#they never even try to explain why he is okay with what he's doing

[keferon]

Eh okay so. My brain is absolutely cooked so you will probably just have to ignore the linguistic fuckups

Jazz and Prowl learning to communicate because language barrier is a thing >:D

Previous part

Jazz sometimes thinks that somewhere along his career path he lost the bar separating normal from...well...everything else.

After all he's seen, heard about, and done, he's not sure exactly how to measure what's weird and what's normal. He has..the general idea.

His own. And it's so convoluted and fucked up that he'd rather jump into a volcano than try to explain it to anyone else. Jazz thinks the little colorful aliens around him are weird as hell. He thinks they sound weird, he thinks they look weird, and he thinks he must be going crazy.

And then this big black and white robot catches his eye and Jazz's first thought is not "what the fuck??"

His first thought is

"Thank God! Someone's normal!"

Whoever this guy is, he sounds like he knows what he's doing. And most importantly, he looks just like Jazz. Well, not exactly. But close enough. After all, Jazz knows that his organization wasn't the only mech maker on the entire planet. Other countries were making Mechs too, and Jazz hadn't seen even half of them.

But he can recognize a giant robot when he sees one, okay?

The thought that another mech could be an alien doesn't even enter his mind.

So used to the constant presence of huge piloted robots around him, he looks at this one and clings to its appearance as something familiar and easily explainable. His brain says, we know how this works. There's a robot and inside the robot there's another person. It's the way it's always been. The sky is blue, the grass is green and the robots are human-piloted. It's that simple.

The guy takes him to the far corner of the room and says something. Jazz…doesn't understand..

The mech's face contorts in a surprisingly believable display of concentration. How...who built this robot? How could they make it frown?

He hears something else being said to him but again can't understand a word. Why won't this pilot get out of the mech to talk to him? Jazz doesn't have his communication frequency but surely they could at least shake hands. There must be some reason. Maybe something wrong with the air? Is it dangerous to be outside? This guy should know better, he's been here longer than Jazz, it seems.

(Damn it, whose idea was it to make a mech with a face, it's so distracting)

He rushes to activate the external speakers, because he and this guy obviously speak different languages, but it never hurts to try, right?

"So uh, I don't think you can understand English?"

Mech frowns again, trying to pick up on something familiar in a language that's apparently new to him. But finds nothing. Jazz lowers his horns sadly.

Oh well. Fuck. As if being stuck in an unknown place with unknown creatures wasn't enough, he can't even talk to anyone! How is he supposed to get out of here? Which way should he even go?

The mech waves his hand to get his attention and then pulls out a tablet and a stylus from..where ?

Jazz somehow manages to overlook the fact that the tablet is made to fit the mech's size. His head is still feels a bit…off..after that portal thingie.

"Charades it is then."

____________________

An hour and a half later, Jazz finds himself staring intensely at the screen in front of him with a surprisingly neatly drawn chart on it.

"So uh. Motion."

The other guy nods and starts drawing a walking mech. Then something that looks like a very unusual car. Then a submarine. Jazz gets a little lost looking at how skillful he is with the stylus.

Honestly, he's a good artist!

The guy points to the sketch of a walking mech and says

" Motion."

Then points to the drawing of a car driving and the columns of the chart.

"Motion-rotation" he points to the car again.

That must mean "driving" huh? Jazz nods understandingly.

Mech moves his finger to the submarine.

"Motion-Water."

Ah, it must mean swimming. Jazz nods once more, feeling like a wind-up dummy repeating the same motion a dozen times.

The mech makes a quiet humming noise and then points to the chart

"Motion. Sky."

And then gives Jazz the stylus?

Uh, what is he... Oh, he wants Jazz to figure out what it means.

"Motion" and "sky," right?

Jazz takes the stylus? Pencil? Thingie.. and very carefully draws out a crooked scribble of something only remotely resembling an airplane. The mech arches an eyebrow and looks like he wants to laugh.

Jazz shrugs awkwardly and tries to add windows to the airplane, but ends up making it look more like a severely fucked up caterpillar.

Mech snorts.

Jazz kicks him in the leg.

The airplane begs for a merciful death.

Jazz didn't really expect to get into a language class but he has to admit that whatever language he's learning now is a surprisingly easy one. It only took the other dude half an hour to show him the basic concept and from there it became a game of associations.

There were simple definitions. Like size, quantity, speed, emotion and so on.

There were signs that automatically turned the whole sentence into a question or a statement.

There were modifiers that Jazz defined in his head as positive and negative.

Positive speed - fast.

Positive size - large.

Positive direction - forward.

Positive time - future.

There were also basic words for senses, emotions and whatnot, also with modifiers.

Mouth-positive - to speak

Brain-positive - to think, but negative-brain-do-positive - to learn.

Huh.

And it's so neatly organized that Jazz wondered if this language was designed specifically to be easy to learn.

Let's see....

Mouth - positive, effort - negative.

"Easy to speak."

The guy nods contentedly and starts talking back, while pointing to the appropriate columns of the chart to make it easier for Jazz to understand.

"Creation-positive. Purpose. Person-negative-knowledge. memory-positive-effort-negative."

Jazz frowns, concentrating on his finger.

Oh. Created. For those who don't know it. Easy to learn.

He was right. The whole thing is waaaay too awkward to write poetry but learning it is a delight.

Jazz leans over the chart.

All right, well, let's see.

“Name. You. Question?”

The other guy smiles and pokes at the chart

"Me.Motion-sound-negative.Negative-eyes-positive-someone."

Walk quietly. searching?… Sneaking?

Oh, it's not "to sneak" it's "to prowl"

"Prowl" nods affirmatively. Jazz smiles at him and looks at the chart again. Okay. How to say “music”?..

“word-knowledge-negative.”

He stops to make a gesture with his hands, as if playing an invisible piano while humming a tune.

Prowl nods

“Sound-positive-positive-hearing.”

Jazz chuckles

“A whole two positives eh? Okay then. Uh. You don't look like you listen to jazz....so..”

“Me. Name. Sound-positive-positive-listening.”

Prowl raises his eyebrows. (Jazz is jealous, he wishes he had eyebrows too.)

“You're a musician?"

Jazz quickly shakes his head while simultaneously muting the outside speakers to a barely audible level and turning on one of the songs on his playlist.

Prowl twitches in surprise when he hears the melody.

Jazz waits for the intro to finish playing and then points to himself

“Creation-negative..uh..Sound-positive-positive-hearing. Jazz. This...”

He pats himself lightly on the chest.

"..is me. Jazz."

Prowl straightens up slightly

“Oh, you're not a musician, you're the music.”

Jazz nods cheerfully

“Yes yes!”

“Jaaz?”

“No no. Jazz.”

“Ah. Jazz?”

“That's right.”

Prowl draws a portal on the screen.

“You teleported here. What happened?”

Jazz hangs back, trying to construct an answer in his head. Good thing Prowl seems to have infinite patience

“So, I uh. What was 'fight'? Movement-pain-positive? I fought these things...”

He takes the tablet from Prowl and draws a crooked blot with a bunch of tentacles on it. Then thinks for a bit and adds big teeth and a lot of eyes. He's not really sure how to draw those eyes properly, so he just scatters them randomly around the monster area.

Prowl doesn't seem to be that amused by Jazz's drawings anymore, in fact, he suddenly becomes very somber.

“Quintessons.”

He pokes at the monster

“Name-Quintessons. Number-question.”

How many?

Jazz scratches the back of his head

“So uh...a lot?....number-positive-positive-positive-positive-positi...you get the idea.”

To be convincing, he dramatically spreads his arms out to the sides depicting something very large.

Prowl looks alarmed.

And unconvinced.

“How did you survive?”

Jazz laughs pretentiously

“Ask them how they survived.”

Prowl makes the “you can't be serious” face. Jazz isn't quite sure what exactly is confusing him. Mechs are designed to kill Quintessons, aren't they? Judging by his movements, this pilot must be damn good at controlling his mech, and that kind of guys usually fight on the front lines.

He decides to put that thought aside for later. There are more important things right now, like...oh shit, where is he even going??

Jazz leans over the chart again

“Uh. Right. Question-we-move-up-place” Man, how to specify... “Knowledge-negative?”

Prowl, linguistic gods bless him, understands him and starts gesturing over the chart in response

Okay. Ah. I-move-up. Planet-creation-positive.

'I'm heading home' or 'my home planet'.”

Jazz instantly perks up.

“Oh that's great, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to go there too.”

Prowl is speaking in a language he's unfamiliar with, so he's definitely from another country, but hey, who cares as long as it's on Earth, right? He just needs to get there and he'll find his own way from there.

He watches the space debris flicker by outside the window. Even the stars are unfamiliar, Jazz can't find any constellations he knows.

One of the little purple creatures says something and Prowl steps aside to chat with them. Jazz leans back and settles into a more or less stable position. Then does the same thing, but with his real, human body. Hell, his head still feels really fucking weird after that teleportation.

He opens the comm channel and just listens to the static for a couple minutes in the faint hope that the engineering department will find a way to contact him.

Nothing.

He sighs.

“1061 on the com. In case there's any way you can hear me...ah shit. You guys won't believe what happened...”

[bonkaii4]

Mel being an empath

(Okay i just got say arcane has sparked passion in me i haven’t felt for a show and fandom in yeeeears i haven’t written a meta in forever so bare with me.)

Anyway at first watching act 3 the reveal of Mel being empath felt crazy like that’s such a huge bomb that we didn’t get build up on or much follow through but i do think it explains so much about her character. Traditionally empaths are written to be overly emotional or sensitive sort of like telepaths and being smart but Mel wasn’t written like that she’s quite calm and collected her most emotional outbursts are with her mother and jayce and even with jayce it’s only because he’s hurling accusations at her and she still remains relatively calm in her responses. I think her knowing people’s emotions wether she was aware of this or not plays into this she knows Jayce is coming from a place of hurt and confusion where as her mother back in season one she knows she’s being disingenuous with the reasons of being in piltover.

First watch this just seems like a disgruntled daughter and her mother trying to get on her good side but knowing that Mel can read people’s emotions adds another layer she see right through her mother which not only from just being raised by her but through her her empath skills.

also wanted to bring this up someone pointed this out tiktok and someone else pointed out that this maybe because we’re seeing this scene through Mel’s POV and since she is empath she see that Maddie is secretly enjoying executing Caitlyn. This got me thinking about her career as council member/politician I’ve wondered how she got so high up while seemingly not only being the youngest member but being young period if she’s assumed to be Jayce’s and Victor’s age this makes her about 24-27 in s1 which is extremely young for council member which essentially this region’s governing body. Being able to sense people’s true intentions allowed her to know who to align herself who not to, knowing when people agreed and disagreed with her, or when people sympathize with your views, causes, or concerns on certain issues which all helped her advance quickly her career. I’m sure being from a high born house helped but we see other high born houses in council positions but they’re all older.

She also seems to be somewhat bored with politics and somewhat disillusioned when we meet her i mean giving a fellow council member a child’s toy almost like a practical joke doesn’t seem like someone who views politics and her colleagues with utmost seriousness it isn’t until she meets Jayce that we see the passion for change. I think being empath she saw that Jayce and Vicktor’s vision for hextech and Piltover and Zaun were pure and genuine which is why she supported them. I also hate the rhetoric that Mel never loved jayce and just manipulated for her own gain she does everything in her power to stay true to him and Vicktor’s vision she doesn’t push him to do anything that goes against their morals and goals. When Jayce is worried about Vicktor and his absence at the council may lead to she reassures she won’t let them corrupt their dream. Like i said early she isn’t written like a typical empath she also isn’t written like a typical manipulator(if you can call her that) she is genuine in what she’s says to Jayce she just also knows how people work and his feelings on the matter so she’s able to play on that.

Ambessa describes her to be too soft and she tells Jayce she didn’t Medarda standards i think the way she operates as empath is the cause of that I don’t think Mel is welling to corrupt herself or others when getting what she wants unlike her Mother and the rest of her family i think they operate much more cut through in their goals.

Whew anyway mind any typos i didn’t mean for this be as long as turned out just wanted to share revelation i had!:)

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 7)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: Drinking, playing party games.

Word Count: 2,904

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

_________________________________________

Playing a game his cousin made up has never ended well. Not when they were younger, and Rhys knows that it certainly isn’t going to end well tonight, especially when there’s alcohol involved.

He doesn’t know why he agreed. Maybe it was because he was thinking more with his cock than his head, the taste of your skin still buzzing across his lips like a spell you put him under. He wants to move closer, doesn’t like how you’re sitting on the other side of the circle from him, with too many people between the both of you and even more who join when Mor announces the game to anyone around who’s listening.

Of course, Amarantha pushes her way into the circle, taking up position right beside him. He stiffens, and it takes effort for Rhys to unhinge his jaw and slug back some of the amber liquid in his cup that Cassian poured him. It’s pretty much just straight alcohol, which might be exactly what he needs to endure this game if his clingy ex stands beside him all night.

Your eyes latched onto his ex the moment she entered the game. Mor made a face, knowing exactly who she is, but didn’t mention it. You wonder if she thinks that there’s a chance, she thinks Rhys and Amarantha have the possibility of rekindling their relationship, and you want to ask her how she feels about the girl, but you don’t want to seem too interested in her cousin and his ex.

It doesn’t stop you from looking, though. Amarantha’s friend flanks her side, creating a further distance between you and Rhys. You’re on completely opposites of the circle, now, and the smug grin on her red painted lip tell you she knows it, too. The stirs the neon pink straw in her cup. It makes her sharp, crimson nails pop. She gives you an innocent shrug when she catches you staring, and you tear your eyes from hers only to settle them on those familiar violet ones that are widened comically as if to tell you, Help me!

You don’t know how to help him. It’s not like you can move to sit between them; that alone would be enough for Mor to question you, and if Rhys’ ex forced you into doing something more to prove that you’re the couple you’re trying to make her think you are, it’ll be game over before it’s even begun, because your loyalties lie with your best friend.

This night has turned into such a shit show it’s all you can do to sit in your spot while Mor explains the rules.

“The name of the game is TD Bottle.” She plants a glass bottle in the center of the circle, and you already don’t like the looks of this. Peering around the circle, you assess the partygoers. If this is a kissing game, you want to know what you’re getting yourself into. There’s Rhys, who you carefully avoid eye contact with because the thought of his lips anywhere near your body again has shivers skittering up your spine. Amarantha, who hasn’t stopped glancing up at Rhys like he is her God. A few of Rhys’ teammates are scattered around the circle—Cassian, Balthazar, James, and even Azriel seems to be sitting in on the game as well, much to your surprise. The girls heavily outweigh the men, and Gwyn looks like a terrified mouse in the presence of a murder of crows.

You catch her bright blue eyes, silently asking if she’s okay. If she wants to leave, you’ll go with her, no questions asked.

She gives you a smile that you assume is supposed to be reassuring, but is anything but. But she stays. You all stay.

“Like, Touch Down?” James asks, brows bent in confusion.

“No, no, it’s like Touchy Dick,” Cassian throws in easily, eliciting laughter from the boys and eye rolls from the girls. But the mixture of anticipation and tension that hangs over the group disperses, and everyone seems to ease into their seats a little.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Mor wrinkles her nose, pulling a face of disgust.

“Please, tell us what the hell it means before they keep guessing,” Rhys mutters, bringing his cup to his lips for another swig. You watch the way his throat bobs as he swallows, and he raises a mocking brow when he catches your gaze. Shit. Maybe the few drinks you’ve had are starting to take effect, and this game surely isn’t going to help the case.

He winks, and it’s only then that you’re able to rip your gaze from his violet stare, cheeks burning warmly.

The only good thing is that Amarantha catches the interaction and her lips tighten to a razor thin line that makes her look more of like the snake you think she is.

“It stands for Truth, Dare, Bottle,” Mor says. “It’s a combination of truth and dare and spin the bottle.”

“How…” Rhys trails off, trying to find the word.

“Apropos?” You supply. You and Rhysand share conspiring smiles that feel much too intimate for the near-strangers you’re supposed to be in the presence of his cousin.

Mor whines. “That’s not fair, I can’t have one of my best friends and my cousin ganging up on me like this. I won’t stand for it!”

She means it as a joke, but it shocks you and Rhys, realizing that you should not be acting so friendly for only having met on a few occasions. Hell, Mor doesn’t even know that he’s your psychology tutor yet.

You nurse your drink, trying to ignore the knot that’s wound itself back into your stomach. It’s not mixing well with the tequila. You focus all your attention on your friend. “Sorry, continue.”

“So, one person spins the bottle,” Mor says, giving the empty glass a swing around the circle. Everyone seems to lean in closer, eager to see who it’s going to land on. You aren’t worried about it landing on you because it’s your roommate, but you’re sure this state of somewhat calm won’t last when it’s someone else spinning the bottle. Especially Rhys.

The bottle stops, it’s mouth pointing to Cassian, who beams like he’s won player of the year. “The person it lands on chooses truth or dare, and we all know how that game goes,” Mor waves her hand, gesturing Cassian to answer.

He waggles his brows. “Dare.”

“I dare you to…take off your shirt,” Mor says, and the girls in the circle whistle and cheer.

“I’m not wearing a shirt,” Cassian responds, gesturing to his bare torso hidden beneath his apron. You can see the tan skin of his broad back, the way his muscles ripple as he moves, and damn, that was a good dare.

A throat clearing draws your attention away from where you’re ogling Cassian’s body. Rhys raises an unimpressed brow, his jaw ticking as he stares you down. Amarantha’s red gaze flickers between you and Cassian, brows knitted together as if you’re some equation she’s trying to figure out.

“Sorry,” you mouth across the circle when Amarantha’s attention is diverted when Mor rolls her eyes and commands Cassian to take off his apron instead.

Rhys rolls his eyes, and you stifle the pang of disappointment at missing Cassian stripping off the top of his apron, now sitting completely shirtless in his spot.

“And now it’s Cassian’s turn to spin,” Mor finishes with a beaming smile. “See? Easy.”

“Super easy,” Cassian agrees, spinning the bottle. It lands on Amarantha’s friend, and his grin turns lethal. “Let’s make this more interesting. Alis, truth or dare?”

She crosses her arms over her chest, a move that Cassian does not mind at all, especially when it pushes her breasts up like that. She lifts her chin, staring him down as she answers, “Dare.”

Cassian ponders for a moment, before he breaks out into a mischievous smile. “I dare you to refill my cup with anything I want until the end of the game.”

Alis grimaces, and you so do not envy her, especially when Cassian immediately hands her his cup and asks her to fill it with ice and whiskey. He jokes, turning toward the circle, “Anyone else want anything?”

On and on the game goes until the bottle lands on Amarantha and she answers a truth about how many guys she’s slept with. Then, she taker her turn and spins the bottle. It lands on Rhysand, just like you knew it would somehow. It fills you with a nausea that you try to drown out with your drink, only to find your cup empty. Huh. You don’t remember downing your entire cup. Maybe you can dare someone to get you a refill when it’s your turn.

“Truth or dare, Rhys?” Amarantha says, sickeningly sweet. She even bats her eyelashes for effect, but Rhys doesn’t even glance her way, much more interested in trying to shatter the glass bottle pointing in his direction with his fiery glare.

“Truth,” he grits, bracing himself for whatever imploring question is going to fall from her lips.

“Do you miss that thing I did with my hands? When I would—”

“No,” he growls, cutting her off. Wherever she was trying to go with that question, it backfires, because Rhys reaches into the circle and spins the bottle with a flick that means business.

“Awe, I wanted to hear what she was going to say,” her friend pouts, though the glance she shares with her friend tells you she already knows.

“Well, Alis, maybe if you ask nicely, she’ll do it to you, too.” Rhys is undeterred by their gaping looks, and a few of his players can’t hold back their snickers. Amarantha and Alis’ cheeks turn red, and you think they might leave the game in the midst of their humiliation, but they stubbornly stay put.

He spins, and the bottle lands on one Cassian again, who seems to really be the only one enjoying the game. Rhys dares him to take a shot of alcohol. Lame, but Rhysand doesn’t want to play, knows that he’s only doing it because you are and he wants to bear witness to your truths and dares.

“(Y/N)? Truth or dare?”

“Um, dare.” You hadn’t meant to choose that option, but you were so distracted by the way that Rhys keeps leaning away from Amarantha every time she tries to slant against him. It yields a fire in your belly at the sight, one so consuming that you don’t realize what you’ve said until it’s too late.

Cassian grins like the cat that got the cream, and you don’t like it one fucking bit.

Rhys looks just as surprised as you do, even more so when Cassian dares you to kiss him. It’s then that he’s able to remove his gaze from you to glare at his roommate, though it does sting when your first reaction to the dare is to frown.

Mor groans, slapping Cassian’s side. “Dude, seriously?”

“Seriously,” he nods in confirmation. He’s clearly not reading the room. “What?” He asks, “Are you going to back out, (Y/N)?”

You shake your head. No, you can’t back out. Not when Amarantha thinks that you and Rhys are already together. She’d absolutely question why the two of you wouldn’t kiss, which would cause questions from Mor to unravel the plan you and Rhys have just agreed to.

“Mor,” you call, all but crawling across the large circle to reach Rhys. He catches on, something sparking in his violet eyes as he leans forward to meet you halfway. “Close your eyes.”

You hear an indignant huff, and then nothing because the pounding of your heart drowns out the noise of the party around you. There’s a question in Rhysand’s eyes and you shake your head softly, watching as he swallows harshly when you show that you’re doing this for the both of your sakes. You are not going to back down.

And then his mouth is on yours, and fucking stars explode.

You lose your surroundings completely: where you are, who you’re with, what fucking day it is. Rhys’s mouth is much softer than you imagined with all of the coarse language you know he spits on the ice.

You can taste the warmth of whiskey on his lips and you want to drown in it. He’s addicting, even more so when shivers rattle down your spine in pleasure when his tongue traces the seam of your mouth.

When you’re about to part your lips for him, a loud, forced cough steals your attention. You pull away and everything slams back into your full-force: the party, the people watching you, cheering for you, and your roommate and best friend, who looks less than impressed with your display of affection with her cousin.

Your heart that’s pounding in your chest because of the feeling of Rhys on your mouth turns into a pounding of guilt. You break Rhys’ heady gaze, quickly finding your spot back in the circle. You have the urge to straighten your shirt and fix your hair, like you’ve been caught doing something much worse than sharing an innocent kiss.

Except, that there was nothing about that kiss that felt innocent at all.

You keep your eyes averted, trying not to squeeze your legs shut to stifle the need for pleasure that aches between them. Fuck.

“(Y/N)?” Cassian sing-songs. Rhys shoots daggers at his friend. He doesn’t give a fuck about the game anymore, more worried about you and how you won’t meet his gaze. That kiss was fucking something, that’s for sure, and he can’t help but to run his tongue across his lips, chasing the taste of you. “It’s your turn.”

“Right,” you agree, pressing forward to reach for the bottle. You try not to remember the image of you doing the same only moments ago when you were reaching the distance to kiss Rhys, but the memory flashes in your head anyway, your cheeks going red hot.

The bottle spins and spins and your shoulders drop when it lands on Balthazar. You don’t know him all that well, and when he picks truth, you give him something easy.

“Have you ever cheated on a test?” You ask, lamely. All you want to do is get out of this circle, down another drink, and go home. The feeling of Rhysand’s lips still buzzes against yours, and it reverberates between your legs. If you could go home, you could…

“Yeah,” he admits, like it’s something everyone does. He reaches forward and spins the bottle, and freezes when it lands on Gwyn.

Her eyes are as wide as saucers. Her bottom lip is tucked between her teeth as she nervously thinks over her options. You and Mor share a look, both noticing how flighty she looks. Gwyn looks like she might just spring up from the circle and bolt out of here, and you can’t say that you wouldn’t be right behind her. You’re more than ready to be in the privacy of your own room.

“Truth or dare, Gwyn?”

“Dare,” she says softly, barely able to be heard over the music and chatter of the party. Balthazar hears, though, or perhaps he reads her lips because he’s staring at her so intently that you feel like you’re intruding on something.

You wonder what made her choose dare, like doing whatever he comes up with is the lesser of two evils. It’s clear that something is going on between the two of them, but you’ve never heard a peep about either of them knowing each other. Maybe they share a class?

Whatever it is, you’re entirely intrigued.

“I dare you to tell me why you won’t look at me.”

The circle goes deathly silent, which isn’t all that silent at all with the music shaking the walls of the house. But the small circle…when she finally raises her eyes to meet his, it’s like walls have shot up around all of you, like you’re on the field of the colosseum and Gwyn and Balth are the warriors ready to fight for to the death.

You’ve never been surer that you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be in your entire life. From across the circle, Rhys shoots you a look just as confused as you feel. You shrug, you have no idea what’s going on, and it’s all you can do to watch.

Gwyn doesn’t respond. It’s a stare off between the two of them, with her icy blue eyes glaring at him and him staring right back, brows furrowed in a hurt confusion.

She doesn’t answer. Gwyn climbs to her feet and threads her way into the crowd without a second glance, like Balthazar should know exactly why she finds it difficult to look at him. You can’t help it, you watch his face as soon as Gwyn’s red hair leaves your sight, watching the hurt flash across his eyes before he sits back in his spot in defeat.

“What?” He asks, lamely. “It’s not like I asked her to kiss me or anything.” Balthazar laughs drily, more than done with this game.

And neither do you. Whatever just happened, you’re more concerned about your roommate. You get to your feet, gauge how you feel with the few tequila pineapple juices you’ve had, before you follow after your roommate.

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @judig92 @se7enteen--black-blog @thecraziestcrayon @cherry-cin @itsinherited @justafictionalnerd @bookishbroadwaybish @405rry @itsinherited @w0nderw0manly

[seoulmatez]

— 𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝒹 ౨ৎ

itoshi rin x reader. 2k wc. ﾉ fluff ﾉ college au ﾉ reader wears a skirt ﾉ mentions of an injury + a little blood

you aren’t one to believe in silly superlatives, but the last few months have helped you understand why itoshi rin is regarded as the most unapproachable student on campus.

he works alone and during the moments when he’s required to collaborate, the man is incredibly blunt. outside of class, you rarely see him accompanied by anyone other than his team and even then he never seems thrilled to be around them. the aloof expression he constantly wears only solidifies everyone’s perception of him—everyone’s but yours.

you’re a firm believer that people are more than they let on and rin is no different. beneath his frigid exterior, there’s something more. at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the last several weeks. if you weren’t convinced, how else would you explain your efforts of getting close to him?

you’re on a mission, one to see if you can chip away, thaw, the icy exterior that encases itoshi rin.

“rin!” you shout, but your call doesn’t elicit any sort of response—he doesn’t pause, doesn’t turn his head, just keeps walking as though your voice is nothing more than a gust of wind. his disregard fails to deter you as you pick up your pace to catch up with rin’s long strides. it takes a bit but when you finally do, you smile and link your arm with his. you look up at him before asking, “hey, didn’t you hear me calling your name?”

“i did. i was just ignoring you.” his teal eyes finally spare you a short glance before he’s shaking you off, pulling his arm out of your hold and stuffing his hand in the pocket of his long, beige coat. it’s you again, he thinks.

you remind him of something—a gnat, that’s it. small and bothersome but easy to swat away. though, just like them, you always seem to make your way back. he’s grown used to your repeated appearances, even if he finds them slightly inconvenient.

“this is why you don’t have any friends, you know.” you sigh, the stream of air that leaves your mouth visible as a foggy cloud in front of you. you peer up at him through your eyelashes. “you’re so cold.”

he’s silent in response to your statement and you expected as much. still, you send him a smile and continue talking. “i’m willing to look past that, though. what are you doing now?”

“going home.” rin hopes his answer is enough to dispel whatever thought is brewing in your head.

“perfect! so you’re free.” he turns to you with a frown. what part of “going home” gave you the impression that he had nothing else to do? “wanna go get sushi? it’s on campus so we wouldn’t have to go far.”

“no thanks.” he looks away to finalize his answer.

“aw, come on, rin.” if you’re going to get anywhere, you can’t keep letting him brush you off. “it doesn’t have to be sushi,” you try to bargain, but he doesn’t budge, only continues toward his destination.

maybe you should just drop it, try again another time, but your body has other ideas. you take a few quick steps forward so you’re standing in front of rin. you’re walking partially backward as your next words come out. “we can get whatever you w-”

the ground beneath your feet doesn’t feel as stable as it did a moment ago, it’s slippery now, enough to make you lose your balance. you slide forward on a patch of ice before the concrete is back under you. the bottoms of your shoes catch on the roughness of the ground, launching your forward. your knees and the heels of your palms skim the sidewalk, drawing a pained gasp from your lungs.

“shit, are you okay?” rin’s voice cuts through the air, and it’s closer than it was when you were upright. you turn your head to find his face right beside yours. his eyes are zoned in on your hands and you swear you can see a glint of concern pass over them.

“i’m fine,” you tell him, sitting back on your knees and painting on a smile to cover up the pain. you shake your hands at the wrist but the cool air only bites at your open wounds. “it just stings a little.”

you’re a lousy liar, rin thinks. did you think he wouldn’t notice the breath of air you sucked in just now? blue-green irises scan over your hands and knees. the fall was enough to tear your tights and break the skin. there’s blood slowly pooling from the surface of each scratch.

“come on,” rin sighs, straightening up and shrugging his coat off his shoulders. you stare up at him with lips parted in confusion. he jerks his head in a silent gesture for you to stand up.

“where are we going?” you ask, carefully boosting yourself up from off the ground.

“to my apartment.” he glances at your outfit before holding out his coat to you. “put this on.”

you want to ask him why but you figure your constant questioning will put him off. you keep your lips sealed as you accept his coat, slinging it over your much thinner zip-up. your eyes dart back to where he’s standing—or where he was standing. he’s not there anymore but it only takes a tilt of your head to find him. he’s bent at the knee in front of you and his arm reaches over his shoulder to pat his back. “get on.”

your eyes widen in a mixture of surprise and triumph. the gesture itself catches you off guard—before now, it was hard to ever picture rin being so… helpful, chivalrous. on the other hand, this is the first of what you hope becomes many wins in your pursuit of melting away what you think is his frosty façade.

a quiet laugh pushes past your lips as you bend down to wrap your arms around rin’s neck. he hooks his hands under your knees, a low grunt rumbling in his chest as he rises up from his position.

you can’t help but think it would be a lot colder if you weren’t wearing rin’s coat. maybe you should have taken a look at the weather before you decided to put a skirt on this morning. it’s only then that it strikes you—he didn’t give you the jacket to keep you warm, he gave it to you to keep you covered. if the length of the outerwear wasn’t draped over your legs, this piggyback ride would be a lot more compromising.

your cheeks and the tips of your ears are flaming hot compared to the nip of the cold air. you aren’t sure if you’re flustered because of the close call or the fact that rin was attentive and considerate enough to protect your decency. he’s a lot more thoughtful than he puts on.

despite your fall being entirely unintentional, you have to say, the timing couldn’t have been better. the walk to rin’s apartment isn’t far at all and if you hadn’t found a way to stop him, you wouldn’t have gotten through to him today.

with you still on his back, rin fishes out his keys from his pocket, sticking one into the keyhole and twisting until a click signals that the front door is unlocked. you can’t see far into the apartment over his shoulder, but the kitchen and the little glimpse of the living room are exactly what you expected—neat. there are no dirty dishes littered about the counters and the blanket hanging over the back of the couch is tidily folded.

the bathroom is directly to the right of the entrance and rin nudges the door open with his foot to allow the both of you in. he kneels in front of the toilet, setting you down on the closed lid. you survey the scratches on your palms as rin washes his hands and grabs the first-aid kit he keeps under the sink. he kneels down in front of you to start treating the scrapes on your knees.

the process is a silent one, rin’s focus solely on cleaning your wounds. the silence makes you want to squirm but the thought of being reprimanded by rin keeps you glued to your spot. his presence is always overwhelming but much less so when it’s accompanied by conversation. so, you speak, “this is your fault, you know.”

he stills for a split second before continuing, but you don’t miss the way his eyebrows knit together. “how is you slipping my fault?”

you bite your lip to hold back a laugh. the empty statement was merely a poor attempt at filling the silence, but you’re beginning to think that you can use this to your advantage. “i was just trying to be nice and invite you out. if you agreed to lunch with me, this all would have been avoidable.”

rin clicks his tongue. he knows what you’re doing; you’re trying to guilt trip him, make him feel bad. and he does, he recognizes—but not for the reasons you think. he’s never been particularly benevolent but something drove him to act today, something he can’t quite put his finger on. all he can say for sure is that he wouldn’t be doing this for just anyone.

“don’t worry, though.” your voice brings rin back to reality from his thoughts. his teal gaze lands on your face and you smile. it’s pretty, the thinks, but there’s a gleam in your eyes that isn’t as sweet. “i know how you can make it up to me.”

“am i not doing that now?” he asks as he finishes bandaging your second knee.

you ignore his question, holding your palms up at rin’s nod toward them. “i’ll forgive you if you take me up on my offer. going out for lunch, i mean.”

a gnat. persistent and pesky.

“what makes you think i want your forgiveness?” his words, the bluntness of them, starkly contrasts his touch. the lithe finger applying antibiotic ointment to your torn skin is gentle, tender even.

“maybe you don’t,” you hum curiously. you were sure he would have given in by now but his resolve was starting to seem unbreakable. there’s one strategy you have left, one you were hoping you wouldn’t have to turn to. although, you suppose you could always go back on your word. and rin didn’t have to know that.

you clear your throat resolutely in hopes that your next statement comes out smoothly. “i’ll leave you alone if you humor me this once.”

rin almost snorts. he highly doubts that will be the case with your track record and all. despite his skepticism, he doesn’t immediately jump to rejecting you and the lack of a prompt “no” surprises you both.

rin sticks the last square band-aid to your hand while he contemplates your proposal. something about this unplanned interaction has surfaced unfamiliar feelings from the depths of his heart. he still doesn’t understand why he decided to lend you a helping hand, but he figures there must have been a reason—one that he’ll come closer to finding out if he swallows his pride and agrees to your outing.

“fine.” he sits back on his heels, letting his hands rest on his thighs.

you blink at the one-word answer. “fine?”

“that’s what i said.” rin stands up from his place on the floor and starts toward the door. he looks over his shoulder to see you still seated. “come on before i change my mind.”

it would be dumb of you to miss this opportunity—the one that you had sacrificed your physical well-being and a pair of cute tights for—all because you’re awestruck. so you quickly stand and scurry over to rin with a satisfied grin.

you can feel him tense beside you when you loop your arm through his once more. “i knew you’d warm up to me.”

thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, please consider reblogging or commenting ❤︎

[junkpuppetj]

You turn your eyes away and put all your focus on the nothing between your fingers as he slumps down beside you on the step and tosses his bow somewhere behind him. Daryl doesn’t say anything as he pulls one of Shelly’s cigarettes from his pocket and lights it quickly - taking a few deep drags before offering it to you.

You hesitate and he shrugs, taking it back with a grunt. You sit in awkward silence as he smokes his cigarette and you study your hands, both of your minds racing. After another few puffs he offers the cigarette to you again and you take it between your fingers, bringing it to your own lips quickly.

“Would you kiss me?” The question rushes from your lungs with the exhale of smoke and you watch Daryl’s back go stiff, turning his head to the side slowly as he glares at you. “What?”

“Maggie said you would, kiss me…, but I don’t think so.” You hand him back the cigarette and watch as he takes a deep pull of smoke into his lungs, holding it for a long time before finally blowing it out through his nose. “What the hell are ya even talking about?”

You study your hands again. “She asked me if I liked you.” He grunts low in his throat, handing over the cigarette obviously not caring either way. “…but I don’t think you like me.”

Daryl turns his head again and narrows his eyes further. “I’m here with ya ain’t I?” He growls snatching the smoke out of your hand and bringing it back to his mouth quickly. He finishes it in three long pulls and flicks it across the street with another grunt.

“You weren’t earlier. You left.” You hate the way your voice sounds, shaking with nervousness and weak. This place is going to make you weak. Daryl already has. He’s already got your guard down.

“Jus’ had to get outta of here for a little while.” He explains and you swear you hear a hint of desperation in his words. His eyes are searching yours carefully and they’re so blue and full of unsaid words.

“Why?”

“Yer askin’ a lot of questions tonight.”

“…and you’re not answering any of them.”

You swear if he narrows them anymore his eyes will close but somehow he manages to glare at you through slits.

“Why do ya even care about any of that shit anyway? Ain’t like we’re gonna ride off into the sunset together. Ain’t like any of us have a chance in hell at any kind of normal life. Maggie, Glenn - Rick. They’re all just chasin’ a dream.”

You feel your heart break at his words. Daryl will never give a shit about anything - not you, not even himself and it’s painfully obvious now.

“Okay.”

“Okay? What the hell does that mean?”

“I think you answered my question.” You assure him and push yourself up from the porch, jogging down the steps quickly. You can hear Daryl growling from the porch as you wrap your arms around yourself and turn towards the town center.

“Where the hell are ya goin’?” Daryl asks trying to lighten his tone but you don’t stop walking - leaving him glaring after you.

xxx

GIF from google.

Snippet from my new fanfic Too Far Gone (which is not a Daryl X Reader fic) on Ao3. Check it out.

[unhingedangstaddict]

Because the weather is absolute garbage (well below freezing temperatures and snowing) and I'm feeling kinda unmotivated atm here's a small teaser for the next chapter of All Of You, All Of Me (Intertwined) - my bucktommy mpreg fic

The next morning Tommy walked to the coffee shop and arrived early, only to find Evan had also just arrived. “Hey.” He said as he approached Evan.

“Hey, why don’t I grab us drinks while you find us a table?” Evan suggested.

“Sure.” Tommy agreed.

“What do you want? Not that I forgot your usual order but you probably can’t have your usual because the caffeine…” Evan frowned. “Not that I’m trying to police what you eat or drink!” He added quickly.

Tommy had to chuckle a bit at how nervous Evan was. For a moment it could almost be Evan’s regular old nervous excitement and not the new much more complex nervousness that Tommy had instilled in Evan yesterday with just just five words. “You’re fine. Get me a decaf mocha with raspberry syrup-” Tommy could see Evan’s face twisting into one of confusion or perhaps disgust. “It’s what she wants. I’m not exactly a fan but it does taste good.” Tommy explained, gesturing vaguely at his stomach.

“Got it. Coming right up.” Evan nodded and went to order.

Tommy got them a table in a quiet corner of the coffee shop and waited patiently for Evan, who soon came over to the table with their drinks in hand.

“Have you uh, have you had a lot of cravings?” Evan asked as he set Tommy’s drink in front of him, then sat across from Tommy.

“Yeah. This drink is one of two consistent repeat offenders and there’s been lots of one time cravings for different things too.” Tommy nodded. Tommy knew they should be talking about more important things but Evan was nervous and it was probably less nerve-wracking for him if they eased into it, and maybe it’d be easier for Tommy too.

“What’s the other consistent one?” Evan wondered.

“Lucy makes fake gagging noises every time it comes up,” Tommy admitted. “Grilled cheese with peanut butter and tomatoes on it. Usually needs to be on sourdough bread, cinnamon-raisin bread on one particularly notable occasion though.”

“Like all together in the sandwich heated up?” Evan wondered.

Tommy nodded and shrugged. “It's what the kid wants. Can’t wait til she decides she’s sick of them.”

“No kidding.” Evan mumbled and sipped his drink.

“Look, I’m sure you have things you want to say and ask, and so do I. There’s a lot up in the air at the moment and I just want to make something super clear before we get any further.” Tommy told Evan.

“Okay,” Evan sat up straighter and made sure he was showing that he was paying attention.

“I know I told Lucy, to tell Eddie, to tell you this, but I wanted you to hear it from me directly also. If you don’t want to be involved, I don’t expect you to. The last thing I want is for you to feel trapped by this in any way. So, if you’re not interested you can walk away now, no hard feelings. I can’t promise she’ll never get curious or grow up and find you herself, but if you don’t want to be a part of this, I will keep you out of it as much as I can.”

“Tommy I want to be involved-” Evan started.

“And if that is genuinely what you want Evan, then great.” Tommy cut in. “But if you think there is even the smallest chance you’re gonna wake up one day and regret staying, just walk away now. It’s one thing for us to break each other’s hearts, it’d be another to do that to our daughter.”

“I know I just found out but I swear I’m not going anywhere. I- I’ve been a sperm donor before- I told you about Connor and Cameron’s son- and I’m not interested in doing that again, Tommy. I want to be a part of my daughter’s life.” Evan insisted.

Tommy nodded and almost smiled. “Okay.”

(Read the full chapter on ao3)

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Now imagine shifter!König, not shifted, and going through the lunches in the fridge. Finding his Finches, cause turns out the little bird is stupid good at cooking. And 'Finch' not 'Handler' now, storming into the enclosure squawking and shouting and accusatory fingers pointing.

"You big bloody bastard! Those are mine!" 'Finch' squawks out, unable to even try and reach those stupid exercise rings. They're a bitch to clean as it is up that high and asshole König likes to lounge on them now knowing it pisses off his Finch. Wait, his...? ....Yes, his. His Finch.

Okay so, before I keep going, can I steal the name Finch? I always like naming the readers for the stories and Finch is just so darn cute. I love it so much. Would I be able to use it going forward?

Now, onto the response:

Art from This Post

König is just a hungry man. As the largest shifter on KorTac's Eastern European base, he's well known as 'The Vacuum' for how he hoovers through food. He'll happily go through other people's lunches to get some extra snacks. Does he feel good about it? Somewhat. If KorTac wants to have such a giant shifter, they should be giving him more to eat. In a way, this is his form of silent protest. If KorTac won't feed him, he'll feed himself. It's only fair, he says to himself. You're a dick, everyone else says. I don't care, König decides.

Handlers and shifters alike know to be wary of König's efforts. Locks don't keep König out of lunches, but if you put your lunch at the very back of the fridge and not towards the front then usually you're free of König's snooping.

When you go to put your lunch in the fridge, you find it a bit hectic and messy. It's bizarre, seeing everyone's lunch pushed in the back. You can't help but wonder why everyone is piled up in the back of the fridge. The clamber to the back of the fridge has people piled up until they hit the top of the fridge, with another lunchbox or two shoved in to boot. It's a complete mess that's probably squishing their lunch into oblivion.

So, finding plenty of clear space at the front, you put your lunch tucked to the side and go about with your day.

All the others would say it was predictable, but the shock and horror upon finding your lunch raided had you chewing the culprit out to another handler near by.

"And whoever it was ate all the good parts, too!" you grumbled, "like, how? I just don't get it! It took me ages to make and this fucker comes along and eats all my hard work!"

The other handler, a foggy-eyed man who was closer to retirement than recruitment cleared his thick throat with a cough. You turned to face the old man with a scowl.

"Do you know anything about this Louis?" you snapped.

"Do I ever," the old Frenchman wheezed, "I bet you twenty balles that König was the one behind it."

That has you stalling for a minute. König? König ate you lunch? Oh you were going to kill that feather duster the next time you-

"He's so big but the big man doesn't give him any extra ration tickets," Louis explained, "I'd feel bad for him if he didn't eat my wife's cooking more than I do."

You drummed your fingers on the desk.

"Is there any reason he goes after the handler's fridges? He has the whole cafeteria at lunch.

Louis grinned, "He likes to snack. Don't you know?"

You grit your teeth. The stupid snacking bastard had another thing coming for him, just wait. You'd snap his little bird next when you got your hands on him.

You didn't actually manage to get around to König until after his training sessions for the day. Luckily for you, he had another session of training in his shifted form for you that day. You clenched your fists in preparation.

Of course, preparation means nothing if you never expected what was coming for you. So of course, you were completely bowled over by the sight of König unwrapping a little square of chocolate, the chocolate you'd saved for days, while sitting in a folding chair. He took one clean chomp before he perked up when he noticed you.

"Ah, Handler! What are we working on today?" he cheered, "do you have any good riddles today?"

Your eyes focused in on the little speck of chocolate at the corner of his lips.

"My chocolate..." you muttered quietly.

"What was that?"

"That's my chocolate, you feather-brained idiot!" you squawked, "you-YOU ATE MY LUNCH TODAY!"

König licked his lips, "Oh, you were the one who put your lunch in the front?"

"Fuck yeah I did!" you puffed up, "it took me ages to make it! I put so much time into that sandwich you wouldn't believe it! I was looking forward to it all week, but I had to age the-You know what nevermind. I don't care. I'm better than this. I'm better than all of this. I-"

You trailed off as König strode across the gymnasium floor to the rings, crouched down, then smoothly shifted into his monstrous form as he jumped up to go to the rings.

"GET DOWN FROM THERE!" you bellowed, "I WASN'T FINISHED WITH YOU YET!"

You heard a throaty cackle above. Your hair stood on end instinctively, but the fire inside only raged further.

"GET DOWN HERE!" you screeched like a little monkey.

Up above, König wove through the rings with masterful ease. Your whooping and howling wasn't of that much interest, but he took a moment to stop and hang by his tail from one of the rings. He cocked his head to look at you.

There, down on the ground you spluttered and spat, hopping up and down and waving your arms like a little bird.

Like a little finch, König thought to himself.

"Little Finch," König let out a hoarse laugh, "Little Finch, Little Finch!"

"Who-ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ME!?"

"Little Finch Little Finch!" König tossed his head side to side as he sang out his little nickname for you.

"COME DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW! I'LL SHOW YOU A 'LITTLE FINCH'!"

Oh, König found this terribly amusing. He had a wonderful little game now.

[futuremrscameron]

weird girl!kook

weird girl!kook is a social outcast amongst her fellow kooks; they didn’t her strange and offputting for her macabre paintings

she loves people watching; it helps her gain inspiration for new paintings, and it’s fun. it gives her an insight on the lives of kildare’s “elite”

her parents are both artists, so she loves to joke that she never stood a chance. one of her mothers works with charcoal and the other is a sculptor so she was surrounded by the limitless potential of expression through art since before she could talk

has two ferrets named ‘asuka’ and ‘shinji’ and they’re her babies. if they’re not rolling around on her bed they’re fighting and she’s constantly having to break them up

she does not have many non artist friends and even her non artist friends are a little artsy in their own way (ie; kiara)

knew of jj before officially meeting at midsummers. she was intrigued by the party animal front he puts up in front of everyone that barely masks his cruelty

wanted to drop out of kildare private academy and focus on her art but her parents convinced her to stay and graduate so she could at least her her high school diploma and when that didn’t work, access to their art supplies

smokes like a fucking chimney. not weed mind you, though she does get her stash from the mainland, cigarettes. she says it helps her think and that it’s good for stress but really she just likes the smell

weird girl!kook finds herself inexplicably drawn to jj after their midsummers meeting. she wants to get to know him but doesn’t want to seem desperate or like a school girl with a crush but her asking around about him isn’t helping

when he corners her asks her about it, she says it’s purely artistic curiosity, he has a good face and she would like to paint him. this inflates his ego to the gods so of course she has to humble him every so often

their painting sessions are something they both end up looking forward to though admittedly they had a rocky start

“why are you naked?”

he smirks at her blatant disgust, “aren’t you gonna draw me like one of your french girls?”

she rolls her eyes and begins packing up her materials. he frowns. “woah what are you doing?”

“if you’re not gonna take this seriously you can go. i can find someone else.”

he picks up his shirt from the floor and covers his lower half. he’s in front of her in mere seconds when she turns back from pack.

he grabs her arm, “hey hey hey okay wait there’s no need for that. i’m sorry.” she looks at him, trying to gage if he’s genuine. she looks down at his hand on her arm, he lets go.

“sorry.” he scratches his head awkwardly, she takes note of this too.

“you said that already.”

his cheeks flush at her bluntness, “yeah um sorry. sorry.” his face somehow grows pinker.

“you’re good.” she unpacks her paints and looks back at him, “well get dressed we’ve got work to do.”

he grins, “yes ma’am.”

she looks down at the arm he grabbed. goosebumps

often home alone because he mothers go to the mainland to sell their art as a kid she hated it but now she’s thankful she doesn’t have to explain why the infamous jackson genrette is sneaking out her room at 8 am

surprisingly not a lightweight, jj finds out the hard way when he tries to challenge her to a drinking game. she knew he was trying to get her drunk to fuck her so of course she hustled him, pretending not to know the rules and struggle in the first round only to kick his ass in the second, third, and fourth round. she ends up carrying him back to hers

her colorful outfits and makeup makes her stand out more than anything but she refuses to change it despite the drawbacks (being perceived) it’s how she expresses herself outside of her art

she hates being the center of attention but loves receiving praise for her art, this double edged sword always strikes when she offers to paint sets and props for school plays. she ends up the talk of the school for a month before she happily goes back to being the outcast

weird!girl!kook doesn’t realize she likes jj until he pulls up to her house in his motorcycle on one of their non-meeting days. he tells her to get dressed cause he just wanted to see her. he convinces her to take him up to the roof so they can look at the stars. he points out every constellation he can find and tells her about his mom teaching him all about them. it’s the softest and most genuine she’s ever seen him

thinks rafe is weird and sketchy but understands why him and jj are friends. rafe thinks she’s weird and sketchy but knows she’s exactly jj’s type. they get along for his sake

has jj saved as ‘my muse’ in her phone. jj has her saved as ‘sexy da vinci’ before he gets serious about her and ‘eye of the beholder’ after they start dating

no one understands how or why they’re together because they’re so different and they don’t seem to like each other, at least that’s what it looks like to outsiders. they still haven’t gotten over that time she called him a dirty dog after he asked her to put her cigarette out on him while he was drunk (she did)

weird!girl!kook who hopes to leave outer banks share her art with the rest of the world and secretly hopes jj will come along

—————————————————————————

this took me a minute cause it was not planned but as always tell me what you thought, positive or negative just keep it classy. <3

(i wonder if anyone will catch the iwtv inspo)

[challenger-fan-club]

Thinking very carefully about Patrick giving you a punishment

Oh Patrick is such a slut for giving out funishments.

Patrick endlessly strolling on his phone while you have the tennis on. He’s trying very hard not to pay attention to Art Donaldson playing while you watch intently. “God he’s just so good” you gush over Arts tennis but something inside Patrick gets a little (or a lot jealous.) “he’s not that good.” He murmurs into his phone. You roll your eyes at him before returning back to the tv. “He’s literally on fire this week, he must be on a new diet or something.” Patrick glances up from his phone to look at you. Your eyes are fixed on the Tv as the ball flies back and forth. The relationship is still newish and Patrick has only briefly mentioned him to you.

“Yeah I guess he looks okay.” You glance at him and then back to the tv. “Okay? He looks incredible.” You meant nothing by it, you meant the playing and his form. “What about me?” His phone is now on the table as he moves his body to face you. “You never say I look incredible when I’m playing.” You reach for his hand but he pulls away. “No cmon, how do I look?” His hair is messy and he’s been growing out his stubble. He is always the most handsome man, even without any effort but you can’t help but like a bit of his jealous side. You look him up and down and try hold back a smirk. “I guess you look okay.” Patrick slightly laughs as he grabs your arms and lifts you over his shoulder.

“Just okay?” He laughs as carries you to the bedroom and you kick your legs. “Hey I’m watching this.” You yell out as you throw the remote back to the sofa. Patrick practically throws you down on the bed before rolling you over and pinning your arms behind your back. “I’ll show you just okay.” He puts his hands over your as he moves his grip over your wrists, allowing him to just use one. He pulls up your skirt, revealing your ass and underwear. “Patrick I was just kidding.” But he uses his hand to smack across your ass cheek, watching the redness spread. “Oh so you don’t think he looks incredible?” You laugh a little. “Well I mean…” Thwack. He smacks your ass again. “Cmon baby, don’t lie to me.” His hand lingers where he’s just smacked, rubbing the warmth. “I just meant…” smack. Another hit in the same spot as he waits for the answer. “Just yes or no.” He rubs your ass a bit more, watching it get redder. “No.” You say, putting your head into the mattress.

“You don’t think he looks good?” His voice is serious as he pins you down. “Then why are you so wet baby?” His fingers move across to your underwear and he starts to rub your wet spot and you start to moan. “Cmon baby, use your words.” He doesn’t actually want you to speak or explain yourself. He knows the answers already. “Is it because you like being spanked?” He keeps rubbing over your underwear as you whine. You nod your head but he’s holding you against the mattress. “Do you think Art would be here using you the way you like?” He can’t help himself from speaking about him. He’s also getting off on the thought. “No he wouldn’t know what to do with such a little slut who can’t behave.” His fingers are moving slowly and purposefully as he tease you.

“See baby, I’ve barely even started playing with you and you’re soaked.” He moves his fingers down your thighs, very slowly as you groan from the lack of his touch. He lets go of your wrists and tells you to lie on your back. He pushes his forehead against yours. “So tell me baby girl, who do you want? Huh? Me or him?” His mouth is just inches away and you want him to kiss you so badly. You try and move your face forward but he pulls away. “You. I’m all yours.” You say almost breathless. He pulls away and steps away from the bed. “Good. Don’t forget it.”

You groan as he pulls away. “What’s wrong baby?” He asks you, almost condescendingly. “I thought we were gonna…?” You sit up to him meeting his gaze. “Gonna…?” He toys with you. He knows how badly you want him, need him. He can’t deny being turned on too but he doesn’t want to crumble first. “We usually… you know… after I get spanked…” the words leave you as Patrick is smirking. “I’ll decide when you’ve been good enough for anything else. Wouldn’t want you to miss anymore of the INCREDIBLE Art Donaldsons match now would we?” He can’t hide his smirk any longer as he wanders off to the living room. You grunt in frustration as he leaves you lying on the bed. Patrick will cave eventually, he always does when it comes to you.

[ordinaryschmuck]

Full Family AU Part 39

"I've never seen eggs made this way..." Luz said, astonished as Eda held the pan over a floating blue flame. She stood very close to the witch, up on her tiptoes to stare in awe at the flame just over the counter top, but not burning or melting it.

"That's the way of magic, kiddo," Eda said with a grin, stirring the eggs up a bit. "You can do a ton of cool stuff with it."

"Can you teach me how?!"

"Ooh, sorry, but no. Afraid that humans can't do magic. They're biologically incapable of it."

"Oh..." Luz thought for a second, drumming her fingers on the kitchen counter. "What does...by-log-ick-ally...in-camp-able mean?"

"That was a good try," Eda commented. "And it means you can never do it because you weren't born a witch. You don't got the parts to do it right."

"Aw...!" Luz whined, which earned her a gentle pat on the head from Eda.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY KITCHEN?!" a certain voice shrieked, causing both Eda and Luz to jump and spin around to see a frazzled Camila.

"Good morning to you too!" Eda shouted back, a little annoyed. "How do you like yer eggs, by the way? Scrambled, omlet, or--"

"YOU!" Camila ran over to the counter and ducked down to open the little door under the sink.

"We're making eggies for the puppy," Luz tried to explain as Camila tossed out pan after pan. "Also, he's not a puppy."

"That's great, Mija!" Camila shouted, not really paying attention. She then got up with a fire extinguisher in hand and aimed it at the blue flame. Eda barely had time to yank the pan away before Camila blasted foam at the fire, putting it out.

"Watch it!" Eda yelled. "You almost ruined breakfast, ya animal!"

"You're the animal!" Camila pointed the fire extinguisher at Eda in a fit of rage. "I don't know how things work in magic land, but here, WE DON'T SET KITCHENS ON FIRE!"

"Ooh, Mami!" Luz chirped, running up to Camila. "Griffins are real! And they breathe spiders! I knew they did!"

"WONDERFUL!" Camila told her, still not really hearing Luz.

At this point, Manny went up to Luz and carefully pulled her away from her mother.

"Mija, I think it's best to keep a distance from Mami for now," He said. "She looks about ready to go in for the kill."

"Unreasonably, I might add," Eda said, making Camila more furious. "It was a blue, magical flame. It radiates heat, but it don't burn or melt! Witches use it to cook all the time, like when they're out camping or if the stove's broken."

"You know at a stove is and you lit a fire instead of the perfectly good stove right there?!" Camila loudly asked, pointing at her kitchen stove for emphasis.

"I don't know how that thing works! I mean, look at that!" Eda pointed at the stove's digital clock. "What even is that?!"

"It's a clock!"

"Like nothing I've seen!"

Camila growled. "I HAVE HAD IT WITH YOUR--!"

"Excuse me..."

All eyes now went to the entrance of the kitchen, where Vee stood there as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and, miraculously, didn't have Manny's jacket over her shoulders.

"Why is everyone yelling?" she asked quietly. "Is everything okay...?"

Camila stared at her for a bit, the small child bringing clarity back to her mind for just a moment before glaring back at Eda again.

"I...am not happy about that fire," she admitted. "But eggs...do sound good right now and we can have them. BUT!"

Camila stomped over to Eda and yanked the pan out of her hand.

"No one cooks in this kitchen but me!" Camila declared. "Is that clear, Bruja?!"

"...Does your husband ever tell you that yer kind of hot when you're angry?" Eda smugly asked.

"I WILL SMACK YOU WITH THIS FRYING PAN, I SWEAR TO GOD!"

[astro-is-a-bigot]

Hi! I assume this post is about us but reading back through our post (had to do this because of amnesia and wanting to recall exactly what I'd typed) and I realised that I had made a complete misstep in anger, encouraging "flooding his inbox and notifications with hatred" which is so non-specific and not helped by my follow-up statements making it seem as if I would be okay harassing Astro on the same level or even worse than what he is done. This is such a big mistake I will likely private that post - but I'm currently thinking about how I can do that without making it look like I'm erasing those actions.

Note that the following explanation doesn't excuse that, but I will use this to articulate my stance properly.

Like firstly... I completely forgot that death threats were a thing someone might send to Astro. Straight up. I don't know why. I was more thinking along the lines of, "you suck!!" or "get off the site!!" which are kind of mean but definitely nothing along the lines of wishing Astro death. If I had wanted that I would be out here advocating for doxxing-- Which is absolutely not what I want!! As I've been trying to articulate in my follow up posts, I want him to be deplatformed - specifically from Tumblr! Xe can go exist on Reddit for all I care, it's whatever.

And my follow up being, "wouldn't this be wishing violence on Astro?" was so brushed off in my response that, again, it did not come across well. But when it comes to harassment, there's often people who will try to make out like the actions of people banning someone and getting kind of mean towards them is on the same level as the harasser themselves - which completely ignores the context.

The reason sending a bigoted hate towards someone is not necessarily equivalent to sending hate judging someone's morals is - as I believe I've tried to articulate - the difference between upholding bigotry and dismantling it. So while there are lines you don't want to cross, I can't say I'm going to be sympathetic to a bigot if they get sent some mean messages. And this point can easily become frustrating to explain when in one breath people will state to victims "just block the harasser", and yet someone sending a mean message to the harasser themselves results in the critique "you shouldn't be doing that!!" I address this in this post with the following:

[Harassers] also like to define what is "being a good person" because they're betting on you holding yourself to that. They count on your good graces to make you complacent because they tell you, "you wouldn't want to stoop down to our level, would you?" But you know what happens when you don't let the shitty person define for you what being moral is? You get shit done.

In general, I also made the assumption that others would have the same restraint as what I do (I personally have Astro blocked and would never catch myself getting in a back and forth with xem), but that's not what most others do. They don't leave an ask stating, "get off the site" and proceed to block Astro, report him, etc - he insults the other to bait them into starting a reblog chain, and they often fall for it. That is absolutely the kind of behaviour that feeds a troll. (Which I wanna note I still blame Astro for that because I'm not here to victim blame people. If someone gets emotional after being misgendered and sexually harassed, I don't see it as being "on them" for being baited. Especially since it's never okay to sexually harass someone, even if they were "asking for it". Ew.)

So that's a very long explanation of everything, but I hope it clarifies my views. And if you need further elaboration I will provide it. But I'm very sorry to everyone for being so aggressive and completely blundering my initial posts. I hope that doesn't stop others from seeing my point and helping to kick Astro off the site because, it must be said, the one thing that absolutely stops harassers from engaging with their behaviour is when you take away the means to do it...

So yes, deplatforming is very practical behaviour that does not feed the trolls! And if that requires making documents or blogs archiving bad behaviour and calling for action, that is not (contrary to how it appears) "feeding" the behaviour. It is, in fact, necessary to communicate and coordinate as a community to counteract harassment.

friendly reminder that no, death threats are not okay. no, not even to someone that "deserves it". who the fuck are you to determine that. you are not doing some Good Thing even if you see them as a Bad Person. that's a real slippery slope. it's not gonna make them want to change, either, bc why would you change for someone who's saying you should die. this is also about telling people to kill themselves btw. and don't try to justify it bc there's genuinely no way to that doesn't circle back to "it's okay when i do it" and/or "it was justified bc they're Bad™". hope this helps. 👍🏾

[crushedcookiebutter]

going into the Made in Abyss movie. Finally a wholesome interaction

halfway through. Weird way to discover he's a furry but ok I guess (also iconic rage scene, making a pfp out of it one day)

after the credits.

[tenderjock]

i do think the most interesting interpretation of btvs lore is that non-vampire demons and mystical entities ALL have souls, unless they sold, destroyed or otherwise got rid of them (like the mayor)

[skrunksthatwunk]

household enemy to the yyh watchthrough number one is the olympics. it's taken us a week to get two episodes into the gamemaster fight

[blujayonthewing]

well I just spent an hour digging through my own dnd notes and social media and also almost cried because I mentioned, in passing, something justin had said about one of his NPCs and he, completely lightheartedly, was like '?? I don't remember that at all. [I mean I'm not making it up?] I think you might be making it up 😏'

[intcrastra]

Both Robin and Sunday would be the type to gift their significant other smth they could keep on their person at all times. For possessive reasons, but also bc they totally put a tracker in it-