of your bra beneath your shirt, his hands mobe to gently lift the clothing over your head. "Not that I'm complaining, beautiful." He adds jokingly, his large, warm hands snaking their way under your back to unclasp your bra.

As your breasts are freed from their confinement, they move slightly in the pale moonlight. Now, it was Clark's turn to salivate at the sight of you shirtless. Every time he manages to get you out of your bra, it's almost as if he can't keep his mouth to himself. Immediately, his lips are latched around your nipple as his tongue flicks across the hardening bud. At the same time, his free hand works at gently massaging your other breast.

"Clark..." You mewl softly, the sound barely more than a hushed whisper of wind in the night. Your fingers are threaded through his hair, tugging softly at the black, curly locks.

At that, he lets out a quiet groan. Hair pulling has always been his biggest weakness in bed. As he pulls away from your now swollen and flushed nipple, he can't stop his hands from wandering beneath the waistband of your pants. As if on second nature, the tip of his middle fingers gently rubs at your needy clit. The motion is slow and languid, his touch bately there to satisfy your needs.

"Honey..." You let out a soft plead, the sound barely loud enough for even him to hear. But before you can beg for more pressure or a faster pace, a long, thick finger makes it's way into your weeping hole. "Oh, fuck-" the whine comes out without a warning, the bliss of his middle finger gently stretching your gummy walls coming with just a hint of pain.

"Shhh..." Clark soothes softly, his other hand leaving your breast and moving to gently cover your mouth. "As much as I love that sound, darlin', I bet Ma and Pa would rather not hear it." The tease comes without any sort of malice, but it's enough to have you clenching around him. Even with the slight pain that always comes with having sex with him, Clark always takes his time prepping you like the pillow princess you are.

As his finger speeds up slightly and a second one is added, you can no longer keep back a quiet string of moans and pleas. "So good..." The whine is like music to his ears, spurring him on to push gently on that spongey spot inside of you and making you arch your back off of the bed. "Oh fuck... Honey, please. Please, Clark." The dragging of his fingers along your tight walls was almost rhythmatic as they moved in and out.

Clark would be lying if he said he didn't smile every time he brought you close to an orgasm. It was still just so amazing that he was the one you trusted to be like this with. Not any other man or woman, not some over-used sex toy you used to have sitting in your nightstand. You used him, and only him. "I have you, beautiful..." he reassures gently, his fingers staying at just the right pace to have you seeing stars. Everything about sex with Clark was always so reassuring and calm, like the way the thumb belonging to his hand covering your mouth gently caresses at your cheek.

In all honesty, you think that might have been what did you in. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, making your toes curl and push clenching around his thick digits. It was almost funny, the way he had your thighs shaking and quivering without even taking you out of your pants. "Fuck... fuck fuck fuck fuck..." your whines are obscene, even when covered by his large, calloused palm. Even now, when you're wailing because of his fingers, he's still so gentle and mindful with covering up the sounds.

"There we go, sweetness," he coos softly, pressing a barely-there kiss to the side of your abdomen as his fingers slow their pace, "Shh... Inside voice, darlin'. We don't want to get caught before we even have any real fun, do we?" He was being a tease, and he knew it. You almost let out a whimper as his fingers slowly exited your puffy folds, missing the feeling of him filling you up like nobody else can.

The sound was quickly caught in your throat, however, as he removes his hands from your quivering body to instead begin removing his belt. Getting his pants off was always exciting, especially when his fully-hard length was already making an outline through his jeans. God, his jeans... They outline his thighs and ass in just the perfect way to show off his muscles.

At the same time, you took this as an opportunity to remove your own bottoms. Hooking your thumbs into the waitband of your pants and lifting your hips slightly, you sensually push the fabric down while making eye contact with Clark. When you did finally glance down again, however, you certainly noticed the wet patch in the center of your panties from your previous orgasm.

Before you could unhook your ankles, however, Clark beats you to it. Your boyfriend has always been charming like that, never letting you lift a single finger for even the simplest of tasks. As he leans down to press a kiss to your shin, you notice that he reaches over to his nightstand to slip your soaking wet panties into the top drawer. "Gotta keep myself distracted in the Watchtower for that next mission somehow," he jokes softly, finally removing his own underwear.

As always, your mouth waters at the sheer girth of his cock. Something about him is just so pretty and handsome in a way impossible to describe. "Get back down here, Smallville," you almost seem like a petulant child as you reach up for him, making little grabby hands before they finally take their spots on his broad shoulders.

Clark complies without a second thought, holding himself up on his forearms to hover above you. With one hand, he reaches down to gently rub his hardened cock along your clit. Still a little sensitive while coming down from your high, you can't help but let out a soft shiver.

And he has the audacity to chuckle.

"Fourth reaction of the night, in case you were wondering," he mutters mere centimeters away from your lips, your breaths mingling in the close proximity. But before you could give a sassy quip back, his plush lips are pressed passionately against yout own. Ever the caring boyfriend, Clark has always resorted to kisses like this to distract you from the burning stretch of his cock into your tight little hole.

Even with his mouth against yours in an attempt to take focus off of any uncomfortable feeling, you still find yourself gasping into the kiss as his tip slowly nudges into you. The moan you make as he slowly slides himself into you inch by inch is boarderline phonographic, and there's no doubt Jon and Martha were able to hear it downstairs in the living room. But even so, Clark doesn't stop until he's finally bottomed out in you.

He immediately feels guilty, however, as he sees those tears forming in the corner of your eyes while pulling away from the kiss. "Shh..." Clark hushes softly, bringing one of his hands to gently wipe away any of that salty, fallen liquid before pressing his lips to your forehead. "You're okay, sweetheart. You can take it... You're doing so well, honey."

Although it takes a couple of minutes for you to fully adjust to his length and girth with mountains of praise and reassurance, you don't regret it for a moment. "'m ready..." You whisper as softly as you can, already feeling your cheeks heat up in utter embarrassment knowing that your future in laws might've heard you moan while getting laid by their son.

With a short nod, Clark rests his forehead against yours and slowly pulls his hips back, changing their angle ever so slightly before sliding back in. In this position, his cock head is able to kiss your cervix with little to no effort. He can't even stop his own breath from becoming labored with just how well your tight pussy accommodates to him. Something about his huge cock being the only one to make you whine like this just seems to get to him as his hips get into a slow, expiramental rhythm.

Even at such a slow, languid pace, Clark is already letting out soft grunts of his own. Each sound is almost lewd, despite their near-silent nature. You almost envy his super-hearung ability, in a way; how is it fair that he gets to hear your noises while you barely catch his? Taking matters into your own hands, you gently scratch at his back with your nails. You couldn't hurt him, even if you tried, but the thought of you leaving marks like that for everybody to see was something he loved to indulge in.

"Gonna leave some marks, beautiful?" his lips brush against the shell of your ear as he speaks, his hips beginning to pick up a bit more speed. At this rate, your eyes are nearly rolling back as it is, nevermind with Clark's teasing added into the mix. "God, the League won't be able to leave me alone once they catch sight of them. Is that what you want, sweetheart? For them to know just how good I make you feel?"

Between soft moans and mewls, you find it in yourself to nod frantically. "So good, Clark..." You find yourself whining as you pull him closer, moving to wrap your legs around his hips. As he shifts slightly to better accommodate your chosen position, the tip of his cock manages to perfectly kiss that gushy, spongy spot inside of you. "Oh, god... Just like that. Don't stop, honey. Please don't stop."

As your thighs quake around him, Clark can't help but pick up the pace just enough to have you arching for him. In all honesty, he swears his own eyes are almost rolling back as your pretty little pussy takes him so well. "That's it, beautiful..." the words are nothing more than a hot pant against your ear, his childhood bed sqeaking slightly as he rocks his hips into yours.

That tension building in your lower stomach was near it's snapping point, ready to release any stress and tension you may have had. "So close..." the whine is barely audible, made for his ears only. And something about only him being able to hear just how worked up he's gotten you really gets him going.

His middle finger is rubbing circles around your clit in an instant, putting just enough pressure to have your hole pulsating around him. "Yeah, darlin'?" he coos, unable to hold back the soft grunts and moans escaping his own mouth, "Go ahead, beautiful... I have you. Cum all over my cock, honey."

That was certainly your breaking point.

You tried to hold it back, you really did, but the loud moan that came with your orgasm came without warning. Your back was so pretty as it arched up for him, almost as if you wanted to feel all of his skin against yours at once. "Oh my god," the clenching of your twitching pussy around him was absolutely divine, and who were you to stop him from getting his fill?

Even as your eyes rolled back and you began to see stars, you could still hear his nearly incoherent babbling. "Might just have to fill this pretty pussy up with my babies..." you think your hear, but Clark's near-orgasm rambling has always been a little choppy. "Gonna have our own farm with kids... N' get married. Fuck, won't have to stay quiet because there won't be nobody around-" as he cuts himself off with a loud groan, hands grasping desperately at your shoulders, you knew it wouldn't be long until he came.

And he certainly filled you. "Shit..." the groan is barely coherent a his ropes of thick, warm cum shoots out of his overstimulated dick. In all honesty, neither of you had thought to use a condom. Not until it was far too late, at least. Oh well, it's like Martha would mind having a grandkid or two running around during the holidays next year.

You're sure her face would light up if you told her about getting pregnant with Clark's kids.

At least, it would if you could ever face her after the things both her and Jon have heard.

Masterlist

[willalove75]

Alcina's New Maid. Lady Dimitrescu x Reader

This idea has plagued my mind for almost two weeks and I need to get it out of my head so I can function😅😂

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu brings you in as one of her maids, at least, that's what you thought she brought you to the castle for.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI

Tags: flirty, fluff, slow burn, smut.

Notes: This might be a few parts idfk I just need it out of my head NOW 😅😅

Click here for the rest of the series

It's the early hours of the morning, the sun has just risen and you're out in the back tending to the garden. You bring the mornings harvest into the kitchen and greet your aunt and uncle, both sitting down at the small kitchen table.

"Good morning." You say.

"Good morning dear." You aunt says, your uncle grumbles at you. "Are you off to get the children ready for the day?" She says, less asking and more telling you.

"Yes, I was just on my way to take care of them."

"Wonderful."

You walk into the bedroom, three young girls in a deep sleep in their beds. You begin to wake the oldest, Ana, who is about 10, and make your way to the middle and then the youngest, Elena, the youngest in the family at only 4 years old. You help them get dressed and send them down for breakfast, you make your way into the other bedroom where the two twin boys are still fast asleep. You wake them up, dress them and accompany them into the kitchen. You prepare their food and serve each child, you try your best to personalize each meal for each child, although your family is not wealthy by any means, you make do with what you have.

Once the children are fed and the kitchen is restored to its usual state, you bring them outside as you sweep the cobblestone path leading up to the house. The children are running around in the yard and in the street, kicking up dirt and rocks as kids do. As you're sweeping you hear the bells, you drop your broom and rush over to the children and begin to quickly usher them into the house.

The bells are only rung when the Lady of the castle comes through the village in her carriage. You've never seen her before, but you've heard rumors of her ruthlessness, many of those brought into her castle are never to be seen again. To avoid her, or her daughters, who are rumored to be worse than the Lady herself, the townspeople ring bells throughout the village to signal her arrival. All of the villagers rush inside and lock their doors, fearful that if the Lady or her daughters even see you, you will be whisked away, never to be seen again.

You hear the stomps of hooves a short distance away as you try and wrangle the children and get them inside, one by one they enter the house and you realize you're missing one. Fear shoots through you as you look into the road and see Elena, bending down in the road, picking up the rock she was playing with. You see the carriage, mutant-like horses pulling it, hurdling towards the child. Before you realize it, you're sprinting towards her, just before she's trampled you dive into the road and knock her out of the way, the two of you tumbling away from the carriage. The horses rear, bringing the carriage to a halt. You scramble and scoop the child into your arms, cradling her close to your chest as you sit in the dirt.

"Oh Elena," you say breathlessly, "are you hurt?"

Aside from a few scrapes, she is fine, but more scared then hurt and begins to cry.

"Shh, you're okay." You whisper to her.

You were so focused on Elena, you didn't realize someone emerged from the carriage until you see the hem of a cream dress and black stilettos standing just a few short feet in front of you. You slowly follow the dress up with your eyes, by the time you expect to reach the face of the person in front of you, you realize your eyes are only up to their waist. You strain your neck up and finally reach the top of the woman in front of you, her face shielded by a shadow cast by her large hat. You wrap your arms around Elena tighter as you're frozen by fear, realizing you're sitting at the feet of the Lady herself. Her one hand draped across her chest, her elbow resting on her arm with a long cigarette holder sitting between her two fingers, a lit cigarette sitting on the end of it.

"And what do we have here?" Her sultry voice taking you by surprise.

You sit there, still frozen in fear, your throat suddenly dry.

"I do not have the patience today to be ignored." She says, leaning down towards you. Piercing yellow eyes emerge from the shadow as she moves.

"I- I am so sorry Lady." You say bowing your head. "The child- she- she's just a child." You say with a shaking voice, your arms wrapped tightly around Elena as you try and hold back tears of fear.

The Lady says nothing, you can feel her eyes burning into you as she stares.

"Please," you say as you sheepishly look up at her. "Please don't hurt her."

She stands up straight and the shadow covers her face again. She says nothing for a moment and then speaks.

"And what if I want to?" She says, her voice sending chills down your spine.

"Hurt me instead, whatever you want to do to her, do to me instead, please, I beg you, don't harm her."

You hear her smirk, even though you can't see her eyes you know they haven't moved off of you.

"Is she your child?" She asks.

"No ma'am, she is my cousin."

"And you would be wiling to die for you, cousin?" She asks as if she's more surprised at who you would be willing to sacrifice your life for than the fact that you're willing to sacrifice your life at all.

"Yes ma'am, my purpose is taking care of them, if anything were to happen to them, I would never be able to live with myself."

"Your purpose?" She asks.

"Yes ma'am. I serve no other purpose than to take care of the children, without them, my life has no meaning." You say sincerely. Since your aunt and uncle took you in, you've taken care of the children, you have no job, you're not suitable for marriage, you truly believe that the only purpose you have in your life is to care for them.

"How pitiful." She says. You look away and stroke Elena's hair, still trying your best to comfort the terrified child. The Lady bends down, you look up and she brings her hand to your chin, you close your eyes, terrified that she's just going to kill you where you sit. You feel a soft gloved finger under your chin, she lifts your face and you open your eyes and look at her, a shadow still mostly covering her face. "Pitiful that such a beautiful maiden is nothing but a servant for children. Children that aren't even hers."

Taken back, you stare at her, you know what you heard her say, but your brain cannot process it. "Beautiful? Did she call me beautiful?" You think to yourself.

"Tell me draga, where do you live?"

"Just across the way." You gesture to the small house behind her.

"And who cares for you?"

"I- I live with my aunt and uncle." You say, unsure of why she's asking you these questions.

"Bring me to them."

You nod your head and stand up with Elena still clinging to you. You walk past the cart and take notice of a buzzing noise coming from the inside.

"Girls," you hear the Lady quietly growl to the cart as she walks past. "Behave."

The buzzing quiets and you walk up to the house, your aunt and uncle standing at the door with horror on their faces.

"Oh Elena." You aunt says as she takes the girl from your arms and carries her inside.

You stop at the door and turn and look at the woman, unsure of what to do next, she stands taller than the ceilings inside, you don't think she'd be able to fit.

"Well are you going to invite me in?" She says, looking down at you.

"Yes, of course." You say and make your way inside.

"Girls." The Lady says and turns towards the carriage.

A massive swarm of flies emerges from the carriage and three girls emerge, all dressed in black robes, one with blood stains on her cheeks. The Lady removes her hat and hands it to one of them.

"Stay here." She commands them.

"Yes mother." They reply in unison.

She bends down and enters the house, kneeling on the floor inside. Finally able to see her face, you're almost taken back at her beauty, her inky black hair curled and held in place with pins, her blood red lipstick, glowing yellow eyes, you're less afraid and more fascinated. She looks over at you and sees you looking at her, you quickly look down as your cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"How may we help you Lady?" Your aunt politely asks, a little afraid.

"Your niece," she says gesturing to you. "She tells me the only purpose she serves is caring for your children, is that correct?"

"That's all she's good for." You uncle says.

She slowly turns her head and glares in his direction.

"And why is that?"

"She has no skills, she's an orphan with nothing to her name so she's not suitable for marriage, no man will have her, and besides being a burden, all she can do is care for the children."

You look down at your feet as your uncle speaks, although you've heard those words your whole life, they still sting. The Lady purses her lips.

"An orphan?" She asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Her parents, my sister and her husband, perished in a fire when she was a child." You aunt says, you hear the three girls outside of the door giggle. "Our only choices were to take her in or-" she pauses and doesn't finish her sentence, everyone knows what she would have said, all orphans are sent to the Lady's castle.

"I see." She looks back over at you, you keep your eyes on the floor. "Well, if she is such a burden, I will gladly take her off of your hands." You look up at her with fear in your eyes.

"And who will care for our children?" Your uncle asks with anger in his voice.

"You're their father, are you not?" She snaps at him, he doesn't speak but he still has anger in his eyes. "If losing her will be an inconvenience, I will pay you handsomely for your troubles. Much more than a marriage proposal would fare." She laughs as she finishes her sentence.

"How much are we talkin'?" You uncle asks.

"Uncle!" You say in disbelief, you know he was never fond of you, but you never thought he would sell you, especially to her.

"Silence you wench! You have no say in this matter." He shoots daggers in your direction. You look at your aunt, tears filing your eyes, she looks away from you, not able to look you in the eyes.

The Lady's glare becomes more intense as she watches him reprimand you. She turns and looks at the girls out of the corner of her eye.

"Girls, my bag please."

"Yes mother." One of them says, disappearing into a swarm of flies, they fly over to the carriage and return, the girl emerging from the swarm with a large, leather purse in her hands. She hands it to the Lady and she pulls out a large pouch, handing it to your uncle.

"That would be half. I shall have one of my maids bring you the other half in a few days."

You uncles eyes light up as she drops the bag in his hands, it looked so small in hers, but easily fills both of his hands.

"Deal." He says, his eyes not leaving the large pouch in his hands.

"Uncle please," you beg.

"Enough, pack your things." He says.

You run into your room and lean against the door, tears falling down your cheeks, trying to stop the hyperventilating. You hear a small knock on the door, you take a deep breath and turn to open it, you aunt and Elena are standing there.

"How could you let him do this?" You say through tears. "She's going to kill me. You're sending me away to my death."

"I'm sorry, there was nothing I could do." She says, her eyes watery. You were never particularly close with either your aunt or uncle, you were always looked at as lesser than them. Although your aunt was kinder than your uncle was, maybe because you looked so much like your mother, regardless, neither of them seemed to care much for you.

"Don't go y/n." Elena says, tears in her eyes. You lean down and hug her.

"I'm sorry love, but I have to. I don't want to leave you, but I have to." Her little hands grab at your dress and you hold her close.

You aunt pulls Elena off of you and you pack your things. You don't own much, so everything fits into a small bag. You walk back out into the living room, your hands gripping the bag, trying your hardest to stop them from trembling.

"My Lady," you aunt says, breaking the silence. You uncle stares daggers at her, while the Lady looks at her curious of what she's going to say. "What can we do to ensure her safety? I- I don't want harm to come to her."

The Lady laughs, her deep laugh shakes the walls of the house, a terror fills your chest.

"You have my word, no harm will come to her." She says as she caresses your cheek with one of her gloved fingers. "And I am a woman of my word."

Her touch sends shives down your spine, the corners of the Lady's mouth curl as she feels the effect she has on you.

"Say your goodbyes. We must be going."

You turn and hug each child, you get to Ana and hold her tightly.

"Take care of them, okay?" You gently say. She nods her head with tears in her eyes and hugs you.

You get to Elena and you wrap your arms around her and kiss her head.

"I love you, please listen to Ana, okay? For me?"

She cries and nods her head, burying her face into your dress.

"Be brave." You say gently.

"I'm scared." She cries into you.

"I'm scared too," you say, looking into her eyes, "But we have to be brave when we're scared, when we have to do things we don't want to. Okay?"

She nods her head and hugs you again.

"I love you y/n."

"I love you too Lena."

The Lady clears her throat and you take a deep breath and let go of the child. You wipe her tears away and kiss her on the head again. You stand up and hug your aunt and turn towards the lady and nod your head.

"And what? You don't have anything to say to me?" You uncle says angerly. "You ungrateful, useless-" he stands up and walks towards you, the Lady reveals one of her sharp, long claws and puts it to his neck. You all gasp and your aunt tries to cover the children's eyes.

"I surely hope you treat your daughters better than that." She growls. She must have put the fear of the Black God into your uncle because for the first time in your life, he's silent, and terrified. She retracts the claw and looks at you.

"Let's go."

She backs out of the door and takes her hat from the girl holding it and places it back on her head. You follow her out the door and she leads you into the carriage. You look back at the place you called home once more and wave to the kids before climbing in. The Lady climbs in next to you, the carriage leaning to the side as she gets in. A massive swarm of flies enters the carriage and the three girls appear across from you.

"Oh mother she looks fun!" One of them says.

"Oh yes, mother can we play with her? Please?"

The third one grabs your arm, staring intently on the cut you got when you were saving Elena.

"She smells delicious mother, can we have a small taste? Please?" She begs.

"Girls, enough." She commands, the three girls immediately falling silent, the one releasing your arm. "She is going to be one of my new personal maids." She says, looking over at you, you feel her eyes on you and you keep your eyes on the floor.

The girls giggle and begin to chat amongst themselves. You hear whispers of them talking about a dungeon, who they were planning on taking down to it, whispers of hunting, you try your best to keep your nerves under control but the Lady seems to pick up on them immediately.

"No need to be afraid," she says looking down at you. "As long as you're obedient and you behave, you will never have to experience the dungeon, or worry about any of them." She says gesturing to the girls. She gently pats your leg, her hand can practically wrap around your entire thigh. The thought sends chills down your spine and you look out the window to distract yourself from thinking about it.

You reach the castle and you look out the window in amazement, you've never seen it up this close before, it's as breathtaking as it is ominous. You get out of the carriage and Lady Dimitrescu leads you inside.

"I presume you know how to clean, and well given you've watched after so many children for so many years?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good, I will introduce you to the head maid and she will give you your assignment and a uniform. You start tomorrow morning, I suggest you clean yourself up and get a good nights rest tonight." She says, eyeing the dirt stains on your dress from earlier.

"Yes ma'am."

She leads you into the kitchen and introduces you to the head maid. She excuses herself and you're lead to the maids quarters, you're shown your small room, although it's still bigger than the room you had at your aunt and uncles house. You're given fresh uniforms and the head maid hands you a sheet with your duties.

"You will begin in the library tomorrow morning, I will show you around for the first few days, but after that you must remember where to go on your own. It is also very important that you do not, under any circumstances, enter the Lady's study or chambers without her explicit request, understand?"

"Yes." You say, looking over the list of chores.

"I can't tell you how many new maids I've lost due to them wandering in there, either on accident or to snoop around. Do not do it. Understand?"

"Yes. Understood." You say, looking up at her.

She leaves and you shower and put on the clean pajamas that were left in your wardrobe. You lay down in bed, surprised at how comfortable it is, and before you know it, you're asleep.

You wake the next morning and put on your uniform and pull your hair back. You grab your supplies and meet the head maid. She gives you a quick tour as she leads you to the library, you do your best to remember which room is which. You make sure you engrain into your mind which room is the Lady's study and which is her chambers so you never accidentally end up in there. You get to the library and the head maid leaves you to work. You look over your list, you have to dust, polish, return any stray books, sweep and mop the floors. The library is large, but you figure the floors are going to take the longest. You begin by putting away any books you see laying around, carefully replacing them to their correct spot.

You hear a faint buzz across the room and the sound of giggles, it's incredibly unsettling, but you do your best to ignore it and keep working. You hear books falling to the floor, the sound echoing across the room and it startles you. You walk towards the sound, the closer to the mess you get, the louder the buzzing gets. Out of the corner of your eye you see movement and turn around, you see one of the daughters giggle.

"Oopsies." She says, covering her mouth as she laughs and disappears into a swarm of flies.

You kneel down and pick up the books and return them to their shelves. "Well, it's not much more different than dealing with the kids at home." You think to yourself.

Once the mess is cleaned you return to dusting and polishing. As you're cleaning you hear the shrill laughter of the girls as they buzz through the castle, although much more frightening than the laughter of children, you quickly get used to the sounds and eventually you don't even notice it.

You hear the laughter enter the library and you do you best to keep focused on the floors. You hear footsteps behind you and you turn to see the three girls, the redhead running up to you and getting right into your face, examining you closely.

"Daniela please, let the girl do her work." The blond says.

"Get out of the way!" The brunette says, pushing the read head away. "I want to get a closer look at her." She says looking you up and down. "Oh I bet you taste sweet," she says, licking her lips. "I would love to get just a little taste." She holds up a sickle. "Just a little taste."

"Cassandra mother will kill you if you lay a finger on her." The blond reprimands her.

"Ugh." She says lowering the sickle. "You always ruin the fun Bela, I wanted to make her squirm!"

The girls still tower over you a bit, you don't even notice the smile that crossed your face as they bickered, reminding you of the kids you practically raised.

"What are you smiling at?" Bela says, looking at you curiously.

"Oh, nothing, sorry." You say as you look down. "You guys just reminded me of the kids a little, that's all."

"Oh, were they bad?" Cassandra asks with wild eyes.

"No, not at all, they were amazing."

"Well that's no fun." The Daniela says. "I can't wait to see what mother has in store for you."

You look at her, unsure of what she meant.

"Oh Daniela hush, you don't even know what mother wants with her." Bela says.

"All I know is that if she ever brings you down to the dungeon, I want to be there so I can get a taste of you." Cassandra says, licking her lips.

"Do you know why mother paid to bring you here?" Bela asks.

"Honestly, no. I have no idea." You say.

The three girls look at you curiously, none of them seeming to know the answer themselves.

"Well, it was lovely talking to you girls, but I really should get back to cleaning, I wouldn't want to fall behind on my first day and anger the Lady." You say.

The three girls look up and giggle and disappear in a swarm of flies.

"I should be offended that you would think it takes so little to anger me." You jump when you hear the voice behind you.

"Oh, Lady Dimitrescu, I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were there." You stutter. "I didn't- that's not what I-" You fumble with your words, trying to save yourself.

She chuckles. "Oh draga, I am not offended. Not this time."

"Oh," you look down at the floor, avoiding eye contact. "Thank you."

She steps away and takes a seat on one of the chairs near you and crosses one of her long legs over the other.

"Is there anything I can do for you ma'am?" You ask, your eyes still focused on the floor.

"You are allowed to look at me dear." She says.

You look up and she leans forward, your eyes go to her massive chest as she leans forward, her dress perfectly showing off her impressive breasts. You immediately snap your eyes up, hoping she didn't notice. Her lips curl into a smile, "damnit. She noticed." You think to yourself. She sits back into the chair and opens the book you never noticed in her hand.

"There is nothing I need from you draga, not yet." Her yellow eyes feel like they're piercing your soul. "Please, continue, don't allow me to distract you from your work." She smiles at you and you shyly smile back.

"Oh, okay. Well, if you do need anything, please let me know." You say.

She turns her attention to her book and you go back to finishing sweeping the floors.

As you're cleaning you swear you catch her watching you, you try to focus on doing the best job you possibly can even though your nerves are extremely heightened at her presence.

You finally finish in the library, you look around and realize that Lady Dimitrescu is no longer in her chair, you didn't notice that she left, you're not entirely sure how long it had been since she left, but you're grateful that you were able to do a good enough job where she didn't say anything.

You gather your things and head back to your quarters to look for the head maid to see if there's anything else you needed to do since it was only the afternoon. To her surprise, there was nothing left for you to do so you had the rest of the day to yourself. You showered, changed into a new outfit and hung out in your room until dinner.

Once dinnertime came you made your way to the kitchen and got in line to eat. You could tell there was a pecking order amongst the maids, made up between the highest-ranking ones and the ones who have been here longest. You did your best to not step on anyone's toes as you waited in line. You could tell there were cliques among the maids, you tried to make yourself as invisible as possible as you tried to find an open seat with your tray in your hands. You notice a maid stuck her foot out to try and trip you, you carefully walked around her and avoid looking at her as you pass.

"You think you're better than me?" You hear someone say.

You had no idea who they were taking to, but you didn't think they were talking to you so you kept walking.

"You, new girl." You hear her say. You turn around and realize she was talking to you. "You think you're better than me?" She asks, anger in your eyes.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize you were talking to me. But, no, I don't not at all." You say.

She walks up to you and smacks your tray out of your hand, your meal scattering across the floor.

"Know your place bitch." She growls at you. "Now clean up the mess." She says as she walks back to her seat.

Stunned, you stand there for a second before cleaning up what was going to be your dinner. You look over and realize that there wasn't much left and you head back to your room. You lay in bed, your stomach growling. "How was it easier to deal with the three girls than it is dealing with the other maids?" You ask yourself. You finally roll over and fall asleep, hoping there won't be any more issues with the other maids.

The next few weeks are about the same, the one maid knocking at least half of your meals out of your hand. You eventually figure out when she gets to the kitchen for meals and try to get in before she does so you can actually eat, it angers her, but you do your best to ignore her. You have more run-ins with the girls, they seem fascinated by you, and you couldn't help but be a little fascinated with them too. Lady Dimitrescu pops up a few times throughout each week in whatever room you're working in, it strikes you as odd, but you try not to think too much of it. You can't imagine that she has time to visit every maid as frequently as she sees you.

You were eventually given the task to take care of requests that the girls ask of you, although they really didn't ask for too much. You removed blood stains from their dresses, cleaned and polished their weapons, usually their sickles, helped them remove blood stains from carpets their mother specifically asked them to not get blood on, the usual, at least the usual for this castle.

One day you're cleaning the main stairway, leading from the foyer to the second floor. You hear the usual buzzing and giggles and you smile as the girls run amuck through the castle. A swarm of flies appears in font of you and Daniela appears.

"Y/n, I need your help!"

"What's up Daniela?"

"You have to tell Cassandra that I'm less messy than she is. She doesn't believe me!"

"Daniela, respectfully, I am not getting in the middle of whatever you and Cassandra have going on today. Plus, it's not nice to lie." You say with a smile.

You hear a laugh from the second floor and you look up to see Lady Dimitrescu staring down at the two of you from the balcony. Your cheeks turn red as you return your attention to your work.

"Ugh!! Mother! Make her tell Cass!" Daniela whines.

Lady Dimitrescu descends the stairs towards the two of you.

"She's right Daniela, it is not nice to lie."

Daniela bursts into a swarm of flies and angerly storms away and you try and hide the smile on your face.

"You're very good with the girls, I know they can be," she pauses for a moment to carefully pick her words. "A handful."

"They're not so bad, plus, they're like any other siblings, they all bicker the same, just over different things."

She smiles at you and gently hums as she walks down the stairs past you. You pause for a second to listen, you never realized she was able to sing, no less had such a beautiful voice.

"What else is on your to-do list today?" She asks as she reaches the bottom of the steps.

"Once I finish the stairs I just have to dust and mop the hall up here."

"And you are off tonight, correct?" She asks.

"Yes, my next night shift is tomorrow night."

"Delightful, I am going to need your assistance tonight."

"Oh, uh, yes of course."

"Meet me in my chambers after dinner."

You freeze for a second and look down at her, she looks up at you with a smirk on her face.

"In your, uh, chambers?"

"Did I stutter?"

"No ma'am. I'll be there."

"Excellent."

She walks away and you take a deep breath. You continue the stairs and try to finish as quickly as you can while still doing a thorough job.

Once you finish you shower and change into a fresh uniform, you hurry to the kitchen and quickly grab your food and eat before the maid that has it out for you throws your dinner across the kitchen. Luckily you're able to finish by the time she shows up, she sees you cleaning up your plate and she shoots daggers at you. You have no idea why she seems to have it out for you, but you try your best to ignore and avoid her. You go to leave the kitchen and she goes out of her way to walk past you with her tray in her hands. You look forward and try to ignore her, as you pass you feel a sharp pain across your arm and you yelp and put your hand over you arm only to realize you're bleeding. You turn to look at the maid and you see her turn her kitchen knife back in.

"Oops. Sorry." She says sarcastically.

You hurry to your room and wrap a bandage around your arm, you realize you have a little blood on your dress but you don't have time to change. You rush out of your room and make your way to the Lady's chambers.

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids,

There are a lot of poetic things we can say about crying: It's a temporary storm that cleans the air, and you need to wait out the rain so you can see the rainbow!

Or in less poetic words, crying can be good for you.

it's the opposite of bottling your feelings up. Openly expressing feelings with tears is an important emotional "safety valve" that helps you relieve the pressure from overwhelming emotions. After you released the pressure, it's easier to think clearly and make healthy decisions.

It can also serve as a helpful tool to communicate with the people around you. It enables you to ask for comfort or put up a boundary, even when you're too overwhelmed to use words. (in fact, crying was the very first communication tool you ever used after you were born! That's how important it is!).

It has physical health benefits. Crying helps to keep your eyes clean (by keeping them lubricated and flushing dust, smoke etc. out) and emotional tears may also flush stress hormones and other toxins out of your system!

So, the answer to "how do I stop crying?" is usually "you don't need to!". It's much better for you to allow yourself to cry when you feel the need to, to embrace tears as a healthy and normal way of expressing emotions, than to learn how to suppress them.

With that being said: what if you feel like you cry too much?

There isn't really the one agreed-upon definition of "too much" when it comes to crying. You may read statistics like "The average person cries 3 to 5 times a month" but that doesn't mean it's necessarily an issue if you cry more often. Different people have different emotional safety valves, some people's safety valves are triggered much more easily than others... and so some people just naturally cry more without it being a symptom of mentall illness or general dissatisfaction with their life!

Rather than hinging it on a specific number, it's more important to look at your subjective feeling. If you feel like your crying is negatively affecting your quality of life (for example: you cry yourself to sleep every night, you often find yourself crying for no appearant reason and/or you cry uncontrollably in situations where you really don't want to be crying (like at work), it's best to talk to a doctor. You may be struggling with a mental health issue, like depression, and you deserve professional help and support.

Last but not least, I want to give some practical advice:

Tears are mostly water. It's a good idea to rehydrate after a long cry! Drink some water or make yourself a comforting cup of tea.

There's some advice out there on how to stop your tears from flowing in public (tilting your chin up, opening your eyes wide, not blinking). I'm sure these tips work well for some people but in my experience it's usually much easier to just find an excuse and a silent space where you can cry (quietly) for a few minutes. Rather than staying in the stressful situation with the added pressure of not blinking, just say you need to go to the bathroom (or you need a glass of water, a smoke break, some fresh air, to take an urgent phone call etc.) and take a little cry break.

If you know you are a crier, it can be helpful to prepare yourself for the situation above. There's no shame in having a little "cry bag" with tissues, concealer, a fidget toy or anything else you may need to calm down and freshen up after your cry break in the work bathroom. (It may feel like people will stare at you for taking a bag into the bathroom but they'll most likely just assume it's hygiene products or headache pills)

Putting an ice cube in a washcloth and then gently putting it on your cheeks or around your eyes can be a great way to soothe your face after crying. If you don't have access to that, running cold water over your fingers and then gently pressing them on your skin can help just as well!

If your eyes hurt after crying, over-the-counter eye drops can help. But if you're a frequent crier, make sure to check the instructions if they're safe to be used on a regular basis! (And keep in mind that crying should not lead to long-lasting eye pain. If it does, it may show an underlying eye issue, such as dry eyes or allergies, and you should see a doctor!)

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

[leggerefiore]

After reading the last Grimsley story, a cute idea I've been thinking about is the opposite situation. Nanu finally falls in love but it's been so long, he has no idea on how to approach his love interest and asks Grimsley for advice (surprise surprise, it's TERRIBLE ADVICE)

Even though Nanu is usually the one with a clear head and knows to avoid trouble, he's already gone too deep, and on a night out, they both get drunk and Nanu tries to confess with his liquid courage. Grimsley is the obnoxious wingman who spurs him on in the background, chaos insues.

Maybe s/o thinks it's funny, or pitiful, or maybe both tbh. Both barely remember anything the next morning. In Malie garden, Grimsley wakes up in a bush, and Nanu would kick himself if he wasn't so damn hungover. 🥲

cw: alcohol, drinking, drunken confessions

pairing: Nanu/Reader

Nanu invited you out to the Malie Garden with the simple explanation that he wanted to talk. You headed to the teahouse to find him standing there waiting for you, except his face is flustered that it nearly matches his eyes. You blinked as another familiar sight lingered nearby… Grimsley. He was sat down on one of the benches with a familiar white serving bottle and cups. It was clear what the two had been doing before you cake along. Grimsley's paler skin flushed even brighter than Nanu's own. Shaking your head, you still approached.

“… I…ve been meaning to tell you something,” he slurred, eyes even more lidded than usual. Grimsley seemed to clap at his words before downing another drink from his cup and pouring another. You grew a bit worried about him but kept your attention on Nanu. “I… I never thought I'd feel this way again…” He continued, stepping towards you. At some point, his polite jacket had been shed off, leaving him in his red shirt. The Darkinium Z around his neck caught the moonlight beautifully. His surprisingly well-toned arms were in your sight, too. “I can't let you go… It'll be the second-worst mistake I'd ever make…” Hands grasped your arms desperately, “Look, I'm an old man, I get it, but there's nothing more I want than to spend my days with you.”

It was… Surprisingly, romantic. You were not sure if being drunk made him less prickly with his words, or if he was just like this about his feelings. Either way, it made your heart flutter… Nanu... A confession from him was truly something that you had wanted to hear. Even if Grimsley's cheering in the background subtly ruined the moment. You nodded in reply to his words, wondering if he would even remember this come the morning. It definitely would be something to bring back up when he was in a clearer headspace. His current status… Well, you wondered if he was even that aware of what he was saying. A sigh left him.

Then, he let you go and wandered off to go lay down on the bench. For a moment, you wondered if you should get them both back to his home, but it seemed a bit difficult. Nanu was not the type to stir easily, and Grimsley was not the easiest person to work with. The Tapu would not let anything happen to Nanu, so there was little to worry about there. And… Grimsley was like a cockroach. He would be fine. For now, you let yourself wander off. Tomorrow would come, and you would talk then.

~

Nanu woke up with a pounding headache and Acerola staring down at him in a panic. His back hurt and the felt like he was baking alive. The Alolan sun shined right down on him. The girl looked at him in mild disappointment. He let out a sigh as he sat up. Grimsley... Why did he agree to have drinks with him? He was no lightweight, but the gambler was something else. He looked around and realised that he had passed out in the garden. Shame should have entered his mind, but he grew apathetic to it years ago. Instead, he caught a sight of Grimsley passed out in a bush.

He felt Acerola help sit him up, but he shook his head and dismissed her. This was nothing for her to worry about. Pulling out his phone, he checked the time. It was already nearly noon. Embarrassing. But, a message caught his eye as he looked things. “Lets talk about last night today, okay?” From… you. What had he said? His brain pounded in his head, and he failed to recall. A sigh left him again. Great. A situation. Grimsley... Why did he drink with him? Part of him felt tempted to kick him while he was down, but he was not the type to trample on the less fortunate.

“… Acerola,” he spoke to the girl, “Can you make your Palosand take Grimsley?” She gasped and gave her signature surprised expression. Shaking his head, he stood up. “… Thanks for waking me up. I'm heading home. Don't worry about that guy, yeah?” He told her. She nodded and trailed after him as he wandered out of the garden, leaving Grimsley to the wild. She asked him questions about how he ended up like that. He opted against answering.

When you both finally spoke, he felt like banging his head against the wall. Sure, he was glad you felt the same way, but saying it like that…

He wanted to throttle a certain other dark-type specialist.

[jingooism]

nights

han joowon never loses the need to serve his penance. he'll let people abuse his time and work him to the bone before he refuses to help. joowon was always a good officer, but now? now, it was his lifeline, the way he felt like he was helping in his own small way. dongsik would never blame him for it, but recently there's been more nights than not where he's alone on the couch before joowon stumbles in, dead on his feet. tonight is one of those nights.

the boiler had gotten fixed ages ago, the house warm and inviting instead of the old cold and drafty. all the newspapers had been taken off the wall, pictures set in new frames, and plants dotted over every surface. dongsik had found something calming about raising plants, it kept his mind occupied on its worst days. the house was finally a home again, and there was no hesitation from dongsik when he asked joowon to move in. it happened over dinner one night, joowon was cooking, as he usually did, and they were just sitting down when dongsik brought it up.

"you know, you're here all the time," he starts, setting their chopsticks on their placemats. "you've become a manyang boy."

joowon looks up at him, and dongsik has to quell the squeal in his chest, he was still wearing his apron and everything looked so achingly domestic.

"is that a bad thing?" joowon asks, head down, pretending to readjust their bowls on the table. he's still always unsure of his place, unsure where he really belongs. this is when dongsik knows he needs to work harder to make sure joowon understands.

"i didn't say that," dongsik reassures, grabbing joowon's hands to still them from their idle tasks. the action causes joowon to finally meet his gaze. "isn't it tiring? going from gangwon to seoul to here? you look like you haven't gotten a good eight hours in forever," he gently runs his thumbs over joowon's dark circles.

joowon sighs, leaning in to the touch, "it's just what i have to do, dongsik. you know that."

"i do, i understand," dongsik nods. "i don't agree, but i understand."

silence stretches between them as they sit down and start their dinner. he can't think of a better time to ask the question so he just does, too in love with the idea of seeing joowon in his space more.

"what if you moved? here, i mean," dongsik starts. "you did say you wanted to live on the same street as me."

joowon doesn't respond quick enough, leaving dongsik to word vomit out of worry that he's overstepped. "it was just a suggestion of course, the house is more than big enough for two and you'll save money, but i shouldn't have--"

"okay," joowon says softly, a small smile playing on his lips. "if you're that desperate to have me."

"who's depserate?" dongsik scoffs, hooking their ankles together under the table. "you're the one at my house every week," he mutters into his food, cheeks flaming.

so since then, joowon has been in manyang for good. they share a bed, a nighttime routine, everything. he nags at dongsik about cleaning, about his diet, about the way he spreads himself thin. dongsik finds it to be...perfect. but there's always a catch, and that's that han joowon will never be the person at work to ask to leave. he'll stay until he's told to go, which makes for multiple nights a week where dongsik doesn't see him until it's nearly the early hours of the morning.

he's slumped on the couch, the soft glow of the tv and the heat of the blanket lulling him into a sort of half-sleep, tea long gone cold on the table, when he hears the door unlock. he peeks one eye open to the clock, and sighs quietly when he sees 1:00am. he pretends to be asleep when he hears joowon enter the living room, shuffling to kick off his shoes at the front door. there's the sound of a jacket being hung up, and then dongsik feels the couch dip next to him.

"aish, i told you you'll hurt your neck like this," joowon mumbles, pulling the blanket higher on dongsik's neck. dongsik pretends that the action woke him up, and stretches out, draping himself over joowon.

"what time is it?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

"1:00," joowon mutters, knowing he's going to hear it.

"joowon-ah, you let them work you too hard," dongsik says. "it's wrong of them to do knowing you live so far," he looks up at his lover from where his head is rested in his lap. "you have to be able to tell them no."

"it's my job, dongsik," joowon sighs, knowing that some part of dongsik's words are right. "i just..."

"you just want to save everyone you can," dongsik finishes, grabbing joowon's hand to interlock their fingers, placing it on his chest. "and i love that about you, really i do, but you can't do the job if you're not at your best, can you?"

the silence is answer enough. dongsik sits up and tugs joowon to his feet, "let's get ready for bed." he keeps joowon's hand in his own all the way to their bedroom, where he flops down at gestures at the bathroom.

"hurry, it's cold at night now and you're my heater," dongsik smiles, getting under the covers. he's glad he let joowon change their sheets, now they lay in high thread count silk opposed to rough cotton. they were a fortune, but worth it. joowon huffs out a laugh before shutting the bathroom door and turning on the shower. by the time he's finished and crawling into bed, dongsik's eyes have slipped closed, again slipping into a weird half sleep.

he feels joowon pull him to his chest, and sighs at the immediate warmth. a soft kiss is placed on the back of his neck, "i'm sorry, hyung." joowon knows that the endearment is dongsik's weakness, only using it when he needs to be forgiven.

dongsik turns in his arms, meeting joowon's sleepy gaze in the dim light of the room. "low blow, won-ah. low blow," he laughs softly, leaning forward to kiss joowon. "i just miss you is all," he admits. "you moved here and i feel like i see you even less than i did when you lived in seoul."

"i know," joowon replies, arms going tighter around dongsik's middle. he misses dongsik too, thinks about his every minute of every day. the only thing that gets him through the long hours is knowing that dongsik will be waiting for him when he gets home. "i'll try to be better, hyung. i promise," he rests their foreheads together.

"you don't have to be better," dongsik chides. "you're perfect how you are, han joowon. what you need is a break."

joowon hums, "where would we go?" the thought of just the two of them getting away makes joowon smile, and he thanks the lowlight of the room for saving him from looking like a lovesick idiot. "any ideas?"

"i want to go anywhere with you," dongsik says simply, like the words don't immediately make joowon's chest cave in. "but...i do know someone who has a lakehouse not too far away," he whispers. "we can go, just the two of us, and shut in for a few days..."

"what would we do?"

"i'm too tired to talk about what we would do," dongsik wiggles his eyebrows, making joowon laugh quietly. "how about i show you in the morning?" he nuzzles into joowon's neck, soft puffs of warm breath hitting the skin there.

"i'll hold you to it," joowon mutters into dongsik's skin.

joowon feels dongsik's breath even out against his neck and tightens his arms just a little bit more.

if in the quiet of the room dongsik hears a small, "i love you," he keeps it to himself.

[tobiasdrake]

Can you make something out of the Manga panel where (Future) Android 18 gets mad over video games? Or Android 18 in general, like how she uses a fighting stance like Krillin's in the Buu Saga, and the kienzan on "Mighty Mask"? Or breaking Vegeta's arm?Just, a general Android 18(maybe plus 17, or about her relationship with Krillin) character and fighting analysis?

Oh, yeah, 18 is great. What makes the Twins stand out both as antagonists and characters is that they're a stark departure from everything we've come to know in Dragon Ball. Neither martial artists nor warriors, they're children at play gifted unimaginable power without an ounce of discipline behind it.

This gives them a sort of universal appeal for an audience. It's fun to watch them wreak havoc with their play, but equally fun to watch them grow and develop as characters. The Twins came into this world with a wealth of potential.

18 often gets labeled as the serious one of the pair due to her stern disapproval or boredom over 17's antics. But it needs to be noted that she's every bit as playful as he is. They just have different ideas for how they want to play.

17 likes to savor his entertainment while 18 likes to binge. They're both childish - in personality, I need to note, as that's Future 17 and 18 up there who've been around for twenty more years than their present counterparts. Their actual ages are never stated.

And they take turns ribbing each other for their respective immaturities.

I've always loved how 18's complaint here is that 17's behavior is unbecoming of a robot. She's just like, "Oh, male sentiments; Your human base is showing, bro." Though she does also ping him with some straight-up Boomer Humor.

It was the 80's.

To be fair, she's right. Like. I cannot stress enough that 17's plan for finding Goku is to drive around the world aimlessly until a Goku appears before him.

Or that 18, despite her pretense of being above petty humanity, is snooty and posh.

Did she come from wealth?

Did Gero kidnap rich kids? Are they the children of some higher-up in the RRA? Or is she just aggressively city? She has some opinions about rural life that you don't usually expect from an orphan or runaway or whatever the Twins were before Gero found them. 18 is inexplicably classist.

Though 18 did say ACAB so she's not all bad. Two whole pages of the manga are just 18 fucking up some cops.

Nonetheless, this is how you know she loves Krillin. Living on the Muten-Roshi's island in the ass crack of nowhere is a sacrifice.

18's fight with Vegeta fresh out of the lab serves as our introduction to the Twins as fighters. The main element this fight focuses on is how... unflappable the Infinite Energy models are. We see Vegeta's attacks mess 18 up a bit.

But the emphasis is on how cool-headed and robotic she is. She's taking hits, but she doesn't act like she's taking hits.

This is another one of those lines that Viz didn't quite translate well, as it's easy to take to mean that he's failed to do any damage to her at all. Which is visibly not true. Rather, he's saying she's not acting hurt; He got a good hit in on her but she's brushing it off as if she were still in pristine condition.

18 simply doesn't react to damage.

In Fighting Game terminology, 18 has Super Armor. She and Vegeta are evenly matched but her physiology, as a bio-machine powered by an Infinite Energy generator, is a world apart from Vegeta's.

Notably, a breakdown of all of the androids on a title page indicates that 18 is weaker than 17.

This was published at the start of 17's fight with Piccolo, so I assume the purpose behind it was to explain why 17 is evenly matched with the reborn Nameless Namekian when 18 was evenly matched with Vegeta earlier.

That or sexism. It's shonen. You can never discount that as a possibility, and 18 is one of like five prominent female characters in this entire manga - and the only one ever to be able to throw punches at a Super Saiyan level.

In terms of technique, the Twins have little martial arts knowledge or ki manipulation experience to draw from. They're amateurs fighting at an advanced level. More than that, they just woke up into this power yesterday.

So while they are capable of learning to draw energy from their generators and use it like ki, as seen from their Future counterparts, the Androids of the present haven't had a chance to learn that. They never use a single ki attack in the entire Cell arc. They understand what it is, they're never confused when others shoot ki at them, but they don't know how to do it themselves. They haven't had time to learn.

This is what makes 17's force field in his fight with Piccolo so shocking.

It's also notably drawn to not look like a ki barrier or something. The crackle of lightning around it and the mechanical "VNNNNN" sound effect gives it the aesthetic of some sort of electric field. It is nonetheless likely powered by his Infinite Energy generator; I think this is what gave DBS the idea to make his whole powerset lightning based.

For the present, the Twins are pretty basic fighters in terms of technique. They're what you'd expect of random kids with lots of power plugged into them. They punch and they kick. But their intense power and limitless stamina makes them very good at punching and kicking.

It's a shame Goku never got to fight them. I'd love to see what he makes of their style.

In addition to that fight setting up the Twins' fighting style, the end of 18's fight with Vegeta (and 17's subsequent shitstomp of everyone not Vegeta) also demonstrates our first glimpse into what makes these Twins different from their Future counterparts.

They aren't interested in killing anyone. It's not super clear why that is. "Something something Cell something something butterfly effect" is the general explanation for all the retcons. This is what sets into motion the idea that maybe the two of them don't have to die. Maybe they can coexist with all the other amoral big-personality super-warriors on Earth.

A hill that Krillin will absolutely die on even if nobody else believes in it.

IIRC Akira Toriyama has stated in interview that he likes for romances to happen offscreen because he doesn't feel he's very good at writing them. So he just. Doesn't.

In my opinion, this is what makes his romances some of the best in shonen. Dragon Ball doesn't waste time getting to the relationship, instead preferring to enjoy being in it. Toriyama gives us this:

As an aside, the way Yamcha leaps to retaliatory violence because a woman rejected his bro has always read as a major YIKES to me but I digress.

But then she sees Shenron, comes back out of curiosity, and overhears Krillin spending a wish from a magical wish-granting dragon to help her and 17 live more comfortable lives despite her rejection.

And we get a second, more conflicted departure.

And then seven years later:

You can see the appeal of Toriyama's approach to romance here. Like. If you're great at writing romance, all power to you. But if you know romance isn't your thing? As a Not Writing Romance romance, this is great. All the pieces you need to understand how this happened are there.

This is probably the best Not Writing Romance of Toriyama's career. And it gives 18 an inroad into the 25th Tenkaichi Budokai. Despite 17 being expressly the stronger, 18 features in both the first and last fights that the Twins are ever given.

While the tournament's ending is predominately a bit of a goof that 18 dominates, we do get a legitimate fight for her. It's not much of a fight, as she throws down with Mighty Mask, who is Goten and Trunks in a trenchcoat. But it does show how she's evolved into a martial artist, as the 18 of the present demonstrates the first ki attack she's ever done on-panel.

Future 18 also learned how to manipulate ki, but that was primarily done through your standard ki blasts. Lots of them when she's mad at video games. (Felt.)

But this moment implies a lot about her relationship with Krillin. 18 hasn't just figured out how to use ki; She's been studying martial arts with him. In this moment, 18 realizes that Goten and Trunks are too strong to tackle head on.

But unlike any fight the Twins have ever been in before, she has an answer to that. She's taken Krillin's style as her own and learned a better understanding of how to be a martial artist. She has Krillin's signature Kienzan under her belt, as well as remarkable control over it to only cut the costume like that.

And more to the point, she has learned how to fight as an underdog. Faced with the power that the boys possess, 18 cuts the knot. She doesn't have to beat them; She only has to make them lose.

And then that just leaves the true champion and greatest adversary 18 will ever face, the legendary Mr. Satan.

She does not win the tournament but she has the trophy in her possession. Bulma would be so proud.

It's funny to me that this begins a tradition of throwing fights in the ring to Mr. Satan after giving the other matches everything they've got. The progenitor of that tradition was an act of flagrant blackmail. Really goes to show how bad Goku remains to this day at reading dishonesty. Innocent to a fault, that man.

18 doesn't get to be involved in the stuff with Majin Buu. But she's never been a character who'd want to be. She doesn't care about fighting and defeating monsters and stuff. She's only ever been looking for a good time.

The series leaves her off in a place where we can feel confident that she's found what she was missing. She has a family that she genuinely seems to love, a relationship built on mutual respect and tenderness, and a fuckton of blackmail money to finally return to her apparently high-class roots?

She had to took a long and weird-ass van ride through the backwoods to get here, but she's gonna be alright.

[sphaxcca]

My Candy Love New Gen ep. 4 Review

Here I am after finishing the last episode of MCL New Gen ready to give my honest and unasked opinion about it. Fasten your seatbelts cause we are about to start and i'm not gonna be gentle

LET'S TALK ABOUT IT...

So the episode opens with Elenda who's basically trying to drag us so bad to the Cosey Bear because apparently Castiel was serving there ( No judgement toward Elenda, i wanted to see my husband too). Unfortunately for me and her, he already had left when we showed up to the Cafe. >3>.

Seeing Lynn animated was so cute and a little bit nostalgic but nothing compared to the GASP I emitted when she started talking to Thomas and he told her he was in love with her. GEEEEZ, now i get why that kid was a pain in the ass and RUINED my pic-nic date with Tomato head, THE DOTS CONNECTED. Btw it was a very cute scene and a tribute to Iris that I hope she will show up in Thomas' route.

Moving on, inspired by Thomas' love confession, everybody starts talking about their love life (expected since the episode's name is hearts looking for love). And this is where things went horribly cringe and outrageous: Ofc i'm not talking about Elenda and Devon ( It was cute to know that she had a crush on Devon and, about him, a little peak to where the story is possibly going to lead - a busy man that works his ass off so bad for Devenementiel and has no time to date)or Amanda but about ROY and BRUNE.

Hoooooly shit, the chill of second hand embarassment that I got just by reading the interractions between these two was undescribable I swear( Elenda became basically my guide spirit: her reaction was the same i had. ). Everything was so outofcontext and nonsense that I'm actually wondering why Beemov decided it was a great idea to give space to something so....childish? I mean, we're talking about (almost) 30yo people.. and they got together because they were...desperate??????? - "Yeah with my exes things weren't doing good so we decided to date even tho we don't talk, don't touch and fell uncomfortable with each other" - COOOME ON, BFR, you guys ok? Also, I really hope that we're gonna discover something deeper about Roy (or that he's going to get a development at least) that makes him more that what i can pick up and feel from him right now: childish Gymrat fixed on pool that give us nothing. I'm genuine deluded about the way they handled this.

Moving on to JASON PART. He basically shows up when we're still talking sitted by the table. I was obviously expecting the part where he was going to be pointed out as a "womanizer" but what I DID NOT EXPECT was the reaction he had when he overhears our conversation: I felt him being sarcastic as usual but at the end i felt he was kinda....hurt??? idk if you get what i mean, he literally said he had REASONS why he doesn't want to be in full term relationship and this opens my mind to an INFINITE AMOUNT OF THEORIES

Connected to what I've read on some theories here, someone said it's because of the condition ( or the pathology) that made his hair go white...

This is a really good point but I genuine think about something else that is connected to this and the SHOCK NUMBER 2: Why Devenementiel hates Jason so much?

Apparently our "proud and superior" man with an incredible fragile ego had PLAGIARIZED the project the would have helped Devon to found Devenementiel and, because of that, he was fired and disqualified by the contest. So...first things first: PIECE OF SHIT. Secondly, I genuine would have never thought about him doing something like this and that's the reason why i don't think he did it because he wanted to but perphaps he WAS PUSHED to do so.

Another theorie said that probably he was helped by a third person that played dirty and suggested him the same project Devon did

And I have to admit that this is something very likely, but stil don't really convince me too much.

We can clearly see that Jason has a lot of money, A LOT, and by the way he has so much money i'm assuming he comes from a family that at least has the same amount of capital he has now. We got told that he was basically working as an employer (if i remember correctly) so why trying to steal something from others if you are satisfied and don't need a job? perhaps because you NEED that first place to REDEEM yourself and PROVE someone wrong at least so that.. THE END JUSTIFIES THE MEANS. That's where his family and the white hair make their part: A Dad Ceo that basically disgraced his Son because he couldn't follow or keep up with the family business or - he wasn't good enough- for the role ( and that's why the white hair, because of the stress) . Another thing that might prove this is the fact that Devon told us that he had "private investors" and...i mean, if you're broke, i don't think you can find them just by snapping your fingers and make them appear in front of you, especially when you get fired and disqualified in a competition. He could have use the "family" name and hi charisma to persuade the investors to help him found Goldreamz. And THIS leads me to the last point: Why no long term relationship? Because his family has to end with him and he's scared of the consequences that a partner can have in his life. This reminded me so much Simon from Bridgerton btw. So yeah...I might be wrong (99%) but i want to think that he's a piece of shit just because he's hurt.

His special scene was normal i guess, i love the way my candy was looking at the instagram photos be like - "i'm just studying the enemy...not doing something wrong..maybe".

In the end i decided to try for the Thomas illustration and nothing to complain about, the scene was genuine one of the most cute one in the game so fare and the ilusstration 10/10 chef's kiss and handshake by the president.

[konako]

an alternate universe of an alternate universe? what the fuck is going on in the rlh, bless you and screw canon material ;)

WHAT THE FUCK IS WDC:BB? (it's complicated)

Hohooh, this will be fun. Let me try to explain how this happened in the simplest of ways, without being put in virtual jail. As it's truly this:

It all started back in 2021. When we were still young, naive and pure....

The Ruby Lucas Appreciation life was seeing a resurgence thanks to some maniacs out there somewhere. Gifsets were flowing, asks were coming in, ideas were brewing.

The domino pieces were being placed...

Anon sends me a message about a trope they like. I agree. I imagine Red Queen in that trope. Kat (@lovecanbesostrange) sees the vision.

A writing demon takes over Kat's body. She writes a fic.

Safe Cage is born.

Unrelated to that (somehow)

Anon sends me a message to share a fun fact about a college football team with an interesting name. I reply with a silly idea for a story. As you can see in the replies under the post, Kat and I went mad again.

The Ruby Lucas Harem Server is created.

RRCAU is born.

It doesn't stop there...

RRCAU is developed over three years of collaboration and compatible unhinged behaviour. The story grows, we uncover the backstory, the supporting characters, the dynamics, the many different developments... It's a complete story.

But see. Kat has been cursed with a fantastic, fruitful imagination...

We had a habit of taking stories and imagining "What-Ifs" to some scenarios (because we struggle with definite decisions when it comes to plot, and we like to experiment! who doesn't?). It was fun to think of what could have been different and how that change would affect the larger story.

Soon enough, Kat had a thought: What if, instead of changing an event in the later parts of the story, we changed it in the very beginning?

What if Ruby's miserable up-bringing in a trailer park with a passively neglectful mother... was WORSE?

What If: Ruby was raised in troubling poverty by a physically, verbally and mentally abusive, constantly intoxicated mother?

Worse!RRCAU is born.

Still not connected to that (Palpatine has returned)

Anon sends me a message about Regina wanting people to kneel. I reply with a joke about Ruby being eager to kneel, so they work as a couple.

Kat sees that. She adds to that. She chooses violence. And she writes about it.

DRK AU is born.

These three AUs lived together in harmony. (Ruby disagrees. She keeps getting fucked over).

Until a 4am thought attacked.

Narrator: she did think mean things.

We.... thouroughly fucked Red over this time. Meticulously. We thought nothing of it. Torturing Red was routine. It was for fun! A 4am angsty brain fart!

But then the scary thing happened: it started to make sense.

There was no coming back from there. The story took over. We had no power over it. It had power over us.

WDC combined the three big stories that contributed the least with the rent in our heads:

Worse (Worse!RRCAU) brought the world without magic and the usual translations that came with it. Along with the setting, it brought the feeling of Red's early life and how it shaped her to be accostumed to abuse. Dark (DRK AU) brought the torture, the body mods, the calculated disfiguration of Red and the need for a domestic life that would attempt to heal it. Cage (Safe Cage) brought the most important: Corrupted Red Snow. Red as Snow's weapon. The manipulation, the abuse, the years and years of conditioning, lying, training, until Red was no longer a person, but a monster to serve Snow's needs. Originally, it also brought Regina, as the opposition to Snow's force, and the person that stepped in at the right time to rescue Red.

It was clear. It was obvious. It was meant to exist.

Art was made.

And something that's important to note: in WDC, Red is kind of the bad guy. She's Snow's Bodyguard, Guard Dog, Pet. She has no agency, and she does whatever Snow orders her to do.

Including severely hurting Belle.

The way that Red hurt Belle is critical to WDC. (Don't worry, I won't go there). It's a major part of Red's story, and a defining moment in Belle's development. The trauma was even responsible for the unearthing of a new ship: Kansas Beauty. A relationship that began in, of all places, a mental health facility.

It was a fascinating story. A vessel to some dark, dark thoughts. It was to be kept in a secret alley, to never see the light of day (much like WDC!RED—). I failed at that one job, but... whatever. Anyway!!

We explored other stories, parallel to that. We have the range. (While confined to the Red Snow spectrum...) We thought of different things...

Then. Kat thought more thoughts.

And I indulged her with a list of possibilities to fit that desire. Among which there was:

Kat had even more thoughts.

This change took us to a similar place, with a similar brain wave. (It happens often)

And.... yeah..... This had some... unforseen consequences.....

↓

This is where we are.

[louisaguy]

I would love to hear about the hammer and anvil / teen river abduction story! :)

(from this ask game)

ahhh, so! hammer and anvil is a project which may or may not come to exist depending on when i want to cut my losses lol. basically the idea is that it would be a series of snapshots through the childhoods of patrice and river, contrasting them against each other and showing off what the dynamic at les arbres was like.

the reason why i say it may or may not exist is because i only really have the motivation to write like... 2 or 3 of the planned 8ish different snapshots. not as in i dread the rest but like... 2 or 3 of them i know exactly what i'm gonna do, the rest i have a vague 1 line summary that may become something or maybe not.

so i may string them all together or i may just post the few i actually am excited about writing separately as one-shots, not sure yet.

but! the one that i've already written is this: river is 14 and his mother is coming to hang out with him after school (behind his grandparents' backs), and river is thrilled about this, until she attempts to abscond with him to france to bring him back to les arbres for her own reasons (mostly about hurting david and rose). luckily river manages to sneak away and call his grandparents before she gets him on the train. and river doesn't know what it is his mother was trying to take him back to, won't know until years later why they were going to france specifically.

(within the context of hammer and anvil this will take on an even more sinister connotation bc this takes place in the timeline only about a year after one of the les arbres boys dies at frank's hands. so that's the threat here. unknown to river and probably even unknown to isobel, but known to the audience. river is going to replace a boy who was just killed by frank for disobedience. and river is not the most obedient. so THAT is the threat here)

this has all been developed in conjunction with gav's development of their "drive the wedge" fic so it serves as sort of a prequel to that too, definitely stay tuned for that one it's gonna be soooo good @altschmerzes can't wait :)

River’s stomach was starting to sink with dread. “...I want to go home,” he told her, hearing his voice in the third person and noting absently how it sounded like a petulant child. “Take me home.” Another slow, shaky breath. Her eyes fixed on the road. “We are going home, darling. Don’t worry.” “You-- what? What do you mean, home is back that way, I don’t--” She flipped on the radio, her clearest signal for River stop talking. It was usually a pretty good distraction-- River liked singing along to the radio with her. Grandma and Granddad put on pop music for River sometimes, but they never belted along with the songs as they sped down the motorway, not like Isobel did. It was one of River’s few purely good memories with his mum, actually. Last month they had been on one of their drives, and she and him were both singing along to the radio as loud as their lungs could stand, the windows rolled down and both of their hair flying everywhere, and River felt maybe happier than he’d ever been. Now, though, the radio clearly wasn't an invitation to sing along. Isobel didn’t even look at him, didn't even hum. Today, it was a command of silence. Which River obeyed. His brain took him, quite against his will, to the little flat in the city he and his mother once shared, many years ago, before he’d been dropped at his grandparents. He only remembered snippets of it; the white shag carpet in the living room, the stack of multicolored plastic cups in the cabinet that were reserved just for him. He hadn’t thought of that flat in years-- it was small and cramped and he didn’t like it very much, but it was all he’d ever known, then. Once he discovered the world of his grandparents’ country estate, though-- all sprawling hills and apple trees and orange sunsets-- he fell in love with it intensely, and the city apartment never crossed his mind again. It was probably not the same flat that Isobel was taking him to now, River thought. She almost certainly sold that old flat when she left for Spain. But whatever cramped little London flat she was taking him to right now-- because surely that was what she meant, that River’s home was with her and not his grandparents-- was bound to be nearly identical to that place that River had, originally, for the first few years of his life, called home. River cleared his throat. “I mean to my grandparents’,” he offered. “I want to go to my grandparents’.” She sucked on her teeth for a moment. “...That’s not home.”

thank you for the ask!!

[neoliberalbrainrot]

Fuck, I'm not traumatized enough for this

Means-testing is a quintessentially liberal idea. Instead of presenting a program or benefit (eg: student debt relief) as a human right available to everyone, liberal politicians often make sure it’s means-tested, restricting the benefit to only those who fit certain criteria. These criteria are usually numerical, reflecting the neoliberal obsession with quantification and collection of data. This doesn’t help people who fluctuate above and below the threshold, and it hurts people who do qualify when they aren’t able to get through the bureaucracy in order to claim their benefit.

What does this have to do with trauma?

The means-testing of trauma and oppression is sometimes seen as a useful method of determining someone’s moral superiority in leftist spaces which, I think, are corroded by neoliberal brainrot. The thing being gatekept can vary widely; it might be a community of some kind or something more specific like a publishing opportunity. The basic idea is that you must be this oppressed to enter. Someone’s perceived identity is used as a way of determining how much trauma they have purely from demographic information, remarkably similarly to real means-tested programs, and has nothing to do with the person’s actual life experience.

Because means-testing implies a kind of quantification, if only between more or less, a hierarchy of suffering can be constructed and further used as an indicator of moral purity. The most oppressed person in a group might be seen as morally correct more often, as if there is a neat spectrum of moral correctness. In addition, this person, despite being considered morally correct, might not actually benefit from this perception if they are marginalized and face marginalization from the same people putting them on a pedestal.

This is similar to the phenomenon colloquially called the Oppression Olympics, a competition to see who is more oppressed. The pejorative name is used by those who think it is a pointless exercise that detracts from making meaningful change. In the vast majority of cases, it is, and the discussion only serves to boost the ego of the winner of the competition and cement their status within the community.

Sometimes there is even a chasm between the material status of the person who “won” the Oppression Olympics and the person who is, when measured through more objective metrics, actually the most oppressed. This is a potential avenue for elite capture; someone who is able to communicate their experience using the potent buzzwords of the scene or who otherwise has more social capital may be able to capture the clout that comes with being recognized as the most oppressed.

The competitive nature of this exercise plays into neoliberal subjectivity, with its focus on being the best, or in this case, the most oppressed. Oppression is a competition—like the Olympics. This implies there’s something to be gained. And if there’s something to be gained, is there also an incentive to lean into any experiences of oppression you can claim? I’ve observed this behavior in people, but calling them out on it is an extremely risky and usually futile proposition.

There is actually no need to determine who is the most oppressed in the vast majority of situations, so engaging in this debate takes valuable time away from doing literally anything else. It also strongly implies that vulnerability is mandatory, that you must share your experiences of marginalization in order to be seen as moral enough for the cause. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has had icky feelings when presented with an obligation to list off all the identities I can claim, as if they’re synonymous with the problems in my life.

Of course, there are many situations where it is appropriate to means-test access to a resource; for example, if there is a limited about of funding to distribute to people with the greatest need. In writing this post, I’m mainly thinking of social dynamics in activist groups and even in social groups that just happen to be left-leaning. This is trend among modern leftist “culture,” if culture can be defined as behavioral and belief patterns in a group of people.

Whatever the case, I still think it’s important to examine the idea that means-testing and hierarchies of oppression emerge as viable concepts only because neoliberal ideology is the water many Americans swim in. It might just seem natural to place a more oppressed person (whatever this actually means) higher in the hierarchy, but why? Whether or not it’s the right thing to do, why does it seem natural? Is the hierarchy important to understanding the situation, or is it being emphasized because someone stands to gain something from its enforcement? Is it being built only because the people involved are used to thinking that way? Does it create problems where there weren’t any before?

PS: if you find my writing interesting or educational, please reblog! like artists, writers depend on reblogs to make sure new audiences see their work. thanks for reading!

[alpaca-clouds]

How Isaactor became my OTP

I am one fanfic away from having more stories on Isaactor than Trephacard. And I think that would be a good time to talk about how Hector and Isaac became one OTP over basically everyone else.

Okay, technically there are still a lot more Trephacard stories, because I have several stories with just two of the three characters in them.

Still, I by now do like Isaactor more by now. Which is kinda ironic, because while Trephacard was something I started shipping, as soon as I saw the show (it just is a very obvious ship), I was like: "Sure, I can see Isaactor, but I do not have strong feelings about it."

I knew though from the very beginning of writing The lesser Evil, that it would end up with Striga and Morana returning to Styria. And from that came the idea that Striga could try to get the two forgemasters to hook up. Which lead to Five Games of Chess.

But the more I was writing about them, the more interesting did the dynamic become.

What makes them so interesting to me is that they are morally complex. Like, sure, most of the cast in Castlevania has more than enough trauma (which makes for delicious hurt/comfort), but they are also morally somewhat simple.

But then we have those two, who participated in what was meant to be an absolute genocide. Kill all the humans, because for differing reasons the two of them have come to hate humanity. Something that in Isaac's case had like really good reasons. Like, duh, the man survived slavery. As a child non the less. Yes, he has all the reasons to be angry at the world.

Still, Hector was the character who I identified with most. Because he is autistic and a survivor of parental abuse. So, yes. I can very much identify with his anger at the world.

None of that however makes genocide in any way or form justified. (Duh.) And that is, what makes the two so interesting. Because this realization is something they are going to have to deal with sooner or later. That they did something unspeakably bad.

And among that realization there really is only one other person who can understand them: The respective other. Because they both were part of the genocide. They both served Dracula. In a way for different reasons - but still those reasons were somewhat similar. And only the other person really will ever understand.

And yes, of course it should be mentioned that everything else also makes them such interesting characters.

Isaac easily is the best written character in all of Castlevania, where the input by Adetokumboh M'Cormack (the voice actor) really, really shows. Especially as the way the show deals with Isaac's religious conflict is so well depicted. Something that a ton of shows just struggle with - or do not show at all. I mean, how many well written Muslim characters are there in western media? And I mean, let's face it. Most western media does not even know that Sufism is a faith that exists.

Meanwhile I find Hector interesting, because he very much gets pushed into a role that normally female characters will be shown in, given he literally gets sexually assaulted within the show. I mean, for most of seasons 3 and 4 he is very much a damsel in distress waiting to be rescued. Something we usually do not see with male characters.

I will also remain of the opinion: Was Isaac white, the two of them would be the most popular ship of the show. Because they just have this rivals to enemies to lovers dynamic that fandom normally goes of to salivate over.

For myself, of course, there is also just the aspect, that Hector does have quite a few canonical hints that he is still very much kinky. Which makes for fun kinky sex scenes. ;)

But in general I just think the two of them are the most interesting characters and the most interesting dynamic in the show. And I just wished more people would write and create art for them, :(