#they both got treats for their valiant efforts

[sokumei]

Good to know that my cat and dog can still tag team to catch a mouse

[yandere-daydreams]

Alhaitham & Kaveh give the vibes that they’d own a hybrid, like bunny or sheep darling so they can delude themselves into thinking they’re keeping them safe. or maybe they’re both hybrids too? maybe just Kaveh is?? the possibilities r so endless with this au

tw - implied non///con, unhealthy relationships, dumbification and unbalanced power dynamics.

there are actually so many possibilities with kalhaitham,,,, i can see any of these dynamics being really fun, but i am absolutely in-love with the concept of kaveh finding a stray bunny hybrid while scoping out an empty plot of land for an upcoming project (that is, if his client actually coughs up enough funding, this time) and immediately deciding he just can't bare to leave you all by yourself. alhaitham gets home in time to catch kaveh wrestling you into a bath, having already made a valiant effort to comb the burrs and mud out of your matted fur, and attempts to warn his roommate about how much attention hybrids can demand, how moody and absent-minded rabbits tend to be in particular, but of course, kaveh's too stubborn to listen. since kaveh swears up and down that you'll be staying in his bedroom and cared for with kaveh's meager commissions, he lets it go (even if he does keep tighnari on speed-dial, just in case).

you are a little cute, once you get cleaned up. bunny hybrids tend to be somewhat empty behind the eyes, and you're no exception, perfectly happy to be cared for and doted on and dressed up in kaveh's pretty, frilly outfits so long as it means you're fed well and allowed to spend your days bundled up in kaveh's fluffy, expensive blankets. you don't say much, not when you're alone with alhaitham, but kaveh seems more focused on treating you like some oversized stuffed animal than making conversation - always hauling you into his lap and fawning over your floppy ears, fussing over your outfits and your diet and your rough you must've had it before he took you in.

really, the only time alhaitham hears your voice is as he passes kaveh's door at night, when he pauses to listen to kaveh's cooing and the strangled, muffled sounds you let out, so unlike anything he's ever heard you make before. sometimes, he'll linger longer than he knows he should, fuck his fist as he pictures your plush body bouncing on kaveh's thigh - your big, dumb eyes wide and watery and your little pink nose twitching as you cum for the thousandth time. it's no wonder you've always got that glazed-over, faraway look; he's surprised you can bring yourself to think at all when kaveh's constantly fucking you to the brink of unconsciousness, constantly splitting you open on his tongue or his fingers or his cock whenever alhaitham turns his back. then again, alhaitham would be lying if he said he doesn't see why kaveh is so feral, when it comes to you.

if he had less self-restraint, he would've bent you over the first time he caught you traipsing around the house in one of your tiny skirts, would've told you to get on your knees as soon as he realized exactly what his roommate was using that pretty mouth for. you're lucky he has more self-respect than kaveh does. you're lucky he takes better care of his pets than kaveh does.

you're lucky that, when comes time for his turn to fuck your brains away, alhaitham's already decided he's going to treat you like the animal you are rather than the toy kaveh so clearly wants you to be.

[mothhball]

hiiii i saw your drabbles requests post :)

um...how would neil feel about cockwarming?

NEIL LEWIS X READER

summary patience is a rare virtue...

warnings SMUT!! this is just filth lmao <3 dom reader supremacy, subby Neil, cockwarming, no specific mention of reader's genitals

notes thanks for the request!!! this one got a little short because I'm fighting to get my groove back lmao

! MINORS DNI !

main masterlist • taglist • kofi word count: 472

"This would have a runtime of two minutes and thirty seconds if they would just talk to each other.”

Neil groans into the crook of your shoulder, tightening his grip on the flesh of your thighs which causes you to shift in his lap and him to whine in response. The movie you’re trying to watch continues to flicker across Neil’s tube TV, presenting both of you with scene after scene of (admittedly) shallow entertainment. But god, every once in a while, you just want to watch something fun and sappy instead of one of Neil’s favorite black-and-white masterpieces that were shot on “authentic, good ol’ fashioned film” and feature a beautiful actress that got traumatized by a director.

Sometimes you just want to watch a rom-com. And in a last-ditch attempt to turn movie night in your favor, you suggested a little reward if Neil managed to make it through. To sweeten the deal.

“What did we agree on regarding catty remarks?” you prompt, trying not to smile when you hear him sigh and grumble into your neck.

“Little to none,” he mutters, placing his chin back on your shoulder to try and brace through the last thirty minutes of the movie. His silence lasts for a minute. A valiant effort, considering you’ve been squeezing his cock inside of you since the two of you got settled on the couch and he handed you the remote.

“Can’t you at least, like… grind a little?” How cute. He’s trying to bargain with you. But he hasn’t earned it just yet. You shake your head, clicking your tongue in disapproval when he bucks his hips up into you without your permission.

“Don’t,” you hiss, reaching under yourself to grab onto the throbbing base of his cock and squeeze. The strangled noise that leaves Neil’s lips is almost enough to break your own resolve. Almost. Not looking at him makes it easier to stay resolute, but you can feel him trembling, hear him panting right against your body. His grip on your thighs is twitching, betraying the desperate need that fills every cell and fiber of his heated flesh.

“Please –“ he chokes out from behind gritted teeth, “Oh fuck, please…”

It’s an exercise in restraint for both of you. Delicious torture in the comfort of your living room. And in a moment of wicked delight, you wait for his breath to steady before you clench around his aching cock, sending him spiraling again.

“Just 20 more minutes, baby. And then I’ll ride you while the credits roll,” you promise, treating yourself to a little glimpse over your shoulder to look at his flushed cheeks and watery eyes. He nods, you smile and turn back toward the TV to enjoy the next line of cheesy, overacted dialogue.

This really is the perfect movie date.

@tkappi @ddawgg1 @wiseyouthinfluencer @cillianslvt @ilovedottore

@vegasisthinking @paradiseprincesss @sagepixie @rosiemarieyn @bloodandglitter207

@luvlloyd @smxkyqvxrtz @4doorsup @biblicallyaccuratebee @nocturnest

@ilovetoxicfictionalmen @hanawrites404 @celebrities-imagines @kiss-me-cill-me @ptolemaniac

@0loveoak0 @nnattu @ashdrinksoatmilk @vampmary1411 @ink5ouls

@calicoartie @pretty-bluebird @detroitbecomevenom @mandies24 @x0xomady

@mcumorningstar @cilliansprincess @ellebellebarnes @strangeobsessed @ryecosse

[apomaro-mellow]

Eddie's been on cloud nine as of late. Things were going great with Steve and they were going even better with Wayne and Steve. Eddie thought there might be some tension, and there was, but only briefly.

His uncle was a great judge of character. And Steve's character was perfect, if Eddie did say so himself.

So imagine his surprise when he comes back to the trailer, Steve's eyes red and wet from crying.

Eddie came in from a hard day's work and since he saw Steve's car waiting was prepared to be greet with a kiss. He heard a weird shuffling, then saw Steve sitting next to Wayne.

"Steve?"

"Eddie, it's not what you think", Steve said quickly.

"It's not? Because it looks like my uncle made you cry. And I think I can imagine why."

"Oh?", Wayne raised a brow. "Do tell."

Steve was looking back and forth between them, like he was afraid of a fight breaking out.

"It looks like you gave him the talk every father gives their daughter when she brings her first serious boyfriend home. Like you told him about your hatchet collection just in case he every breaks my heart."

Steve's eyes widened. "Your what?"

Wayne just rolled his. "I had a brief stint as a lumberjack. And two axes hardly count as a collection."

"You still didn't hafta threaten him. You know Steve now. You know he's good to me." What if whatever Wayne said scared him off? It probably took a lot to freak him out but Eddie had never seen him cry before. Ever.

"Well maybe he could use a little warning, just in case."

Eddie frowned and went over to Steve's side. "I can't believe you'd treat him like that. After everything I've told you and everything you've seen-"

"Wayne didn't do anything!", Steve blurted.

That made Eddie pause and Steve took a breath before he pulled something that had been hidden between his back and the couch cushions. "He was showing me this."

Eddie knew what was in the book already but opened it anyway. A photo album, filled with pictures from the day Eddie was born all the way to his first couple of years of primary school. The later years were in another album.

"You were crying....because Wayne showed you my baby photos?"

Steve nodded.

"Can you blame him? You were a handsome baby", Wayne said. "Needed him to know you weren't always funny lookin'."

Eddie looked over Steve's shoulder to shoot him a playful glare before looking back at his boyfriend.

"Sweetness, I truly got myself hitched to a sap. I mean, this made you cry?" He held up the photo of himself, halfway to bringing a spoonful of mashed potatoes to his mouth. The mess around his face and on his hands told the story of his very valiant efforts to feed himself.

"You were adorable", Steve whined, eyes getting a little misty again.

"Alright, alright. I can understand the secrecy now. I'm not a huge fan when Wayne pulls this out. But for you and only you, we can peruse my early childhood. Anything after I turn ten is off limits!"

Eddie pointed a finger at them both, daring him to challenge them.

"Why can't I see middle school Eddie?", Steve asked.

"Oh he was really funny lookin' then", Wayne answered. "Went through this whole phase where he claimed purple was his color."

[brucewaynehater101]

I remember this one shot where tim & bruce swaps bodies while bruce is as batman in some jla meeting. Tim just continues it perfectly.

This is the body swap au, btw

Anyways, would Tim do a good job as Batman?. I think if Tim sees the swap as something brief he would do his best. (But we all make them swap long enough to Tim having enough time for long term plans) so if Tim gaslights himself into believing they would swap back after some weeks, he would do better. He thinks he can do better as a way to show he can be Batman without being a evil one(he's fighting the gun Batman allegations).

Still, it would be funny that in his "I'm gonna fix Bruce's life while am here plan".

Tim acts less as a classic moody batman while in the atalaya. Gives more and kind advice. He talks with Superman about his situation with Kon. He helps Flash with his eating schedule. He helps Arthur with whatever is going on in Atlantis. He shuts off all of the surveillance on Bruce's coworkers, just to mess with Bruce.

He just avoids Martian tho.

Then, it's been a month since the swap. They don't seem to find any way back. Tim cannot lie to himself anymore and the Batman duties are becoming way too much.

Then Bruce dies in Tim's body.

Tim never wanted to be Batman, neither to be like Bruce. But he messed Tim up. Tim never wanted to be like Bruce Wayne. And now he is living his nightmare, every day since Bruce death, Tim has to wake up and avoid his reflection. Tim never wanted to be like Bruce Wayne and now everyone call him the wrong name. Bruce died and Tim does what he does best, he sacrifices. He ditchs his identity any hope of being Tim Drake, so Batman can rise once again.

.

.

(The last paragraph is a little darker end of the version of this au where Bruce dies in Tim's body. I happily would read some of your ideas where none of them dies tho. There's just so many aspects os this au we can develop more, also we need more bruce pov of this).

Here is the post being referenced!

[I'm sorry to say that 90% of Bruce POV's are just gonna be him suffering.... I can try, though. Put up a valiant effort]

Let's really pack in that angst, shall we?

For this AU, Tim has been compared to Bruce so many fucking times.

At first, despite his shaky relationship with the grieving man, he took it as a compliment. He was like his hero Batman!

It started with Alfred fondly tutting over Tim's capacity to neglect self care duties and his shared interests. The older man would sarcastically ask Tim if he was following Bruce's footsteps of being a loner who sits in his basement all day (just teasing and joking and slight reprimanding).

Then there were the heroes that remarked on Robin's uncanny ability to do the batglare or translate Bruce's grunts.

When Steph and Tim got into arguments (and Tim was being a grade A asshole), Steph would compare Tim's emotional incapability and distrust with Batman's.

Dick, in the heat of the moment, has yelled at Tim to stop acting like Bruce (they got ice cream afterwards as an apology).

Jason has tsked and grumbled and shouted about Tim being molded into Bruce's shape/image.

Even Babs has made a comment or two.

While they didn't mean to hurt Tim (unless they were fighting [for which they would both usually make up and apologize]), it caused a small dig and insecurity to Tim's own self-image.

He wanted Bruce to be proud of him.

Tim wanted to be nothing like Bruce.

Then you add on the 16th birthday, Bruce's shit with Steph, how Bruce treats his other kids, other canon events, gun Batman, and Tim losing the rose-colored glasses of childhood?

Yeah. Tim doesn't want to be Bruce.

It seems fitting, after stealing Robin, that he'd get stuck under the name of the man he grew to see as a warning.

It figures that his choice in saving Batman lead to Tim's loss of self.

[Hmm... I can do another post chatting about Bruce or no one dying if you would like.... Or someone else dying before the truth comes out :)]

[bluemerakis]

Imagine . . .

❝ Carnival for kisses ❞

Imagine forcing Billy to go with you to your favourite neighbourhood carnival—one you’d always gone to as a child—for the sake of nostalgia. He’s unhappy about it, but he can’t always say no to you—well, that combined with the fact that you’d sorta compromised to thank him for his valiant efforts later tonight.

Warnings: implied innuendo, cussing, fluff, nothing hectic

All gifs made by me ⋆˙⟡

All likes & reblogs deeply appreciated! Enjoy it my Butcher Babies ᡣ𐭩

Not long after entering the premises, you spotted a live carnival performance happening onstage, smack-bang in the centre of all the boisterous activity. You dragged an unwilling Billy over to the amassing crowd, and he begrudgingly stuck it out beside you as you watched the performance unfold. The few times you’d turned to get a glimpse of your boyfriend’s reaction, you found his head swivelling about the crowd, and you could tell by the furrow in those thick brows that he was just about judging every cunt around him to help pass the time.

— ᡣ𐭩 –

You tell Billy to lose the Men-in-Black glasses, stating that it looked out of sorts in such a light-hearted setting.

He stopped in his tracks and pivoted on his boots to face you with an indignant expression. “Oi, this is ma fuckin’ look,” he argued.

“Is the so called look a hunt for your next interrogation victim?” You jabbed at him, flashing him a wide grin as you reached your arm over in an attempt to clasp the nose bridge of the glasses between your thumb and index finger.

Billy caught you at the wrist and pulled you into his broad frame in one fluid motion, only releasing your arm once your own body was flush against his. You offered a scoff at his blatant fondling of you, hyperaware of the arms he’d snaked around the small of your back, and the flat press of his palms against the upper curves of your buttocks. He flashed you that devilish grin now, and you averted your attention to take in a self-conscious sweep of your surroundings.

“People are watching, Billy,” you warn him, finally meeting his intense gaze with a simper.

“I could give two shits about those snoopy little cunts, I ain’t here for ‘em,” he said, his eyes darting across what felt like every intricate carving of your facial features, before his jaw dipped to press his lips against yours. The intrusion was rough, the coarse hair of his moustache grazing your nose as he hungrily claimed your upper lip. When he finally released you, his hand lifted to frame your jaw, and he passed his thumb over your lips to eradicate the moisture of evidence. “You, Love, however, are a force to reckon with, so I’ll entertain your little request to lose these stinkin’ glasses—but only ‘cause I’m actually the one gettin’ everythin’ I want.”

You shake your head lightly at that, offering an ungenuine roll of yours eyes as Billy released you from his hold. He cocked his head knowingly and moved to pluck the glasses from his face, neatly folding the accessory before reaching out his index finger to hook the v-line of your shirt. You relished the cool touch just shy of your cleavage. Billy smirked knowingly and tugged lightly at his position to pull you closer to him. He replaced his finger with the glasses, giving it a light pat once he’d secured it to your blouse.

“You hold onto that, then,” he said before offering you his hand. “Come on, let’s get this cesspool of crack and candy over with.”

— ᡣ𐭩 –

You both grabbed a bite to eat as the two of you stroll through the stalls littered around the area, and Billy was happily chomping down on his choice of a snack, his foul mood starting to lighten a little. You eyed the cone in his hand, and he noticed before slowing to a stop and offering you the treat.

“What, ya want a taste?” He asked. “All you’ve got to do is ask, Love.” He offered his characteristic smirk as he watched you take up a handful of the popcorn and plop them into your mouth a little bit at a time. You flashed him a thumbs up as you chowed through the last of the buttered snack, and Billy chuckled in response. “Well, if you fancy it that much, how ‘bout I go and get us some more?”

— ᡣ𐭩 –

One of the carnival booths was a well-displayed plushie utopia that you just had to dip into. If there was something you loved more than the carnival, it was the odds of walking home with a stuffed bear as large as, well, your boyfriend.

“We have to give that a shot!” You told Billy eagerly, beckoning to the colourful stand with all manner of stuffed animals framing the overhang. “It’s not a tricky game, you’ve just gotta have the eye for it. Come on, Bill, whaddya say?”

Billy tilted his head in disbelief. “I say big hairy bollocks to that,” he scoffed, passing a scratch over his beard. “Those carnival games are a right scam. They take all o’ ya money and you ain’t eva have shit to show for it. If I wanted to do somethin’ as brain-numbing as tha’, I’d pay a fuck ton o’ dollars to sit and have tea with a fuckin’ Supe.”

“Oh, enough of your bloody squawking!” You groaned, taking his hand into your own as you began to pull him toward the stand. Billy began mumbling a generous stream of cusses but relented to your guidance nonetheless.

You went about playing the game for a considerable amount of time, your eye set on winning the large, brown grizzly bear propped at the corner of the main counter. Billy loitered about with a permanent scowl on his face, intermittently flashing the stand owner a needlessly intimidating glare, as though warning off any mischief he might try. And low and behold, once you’d perfectly knocked down the target and earned your reward, the stand owner attempted to deny your win.

Before you had a chance to argue your victory, Billy stormed over to the stand. “Oi!” He called, lifting his hand in a pointing gesture. “Open ya fuckin’ eyes, mate—she won that bloody bear fair ‘n square, yeah? It says it right there on that board o’ yours.” He gestured to the bright and flashing sign above the target you’d knocked over, which proudly displayed winner! “Take a look, will ya? ‘Cause none o’ us here are fuckin’ blind.”

You slipped in beside Billy and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to glance at you, his frown briefly softening and his jaw clenching to stifle his wicked mouth. “Leave the bugger,” you told your boyfriend. “We both knew the risks beforehand, remember? Besides, I’m over it now. Let’s go and see what else’s around.”

Billy gave a brief pause before nodding a surrender, but not before delivering the stand owner one last stare. You slipped your hand from his shoulder, taking a step back as you prepared to leave. You expected Billy you trail after, but instead, he stayed rooted to his spot, placing both palms onto the booth counter as he leaned over to confront the store owner. You gave a dramatic sigh before inching your way back over, just in time to catch your boyfriend’s words.

“I hope ya have a beautifully shit-filled day, all right?” Billy told the stand owner, his hand lifting to point an accusing index finger. “‘Cause you’re a shite cunt, mate.” With that last statement, he reached over the counter for the giant bear plushie, and yanked the heavy thing effortlessly into his grasp—all while fixing the stand owner with an unwavering, soul-searching glare that caused the kid to clamp down on his lips, instead of calling the carnival cops. With a curt dip of his chin, Billy said, “you have a bad one,” and hoisted the bear into his arms before turning to you and jutting his chin forward for you to take leave.

You followed after him. “Hey!” You called. “We can’t just take that.”

“Sure we can,” he grunted, continuing steadfast in his tracks. “Ya won this bear fair ‘n square, and I’d be a right wanker to stand by ‘n let my girl get robbed in broad fuckin’ daylight.”

— ᡣ𐭩 –

After depositing your questionable win of a bear plushie into the back of Billy’s car, you returned to the carnival to scour the last of the booths for the day. While nearing the end of the row, you came across a den of puppies up for adoption, and you clutched your chest with the largest of grins pitching up the corners of your mouth.

“Look at the furry babies!” You exclaimed, pointing at the little Pitbull puppies pressing their faces through the bars of their enclosure, wailing and barking at the sight of you and Billy.

The lady tending the puppies turned a glance in your direction, then offered a warm smile before she reached to unhook one of the fence gates. The puppies—four of them, scamped out to meet you, but two of them stopped midway to tackle one another, and the third joined onto the play heap shortly after. Only the last one reached you both—an albino Bully with the biggest pair of blue eyes you’d ever seen a dog wear. This puppy had been single-handedly blessed with one of the biggest features of manipulation a dog could own.

The tiny cloud with four legs and a loud bark on it veered for Billy, it’s slim tail thrown about in a waving display of joy as it’s jaws acquainted the toe of his boot. It’s tiny fangs gnawed at the leather, but to no avail other than leaving behind a trail of saliva.

“C’mere, ya lil’ bugger,” Billy chuckled as he crouched over to scoop up the nipping puppy. It yapped a protest at being robbed of the safety of the ground, but quickly settled into your boyfriend’s folded arms. “You’re a feisty little man, aye? Ya got a ball-shivering pair o’ eyes on ya,” he teased. The puppy stuck its head out to lap at Billy’s bearded chin, and your boyfriend chuckled at the sensation. “Greedy little thing. Ya gotta get ya self together, mate, I’m already spoken for—ya see that pretty girl o’er there?” He turned his gaze in your direction, making a tiny gesture with his hand. “Tha’s future Mrs. Butcher—once she swallows tha’ stubborn pair o’ hers and accepts my ring.”

You marvelled at the sight in front of you, unaware of just how much further you could fall—plummet, for Billy Butcher. You giggled at his words. He offered you a charming wink before turning his attention back to the puppy. You reached for your phone in your pocket, retreating a few paces to snap a handful of pictures of your boyfriend coddling the puppy.

Through the digital lens, Billy called to you. “Oi!” You lowered your phone to witness your boyfriend’s face in person. “Come and say hello to our little friend.”

You shoved your phone back into your pocket and trotted over to the pair of them, reaching out your hand to the puppy as a greeting. His pink nosed glazed every surface of your hand before he began to violently lick you.

“Can we take him home, please?” You pleaded, placing a scratch on the puppy’s head. “Just look at those big paws and that wrinkled, little snoot of his. Oh, he’s such a little charmer.”

Billy shook his head and gently lowered the Bully to the ground. “Nah, I ain’t cleanin’ up after that little crap machine,” he said. “You’re enough to work with, as it is,” he added with a mischievous grin, straightening to full height.

You watched the puppy scamper over the grass toward you and bent over to pet him, but the little gremlin only gnawed at your boot for a few seconds before releasing it to scatter back onto his brawling litter mates. You rose back to full height and turned to face Billy, your hand slipping into your pocket to pull out your phone. “Just take a look at this, Bill.” You beckoned your boyfriend over.

“Whatcha got there?” He appeared over your shoulder just in time as you pulled up the picture you’d taken of the Bully puppy in Billy’s arms, looking absolutely smitten over your boyfriend. You understood the appeal, honestly, only in a manner a lot less innocent.

“Check how he stares at you—that’s a profession of love, if I’ve ever seen one!” You teased.

Billy flashed you a close-lipped smile as he took the phone from your palm, his head tilting down to the screen. After a few moments, he glanced up at you, the phone lowering with his hand. “Tell ya what,” he said. “I’ll think ‘bout it.”

You looped your arm around his and leaned into his side, glancing up at him. “Could I weaponise tonight to try and convince you?” You asked cheekily.

His eyes narrowed into a sultry stare, his lips broadening with a smirk before he lowered his head to place a kiss on your lips. “Oh, absolutely,” he murmured after a good peck. “Put on ya best fuckin’ performance.”

— ᡣ𐭩 –

[mouwrites]

HEYY POOKIEE!!!! I had an idea from the movie, so basically the reader being the ninja's little sibling who don't get along at all. They fight over the smallest things at school and at home. That's until one day while Garmadon attacks the reader gets captured and the ninja has to save the reader, which accidentally causes the ninja to reveal their identity and the reader just gives their sibling a big hug and apologizes for everything they've said in the past and they up!!!

Okay that's it TYSM HAVE A NICE DAY OR NIGHT AND REMEMBER TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF POOKIEE💛💛💛🤍🤍🤍

Yes of course!! <33

Ninjago - Ninjas When You (Their Little Sibling) Are Taken

Kai

Kai pretended like he didn’t care when he first saw you were taken

But he was determined to get you back; in reality, he did indeed care

He was ready to do whatever it took to get you back

He fell blindly into a trap, finding himself restrained by one of Garmadon’s goons

They pulled off his mask, but his face remained hardened

He snapped at his captor, taking advantage of their brief moment of shock at seeing his face

He left his mask forgotten on the ground, rushing to your aid

He lifted you in his arms and booked it to safety

He paused on a rooftop to catch his breath

You decided to take the opportunity to apologize

The words didn’t come easy, but you finally found them

“Kai… I’m sorry. For everything. For the mask, for everything I’ve said—”

“It’s okay, Y/n. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

After that day you made an effort to be nicer to him, difficult as it was

He tried to keep his temper in check too

You silently appreciated each others’ efforts, but the fruits were even more precious

Your relationship started to shift ever so subtly, but it was doubtlessly improving

Jay

Jay was terrified when you got involved

It was like he forgot your terrible relationship entirely

He clumsily rushed to your aid, his skills crumbling under the weight of his anxiety

He ended up pinned down, and his assailant roughly pulled off his mask

His face turned bright red as he was exposed, and in a sudden burst of panicked energy he was able to push them off

He nabbed his mask quickly before remembering his original mission

Then he jumped back into action, managing to retrieve you and find a safe place to hide

He grabbed you by the shoulders, turning you from side to side to check for injuries

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“Jay, I’m so sorry! I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I? Oh, I’ve been so horrible…”

He couldn’t deny that you had been pretty bad

But he also admitted that he was no better

You shared a hug

In that moment, you formed a new bond

You both started to act nicer from then on

That hug established a new norm of tenderness between you two :)

Lloyd

He was mostly miffed when you were taken

He directed his anger at his father for getting you involved

So he went into battle with a fury he often felt when facing Garmadon

But this time it was extra personal

He confronted Garmadon directly, making a snide comment about treating his children like chess pieces

He pulled off his mask to prove the point, too angry to think clearly

Garmadon was so shocked that Lloyd was pretty much able to walk away with you

He marched away angrily, dragging you behind

He started to vent about Garmadon

After you got over your shock, you started agreeing with him, even adding your own complaints

When he was done he just huffed, burying his face in his palm

You saw that tears were dribbling onto his glove

“Um, Lloyd? I just wanted to say sorry… we don’t really have the best family dynamic, and I… I don’t want our relationship to be like the one we have with our dad.”

“Me neither. I really do love you, you know.”

“Same here.”

You embraced, vowing to be better

And you both made a valiant effort, using your father as a sort of anti-example

As it turned out, he was a strong motivator; your relationship improved quite steadily from then on

Cole

As much as he might’ve disliked you, he knew he had to save you

He couldn’t live with himself otherwise

So he hurried into the thick of the battle, his eyes locked on you all the while

He was secretly worried they’d hurt you, though he’d hesitate to admit it

He was distracted; it wasn’t long until an opponent grabbed a sudden hold of his mask

He whipped around, downing the assailant in a single blow and grabbing his mask

But he didn’t take the time to put it on, simply tucking it into his belt while he ran to your aid

The hardened look in his eyes made you feel especially guilty

You could only imagine how angry he was, having to save you and then having his identity revealed in the process

But when you were alone, he asked with surprising softness if you were okay

The look on his face had softened, too

Still, you felt guilty

“I’m fine. Um… I’m really sorry, Cole. This was all my fault..!”

“What? No, it was Garmadon’s doing. I’m not mad at you, Y/n. You’re my family. I love you, little rascal that you are.”

He ruffled your hair roughly, making you giggle

You wrapped your arms around him suddenly

He slowly hugged you back

In that moment you shared a silent agreement to be better

It might not have been spoken, but you both held fast to that agreement, and slowly your relationship did improve :)

Zane

The second you got involved, Zane’s objective was to save you

You were more important to him than anything: his pride, the mission, anything

He forgot everything else, abandoning his current task to rush over to you

In his haste, the opponent he was running from managed to catch his mask

He ran without realizing that the mask had come off

Even your flabbergasted gaze didn’t clue him in

The stares he was getting didn’t even register as he carried you away from danger

When you were alone, he mechanically asked if you were okay

You just stared at him, the image of a thousand eyes on you as you ran stuck in your mind

“Zane, your identity… I’m so sorry, if I had never been taken..!”

“Why are you apologizing? It was not your fault. I’m just glad that you’re safe. You’re my family, and I care for you greatly.”

You blinked at him, cursing the tears that came to your eyes

He hugged you, and through your tears you told him that you loved him too

After that, you decided to try and be nicer to him

He matched your efforts as soon as he noticed them; he was more than ready to fix your relationship

After all, you were his top priority ;)

Nya

She was incredulous when you were captured

She took it sort of personally

This fueled her rage, and she went on a war path to save you

She threw you over her shoulder; saving you was how she was measuring her victory

With you in her arms, she was satisfied

In her mind, she’d already won

Which made her getaway a little sloppy, and she ended up losing her mask to an especially quick assailant

She was frozen in shock and horror for a moment

Then she ran, faster than ever before

She practically collapsed as she set you down, chest heaving from the exertion as much as the panic

But she calmed herself, reminding herself that she saved you

Exhaling slowly, she straightened and put a hand on your shoulder

“Nya, I’m sorry! I never meant for any of this to happen! I love you too much… even though I don’t act like it…”

“All that matters is that you’re safe. And, for the record, I love you too.”

You shared a little smirk, a secret understanding established between you two

Knowing that you really did love each other seemed to soften the tension between you two

Teasing turned into jokes as your relationship gradually mended :)

Thanks for this request!! And thanks for reading, take care honey bears <33

(divider by saradika)

[di-daynamic]

Ron made a valiant effort to get up again but fell back with a whimper of pain. Lupin made toward him, looking concerned, but Ron gasped, “Get away from me, werewolf!” Lupin stopped dead. Then, with an obvious effort, he turned to Hermione and said, “How long have you known?”

“Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf,” Ron gasped. “Is he mad?”

But Ron didn’t move. “What’s up?” said Harry, looking at him. Ron looked around at Harry, his expression very serious indeed. “Did you know?” he whispered. “About Hagrid being half-giant?” “No,” Harry said, shrugging. “So what?” He knew immediately, from the look Ron was giving him, that he was once again revealing his ignorance of the wizarding world.

“So?” Harry prompted Ron. “What’s the problem with giants?” “Well, they’re . . . they’re . . .” Ron struggled for words. “. . . not very nice,” he finished lamely. “Who cares?” Harry said. “There’s nothing wrong with Hagrid!” “I know there isn’t, but . . . blimey, no wonder he keeps it quiet,” Ron said, shaking his head. “I always thought he’d got in the way of a bad Engorgement Charm when he was a kid or something. Didn’t like to mention it. . . .” “But what’s it matter if his mother was a giantess?” said Harry. “Well . . . no one who knows him will care, ’cos they’ll know he’s not dangerous,” said Ron slowly. “But . . . Harry, they’re just vicious, giants. It’s like Hagrid said, it’s in their natures, they’re like trolls . . . they just like killing, everyone knows that. There aren’t any left in Britain now, though.”

Ron's grown up in the wizarding world, and with its prejudices. His automatic response is to believe in them and be horrified realizing people he likes and respects are creatures. But he overcomes this! We see in future books that Ron treats Lupin and Hagrid both just as he does everyone else, with just as much warmth and friendliness. And this isn't remarkable to us because the other two do the same. But Harry and Hermione don't have this stuff ingrained in them. They're free to form their own beliefs from knowing and liking Lupin and Hagrid. But Ron isn't. And still he unlearns these beliefs, for the sake of his friends, because it's the right thing to do.

And we see this with house-elves too! How he goes from entirely dismissing them to considering them more than Harry does. I've seen people bash Ron for how he treats Griphook in Book 7 'after everything', but not only does Griphook kind of prove him right, this is how he begins with all creatures because this is what he's taught, grown up with, basically indoctrinated with! And still he struggles against these and tries to be better and this is so, so important and incredibly brave.

And for Hermione, who values justice and compassion and bravery and equality, this is such a good fit! I genuinely don't understand how people can think Ron won't try to understand Hermione's perspectives due to her muggle upbringing or will force her to follow wizarding traditions and become a house-wife, when so much of his arc is about his personal flaws and prejudices and getting control over them. Weasley is our King!

[emotionallychargedtowel]

Utsukare S2E2 & relationship themes - making some progress!

OK, so after I wrote an entire dissertation about relationship dynamics between Hira and Kiyoi in season 1 and the first episode of season 2, where do we find ourselves in episode 2? Well, there’s definitely been some movement in the right direction. They’re also continuing to illustrate some of the tendencies that have not been serving them well. One way to sum up my take on this relationship is that they’re both incredibly ambivalent about intimacy--both having intense needs and intense fears--but that historically, Hira is more of a pursuer and Kiyoi more of a distancer. Both pursuers and distancers are always supposed to “fail” some of the time (by design) so that even distancers will experience some closeness and even pursuers will get the independence they need. But Hira and Kiyoi have been too entrenched in these roles at times. And Hira’s, um, shall we say, quirky ways of pursuing have had a fail rate that’s a bit too high even for avoidant Kiyoi.

Kiyoi made some overtures in Hira’s direction in episode 1 of season 2, but he had an unfortunate tendency to do things like kick him afterwards. Hira made an effort to persevere in a social situation but was so dense about it that it bit him in the butt, then pulled out a partial victory by being sincere.

The story episode 1 was based on is actually set closer to the beginning of their relationship, and it shows. So episode 2 starts out feeling a bit more settled in a vague way before we even get to much of the specifics.

One of Hira’s themes for this episode is massively overreacting because he thinks he’s failing in his duties as a “servant” to the “king”--while Kiyoi stands by, mystified. Once it’s because he ran out of ginger ale, and then he loses it because he failed to stay awake while waiting up for Kiyoi after a late night at work. This way of relating to Kiyoi is convenient because Hira can do things for Kiyoi, which makes him feel useful to him and like he’s earning his place in this relationship he’s convinced he’s unworthy of, but he doesn’t have to take the same kind of risk of rejection or feeling inadequate as he would if he tried to relate to Kiyoi as an equal. Of course, there are also huge downsides to this. Among other things, Hira treating him like a “king” almost alienated Kiyoi from him completely before their relationship had even gotten started. And of course, that kind of contact is never going to lead to the authentic connection they need to keep their partnership going.

Hira also got challenged on a version of this in a way that seemed fruitful. When Kiyoi praised his cooking ability (”you’re incredible”) after his own cooking mishap reminded him that “cooking is hard,” Hira responded that he was “just a small pebble.” Kiyoi’s response--”You’re my man. Don’t call yourself a pebble”--was effective in part because it put Hira in a position where calling himself a pebble would be casting aspersions on Kiyoi, which is basically against his religion. Arguing someone out of deeply held negative beliefs about themselves isn’t always likely to be fruitful, but in this case it was so earnest and done with so much knowledge of how Hira’s mind works that it was a worthwhile effort.

Kiyoi was working on his stuff even more in this episode, probably in part because it was from his point of view. In addition to parrying Hira’s “pebble” comment, he attempts to show him some spontaneous affection. The first time, he wakes Hira up and triggers a torrent of self-recrimination. The second time, his smooch attempt gets cockblocked by a phone call from Koyama. But he tried! He even tries using humor to get around Hira’s defenses, with a jokey, gentler version of his old insults--a strategy which, interestingly, reminded me of suggestions I’ve often seen coming from parenting experts.

Kiyoi also makes a fairly valiant effort to be civil to Koyama and mostly succeeds. Even when he admits to himself that he “can’t be mature” about Hira’s continued relationship with Koyama, at least he’s showing some self-awareness and acknowledging that being mature would be preferable if he could just pull it off. But the biggest thing is that he’s able to take Koyama’s criticism to heart in a constructive way (is it just me or does he show a surprising degree of respect for Koyama’s opinion?) and even tries to act on it by cooking for Hira. The food may have ended up being horrifyingly bad, but at least he gained an appreciation of things Hira normally does for him. And he actually voiced it! Season1 Kiyoi would never. How much of all this was due to shotgunning a bunch of pork-flavored wine? Some of it, probably, but it I think he should still get an A for effort. 

The high point of the episode for me was Kiyoi talking to Hira about entering the photography contest. He does pull rank and use his status as royalty to order Hira to do it, but it seems like that’s the only way he’ll listen. Then he goes into persuasion mode and does a really admirable job. It’s hard to tell how much of this is sinking in for Hira as he mostly just seems stunned. But Kiyoi makes a good argument, gives Hira a lot of direct praise in the most convincing way possible, and shows vulnerability in a way that gives his perspective a lot more weight. The part where he tells Hira that he looks best in his photos was really affecting.

I mentioned in a post earlier that the blocking for the post-hotpot fiasco conversation scene seems really meaningful. As I’ve mentioned before, the show’s director, Sakai Mai, is on the record as making a point of following yaoi manga conventions that place the seme on the left (and, where applicable, the upper portion) of the page/frame and the uke on the right (or lower) portion. The show’s leads even use this placement almost every time they do social media posts and it’s followed in most of their promo photos as well. Sakai has talked about strategically switching up this placement and how it’s often a signal of roles shifting (though she also says she likes to “trick” the audience by doing so). Well, in that scene, Kiyoi sits above Hira (he’s on the couch while Hira sits on the floor) and on the left side of the frame. He later gets down to Hira’s level when he starts talking in a serious way about the photography contest, but he remains on the right. This seems to be meant to signal that Kiyoi is behaving in a seme-like way here, and he is definitely doing more pursuing in a way that bodes well for getting his relationship with Hira to a more balanced place.

So, yeah. Growth! Progress! But not so much progress that is seems unrealistic or un-earned. It seems inevitable that more wrenches will be thrown in their path soon but here’s hoping they will lead to more growth in the long run. it’s been really interesting to see the way this second season is shaping up. It is so distinct from season 1 in a way that seems appropriate. The stakes feel so different. Not higher or lower, but different. There’s so much more humor, in a way that fits. The show has changed but it seems like a change that is appropriate and earned. I’m really pleased with it so far. 

[ramblingdisaster73]

Thoughts while rewatching 4x01 - 4x04 -

Episode 4x03 - this does include thoughts that span the whole arc - so spoilers ahead.

I won’t believe O’Brien is a good guy until the end of this never-ending Owen storyline

I still feel like there is something weird with him

Also – Judd got a “cool new nick name” before Owen did – unless you count O’Brien calling him “O”

Not a fan of the detective – that feeling dramatically increases as the arc continues

Let’s just blame the mental illness for why the woman disappeared WHILE WORKING – gee, I wonder why her purse & shit were in the car.

The more the detective talks – the more I can’t stand her

But, I do have to credit this fictitious APD – both detectives in Missing persons are women & not just that, but women of color – working in a field where people that look like them are often overlooked.

Carlos, I am sorry – but you are the cause of TK going to see Iris – you are the one that put yourself & TK on an impossible time frame – then you just expect him to sit back and roll over – fuck that. Just the only way they had to blame TK for something – while completely absolving Carlos of responsibility in the situation – when the reason they are in this is HIM, not TK.

Fans would be bending over backward and celebrating if this storyline were about TK being secretly married – saying how much he never deserved Carlos, that Carlos was too good for him, they would never forgive a lie like that. BUT, when it is Carlos – its all cool and totally TK’s fault.

The cliff rescue was hilarious & tragic

– the way Carlos (& the fandom) treats TK is the tragic part – once again if the roles were reversed people would be coming for TK’s head, but since it is Carlos being a dick, its all cool and totally TK’s fault.

The hilarious was obviously Nancy’s valiant effort to save the sex doll, Judd’s “It’s serious then” said so matter-of-factly, and Mateo’s “It’s time.” – the 126 scenes are so fun, or at least fun to see.

Every time the Owen storyline progresses – he looks more stupid –

I like how calm Grace is on calls, but how much she actually thinks outside of the box to help people

I have met 911 dispatchers that she reminds me of, and I respect them so much for the challenges they deal with in each call – the times that they aren’t able to help their caller, can only be with them through the phone in their final moments.

I like how they show the way that Iris made moves to save herself – calling even though she was terrified, Counting the minutes as they passed – then being able to give that info to the dispatchers – she was a big part in saving herself.

Let’s just assume the lady that has schizophrenia was in her own delusions about being kidnapped – lets not do any forensic investigation – lets not listen to the victim, simply because she has an illness that causes paranoid delusions – like at least fucking look into it.

Fuck this detective – like all the fucking way

Owen, just going around taking evidence from the FBI, handing it over to his new bff. – fucking moron

I get that his heart is in the right place – but, seriously does this man only operate on a quarter of a braincell?

Lyndsy & Rafa are spectacular in the hospital scenes

Iris is clear in her information, just tells Carlos and the Detective what she went through – only one of them believes her – then hopefully never to be seen again after 4x04 detective makes Carlos doubt Iris, not for long, but I think that leads to his NEED to solve whether or not this was real, needs to show Iris that he believes her.

When she said that he looked at her like a painting – still gives me chills – I have felt that look before, it is fucking creepy as shit.

The roadhouse scene – I mean watching Owen lose at something & lose a bunch of money was nice

That dude has an insanely high alcohol tolerance

That dude is also incredibly dumb. But “Todays a day of the week” was a funny line – especially with the delivery.

Owen “Crackshot” Strand – guess he had to give himself a cool new nickname

I wish we had gotten to see the whole TK & Tommy scene

Their shifts are so confusing – they work 24-hour shifts, but are frequently at home or somewhere other than the firehouse when they should be at work. I guess it is safe for me to just make up the head cannon that they only work 12-hour shifts – the time is just whatever is convenient for the plot.

I don’t like that woman either, Iris. Pretty sure not too many people do at this point.

Carlos looks so sad when he tells her that the phone didn’t have anything & then he asked her if it could be her delusions.

Her doubting herself is so awful, but so well played

Her telling him that she could still smell him, that he had the scent of a floral detergent, was something I felt.

I love the way she explains how only one little crack of doubt can make it all spiral – the beauty of this scene will always astound me

12345 – Seriously?

Then to use the same one another lock – that just screams of set up or that the members are to dumb to remember 5 non-concurrent numbers.

I do kinda like Turner’s belt buckle though

Still doesn’t make sense on how they knew to move all that shit so quickly if O’Brien didn’t give them the info – the other dude was passed the fuck out

Owen and his movie hero training – Stakeout knowledge was from a movie – Spy/Parking garage knowledge was from a movie

I understand the FBI agent’s frustration at Owen’s completely moronic actions – he is making dumb fucking decisions – yet they keep using him – I guess that is their own fault when he fucks it up for them

Still that small gap between TK’s “I love you” & Carlos’ “love you too” was so sad, even though we know he says it.

Dumb cop move 1: lie to your fiancé about where you are staying before going to the house your wife was held in

Dumb cop move 2: go in the house at night without telling anyone where you really were

Dumb cop move 3: going into the tunnel & continuing down it – without calling for backup/letting anyone know where he is

Dumb cop move 4: go through the floor at the end of the tunnel without calling for backup/letting anyone know where he was.

And the shovel – she had a good amount of force to her swing.

[rainyrefrain]

tell us abt your ocs!!

ask and you shall receive >:)

Nanya Forza(she/her) She's changed the most since her creation. At first, she was a mermaid OC for the book: Of Poseidon by Anna Banks (give it a read if you like enemies to lovers with a little bit of fake dating. Galen is a bit possessive tho) and she would get Toraf to fall in love with her. Then Toraf was super OOC and he turned into Remus, who I'll mention later.

Once she was no longer tied to a specific book, she changed once more. She was no longer a mermaid (but still a princess). She's going through a lot: her mom died, she'd caught her boyfriend cheating on her, and she was recently appointed as a Cabinet member.

Then I decided to scrap the whole princess thing and she's a law student in her senior year. Her dad is some rich oil guy and people generally hate him (myself included).

Nanya is kind of an introvert. She likes spending a lot of time by herself, but she's got huge attachment issues and needs people to survive. She's not one to seek confrontation and tends to keep quiet. However, she will tell you if she hates you. It's a strange combo ngl.

Anyway, I gave her a dog because she's totally a dog person. She drinks coffee more than tea, likes trashy reality tv, and should not be trusted behind the wheel (she barely passed her driver's test).

Remus Hwang(he/him) Like Nanya, he is the product of my OOC Toraf X OC fanfiction that will never see the light of day. He is Nanya's bodyguard in both of my first drafts. I mostly chose this for him because I didn't know how else to give Nanya friends where it's obvious they have at least some history. Also, he's her love interest.

In the college/non-monarchy storyline, he's a nursing student who found himself sitting at the same library table as Nanya but never actually speaking with her.

He's outgoing and caring; it seems like he makes a new friend every day. He tries his best to be someone people can trust and rely on. He's got really good memory, and makes an effort to remember details about others to understand them better.

He likes vinyl records, candles, jazz, dancing like no one's watching, and cooking (he's horrible at baking, but that won't stop him from baking you cupcakes for your birthday). He gives the best hugs and has a contagious laugh. I love him fr <3

Neveah Valiant(she/her) I decided that Nanya needed a girl bestie so I made Neveah. She's Nanya's roommate. She loves art and making things with her hands. Much like Remus, she's quite the social butterfly. She knows everything about everyone (which is surprising considering she has yet to figure out that Nanya and Remus are into each other). Idk she's a side character that kind of acts as someone Nanya can talk to so that I don't write exclusively inner dialogue.

Benjamin Valiant (he/they) They are Neveah's twin. He and Nanya were inseparable in middle and high school, as both shared a love for mystery and law. They hope to become a social worker because he feels a strong conviction to help people in need get out of bad situations. He has their own place, but he spends most of their time at Neveah and Nanya's apartment because they find it to be more cozy.

Phillip Danzell (he/him) I hate him from a reader's standpoint, but I love writing him so much. Phillip is Nanya's ex-boyfriend. He's also the child of rich parents and he treats life like it's a constant party. He's unemployed, not in school, and he simply goes and does what he pleases. He was only interested in Nanya because their parents are friends and it seemed convenient (Nanya's feelings were real though). He's constantly flipping from being charming and a gentleman to being an absolute prick; you never know which Phillip you're getting until he opens his mouth to talk.

[shininginyourlight]

guideoftime​:

   He’s starting to remember where he heard that name from now. A bit of a prickle at the back of his head. It takes a minute, because it has been a while since he last heard it brought up, but he swears Eskel and Lambert, one winter, had teased Geralt about a bard that was stalking him around the continent. Singing songs of praise and valiant effort. Toss a Coin had been sung in one to many Taverns and rowdied people up. Sheik’s had his fair share of coin pelted against his head when a Bard’s song it after he’s saved them from some sick creature.

Jaskier, if he lets himself think a second longer, was the name teased around the Stronghold for a good week the first part of winter. Till Geralt put them in their place. He was quite good at that, when he wanted to be. Otherwise they just got the grumpy growly angry Witcher and no one likes dealing with Geralt when he’s like that.

   The Tavern patrons are definitely getting drunk and Sheik’s trying not to pay them to much mind. He’s about halfway finished with his fruit when someone literally falls onto his table. He stands up quickly, avoiding getting the drunk man on his lap, and takes a careful step back as they roll over onto the bench he’d been sitting on. Right, his drink was now on the floor, that was annoying. 

   He reaches over the drunken man and goes to make a grab for his harp–except they do. His eyebrows raise, surprised actually they’d argue with him, and lowers his red gaze down to the drunken man. “Eh! O’lda blood fuck’erin.” Very, very drunk. He goes to take his arm, they roll over and nearly plummet to the ground. 

   And now his patience has run out.

   “Fine. You want to do it this way?” Sheik reaches down, shoves the man over and then grabs the front of his shirt in his hands. Lifting him from the ground he spun them around and shoved him up against the wall. “Release. My. Harp.”

Oh, for fuck sakes... Jaskier hadn't even been able to make it through just past half of the song before things began to take a turn. This wasn't unusual. In fact, it was anything but. A moment was needed before Stjepan and one of the muscle men could come round and deal with these two.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" He'd shout over the two of them. "Must you really make such a mess of a night? Let's all handle this civilly," Jaskier invited, handing off his lute to one of his back ups before hopping off the small stages and stepping toward the both of them without an ounce of fright. He knew he'd have his help in but a moment.

"Why don't I get you another drink, my good man? My treat," Jaskier crooned at the drunken man, a means of an attempt to get him to comply, nothing else. Better to subdue than to encourage potential destruction to the establishment, after all.

[mirkwoodmunson]

eddie munson x f!reader

tw: food/eating, pet names, stressed/overstimulated reader

“still with me?”

it’s his slightly raised voice paired with the hand waving by your face that gets your attention this time, all prior attempts having failed.

when you jump slightly, eddie does that soft smile that lets you know it’s okay, just me as he splays a hand against your back, thumb soothing side to side in comforting strokes.

“i, uh, y-yeah, i’m — i’m here,” but you’re not. not really.

you straighten in your seat, glancing ‘round at the surrounding interior of hawkin’s public library and gently clearing your throat as you shuffle through papers of research for a class, trying to seem like you were really just focused and not paying attention rather than lost inside your own head.

your words don’t fool him, his smile just slightly easing but his hand remaining against you. he dips his head a little, trying to catch your eye, and when you only glance at him he does a small, soft sigh.

“yea right,” his tone is gentle, teasing. “c’mon, where’re you at?”

he watches the quirk of emotion in your brow, notes your eyes are suddenly watery and you’re blinking a lot, feels you tense and shift and fuss in your skin so he removes his hand and gives you a little space but still tries to nudge some info from you.

“hey, it’s okay, we can take a break if you want.”

“eds you aren’t even working on anything-“

“noo, but you are. and uhh, you were looking at the same page for like, ten minutes.”

“…ugh…” is all you muster in response, elbows propping on the table as you push your face into your palms and sigh.

eddie’s hand returns to your back, this time rubbing large circles against you.

“yeah — yeah i think it’s break time, babygirl, c’mon. get your stuff.”

“wh— but eddie, i-“

he stands up, “noo no no, no ‘but’s’ unless it’s yours hiking it outta here with me.”

you give him a look and he gives you one right back, leaning down with his hands propped against his knees, getting close to your face with a wide, amusing smirk that makes the corners of your mouth quirk up.

“c’mooon, princess, just trust me.”

you scoff at the nickname and shove his face away, but eddie just smiles wider, doing a light, doofy laugh as he offers you a hand to stand which you take with a little roll of your eyes. eddie helps you collect your things into your backpack before taking your hand in his own again, walking with you out of the library.

any attempts at getting information out of him about where he was planning on taking you only got the response of, “just be patient, you’ll see,” as he loads you into the van and peels out of the parking lot.

it’s when he pulls into the local dairy queen that a real, full smile grows and you squeal a little, playfully bumping his arm with a loose fist.

“we’re getting soft serve??”

“we are getting soft serve,” eddie confirms in a valiant tone, “to commemorate your heroic efforts at studying.”

you giggle and pepper smooches all over his cheek as he chuckles and pulls up to the drive-through, ordering the usual: two large vanilla soft serve cones.

anytime you were down, stressed, overwhelmed, eddie knew just the way to reset your brain and get you focused again, get you back to your upbeat self, and more often than not — soft serve was the way to go.

once you receive your treats eddie just pulls into a spot where the two of you sit together in the van, the windows down, a soft breeze wafting through as you both lap at your cones, exchanging happy glances and humming contended sounds.

sometimes that’s all you needed:

your eddie, and some ice cream.

[shadowsandtea]

Just putting this out there, in case anyone needs a reminder:

Not all Gwynriel shippers are anti Elain

Not all Elriel shippers are anti Gwyn

Not all Elucien shippers are anti Azriel

Not all Feyre or Rhys stans hate Nesta

Not all Nesta stans hate Rhys or Feyre

We have got to stop generalizing. This fandom has seen a lot of bad days, but this is one of the lowest yet. The fact that we aren’t able to separate characters from perspective ships is ridiculous. The fact that if you like one character or prefer one ship, you are automatically labeled as hating another. These are FICTIONAL CHARACTERS. There is no reason we can’t call a truce for one week to appreciate a fictional character REGARDLESS of who we ship them with. And to see those who are making a valiant effort to unite shippers for ONE WEEK get bullied for doing so is extremely disheartening. Not 👏🏼 everything 👏🏼 in these books 👏🏼 revolves 👏🏼 around ships. Yes, in the end, they’re romance books, but we don’t read them just for the love stories, we also read them because we find comfort in individual characters and we enjoy their growth and development. Let people appreciate characters they enjoy. Let people enjoy the ships of their choosing. Stop flooding people’s inboxes with hate (this goes for ALL of the fandom, not matter your preferences). Treat others the way you want to be treated, with kindness and respect. It’s as simple as that. It’s certainly what Elain and Gwyn would both do.

[killerbananas]

Lines

Zeke always has to have the last word.

🔞 mdni | masterlist | 750+ wc | afab!reader x Zeke + ??

Warnings: smut; dubcon, voyeurism, exhibitionism, possessive behavior with a little cuckery, revenge sexual behavior, marking, degradation/humiliation, slut, objectification, come play, pearl necklace, embarrassment, humor, ??lmk

AN: This is sponsored by the classic scientific method: Fuck Around and Find Out. This is also unbetaed and maybe a little oddly written bc I'm inebriated. 🙃 Thanks to @blondeboyfriend for egging me on and suggesting one of our surprise guests.

The sun paints your skin in luscious ambiance, allowing Zeke to take in your appearance with awe-tinted nonchalance on the sparsely populated beach. You are one of the crazy few out in this heat, but at least it allowed him such a sight. His gaze spans along the valleys and peaks of your chest, areola displayed to the gods, down to your ill-fitted suit bottoms that hardly cover enough of your non-existent modesty, for when you flip over, both of your cheeks are proudly displayed, compliments to your thong, as he witnessed earlier.

It takes a few glances along the shore for Zeke to find his opportunity to return the favor he owed, peeved at your flippancy of letting your body be oogled by anyone walking by that could just abscond with spank bank material of you to jerk off to not ten feet behind you in the dunes.

Zeke takes a big inhale to collect himself; he couldn't argue since he was appreciatively enamored with the idea of being able to fuck, destroy, and love the very object of another many admirers' desire. Anyone else only got enough to be properly jealous of what was His. Well, that tops out for his ego stroking, but it also sparks another idea. Zeke believes he should make sure he leaves a nice mark on your body that will serve him a plethora of good: such as your embarrassment and fuel for the covetous.

With the ease of breathing, he pulls his cock out, starting to harden from his blatant palming and inner grousing at your audacity and the details of his solution. Within moments, he's thick and throbbing in his hand, prespend leaking down to aid in his valiant efforts of amping himself up at least once to edge before he bursts, hopeful to make sure he could give you every last bit of His seed. It only takes him ten languid strokes and the thought of you humiliated in public by being treated like a cumrag before he's losing it again.

"Fucking slut. My beautiful fucking slut."

He can't stop the heavy onslaught of his orgasm that nearly topples him into you as he bursts His shameless brilliant white ropes with which he ties you to him. He's panting, but basking still as he rubs his sensitive head into your perky nipple, leaving smears of liquid that drip down to join their brethren at the small pool on your tummy. He takes in the way thick lines sporadically decorate your upper torso while the sun continues to shine down without relent. He can't wait until you wake up, but knows the longer you lay there, the better his painting will set.

"You guys said you'd be at the beach, but this wasn't what I'd pictured."

A voice reaches your ears that you slowly begin to recognize. As you open your eyes, it confirms your suspicions and has you grabbing for your towel to bring around your chest. As the shield makes contact with your skin, you realize that there is something odd about the way it feels. You can't quite put your finger on it as you try to make yourself presentable enough to your company well simultaneously taking in everyone's features to judge how awkward the moment would be without your top. While Zeke watches you come closer, Reiner unloads the cooler in his arms with a thunk, Bertholdt next to him. Porco sniggers and points to your shoulder.

"Looks like you missed a spot."

Horror slowly licks up your spine as you investigate the white liquid you'd original believed to be sunscreen. While Reiner remains oblivious, Bertholdt has turned maroon in the face and Porco is still laughing while Zeke chuckles to himself.

"Excuse me a moment."

Mortified, you ditch your towel for your previously missed top and submerse your shame into the ocean waves. Emerging a few moments later, righted as much as your hands could make do, you sat on Zeke's legs and stole a bite off his plate.

"Huh. Those are some weird tan lines you've got there. How'd you get them?"

You choke on the delicious food in response to Reiner's innocent question. He squints suspiciously when he hears Zeke and Porco laughing, catching Bertholdt staring at the ocean as if transfixed on something that would take him out of the awkward moment and simultaneously stop his cock from hardening.

"What? I don't get it."

"Don't worry about it. We'll tell you when you're older."

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[amethysttribble]

If you're still taking requests, maybe you could do Angst 45 for Maedhros and Fingon (Russingon optional)

Hell yeah I was, friend, here you go! Thank you so much for the prompt!

The prompt was, Angst 45 : “It’s not my fault you believe(d) everything I (say/said).” Russingon

Fingon deserves to get a little angry, as a treat. I firmly believe that Fingon 'Hair-Commander' the Valiant is incredibly fiery when angry and does not take bullshit, even if he's rarely provoked to such anger. I’m that vein, he cruses like a sailor when pissed.

Also, don't worry, he and Nelyo will make up in the morning.

The fact that Fingon had already shattered a vase by throwing it at the wall and Maedhros still hadn’t flinched should probably have been a warning sign.

A warning to who, Fingon couldn’t say.

The shattered vase was certainly a sign to Maedhros that he’d already pushed Fingon damn near too far. The overly stony, impassive look on Maedhros was absolutely an indicator that it might be time to let this go. But Fingon didn’t want to let this go, he didn’t want to give Maedhros and his fucking brothers a pass, hadn’t Fingon given them enough chances already?

Finrod was dead.

Finrod was dead- and didn’t that make Fingon’s heart scream and wail, didn’t it hurt like a motherfucker and make him want to find whatever hole Sauron was hiding down and hunt him like an injured hart, have his dogs drag the wolf lord down and then drive a spear through his chest- but more practically, what little communication there was with Doriath was gone now. Not even Galadriel would reply to Fingon’s messages.

So that was several hundred-thousand soldiers, completely gone and wasted.

Worst yet, Orodreth would barely speak to them. He certainly wouldn’t partake in anything, whether it be diplomatic, trade, or military that also concerned the feanorians. He didn’t differentiate, he wouldn’t see that just because Celegorm and Curufin- and Fingon could wring both their necks right now, could challenge them both to a duel at the same time he was so angry at present- were malicious fools, the rest weren’t worth forsaking.

Because when Fingon had tried to talk sense into his cousin’s son, all he’d got was, “What would you know about their treachery? You’re so deep in denial you’re fucking the worst of them.”

And Fingon couldn’t even deny it.

He felt like such a damn idiot right now, like a swindled and dismissed, lovelorn fool. Because he’d wanted to shout, ‘the worst of them, the worst of them? Russandol is the best, he wept after Aqualonde, he stood aside at the burning of the boats, he gave up the crown!’

But staring at Maedhros, impassable and cool, dismissive and annoyed, Fingon only heard: he still killed people (you killed people for him), the boats still burned (you had to march for thirty years), he still rules in his own right (you saved him, you saved him, you save him, for what in return?).

The words pounded in his ears alongside his heartbeat. Just to quiet it all, Fingon had to snap, “Well?” gnashing his teeth and practically panting in anger.

Maedhros still didn’t move, mouth only slightly twitching down in what Fingon presumed was an effort to find something to say. Even though he’d wanted Maedhros to speak, Fingon suddenly found that he didn’t want to hear it.

“And don’t you dare defend them to me again.”

That made Maedhros let out an audible breath through his nose, like a horse rearing in indignation.

“I don’t defend them, I just-” Maedhros finally ground out, and that was just about enough already.

“And what would you call that little spiel about your oath, then?”

“What,” Maedhros snapped, finally jerking forward, finally moving again, finally looking alive rather than like an emotionless statue, “you mean the one you interrupted by destroying my décor?”

“It was an ugly vase anyway,” Fingon spat. “About as ugly and twisted as the looks in Curufin and Celegorm’s eyes when they saw me arrive. Do they even regret it? Do they even feel anything at all for Finrod-”

“That’s not our business-”

“It damn fucking well is our business!” Fingon hollered, and after the first burst of indignation, disbelief took up all the air in his chest. He gasped belatedly, heaving for breath. How… “How can you say that? How could you believe that?”

Maedhros narrowed his eyes at him, but this time Fingon waited. He felt like he was imploring, like he was begging for respite. Like he was pleading with one of those statues of Orome and Melian the northern Sindar carried: empty wood and stone, the people they were designed to resemble blocked to all prayers.

There had been other times since Angband when Maedhros had felt unreachable, but never over something that mattered so much, that couldn’t wait, that needed to be reproached. Fingon just needed to hear Maedhros say he grieved. To know he felt anything about what his family and oath had wrought.

“You can’t condone this,” Fingon said, and he didn’t know if it was a statement or question.

However Maedhros had taken it, he seemed annoyed, rolling his eyes and leaning back imposingly.

“What would you have me do?” he gritted out, like Fingon was a child. “Have them tried in Nargothrond? They have been tried and banished. Have them tried in Doriath? Either- either executed or confined beneath the ground? Two of my principal commanders, two fine warriors in their own right, gone when we-”

“So now you want to talk about our military numbers!” Fingon yelled.

“Let’s not make the situation worse!”

“It could not be worse!” Fingon snapped, drawing closer to Maedhros and placing a hand on his chest. “Don’t you see? Nargothrond and Doriath have forsaken us-”

“Oh, and shall we not mention the other city that has abandoned us?”

“Do not bring my brother into this! We’re talking about your brothers. Nargothrond and Doriath have made their stances clear, our entire front line is still decimated! We lose soldiers and morale by the minute! And why is that? Because two of your own not only impeded and alienated the only two people to put a dent in Morgoth since my father, but they have almost single-handedly orchestrated Finrod’s death! Do you know what my people say about that? What they say about you?”

There Maedhros’s face went again, shuttering down, going over-cast, the life and light disappearing from his eyes and only a duty-driven machine in his place. He liked to pretend he didn’t care what people said. But he did, Fingon knew he did. At least… he cared what Fingon thought.

“They say that every king to associate with your line dies a gruesome death,” Fingon whispered, “and that I’m next. That by your treachery or apathy I will be the next to die for the great Feanorian ambition. That I am… that I am a fool to believe anything that comes out of your mouth.”

And that finally drew a grim smile onto Maedhros’s face.

“It’s not my fault you believe everything I say,” he sneered.

Fingon froze, feelings as cold as he did when he was covered in blood and sand, as when he was entrenched in a snowy chill so deep it rotted your bones, when he was chapped and stripped bare by the wind on the mountain top. He very, very carefully took three steps back from Maedhros. And then he grabbed the nearest table, and flung it across the room.

The wood and granite shattered against the slag wall into a thousand pieces, spraying everywhere and raining down on their feet. A yelp came from behind the door next to where the worst of the carnage lie, but Maedhros didn’t make a sound.

Fingon was shaking so hard he would swear he could feel the vibrations.

“I,” he huffed, trying desperately to speak around the the all-consuming rage occupying his lungs, “am going to retire for the night. You have until noon tomorrow to get your shit together and decide to be fucking helpful. I am not your emotional punching bag for whatever you’re feeling right now, and I know you’re feeling, no matter what you tell your people. But for the sake of your furniture, I’m not going to sit here and coach you through it.”

Fingon turned then. He didn’t see how Maedhros’s face changed; if it changed. Maedhros certainly didn’t make a sound.

He stalked towards the door, and called, “If Curufin or Celegorm is eavesdropping when I walk out there, he best not be. I am not in the mood for fucking around, and I could beat you with in an inch of your life right now with my bare hands.”

From the scrambling coming behind the door, they took that seriously.

Fingon gave them thirty seconds, waiting with his hand on the doorknob. But he was also giving Maedhros that time. He didn’t take advantage of it; Maedhros was so still and silent, he might not have even been in the room. But he was, and he was about to be the only one in there with the shattered remains of the things Fingon had broken.

Let him sit with that, Fingon decided as he slammed the door behind him, Let him be truly alone and then see how much he wants me.