#this has been sitting in my notes for probably a decade so. i might as well post it

[redcheekdays]

♫ forbidden gifts a dragon age mix about blood magic

came over me like some holy rite (spotify / lyrics)

01 hysterical strength st. vincent; 02 bloodstream stateless; 03 violet clementine lady lamb; 04 bloom radiohead; 05 doppelgänger the antlers; 06 the light mirah; 07 shake it out florence + the machine; 08 stabat mater woodkid; 09 breakers gem club; 10 heretics andrew bird; 11 ancient ways interpol.

[artdcnaldson]

okay but PLEASE elaborate on Olympics!Art AU

TeeHee

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v), feral obsessive behavior, infidelity

A/N: And you would do it too, that’s all I’m saying. Also IMPORTANT note: I love Tashi, she is a mother to many. However this fic has a very obsessive reader who just wants to fuck a married man, at Tashi’s expense

Maybe you were a bad person.

You’d met Art and Tashi Donaldson before— a year back at an event held for Tennis’ rising stars. That was you, some other guys who had done well in the Juniors, a girl from an Ivy League, and more people that fell into the blind spots of your interest..

You must’ve looked so sweet in your formalwear, approaching the couple with shaking hands so you could say just how big of a fan you were. You had no ill intent then, not when you were face to face with two people you’d idolized since you were twelve and watching the Junior US Open. That night you’d taken a deep breath as you stared at the ceiling of your home, feeling like you’d made it.

Sure, Art was handsome, and you’d lived the past decade harboring a massive celebrity crush on him, but he was married, he was untouchable. Art Donaldson oozed that sweet, devoted husband shtick. Anniversary posts, birthday posts, Valentine’s Day posts, Mother’s Day posts. He had a daughter, he posted about how much he loved being a dad.

You were fine accepting that your fantasies of fucking Art Donaldson were strictly fantasies. But that was before you qualified and had to see him every fucking day.

Art Donaldson, who held open doors for you, who talked to you casually, like he might an old friend. Art, who stood in the long line in the food court with you, ate something he probably shouldn’t have, and asked that you don’t tell Tashi.

And you’d smile conspiratorially, and assure him his secret was safe with you. The implication being that you’d keep that secret, and more. As many as he’d ask you to, really.

You’d see him on a practice court, running drills with his wife, and feel the heat of jealousy in the pit of your stomach. You’d turn away, focus on your own game, practice until your hands were aching and sore.

“Where’s Mrs. Donaldson?” You asked one night after you’d been sexiled and had to sit out in the hallway waiting for your roommate to finish up. Art leaned against the wall, standing tall above you, so you had to crane your neck. You liked that point of view, on your knees looking up at him, you wondered if he liked it too.

“Oh, she’s staying in a very nice, very expensive hotel room with our daughter right now,” he said with a grin. “As soon as my events are done, that’s where I’ll be too.”

“Oh,” you said, bringing an easy smile to your lips. “Well, we’re all glad you’re here now.”

“We?” He questioned.

You gave a coy smile, batting your lashes so sweetly. “Maybe just me.”

There was a strange expression on his face for just a moment. Then he laughed like it was nothing. He wished you a goodnight and good luck in your matches the next morning, and disappeared into his own room.

You medaled in women’s doubles. They published photos of you and your partner biting the silver between your teeth. That same day, Art Donaldson took home gold. You were there to see the very end of his last match— every single collision of racket against ball, every step, every grunt of exertion. Your thighs clenched as you watched, fists balled up in the fabric of your skirt.

You wanted him in a needy, desperate sort of way. Like a groupie for a rock band, or a virgin being sacrificed on a mountaintop. You watched him celebrate with a kiss from Tashi and felt that same need like an open wound. Jealousy was festering in you like a rot.

The dive bar wasn’t what you’d expected. Something Art had found with a quick google search and a few minutes with a translation app. He’d knocked on your door to invite you, wearing the beaming smile of someone on top of the world.

“So you’ll come?” He asked after he told you all about it.

“Mhmm,” you said, heart hammering against your ribs. “I’ll come.”

And there you were— in a dress that hardly qualified as such— standing so close to him that you could smell his expensive cologne. His arm would brush yours, he’d glance over and apologize with a warm hand to your arm. You’d clench your thighs together and peer at him through your lashes. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.

A few of the other players disappeared to play darts, or watch the late night coverage of the other sports still competing. You stuck by Art’s side, happily allowing his attention to fall on you completely.

“I saw parts of your doubles final,” he said finally. He was drinking a brand of beer you’d never seen before— something local, you supposed. “You looked beautiful out there.” Your eyes lit up, and then he added. “The way you were playing, I mean— it was phenomenal.”

“Well, I’m no gold medalist,” you said. You let your hand rest on his arm, and looked up at him. The fingers on your other hand toyed with the edge of the medal, warm from where it had been flush against his chest.

He swallowed. You felt his muscles flex beneath your touch, but he didn’t discourage it. Not one fucking bit.

It wasn’t lost on you that Tashi wasn’t there. Not that it was really her type of venue, from what you had gathered. It wasn’t lost on you that Art Donaldson was at a dive bar, drinking random Brazilian beers, instead of celebrating with his wife, with his daughter. Fuck all those posts on his instagram— if he really was a good husband, a faithful one… that’s the only place he’d want to be.

“I saw your match too. I ran right over after my ceremony to watch,” you confessed. It was hard to concentrate on anything else— you were standing so close to him that you were nearly pressed completely into his body.

His lips twitched in interest. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhmm. It was incredible. You were so dominant out there, just taking what was rightfully yours.”

He swallowed again, gravitating closer. Your tits were practically spilling out of your dress— he probably got the perfect eyeful when he eased you closer with a firm hand on your lower back, when he looked down at you through blown pupils.

“You looked so fucking hot out there, Art,” you said, lips brushing against his jawline. “You can’t even imagine how it felt sitting there, watching you win. How turned on I got… how wet.”

Art exhaled a shuddery breath. “Jesus Christ.”

It must’ve been a while since he had someone want him this bad, you thought. Clearly he needed it— needed a pretty, sweet thing to tell him just how much they wanted him. You could be that. You could do that.

“I’m not wearing panties,” you whispered in his ear. His grip on you tightened and you had to suppress a giddy smile. “You can feel if you want. I won’t tell.”

He swore under his breath and glanced around. Everyone was too occupied or drunk to give a shit about what the two of you were up to.

He grabbed your hand, pulled you away into the bathroom. You looked pretty even then, in the flickering lights, sat up on the edge of the sink eagerly awaiting his attention.

When he wrenched your thighs apart, he was greeted by the pretty sight of your glistening cunt— sticky with arousal and need. His hand fit there perfectly, right where you needed it.

“Fuck,” you gasped. His fingers rubbed through your slit— wet and hot and aching for him. Your head fell back, knocking against the dirty mirror. “Want you to use me— whatever you want, just take it.”

And you meant it too. This was your teenage idol— a man you’d touched yourself to the thought of countless times. He owned your body, your sexuality, as much as you did. It was only fair he took from it whatever he pleased.

You watched with hungry eyes as he fumbled with the button of his pants, then shoved them down just enough to free his dick.

Your mouth fucking watered with the need to feel it on your tongue, nudging against the back of your throat. You weren’t opposed to begging— you nearly started before you got it into your hand.

Warm, thick, pulsing. Precum beaded at his tip, so you smeared it around the sensitive head of his cock with your thumb. He groaned, bucked into your fist once, twice before he moved your hand.

“Spread your legs wider for me,” he said, slapping the inside of your thighs. You obeyed wordlessly, spreading yourself out invitingly. He pressed closer, so you felt him rutting his dick against your pussy, coating it in your arousal. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

The words came out with equal parts disgust and awe. He probably thought you were a slut with the way you were throwing yourself at him. You wished he’d just call you that, spit it in your face.

Your cunt pulsed with need, aching to be filled up finally. The culmination of years of fantasizing. Art pressed himself against your entrance, sinking himself into you with the slow reverence of a man who liked making love.

He buried himself inside of you and had to stop moving to keep from cumming then and there. He was a perfect image of restraint— the way his fingers dimpled the flesh of your hips in a bruising grip.

Art wanted to be a gentleman— to give you time to adjust to the size of him, to ease you into it and let the pleasure be a slow, soft burn. He pulled out nice and easy, slid himself into your wet, throbbing cunt. That was all fine and good, but you knew it was just pretense. You were laid out and wanting, begging for him to use you as his own personal toy.

“I’m not your wife, Art.” You met his gaze, locked your ankles around his waist. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

The first thrust, the first real one, knocked the air from your lungs. That silence didn’t last long— because you got what you wanted— he was really fucking you, bullying his cock into your pussy with the same need and desperation that you felt.

“Jesus Christ, you’ve— fuck— you’ve got no fucking self respect, huh?” He pounded into you, leveraging his grip to pull you against him, really impale you on his dick.

The moan that escaped you was pornographic. If he kept talking to you like that, if he kept fucking you like that, you’d cum.

“You don’t even care, do you? This fucking pussy’s squeezing me so tight— you fucking love this,” His voice was strained, interrupted by groans and pants.

You moaned, eyes rolling back. “Love this,” you echoed. When you looked down, at the sight of him splitting you open, of the ring of creamy arousal circling the base of his dick, you felt dizzy. Like you were standing on top of a tall building and looking down. Sort of out of body, tethered in the present by brutal thrusts into your pussy and the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies joining.

Your fingers moved between your thighs, rubbing needy and insistent at your clit. So close to finishing that you wanted to cry and just ask to start over again, that you’d savor it more a second time.

“Gonna cum,” he groaned suddenly. You felt him start to pull out, to leave. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck— not yet, you didn’t want it to end like that. “I have an IUD,” you lied through your teeth. You used your legs, pulled him closer, deeper. “Just keep going, don’t stop. I’m right there.”

He moaned against your throat— holding you tight, fucking into you with animal need. Your fingers moved against your clit with an insistent need. It didn’t take much to push you over the edge. Your moans so loud that Art had to put his medal between your lips to shut you up.

And you were so pliant— letting him drill into your aching, used cunt, your mouth tasting like metal. You felt his rhythm falter— one, two harsh thrusts that knocked muffled moans from you until he came, painting your insides thick, creamy white.

He stayed buried inside of you for a while— panting, doing his best to catch his breath. You spat out the medal and it fell back against his chest, spit slick and shining. You reached up, ran your fingers along his face, reverently, sweetly. A lock of hair fell into his eyes and you tucked it away with delicate fingers.

When he pulled out, you felt that sinking feeling of loss and jealousy in your chest. He redressed in silence, turned away like he couldn’t stand to look at you, or the mirror. Shame rolled off of him in waves that you wanted to brush away.

It wasn’t bad, you’d assure him. You’re a tennis star, you’re the greatest in the world. You should have whatever you want, whenever you want it.

But you didn’t say that. You just tidied yourself up as best as you could and slipped back out into the bar. If anyone noticed, they said nothing.

[daycourtofficial]

Capture the Mate

Summary: Azriel has to leave on a mission for a few days, but he asks Cassian to help look after his pregnant mate while he’s gone. Someone ambushes you and Cassian, taking you as prisoner.

Author’s note: this was requested by this lovely anon!!

“You look massive today.”

You snort at Cassian as you walked in, your giant belly making sitting down a bit difficult.

“And you look extra stupid today,” you retort, “guess we’re both glowing.”

Cassian laughs, going back to his cereal. You were in the last few months of your pregnancy and you were ready to meet your baby. You loved being pregnant, you loved how hot sex with your mate was because of it, you loved cradling your bump and the way your mates hands always find your bump.

But you didn’t love Cassian’s comments comparing you to a whale, the back pain, the inability to get comfortable, and your mate’s overprotectiveness being dialed up by a factor of a thousand.

Azriel was going on fewer missions these days due to your pregnancy, opting to delegate most of them to his most trusted spies. There are occasionally some missions he has to do himself, not happy about leaving you, practically throwing temper tantrums in the lead up to being gone. When he comes home it’s as if he’s been off at war for decades, checking every inch of you, asking you about every detail of your time in his absence (even down to what you ate exactly - he thinks you don’t eat enough vegetables in his absence).

This is the fifth mission during your pregnancy he’s gone on, and each time he can’t bear to leave you without someone who can protect you. Whenever Azriel has to go, he ensures one of his brothers or Feyre will be present with you at all times. Whenever he’s gone, you just stay in your old room at the House of Wind or at Feyre and Rhys’s new house.

At first it sounded a bit like needing a babysitter, but now it’s more like just staying at someone’s house for a sleepover. Feyre and Nesta always tried to help you have fun, spending the days you’re with them doing the things you love. Cassian loves you being there because he likes to have eating competitions with you, and Rhys likes it because he spoils you rotten.

Before Azriel left, he spent probably an hour saying goodbye to you and the babe. He’d kiss you, then move down to talk to the babe. “Stay in there until I return,” he’ll whisper. “Be nice to your mom while I’m gone, okay? Let her sleep, I won’t be here to rub her back when you kick her in the kidneys.”

This time he actually tears up a bit at leaving the two of you. He looks at you, grabbing your face in his hands, “I shouldn’t be too long, sweetheart. Be safe, I love you.”

-

“Any plans for the day, Cass?”

“Mmm not really, I already had training, so my day is free to be spent with you, my favorite sister.”

You smile. “You say that to both me and Feyre,” you reply, rolling your eyes fondly.

Cassian lifts his spoon to finish off the last of his cereal. “It changes day by day - today you’re the favorite.”

-

You had asked Cassian if you two could go back to your home with Azriel, you had some chores to do and you also wanted to work on setting up the nursery.

Looking around the nursery you take in what needs to be done. A month out from the baby’s arrival and your mate still hasn’t set up the crib. But if you set it up without him he’d give you a big lecture about how he was going to do it and how you could get yourself hurt doing it, so you’ll just leave it be.

You have a dresser set up and a wardrobe that practically rivals your own, so you decide to spend the day folding and putting away baby clothes.

Cassian graciously offered to clean the dishes that were in the sink, along with sweeping and mopping your downstairs floors.

After telling him he didn’t have to do that, he responded, “well I don’t want dirty floors for Cassian Jr. here when he starts crawling, and I don’t want you mopping because if you slip you might hurt Cassian Jr.” He finished his statement by reaching out to rub your belly.

You rolled your eyes at him, as he smiles at your belly. “Cassian, aren’t Jr’s supposed to be named after their father or mother? Last I checked, this wasn’t your baby.”

He strokes his thumb over your bump, hoping to feel a kick from within, “we could convince Az it’s mine. I think it’d be hilarious.”

You snort, “he’d kill you in a heartbeat.”

Cassian sighs, “I suppose. Maybe the next one can be Cassian Jr.” He wiggles his eyebrows as he tries to look at you suggestively.

You fling your arms, bringing on of your hands to your forehead dramatically, “Oh Cassian your powers of seduction are too strong, I’m irresistibly drawn to you! I must flee, to keep myself from pouncing on you.”

Laughter from the both of you echoing through the house as you attempt to scuttle away but it becomes more of a waddle as you climb the stairs to your nursery.

-

An hour or two had passed and you made a remarkable dent in the amount of clothing your baby had. The vast amount of clothes are mostly Rhys’s fault, no one alive loves buying clothes more than that male, but your mate was also quite fond of picking up clothes on the rare occasions he left your side.

He loved watching how happy you got, realizing just how much he was thinking of you and the babe while gone.

You decide to go check on Cassian, not having heard much of anything from downstairs since you’ve been in the nursery. You waddle down the stairs, holding the railing for support. You get to the last step, and you see Cassian in your living room, face down, wings splayed out, blood gushing from his head onto your rug.

You yell for him as you run to him, sitting next to him, checking for a pulse. He’s still alive, but he has a considerable amount of blood.

You press on his head wound, trying to cradle his head in your lap to apply pressure to the wound. He’s starting to wake a little, you can feel his hands squeezing on your thighs.

A hand wraps around your neck from behind, and a cool metal graces the skin of your neck.

“Here’s the pretty little thing we were looking for.”

-

When Cassian came to, his head was pounding. He sat up on the floor of your living room, trying to assess the situation. He was mopping the floor of your kitchen when something struck the back of his head.

He never got a good look at the assailant, the blow leaving him stuck on the floor. He was, however, able to crawl into your living room in an effort to reach you.

You.

You had cradled his head, you had come down here.

Cassian bolts up, causing him to go a little dizzy from the blood loss. He gets up, darting up your stairs.

“Sunshine? Are you here?”

He ran into the nursery, checking all the spots you could be hiding in there - the wardrobe, the closet, amongst the bags and boxes littering the floor.

His panic was starting to rise. “Sunshine, are you here? It’s me, Cassian.” The desperation was leaking through his voice, “please be here, it’s okay to come out.”

He combed through your shared bedroom with Azriel, checked every bathroom, Azriel’s study, your spare room, your library, the kitchen.

He combed through his memories, knowing Azriel kept hidden nooks everywhere. When the two of you moved in together, he remembered Azriel made several small pockets in this house so you could hide if anything were to happen.

You came to training, but you were no warrior. You couldn’t hurt anyone, and Azriel knew you’d have a hard time attacking anyone. He knew that Azriel drilled into you if anything were to happen to hide immediately.

The library.

It’s Cassian’s last hope. Of course Azriel had stuck a hidden panic room in the library. Cassian bound into the room, trying to remember what book it was that opened the secret entrance.

Combing the spines, he’s trying to remember. It was green, something that stands out a little, but not too much. Something someone who knew Azriel would know that this is off.

A book of Prythian maps. Azriel, Rhys, and Cassian had all of Prythian memorized, there was no need for it.

He slides the book from its spot, watching the case move, exposing the empty tiny room.

-

Cassian wasted no time jumping off your balcony, flying like a bat of hell to Rhys and Feyre’s house, screaming mentally, hoping Rhys would pick up on it.

He lands on their balcony, bursting into Rhys’s study, interrupting the intimate moment between them. Feyre was perched on his lap, feeding him grapes, Cassian’s entrance causing her to drop the bowl, the ceramic shattering on the ground, a dozen or so grapes spilling across the floor.

“Cassian!” Feyre yells in shock. She didn’t even know anyone else could burst into Rhys’s office.

Rhys stands up, immediately knowing something was wrong. “Where is she, Cass?”

Cassian points to his head, allowing Rhys to see everything. Your rug he stared at after the blow to his head, hearing your distress, him going in and out, feeling your hands press against his wound, him waking up alone, his frantic search of your house.

Feyre gasps, having also seen all of it.

“Bring Azriel home now.”

-

Your captors had thrown a bag over your head, not allowing you to see anything as they took you away from your home, away from Cassian bleeding on your rug.

They left Cassian, probably as a message that they could take him down if they wanted, but that he wasn’t who they wanted.

Your only hope is that Cassian wakes up soon enough and alerts Rhys and Feyre about what happened, and they could get into contact with your mate.

You were filled with a mix of emotions, between fear, concern, and anger. Afraid for your life, what your captors will do to you, concern for your unborn baby, and anger for Azriel.

Azriel closes off the bond between you two during missions, a decision you both agreed to. However, the second he is available, he opens it, letting you know how he is. Your biggest hope now is just sending him how you’re feeling, hoping he’ll feel that you’re alive whenever he reopens the connection.

They had picked you up and flown you somewhere, so they’re most likely Illyrian.

They land, not nearly as gracefully as your mate or his brothers, emitting a soft ‘oof’ from your lips.

They carry you for at least ten minutes, through what you assume is decently packed area.

Are you in one of the camps?

You knew relations between Rhys and the Illyrians were bad, but would they really kidnap the spymaster’s mate?

Your thoughts are interrupted when you realize they’ve brought you into a building and have set you down in a chair, shackling you to it.

You haven’t spoken a word, barely eliciting a sound, just like your mate would do. You’re not sure if it’s what you should do, but the thought of what he would do holds you together.

You have to be strong, for yourself, for Azriel, for the baby.

They pull the bag off your head, your pupils dilating due to the sudden change in light. Four Illyrian warriors stood before you, 11 siphons glowing throughout the room.

“Hello, beautiful.”

The one who had been carrying you and taken you from your home approached you, caressing your face. You kept a stoic, neutral expression, not letting anything slip.

Just like Azriel would.

Your only response is the eye contact you refuse to break with him.

“That piece of shit struck gold when the cauldron bonded you to him,” practically spitting out the last word.

“Your little shadowsinger won’t stop snooping around our camps, won’t stop telling his precious little high lord everything he sees. They’ve been meddling in the way we deal with our women, the way we govern ourselves. We thought it was time to uh explain to them why they should just stay in their precious little city and leave us alone.”

-

The second the words left Cassian’s lips, Rhys was trying to reach Azriel telepathically. Within seconds of Cassian’s words, darkness was clouding the room, creating an impenetrable black, the only light shining being several blue siphons glowing with rage.

Cassian recounted the whole thing to the darkness, knowing his brother was somewhere in there. Once he got to the part of the story where you were gone, the room exploded even further, making Azriel’s siphons impossible to see now.

A few shadows whiz by Cassian, he’s assuming to double check you aren’t in their home. The rage Azriel feels is coming off in waves, when he remembers the bond is still closed.

He closes his eyes, sending a silent prayer to the mother. Please, please, please.

The bond opens, your warmth filling his chest. He can feel the initial fear you felt at being taken, but he can also feel your constant reassurance that you and the baby are okay.

Azriel feels his eyes prickle with tears as he chokes out, “they’re alive.” His brothers reach out to hug him or soothe him, but he steps back, his male instincts kicking in.

“I can feel it,” he says, holding a hand up, “the protectiveness is ramping up. I want to kill any male in sight.”

Rhys and Cassian start protesting, telling Azriel they want to come with him, but he stops them again.

“Give me a five minute head start. Then I’ll give you my location.”

-

Your silence was an interesting strategy, one your captors did not like one bit, their irritation with you growing by the minute.

“Maybe we should rough her up then drop her back on their door step. Pretty loud and clear message, don’t you think?” He circles around your chair, sizing you up like prey.

“We could show her how women are supposed to be treated by us,” one in the corner shouts.

The one circling you spits at your feet before he says, “those half-breed bastards have gone soft, they forget what it means to be Illyrian.”

In a flash he steps forward, his hand slapping you across the face.

-

Azriel used the bond to find you. He kept tugging, the bond offering him a direction to go. He kept winnowing into the direction of the tug, when he began realizing where the bond was likely taking him. He growled with anger, unable to believe they could be so stupid as to take his mate.

He disappeared into his shadows, sending a few to find out exactly where you were. Once they returned, sans the two that wanted to stay with you, they whisked him away to the room you were being kept in.

The big one who had struck you earlier was mid-strike when the shadowsinger materialized out of the shadows in front of you, his hand catching the brute’s wrist.

“Lay another hand on my mate and your hands will become trophies I hang on the wall.”

You can feel his shadows enveloping you in a soothing wave, checking you head to toe for injuries, but only finding the stinging cheek and the pain from the shackles.

The twirl through your hair, eventually skating over your swollen belly, where they settle and stay.

Your mate’s shadows were very attentive of the baby in your belly, as if your unborn babe were calling to them, too. They reacted to everything the babe did, every kick, every movement, as if telling your babe, “we are here, little master.”

The anger radiating off of Azriel was palpable, but his demeanor was terrifying. A feralness to him you’ve never seen before.

“Whose idea was this?”

Nobody in the room speaks, the assailants just gaping at your mate.

“Speak.”

One of them points to the leader, the one whose wrist was still in Azriel’s hand.

Azriel looks into the male’s eyes, piercing through his soul, as he flicks his arm, breaking the male’s arm.

He screams, shocked at the swiftness of the break. Azriel takes the moment of surprise to pull the first assailant’s head into his knee, bashing his head into his kneecap, throwing him on the ground.

He looks to the next closest one, tilting his head, deciding how he wants to play this. He decides to leave truth-teller sheathed at his side, opting instead to use his bare hands.

“I wanted to savor this, however I don’t want to keep my mate waiting,” he states, coming up to the next closest one and swiftly wrapping his hands around his head, twisting until a sickening crack echoes through the room.

One of them lunges for Azriel, fists raised to fight him. Azriel moves to the side, causing the running assailant to run into the wall behind the shadowsinger. Azriel grabs him by the back of his neck, pulling his arm back, and with all of his force, pushing his head into the wall. Over. And over. And over. His blood splattering the wall, an actual crack in the wall forming from where his head kept hitting it.

He releases his hold, allowing his body to fall to the floor. Azriel turns and looks at the last one, the one that had pointed to whose idea this was, as some of his shadows finally break free from you. “Now,” he says, as they begin pooling at the last captor’s feet, “I’ll deal with you later.”

The shadows at his feet begin pulling the male into the pool of darkness, assumingly to be questioned further about their failed plans.

Azriel undoes the shackles keeping you in place, hoisting you into his arms, the belly making it a bit more difficult.

The second he reopened the bond to find you, he began sending you a constant stream of love down it, trying to convey to you that he was on his way to you.

Being gathered in his arms, the bond was humming a sweet melody, a soft duet that can only be heard when you’re together.

He pulls back, grabbing your face in his hands. “I have never felt fear quite like I did when Rhys made me come back. I knew something was wrong, I was hoping that the babe had just come early.”

He puts his left hand on your belly, the babe inside kicking the exact spot his hand is in. Your mate laughs.

You look at him, seeing the fear and adrenaline in his eyes as he continues, “but when I got back and Cassian said they left him behind and took you, I thought ‘okay, if they’re gone, I have nothing left to live for.’”

“But then, I opened the bond, and I felt you, and I-“ he chokes up a bit, continuing, “I almost started crying. You were alive, and you were okay.”

He pulls your head in, kissing the top of your head several times.

“You’re both okay.”

You reached up, stroking his cheek, “we’re okay.”

He smiles, and you laugh, “I guess this means you’re never leaving my side again, huh?”

He laughs, a tear falling down his face as he does so. “Oh no, sweetheart. You thought I was overbearing before, just wait. You won’t remember what personal space was soon enough.”

You laugh, “at least tell me you aren’t upset with Cassian. He’s a sweet guard dog.”

He smiles at you, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. “They ambushed him, I could never be upset with him over that. Now come on, let’s go see my brother before he gives himself a heart attack with worry over you.”

“He is quite fond of me, isn’t he?” You ask, his arm going around you, preparing to embark through the shadows to go back home.

“He told me he prayed every night that we would be mates,” he says, the shadows beginning to engulf the two of you.

“Why?” You ask, wrapping your arms around him.

Azriel looks into your eyes as he says, “he told me he never thought anyone was good enough for me until he met you.”

[haerni]

OH MY GOD, “who is he? ”

summary: feels like you’re fallin’ deeper & maybe you’re going crazy, right? does he want you or not? he’s so confusing!

ft. park sunghoon (based on ‘OMG’ by newjeans!)

content: fem! reader, tooth-rotting fluff, a lil bit of hurt comfort, sunghoon is that confusing guy, mutual pining, reader is a bit embarrassing i think? sunoo your support system! 1.8k words

— very very minimal proofread and editing bc ive only done this in one sitting (help me).

( 🍃 ) notes: this took me so long omfgsbks but here we are with my very first content on this blog, please be nice TT sunghoon might be ooc saur.. theres that! can u tell i love sunoo, i have to sneak him in. maybe the story will jump for awhile so sorry for that also.

you've probably liked PARK SUNGHOON for almost half of your life.

ever since he sat with you at the swing from the park you used to go to when you were kids and offering his own comfort when you were crying on that day, to this day forward when he offers his shoulder for you to cry on.

he never questions the reasons behind your cries, he never pushes and all he does is sit there and offer you whispers of solace that you take to heart.

because your best friend wouldn't want the worst for you.

because all he does is care for you.

and maybe—just maybe—you hate him a little for it, for doing things that make your heart flutter, for simply just touching your hair and pulling you closer hoping that it will quell the sadness that consumes you. or when he would walk with you home after his practice despite being tired and run down to the bones, he would never miss a day. or when he would call you such sweet things like you are together when you aren't.

or when one time he heard through jay how someone was making passes on you and disgusting comments about you, he comes home with a bruised lip and wounded knuckles. he refused to let you see him, not until you forced your way to his room with the first aid kit his mother let you borrow, because he also wouldn't let her treat him.

or when you can't even pretend to be okay in the sea of bodies in a party and he notices right away. he drags you by your hand and drags you out of the party without a care for anyone. he only tells you that he hates the party and would rather eat out in a convenience store nearby.

he holds your hand tightly, you knew that night you loved park sunghoon more than you could ever imagine.

a decade into your friendship, you fell in love with your best friend, park sunghoon.

you did your best to hide it, to keep these emotions at bay and lock away into the very bottom of your heart. you swallow the bubbling feeling in your throat whenever he's close. you did your very best to preserve the relationship the both of you built together. even if all you wanted was just ruin it and become something more.

loving park sunghoon was easy, it was easy as the breeze that touched your hair, it was easy as falling into a routine of living and looking forward to days when he's with you. the prospect of loving sunghoon comes naturally and you don't know how to stop it. it just grows more everyday and suddenly you find yourself in garden of flowers blossoming in your heart, so much that's its starting to flow out little by little and you're slipping, you're heart is becoming unguarded, the walls you've spent all your life building is chipping away slowly.

it's becoming suffocating, it's hard to breathe around him.

the passing touches, the stolen glances and brief silence has been occurring more and more.

it's only a matter of time, before someone catches on. unfortunately, that time is right now.

"what's with you and sunghoon, lately?" your friend, sunoo asks, "did you guys have a fight?"

a second passes before you answer him, "we did not. why do you ask?"

sunoo sits closer to you and puts his face on his palm, "you have been avoiding him."

you stopped, "no, i'm not."

"it's lunch and you're sitting here with me in the library, working on an assignment that's not due until next week, when you usually never miss eating when he comes by our room to eat with you." he pointed out.

too specific. were you that predictable? and when you don't answer sunoo realizes something. when his eyes widen too much for your comfort that's when you interject from whatever train of thought he had.

"or maybe—"

"i don't know what you are talking about, sunoo."

"you're avoiding him.."

"i already told you, i'm not—!"

"sure, keep telling yourself that." sunoo snorts at that, "i know you like him and not how a best friend should."

you can't breathe again, you were absolutely done for. because sunoo was right, he got the answer right and you couldn't find it in yourself to quip back at him. you can't find it in yourself to deny and brush it off, because it's simply not real, it's not what your heart is telling you. maybe, that was your last straw.

maybe that was all it needed for you to let out your heart just for once and face the reality.

you don't want sunghoon as a best friend.

the realization hits harder when someone utters it out, because you have lived all your life hiding and suddenly, it pours out like rain after a long unending drought.

now here you are. in the porch of your house under the moonlight with you encased in sunghoon's arms, because you were stupid enough to go out and try to forget about him, to go see other people and hope that you can lose all these feelings you have for him. it didn't, maybe it never will. a boy, somehow he's the same height and stature as sunghoon it was enough for you to agree for a dinner out.

it was stupid to begin with. you didn't even know this guy's name (you can't even bother to remember). because while you sat there and tried to engage with him, your mind drifted far on how he does not have the same moles as sunghoon, he does not make you laugh like sunghoon does, maybe he would've took you out to that ramen place you always go to after a long day instead of this fancy restaurant that you don't even know. quite sure enough that guy only talked about himself, you didn't listen.

"so are we going?" he gives you an all-knowing smile and as you try to turn him down a voice comes in.

"she's not going with you." you look behind, and there he stands one hand in his pocket wearing a white button-up shirt that you haven't seen before, a cold gaze accompanying it and his hair done all too perfectly—like he was on a date.

"hey! who do you think you are?" sunghoon ignores him as he offers his hand to you. tilting his head in question. you did not hesitate to grab it. it's almost a curse for him to know when you need him the most.

you can feel the heat rising up in your body as he intertwines both of your hands and gives it a squeeze.

he brings you home, like how he promised your dad when you were sixteen.

you bite your lips in hopes of suppressing all the emotions running down on you. but you can't really do that in front of sunghoon, can you?

you broke down.

and sunghoon was there—it was enough. it was enough for everything to pour out.

"i'm tired, hoon." his arms tighten around you, burying his face to your hair, almost as if he's kissing it in comfort.

you're tired? is it because of that guy? should he beat him up? you wouldn't like it anyway, so he erase the thought. park sunghoon has never hated anyone more than that jerk right now. he curses that stupid guy who made you like this.

"i hate you park sunghoon."

"you don't mean that."

you don't.

"i really really hate you." you were probably the worst to utter such words to him. to your best friend, to sunghoon out of all people. but you can't stop. "you're so stupid, stupid."

it takes him back, he didn't expect for you to be mad at him. he's silent for a moment as he continues to hold you like you're going to disappear.

"how am i stupid, baby?" there he goes again with those stupid nicknames.

you refuse to look at him, burying your face to his nape. and when you don't answer he talks for you.

"do you hate me that much for you not to look at me?" you really hate park sunghoon.

he sighs at the lack of your response. he shakes his head before he turns his face closer to your ear, "what am i gonna do, baby? you hate me, but i like you so much."

what? what the fuck?

that makes you widen your eyes processing what he just said as you sit up straight and facing him. and it makes him laugh a little, he probably shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. not when you're this adorably looking at him like you can't believe it.

"don't joke about things like that park sunghoon!"

wow, using his government name? "you don't believe me?" you don't answer. "why do you think i came to that awful restaurant wearing this shirt?" you knew it was new, you've never seen him wear it.

"because you want to fit it?" you answer.

"that too," he laughs, "and because you didn't eat lunch with me, you didn't walk home with me. i heard from sunoo, that you were out with someone and you didn't dress up because of me. you were on a date and it wasn't me. you were avoiding me, baby."

he looks at you and it hurts because both of you are a fucking idiot. all this time, sunghoon liked you.

park sunghoon likes you.

"how long?" and you can't help it, you have to know.

he thinks for a second, "hm.. since when you were on that swing? i thought you were pretty." he smiles so easily.

oh my god.

you buried your face once more, not really knowing what to do, because for the longest time you thought you were the only one feeling this way.

but sunghoon understands, he continues to talk, "jay thinks i'm obsessed with you. he's not wrong, you know? you don't have to say anything right now, i know you're having a har—"

you kissed him. park sunghoon is really an idiot. how can you not like him? how can anyone not even like him? he's so stupid. sunghoon's eyes widen a bit, but melts into your touch as quickly.

god, was this really happening? please don't ever wake him up if this is a dream.

you pulled away for a breather and he reached for another one causing you to block his lips with your hand.

feeling the blood in your cheeks, flustered as sunghoon kisses your palm instead. his hand coming up to yours to remove it.

"can i kiss you again?" you were going to die, "please?" you're sure of it.

"no!"

sunghoon laughs at that. you can't feel it, but his cheeks are really hurting now from smiling. maybe one day you'll let him kiss you more, but for now this is enough.

he has loved you almost all of his life.

𖹭 likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! i hope he is not too out of character :')

[therealcocoshady]

Request

Little Lilly hearing reader or Marshall say a swear word and her repeating it at random times .

Time Out

Author’s Note : Thank you for your request ❤️. I had a fun time writing this and I hope you like it ✨. Please keep these fluffy and cute requests coming because they heal my soul ✨. (Other requests are also welcome)

2020

- Fuck.

It was almost inaudible at first, and he wasn’t sure he had heard that quite right. A tiny, childish voice using a big swear word. Definitely odd. Marshall turned his head, only to see that Lily had spilled juice all over the leather couch. She was pursing her lips, obviously frustrated. His three year-old was always annoyed when things weren’t proper. She hated having paint all over her finger, loathed having dirt on her dress after playing in the garden and, whenever she spilled something, it was as if she had witnessed the eruption of WWIII. Her being upset that she had spilled juice wasn’t surprising, but her using such a colorful language definitely was. It was the first time he heard her swearing and it almost broke his heart. It was probably a bit dramatic on his part, but it was further proof that his baby was growing up. She had just turned three and her language had gotten so much better in the past few months. However, he didn’t expect it to include swearing words. She was only three years old ! If memories served, his eldest daughters were a bit older the first time they swore.

- it’s fine, baby, he said. It’s just a little juice. We’ll clean it up. But you don’t get to use that word, ok ?

- What word ? She asked innocently.

- The one you just used. Ok, Lily ? No using that.

- Ok, Daddy.

There it was. Better. Lily was an extremely polite little girl and he prayed that she would stay that way. He decided not to make a big deal out of it. After all, he wasn’t even sure that she understood what she was saying. It probably wasn’t on purpose. Although, he wasn’t quite sure where she’d heard that word. Ever since he became a Dad for the first time, almost three decades ago, he had always been careful to mind his language around children - especially his own. One might argue that his making a living relied on the use of swear words - which wasn’t technically wrong - but there was no way in hell he would allow his kids to use them freely at home.

After tucking Lily in bed that night, he brought it up to you.

- So… Lily’s swearing now, he said with a frown.

- Swearing ? You asked. What did she say ?

- Fuck, he explained. I don’t even know where she heard that one.

- That might be me, you confessed. We went to the Starbucks drive-thru the other day and I spilled coffee all over my blouse. I might have let it out…

- Fuck, babe ! He scolded.

- You just said it ! You defended yourself.

- But she’s not around, he groaned. She’s three ! She has no business hearing that kind of word, let alone repeating it…

- I know, you said apologetically. Look… she’ll probably forget about it.

- I guess, he shrugged. I hope so. She’s only three. Even Stevie waited until she was five to use swear words.

- You must have had fun conversations when they found out you make a living by using swear words, you giggled.

- You don’t know the half of it, he chuckled. I mean, the kids always understood that it’s just me making songs. Mostly because we never used those words at home. And I would very much like it to be the same for Lily.

- She said it only once, you pointed out. Of course we’re not raising a rude little girl. She’s always so polite. I’m sure it won’t happen again.

Only it did happen again. A couple of days later, she let it out while you were sitting at the dining room and she accidentally dropped her cutlery on the floor. Both Marshall and you looked at each other.

- Fuck ! Lily said in an annoyed voice.

- Lily ! You scolded.

- Baby, remember what I said ? Marshall said sternly. No using that word. It’s a swear word and we don’t use that, understood ?

- But Mommy-

- I shouldn’t have used that word, you said. It’s a bad one.

- And if I catch you using it again, you’ll get grounded, Marshall warned.

You gave him a funny look. Out of the two of you, Marshall had always been a more lenient parent to Lily. He told you in the past that, when he was raising Alaina, Hailie and Stevie, he was more of a disciplinarian than Kim but, if you were being honest, you had trouble imagining him like this. Maybe it was because he adopted Lily when she was two, or because you had never had trouble scolding her yourself, but he was always so soft with her and, in fact, he had never raised his voice to her. He was very much the « cool » parent, to her. That being said, you could tell he was adamant on her respecting that rule - as he should because you were very much in agreement.

A couple of weeks went by and you didn’t catch your little girl swearing again, much to your relief. On a Saturday afternoon, you went for some shopping and Marshall had to pop by the studio to work on a beat he produced for some artists signed to the label and he took Lily with him. She was used to being in the studio and always had fun. She had her little habits, some toys and usually played peacefully while Marshall was able to work. She was on the couch, drawing when she saw that her marker had left some stains on her fingers.

- Fuuuuck, she whined.

Marshall immediately looked in her direction and sighed. He already hated what was about to happen but it had to.

- Lily, come here ! he said sternly.

- What Daddy? She asked in an annoyed voice.

- Quit the attitude, he sighed. Come here.

« She’s three » he thought. « she can’t start acting like an edgy teen when she hasn’t even started preschool yet ! ». He had her sit on the chair next to his and look her in the eyes.

- What did you say ? He asked.

- I said what, she repeated.

- Before that, he asked. What’s that word you used ?

- Fuck, she mumbled.

- That’s right, he said sternly. And what did I say about using that word ?

- That… I… shouldn’t, she said as she avoided his gaze.

- Right, he said. So now, you’re taking a time out.

- But Da-

- No buts, he scolded sternly. If you can’t draw without swearing, you don’t get to draw at all. And look at me when I talk to you, Lily.

She looked at him with tears welling in her eyes. It was the first time he scolded her like this, using his « big voice ». Her look immediately made him feel guilty and all he wanted was to hug her and apologize. It took everything in him not to, and he had her sit in the chair in silence for three minutes while he kept on working. She was looking down, her lip quivering. After a couple of minutes he looked at her. She had one minute left but he gave up. Toddlers don’t have a great time notion anyway and he was a ready feeling guilty for scolding her.

- Ok, bug, time out’s over, he said.

- Ok Daddy, she said in a sad voice that immediately guilt-trip him.

- You don’t like time outs, do you ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

- No, she said.

- And I don’t like scolding you either, he explained. But I’m your Dad, and it’s my job to put you on time out when you do or say bad things. And if you use that word or any other swear word, you’re taking a time out. Ok ?

- Ok, she said in an almost inaudible voice.

- Now, I understand that sometimes, you’re frustrated, but we don’t use words like that, he said in a softer voice. You can groan, you can sigh, you can use normal words, but not this. Now, I want you to apologize.

- I’m sorry, Daddy, she said as tears welled up in her eyes again.

Guilt got the best of him and he pulled her in for a hug. Scolding her broke his heart and he was thankful that you were the one who did most of it because he wasn’t able to handle seeing sadness in the eyes of his princess. How he had managed to handle scolding the older ones over and over when they were growing up (mostly because his ex didn’t), he wasn’t sure. Had he always been so soft ?

- Don’t cry, baby, he said. It’s fine. You’re forgiven.

- But I don’t like it when you’re mean, she whined.

- I’m not mean, he chuckled. I still love you very much. Just because I scold you doesn’t mean I don’t, you know ?

- Ok, she sniffled.

- You want to go back to drawing ? He asked as he put her down.

- Will you draw with me ? She asked.

- I can take a little break, he said.

They went to the couch and started drawing together. They heard Royce and Denaun come inside the studio.

- So I told her to fuck off, you know ? Denaun said.

- Shit man, that bitch is a fucking- oh hey guys ! Royce said as he saw them.

- Time out, Lily said in a stern look.

Marshall immediately covered his mouth so that she wouldn’t see the smile he failed to contain.

- First of all, you say hello properly to Ryan and Denaun, he said. Also, you don’t get to put people on time out, Lily. I do.

- Hi, Uncle Ryan, Hi Uncle Nauny, she said as she went to hug them.

- What’s that time out thing ? Denaun asked as he picked up Lily to carry her.

- We’re learning not to use colorful language, Marshall chuckled.

- Oh, Royce said. Yeah, we shouldn’t have said that, Lily, you’re right. Sorry.

- Do they get time out, Daddy ? She asked as she looked at Marshall.

- Hell no, Denaun said. We’re grown ups, we don’t get time out.

- But you said the words, Lily argued.

- Yeah guys, time out, Marshall said with a grin.

- Seriously, man ? Royce asked.

- Yeah. Time out, Marshall said. Rules are the same for everybody.

He went to the kitchen area with the guys while Lily kept on drawing. They failed to contain their laughter. Ever since Marshall had adopted Lily, they enjoyed teasing him on his « Dad » demeanor, and how he was on a different mode when she was around.

- She’s got some attitude, Royce said.

- Probably got that from her Mom, Marshall chuckled.

- Wait until I tell Y/N you said that, Denaun grinned.

- Don’t, Marshall said. Otherwise I’m getting a time out.

[dragon-ascent]

Okay first order of business- Sini you’re a genius and I love reading your works, like I have a list of Tumblr blogs in my notes app that I check weekly (poor short-term memory so I always forget the names/authors of fics I like) and you were one of the first ones on my list.

Second order of business is the thought I had that I thought you might enjoy, it spawned into existence while I was reading the Morax Cuteness Aggression post and I want you to consider this:

Adeptus!Reader who’s a frequent subject (read “victim”) of his cuteness aggression or even just silly centuries-old-dragon affection. It makes it even funnier- in a cute way- that this could probably go on for several decades, given the average lifespan of an Adeptus; there’s no escaping being Zhongli’s favourite little beastie, you’re stuck with him (not like that’s a bad thing, though).

You’re meditating peacefully in Jueyun Karst, knelt in the grass as birds chirp in the trees, leaves rustling gently in the wind. It’s so calm, so serene, and you just feel so relaxed… and then all of a sudden the ground beneath you starts shaking- it’s an earthquake??? You’re too busy being shaken like a maraca to notice your God, several hundred yards away, watching you struggle to find your footing with a soft and smitten smile on his face.

Another day you decide to try something Madame Ping recommended to you, Tai Chi, and as you move gracefully, beginning to really get in the zone and get the hang of it, a stone pillar has just erupted from the ground inches in front of you; you back up to avoid it, only for another appear, then another and another. The next thing you know, you’re dodging stone pillars left and right- where the hell are they even coming from? When you complain of the strange occurrence later to Xiao, he chooses not to mention that Morax had been taking a walk in that particular area around the same time.

You’re taking a walk just outside the harbour- dealing with humans can be so tiring sometimes- and a patch of flowers catches your eye. You kneel down in front of them, gently running your hands across the soft petals and inhaling the sweet smell of wildflowers; you’re an Adeptus, after all, you’re connected to nature and the earth like nothing else. It puts a serene smile on your face and instantly brightens your mood, you pluck one of the flowers and put it behind your ear and- when did all this damn cor lapis get here?? You just blinked and suddenly there’s chunks of it poking out of the ground all around you. Who could have done that?

Maybe Adeptus!Reader has a tail of some kind, maybe part or fully dragon (capable of shapeshifting and just likes looking partially like a dragon? I don’t know). Reader gets a little nervous and antsy at a gathering, pulling their tail across their lap and wringing it gently in their hands as a self-soothing gesture, they gaze off distantly and somehow fail to register the sound of stone cracking. The culprit is Morax, gripping the stone table he sits at with such force that it crumbles beneath his hands because FUCK that’s so cute- do you even know what you do to him??

Just thoughts of silly silly Morax letting his heart get the better of him when his favourite Adeptus, his beloved reader, is just so darn cute.

Waaahhh thank you for reading and enjoying my stuff a lot!! ♡♡

My GOODNESS this is too cute!!! Smiling so wide reading this!! Morax being a big silly sweetie with the way he expresses his cuteness-aggression AH I'm in love with these scenarios!! The bit with the tail omg I can't!!

Eventually reader might connect the dots...but it could take a few thousand years, heh. Maybe they're savoring some lovely sweets they'd brought back from a trip to Fontaine, wiggling in glee at the flavours...and then a bunch of sparrows made of Geo materialise out of nowhere and take flight?? You stare at them in confusion, reminded of how Rex Lapis used to summon Geo animals too, and just then Zhongli of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor passes by, externally as calm as a leaf on still water.

[severus-snaps]

Legilimency & Occlumency & Emotion

i was reading something somewhere (possibly on my binge of metas last night, but who knows) that Snape was very talented at Occlumency, but just about average at Legilimency - but I respectfully disagree, and here's a whole (3k word) accidental ramble about it, which started as an observation and devolved into how I think Legilimency/Occlumency works in the context of Snape and Voldemort, and why I interpret it differently than it being (entirely) magical dissociation and actually quite an emotion-based skill once it's more complex TLDR: I've often seen Occlumency described/conceptualised as a "shield" or some kind of suppressed emotionless state, but I discovered upon writing this that I think it can be quite a bit more complex and emotional, actually - just like Snape <3

Snape's Talents

The idea that got me rambling today went something like "Draco, who only had a handful of lessons from Bellatrix, was able to keep Snape out of his mind using Occlumency - so Snape can't have been a very good Legilimens, or Occlumency was easy to do"

And I do agree that Snape was probably better at Occlumency than Legilimency by sheer quantity of practice alone - and also that, outside of using it on Harry (and Draco) when they were up to mischief, and Snape likely wishing he could use it to work out what Dumbledore was hiding from him, Snape had no desire to see, hear, interpret or otherwise get the gist of what anyone at Hogwarts was thinking - but especially not a bunch of pubescent students, nor colleagues who liked him on a surface level but obviously were not close enough to think Something Was Up when he killed Dumbledore (which, fair in some ways, unfair in others, but I digress)

[side note: Snape can't have just not used Occlumency for over a decade before Voldemort's return, so I like to think of him and Dumbledore practicing to keep his skills sharp - although I expect that would be another 'fun' way for Dumbledore to hold Snape in chains which would make for an interesting fic]

I suspect that if Snape had chosen to, he could've invaded Draco's mind in that scene, broken through whatever defenses Draco used - but that's not a very Snape thing to do to a student, and especially not one he knows well, was a family friend of, has closely seen grow up, and probably has a soft spot for. It's very reminiscent of his conversation with Narcissa, to me. Throughout that entire conversation with Draco, Snape was trying to comfort Draco, empathise with him, get Draco to trust him, confide in him, offer support to Draco whether he wanted it or not - not further alienate him to a point where Snape couldn't help. And besides, invading Draco's mind aggressively doesn't sit very well with his vow "to the best of your ability, protect him from harm".

And as for Harry's lessons, Harry was using spells - which Snape seemed surprised, interested, and almost impressed to learn that were effective against Legilimency, which isn't surprising in itself as it's not a widely used area of magic. And since Harry had no idea that Snape (and probably Dumbledore) were 'reading his mind' for years before he learnt about Legi/Occlumency, I don't expect many people would know if Snape used it, or put up a fight using those methods - other Death Eaters probably stuck to Occluding, because it would hardly garner any favour if they cast a stinging hex or Protego at Voldemort or in a DE meeting Which brings me back to my other point as well, which was that "Occlumency possibly wasn't difficult to do". On a rudimentary level that might be true (at least insofar as any advanced magic was difficult to do - Harry was actually quite talented, e.g. casting a corporeal patronus at 13/14 or whatever, and Draco could do it after a few lessons with Bellatrix). Harry learnt almost despite Snape, because he didn't take instruction from him well and because Snape is (intentionally) abrasive in lessons (which I could go on about, since Snape couldn't really be nice to Harry when Voldemort was possibly looking through harry's eyes at any given moment - and as other metas have pointed out was another layer to Snape's rage when Harry looked at his memories). But Snape could do it without a wand, without an incantation, so he was reasonably skilled - imagine casting a full body Patronus or other impressive spell with neither a wand nor an incantation

Also we don't know precisely how long Draco had lessons for, it might have been loads and he was actually pretty good, or it might have been 3 and he was awful. But unlike Snape, who is not the greatest Legilimens of all time (that's apparently Voldemort?), it was glaringly obvious to him that Draco was using Occlumency - Snape had him sussed in like 3 seconds, and chose not to go any further for the reasons I outlined above - which interestingly he did not do with Harry, when faced with finding out where Harry learnt Sectumsempra (but at that point both Snape and Draco's life had been on the line - if Draco dies, presumably so does Snape?)

Which brings me back to Snape... How I think Legilimency/Occlumency works (sometimes)

You have no subtlety The mind is a complex and many-layered thing It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so utter falsehoods in [Voldemort's] presence without detection.

There's a lot to take in there, and also pretty ballsy to say to Voldemort-by-proxy (Harry), which might reduce the validity of my idea that Snape didn't want to be nice to Harry during their lessons in case Voldemort was watching, since Snape's pretty happy to give Voldemort (and the reader, more likely) a complete insight into what he's himself doing... although I expect that Voldemort has considered this, and also doesn't recognise the limits of his own power - or the extent of Snape's.

I also wonder whether the 'certain conditions' are something simple, like eye contact being made or the spell being cast, or whether there's something to the mental state of the 'caster' at the time as well, like there is with Occlumency walls/shields and being calm and empty-headed, or whether the conditions is the Occluder themselves presenting (or not presenting) some alternative things to interpret. One of the wizarding world (I think) pages says Snape trained a 'slight natural ability', so that makes me wonder more, as well, but i digress.

But my second point is this: Snape's talents weren't Occluding by total shutdown, or Occlumency 'shields' which always now irk me in fanfiction (this I'm definitely drawing from another meta but I have no idea where, so... apologies). Snape wasn't throwing up a wall in front of entire memories or thoughts, for the most part. Although I expect that between the Pensieve and Draco's example use of Occlumency, that was sometimes a function (e.g. some of the things Dumbledore told Snape to pass along, he'd have to entirely block out, alter, or otherwise adapt those memories to make it look as though Snape had passed information along of his own volition against Dumbledore's orders, or hide the fact that he'd helped Dumbledore when he was supposed to be helping Voldemort, etc).

So inkeeping with my own questionable metaphor, where Draco threw up a wall - metaphorically crumbling, last-minute, cowboy builder Occlumency where the wall would hold but you could see it very clearly and obviously; where with a lesser Occlumens the wall was nice enough, but you could see where the paint job didn't quite match up and the plastering wasn't done very evenly; Snape had the whole house set up so that you didn't know the wall wasn't there from the start, and probably had a few artfully chosen scuffs to make it seem real, or it was some kind of trapdoor under the carpet. (okay the metaphor died, but I've been watching a lot of remodelling shows lately, you get the point if you've read this far)

In another metaphor I imagine detecting a lie to be like running your fingertips along a smooth surface and finding a lip or a bump - you could then, pick at it, poke at it, tear it open. You could sense that something was being hidden, or withheld. But there were no lips or snags in Snape's thoughts; potentially Voldemort could simply not detect them, not even when he searched him openly, repeatedly, full eye contact, at the table at Malfoy Manor. Snape welcomed Voldemort into his (it's just occurred to me, but "mind palace") and Voldemort repeatedly, for years, could not tell that anything was amiss, and presumably Voldemort did this with much more ferocity (and skill) than Snape looking at Harry for 2 seconds and immediately summoning Harry's mental image of the Prince's copy of Advanced Potions Making

But it can't be down to detection alone. There's also a level of interpretation to Legilimency. So here I'm focusing on a more interesting aspect to me, which is how emotion is used in Legilimency/Occlumency. Obviously, Snape isn't Occluding all the time, and as much as I adore Alan Rickman, book!Snape was naturally a total petty, stuttering mess (love him for it) who only wishes he had Alan Rickman's gravitas, and could on occasion emulate it.

I told you to empty yourself of emotion! … Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance against his powers!

I think this quote is interesting for many reasons I probably won't be able to connect properly and are in no particular order beyond how I thought of them

Snape is emotional here when he says it, he's angry, annoyed, upset, and it's an honest feeling, and he's obviously not devoid of emotion but can still Occlude Harry

Snape is an emotional person, much as he tries to pretend not to be, and can still Occlude Voldemort just fine even on the night he thinks he's marching to his death at the end of GoF

Much like how many other kinds of magic require lots of study and a strong emotion/will/conscious thought at the start, perhaps it become easier with experience to the point where this advice is not essential (e.g. kind of like driving, I no longer have to think about changing gears like I did as a Learner)

Snape is also talking about himself here, indicative of Snape's worldview where showing 'weak' emotions is the problem - soft emotions, vulnerability, "never tell".

"Provoke" is exactly what Voldemort does to Harry

This is Occlumency 101; Snape's teaching Harry the most basic of Occlumency - to compartmentalise, to block someone out, to throw up that shoddy but sturdy-enough wall for Voldemort to come up against, like Draco did to Snape. Harry's anger and emotion is a weakness in this basic Occlumency lesson, where Voldemort is trying to look through Harry and/or trick/provoke him; thus, the wall.

But this probably isn't the kind of Legilimency Voldemort would use on Snape (which is to see if he's lying, if his information is real, if his values are aligned, etc), and it probably isn't the kind of Occlumency Snape was doing in return, to lie or deflect suspicion or ingratiate himself. In fact, throwing up a wall is the opposite of what Snape does with Voldemort; Snape lets him in, lets him stare him down in front of an audience, all the while showing Voldemort what he wants to see. I think as well there's an element of a Legilimens 'grasping' for something, searching, "provoking", like how Snape 'grasped' for Harry's memories of Advanced Potions Making, how Voldemort appears to search Snape at Malfoy Manor - so if all Snape presents is a memory, empty, devoid of any complexity, Voldemort would question it.

In my interpretation, when Occluding, Snape displays a different type of emotional control; Complex Occlumency means you control your emotions, yes, but not block them off - Snape takes his emotions where they need to go, makes them do what they need to do, to support the interpretation he wants Voldemort to reach. He chooses to some extent what Voldemort sees if he lies outright or omits details (a well made wall, basic Occlumency), and chooses how to present it (complex Occlumency). And he does it with subtlety; he doesn't often outright lie, and there's a lot left to interpretation - in both Snape's speech (with Bellatrix) and his actions throughout the books, and presumably his Occlumency.

So I suggest that Snape, in a situation with Voldemort, must be able to "lift up" or "lean into" an alternative emotion for interpretation - the decoration around the wall, the interior design, if you will. For example, Snape couldn't tell Voldemort that he desired Lily, in a total absence of any feelings at all, without it coming across as false and thus easily detectable as a lie. And you know that when a young Snape, who's hardly made a name for himself (Snape's likely never killed, at least, and isn't especially memorable to anyone in Azkaban and is last named by Karkaroff, and other things I won't go into here) outside of overhearing half a prophecy begs for a Mudblood Order member who's the mother of Voldemort's downfall who's thrice defied him to be spared, you can bet that Voldemort will want to thoroughly find out why, so...

To me this suggests that there was a level of desire there that Snape could 'lean into', whether that desire be for Lily or someone else he found desirable to act as a kind of substitute - though given that Legilimency seems to work on mental images and memories at least in part, a memory where he desired Lily would've been useful. And I'm just using that as an example, because Voldemort would also presumably at some stage have interrogated what Snape thought of Dumbledore and Harry, and Snape would've had to lean into feelings of hatred and loathing - which he'd manage just fine for Harry, but Snape would have leant into his feelings after Dumbledore silenced him after nearly getting eaten by a werewolf and again freeing Sirius in PoA, but I digress

When Harry finally learns Occlumency (by his own admission) in the wake of Dobby's death, it's grief that helps him master it - which, for me personally, is not a detached, clear-headed feeling in any sense. It's visceral, emotional, and painful; all-consuming. It's love/grief/loss/strong loving emotion that forces Voldemort out, after he loses Sirius and again when he loses Dobby. But it's a contrast to the emotions Voldemort uses of Harry's to draw Harry out, via his fears for Sirius. But with grief, Harry's dived headfirst into feeling what Voldemort doesn't want to feel (unlike the anger), to keep Voldemort out of his mind. Whereas Snape would do the opposite, and dive right in to the feelings Voldemort would want to sense - to the exclusion of others. Would Voldemort even think to search for Snape's love for Lily, if he was first presented with something more visceral, with more negative connotations, like desire or jealousy, hurt or betrayal? These are the emotions Voldemort thrives on and can exploit, that he's familiar with, that he understands. In the context then of 'grasping' that's how I think Snape leads Voldemort down a path of believing him - by bringing honest 'negative' emotions to the fore that Voldemort understands.

this is really where I think skilled Occlumency differs from dissociation or wall-building. I think Snape would simultaneously have to dampen his 'lie' feelings and to raise the volume on the 'fitting' feelings for his chosen interpretation. My interpretation of this all stems from my experience of writing, of getting lost in music, in using those activities to "wallow" in certain feelings. Snape does not present Voldemort with his true feelings, but they are real feelings. So in that way, I feel Snape was like an artist or writer; he felt deeply, he felt conflictingly, and dived headfirst into those wells of emotion when he needed to - diving so deeply that it cuts off and hides the conflicting evidence. I feel that when I'm writing, when I'm listening to music, when I'm wallowing. And I feel a lot of sympathy for Snape, because it can feel like a real whiplash when you're midway through writing an intense scene or listening to some excellent music that really fills you up with something, it can take you to some dark places, and it's quite shocking somehow when abruptly interrupted - which would be what his life was constantly like after Voldemort's return, leaning into and shying away from/shutting down emotions and memories he didn't necessarily feel whenever he was called, and then having to return to work or meetings in that headspace, where everything feels out of touch and you're in internal turmoil. (Granted, I can snap out of it because the music or the writing is neither here nor there, really, but he'd be doing it with his own life experiences, with his own life on the line, and to repay a debt of guilt - there's a lot more emotional baggage there, and even more once Dumbledore died). And I think it would take its toll in other ways, too, which leads me to Lily...

Far from some people's cries that possessive or obsessive attraction or desire is some huge moral failing, I'd argue that you'll find a level of it in most teenagers and indeed the regular spectrum of human emotion - I know I've certainly experienced feelings of intense jealousy and whatever 'Snaters' (I'm not a massive fan of the term, but as a shorthand) accuse Snape of, whether I acted on it or not. So I'd suggest that Snape 'leant into' that for the sake of being on the receiving end of Voldemort's Legilimency. Whether Snape regularly, or actually, felt those emotions of his own free will or not is hard to say - since there's no actual evidence he did act possessive or jealous beyond the normal teenager level (and that's without addressing the fact that we didn't know how he would've ended the sentence "I won't let you -"). And I'd also go as far as to say that Snape probably, truly, had some awful thoughts (don't we all?) and so he was able to lean into some very dark and gloomy nooks and crannies of his mind, the parts we're told healthy people steer clear of acting on but also undoubtedly experience (jealousy, possession, rage, bitterness) in much the same way as a writer, artist, or musician might, to make his 'lies' and the stories he told more 'truthful' - which was why Voldemort trusted him so much.

TLDR: Snape's a man of many contraditions and very much emotional depth, and he manipulated his own emotions (likely to the detriment of his mental health) for years. But just as I, a fanfic writer, can vicariously experience the bitter resentment for a person who doesn't love me, can imagine a world where he can think those thoughts, embody them, and still not take them on as part of his identity.

anyway i don't have a conclusion, I just had thoughts

[Side note not strictly related to ANY of the above: I find it interesting as well that Voldemort's skill is apparently specifically in working out whether people are lying to him, suggesting that you could specialise even further into different aspects of behaviour. But people do lie to Voldemort (Narcissa, Snape, off the top of my head, but there's no indication of Voldemort using Legilimency on Narcissa in that moment where Harry lives - Voldemort was too elated, once again caught up in his own glory). [side side note: Harry's treatment after his 'death' does make me wonder, briefly, about Snape's own treatment when he returned at the end of GoF - public torture and humiliation, an opportunity for the other DEs to turn on one of their own to 'increase their own standing' in Voldemort's eyes, crucio to weaken Snape's defences, to check that his information and loyalty true? i get the impression that Snape shared his information with Voldemort privately, given that Bellatrix didn't seem to know much about Snape's return, but who's to say there wasn't some 'fun' beforehand, or at other points during his time as spy]

[perfectfangirl]

notes after rewatching fallout s1 ep1

so once again like a crazy person [i've done this with star wars sequels before] i've decided to take three and half pages of notes over the course of an hour. i've been a fan of the games for at least a decade and i'm actually always watching lore content between the installments though so while i do know some minute details, within the show, there was some things i was interested in and curious about that i just decided to jot down. some of this may be things discussed already and some of it might be something i wasn't sure if anyone brought up before but anyways! maybe i'll do the whole season, but here's my ramblings • them titling the episode "the end" was when i knew i'd love the show • ok but i really wonder if cooper can still do those party tricks? he was really good at them and lucy would probably love them too 🥺 • thinking back, the radio in the first scene mentions not knowing where the president is--- beginning to wonder if he was the guy sitting in on the vault tec meeting • just realized they introduced the mr. handy robot in some of the first scenes • ten years of nuclear threat according to anchor but the show is careful not to give away all the cards because why does the weather anchor make it seem like they know when the bomb will drop? idk but birthday boy mother turns off tv real "head in the sand" like • the nat king cole song that's playing though [wondering if the song is mirroring specifically cooper's feelings about barb despite everything hmm] • horse's name is sugarfoot 🥹 • him having to pay alimony... wonder what the prenup? was like... [still think he probably loves barb 😞]

• them calling him a pinko despite him being an architect of vault boy's persona, a quintessential presentation of a "man's man" acting as a cowboy, a real cowboy, a former marine--- wondering if there was a smear campaign after his situation with barb and vault tec, him working children's parties leads me to believe... • did the kid's say the birthday boy's name was boyd? [if so, there's another character in the games with this name and this is also the name of a character walton has played in another series, funny] • weather man show's up again distressed, wondering if we'll get more info about that day • everyone ignoring, cognitive dissonancing their own nuclear annihilation is so prescient if not disturbing and damning

• him teaching janey the thumb thing ☹️ • cooper's voice when he says "let me see if i can't rustle you up a piece" 😩 • janey being the only one to notice the first bomb • the fear in cooper's eyes • cooper being in denial one last time before realization sets in • people becoming animals the moment they realize what's happening--- one guy punches his friend not letting his family into the fallout shelter • people getting into their cars and cooper onto his horse to escape--- wonder how fast they could be since it doesn't seem you could outrun nuclear annihilation

• lucy being raised so well under the circumstances 😔 [hope she never becomes her father] • i haven't trusted steph since episode one • lucy being a teacher [amongst other things] and asking maximus about what happened after the bombs fell makes so much sense [and also much like another person suggested is an interesting juxtaposition to cooper's pre war knowledge] • lucy showing how skilled she is for being a marriage candidate when in reality we are seeing someone fit for the wasteland is crazy on second watch • is lucy not watching a cooper howard movie with her dad? hello??

• them reading "war and peace" in the family book club is rich • lucy [thinking] she's not good at guns, ironic • steph having to step in like a sisterly type because lucy's mom isn't there 😞 • the wedding dress on lucy being ill fitting, tight as symbolism for lucy not truly "fitting in there" and being constrained [foreshadowing] oof • the vault boy sign in the back saying "don't lose your head" lmao • didn't catch the "cousin stuff" until someone mentioned it on tumblr and twitter 💀

• the flashback we see of lucy ending up being almost a false memory, a misrepresentation of her actual memories, that she has been on the surface, in the sun • norm taunting lucy about her future husband being "anybody" and a "cannibal, crammed full of tumours" 😭 unfortunately for ghoulcy, this was some of the heaviest foreshadowing [the raider also could have been one too] • why didn't hank recognize moldaver? • so many things i still don't understand about vaults 31, 32, 33 • the growing realization they are raiders was pretty funny to me lmao

• moldaver having to sit through the disingenuous lies of hank ugh • norm going into vault 32 like they wanted them to know what was up? or is that just how vault doors work? they used lucy's mom's pip boy [that hank lied about burying] • lucy putting norm in a storage vault, she really is so strong • the handed down wedding dress getting messed up • i am curious if the raiders [shady sands survivors?] only mostly harmed vault tec aligners but maybe not • the way hank and steph retaliating a little too well • hank acting like he doesn't know moldaver when everyone really does know moldaver • moldaver telling lucy she looks like her mother is really such a tipoff

• realizing maximus is getting bullied 😭 • dane... might love maximus a little idk • from latrine duty to basically ruling over the brotherhood of steel • they really showed some dude jacking it lmao it's just normal i guess 💀 • maximus being defeated and having a rightful outburst of emotion, poor guy • the poster saying "the outside world can never harm you"--- funny • chet would've died up there 😭 • them not opening the vault back up for her, wondering if the vapourized bodies are from the initial bomb drop or the subsequent shady sands ones • dane almost gets maximus killed three times tbh • maximus joined the brotherhood of steel to get back at what vault tec did, essentially hank's doing, hank has many enemies • knowing the enclave, it makes sense why siggi is hunted • cooper the ghoul's introduction though • the bounty hunter saying his captors dig cooper up every once in a while to cut pieces of flesh off him 😞 no wonder cooper acts the way he does 😔 he's been taken advantage of, no wonder he doesn't trust anybody and is horrible to everyone • "why is this an amish production of "the count of monte cristo" or the weirdest circle jerk i've ever been invited to?" why would he say this 😭 • cooper's... been invited to circle jerks 👀 • does the bounty hunter know the ghoul is cooper howard?

• him not harming the chicken, him healing dogmeat, there's something there, folks • people only digging him up to use him again 😞 • what a coincidence he's dug up just as lucy leaves the vault • "i do this shit for the love of the game" he's a character, he's playing a character, real theatre kid • hence why cooper is introduced as "the ghoul", cooper is long gone • "us cowpokes, we take it as it comes" something about this lineee

[fox-bright]

What is your Hogwarts house?

I think that the death of the author only really works when the author is actually dead, and I wouldn’t want to associate myself with that very ugly mess at this point any more than I would want to sit next to Orson Scott Card, the frothing homophobe whose works I loved as an adolescent, or Piers Anthony (whose works I read when I was young enough for him to find me sexually attractive), or David and Leigh Eddings, damn-near-child-murderers whose Belgariad and Malloreon I gobbled up when I was a dozen years old.

JKR’s rampant racism, classism and weapons-grade terfery aside, I was fifteen when the first Potter book came out, and had by that point been reading at an adult level for a decade. I think my favorite fantasy that year was probably Tad Williams’ To Green Angel Tower, an absolute doorstop of a novel--too big to publish at mass market in a single volume--which had been out for four years, but which I only encountered once the school year had started. I mainly read it on my lunch breaks, sitting on the floor in the Art building, surrounded by people playing Magic: The Gathering and arguing about DND 2E; while Wizards had bought the DND IP in the Spring, they wouldn’t release 3rd Edition until 2000. Mostly, the roleplay kids were actually playing Shadowrun. I recall that my younger brother piloted a Glitter Boy, but the rest of it has been lost to memory.

So I don’t have a House. If I’d had a daemon I always figured he’d be a coyote or a fox; I may or may not have quietly recited the Wizard's Oath in the hope that something might happen; I figured I would have been a Wolfrider more than a native of Sorrow's End; if I had been an Aes Sedai, I always figured I'd be a Green; I used to take notes in Cirth, until one day when I was seventeen, sitting in the school auditorium for some lecture I was only half paying attention to, and a boy in the row behind me who I'd had a brutal secret crush on for a year and a half leaned down over my shoulder, tucked my hair behind my ear, and read me my own notes a quiet, satisfied murmur--but while I wanted desperately, in those days before the LotR movies came out, to be an elf, these days I think I'm much more hobbitish.

[pavlovianfuckery]

paging dr debeers and his atrocious bedside manner, it's very urgent actually

MASTERLIST

i hope the whole 'taking one (1) comment about playing doctor and running with it like he stole it' thing isn't too out of character, but i mean this is the guy who dressed up as an old dude complete with fake beard for the sole reason of convincing his asshole dad-sicle that he'd been frozen for decades just to fuck with him, so...what can i say, i fought my inner demons and lost, badly

linky for those more ao3-ly inclined: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56619892

4.5k words of smut under the tag, dr malpractice md is in the house, minors dni and all that stuff

It had started with just one mostly innocent comment, a joke really. You couldn't recall exactly what had been said, just that you'd mentioned 'playing doctor', he'd made a sarcastic comment about it, and that had been that. It had been days ago, so you'd thought nothing of it when you received a text from him that simply said:

Shady Plots, 9 PM. Use the back door.

The first thing that hits you as the door swings open is the smell of rubbing alcohol. The second thing is that he really went all in on this. There is an entire area of the room set up like a doctor's office, or as close as you can get considering that the basement of a funeral home isn't exactly built for it. Sure, the 'examination table' is more like a mortuary table with a sheet on it, but he's clearly been busy.

For starters, there is a desk set up with things you'd expect to find, like a box of nitrile gloves, medical lubricant, gauze and other various things, but there's also a set of instruments neatly laid out. It consists mostly of traditional equipment like a blood pressure cuff, a reflex hammer and so on, but there are also some more unexpected things thrown in the mix. The most obvious ones are a couple of soft hanks of rope, a wand vibrator, and what looks to be a disposable speculum. There is also a set of padded restraints designed to go around your neck and wrists which you pick up, anticipation curling low in your belly.

"Well, he's clearly got the evening planned..." You look around, but you can't see him anywhere. Just as you're about to call out for him, you notice that the rolling office chair by the desk has what looks like a paper gown folded on it, and on top of that, a note with your name. The message on the back of it is short and to the point:

Put this on and wait. The doctor will see you shortly. B

The gown is open in the back which isn't in itself unusual, but it's so short that it only barely covers you, which turns out to be a bit uncomfortable as you sit down on the edge of the table to wait. It's cold, and he does keep you waiting, though it's probably only about ten minutes. It's still plenty of time to get you restless and by the time that the door at the top of the stairs opens, closes and then locks, you're nearly crawling out of your skin.

He's all business as he walks over to the back door and proceeds to lock that too, not even glancing your way. Rather than throwing on a white coat and calling it a day, he has apparently committed to the role. Between the dark slacks, dress shirt and stethoscope around his neck he's already selling it, but he's got an almost suspiciously official-looking ID card hanging on a lanyard too. He even changed his hair, his usual messy style exchanged for something combed down and sensible. All in all, this might be the most straight-laced you've ever seen him.

"So, " he flips through the papers on the clipboard he's carrying, still barely looking at you,"you're here for a physical, is that correct?"

"Um, yes?" You clear your throat and nod, feeling a bit awkward. "Yes, that's right."

"Any medical history I should be aware of?" He flips through the papers again, apparently only listening with half an ear.

"No, I don't think so." You watch him put the clipboard down on the desk and grab a pair of gloves before turning back to you.

"Are there any concerns that you wish to discuss before we begin?"

"No, none."

"Very good." He snaps the gloves on with a few practiced movements. "Let's start with taking a look at your lungs." Unhooking the stethoscope, he gives you a quick nod. "Turn around."

The metal is cold as it makes contact with your skin, almost making you pull away.

"Now, breathe." He's so close that the words ruffle the hairs at the back of your neck, his voice smooth and low. It tickles and you squeeze your legs together, trying to ignore the goosebumps that erupt all over your body. "And again. Deep breaths."

You're not sure if he's actually listening or pretending, but that's hardly the point. When he's satisfied, he turns away and scribbles something on the clipboard.

"Nothing out of the ordinary there." He clicks his pen a few times before putting it down. "Now face me." He almost looks bored as he slides the end of the stethoscope down under the flimsy paper gown, settling it approximately where your heart should be. "Try to relax," he tells you, "just keep breathing..."

It's not as easy as it sounds, because as he moves the end of the stethoscope around your chest he keeps grazing your nipples seemingly on accident, making them pucker in the cool air. You're almost certain that he's not actually listening, but he still jots something down on the clipboard.

"Seems to be in working order." When he fishes a penlight from his breast pocket and shines it in your eyes without warning you jerk back without really meaning to, blinking furiously. "No," he says evenly and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him, "none of that." The way he keeps moving the light around and turning it off and on again is disorienting, quickly making your head start to spin.

"Pupillary reaction appears normal," he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your cheek. With the bright light blinding you, you hadn't realized just how close he was. It makes you itch to touch him, but you resist. He's gone to all this trouble so the least you can do is try to be a model patient, even if he makes it difficult. When he lets you go, you shake your head to try and clear the stars stubbornly dancing in front of your eyes.

"I'll need to check your mouth and throat next," he mutters, and you can hear him rifle around the desk before returning, "Open." Even though it's just a piece of wood you can feel your cheeks heating up as he slides the tongue depressor into your mouth. "Wider." He's close enough that you can count his eyelashes as he cradles your jaw in his hand and squeezes, forcing it open. Being close to him is nothing new, but it's different from being outright studied like this, like you're just a sample under a microscope. It's intimate in a way you're not used to.

"Hm..." He removes the tongue depressor and discards it in the nearby trash can. "Let me get a closer look."

When his finger slides into your mouth, you freeze, heartbeat thundering in your ears. It's completely dispassionate as he runs his finger over your teeth and gums. When he adds another and presses your tongue down you try to meet his eyes, but there is just nothing there, his expression a blank mask. He holds you there, casually invading your mouth as he glances at his watch. When the built-up drool starts to run down his hand he briefly adds a third finger, gagging you just a little before pulling away, discarding the gloves.

"That's interesting," he makes another note, though you can't see what he's writing from where you're sitting.

"What?" You wipe your chin and do your best to catch your breath.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with." His tone is airy as he snaps a new pair of gloves on, then picks the reflex hammer up, scooting closer on the rolling chair.

"Now relax, this will only take a minute." As he glides his hand up your leg his fingertips linger at the back of your knee, making your skin tingle as he tests your reflexes on first one side, then the other. Something about the result seems to displease him because he tuts and repositions your legs, stroking the inside of your thighs as he does so. "You're so tense, why is that?"

'Truly a mystery for the ages,' you think, but you don't say it out loud. "I don't really know, sorry."

The second time around it seems to work better because he backs off, going back to his notes for a moment.

"Remove the gown, please." His telling you to undress isn't anything out of the ordinary, but the way he's watching you is completely cold and it's making your skin crawl."Next I will perform a breast exam, "he continues,"you will keep your hands in your lap and be still." Once the gown is off you obediently put your hands in your lap, waiting to see what he'll do. He doesn't give you time to respond before beginning, starting to clinically feel his way through each breast, more thoroughly than you thought he'd be.

"Good." He steps back, apparently satisfied and you let out a sigh of relief. "Now stand up, turn around and put your hands behind your head."

As soon as you do it, he steps in uncomfortably close, then starts repeating the process from the back.

"Have you noticed any pain or discomfort?" His breath is hot on your ear, making it hard to focus.

"Not that I..." You trail off, because he keeps stroking you in that way you know that he knows you like, which is very distracting. When he brushes against your ass you can feel that he's at least half hard, and it's nearly enough to make you break character but you soldier on, determined to see this through. "Not that I've noticed, no."

"I see." He pinches one of your nipples and rolls it between his fingers, making you gasp. "How does this feel? Pleasurable?"

You bite your lip, trying not to moan.

"Please, Bla-"

"Answer the question," he cuts you off, voice stern, "does this feel pleasurable?"

"Yes..." Your legs feel like jelly, and if you didn't have any pain or discomfort before, you certainly do now.

"I see." Then he lets you go, making you stumble to right yourself. You can hear the scratching of pen on paper as he adds to his notes, helpfully reading them out loud as he does so. "Patient exhibits signs of elevated arousal during palpation of breast..."

You can barely look at him. In character or not, does he really have to put it like that? When you think that it can't get any worse, he keeps proving you wrong.

"I'll be taking your temperature now." In his hand is indeed a thermometer, which would be less of a problem if he'd gotten a forehead or even an oral one, but it seems you've got no such luck. "Would you like to lie down, or do you prefer to remain standing for it?"

Neither sounds like an attractive option, honestly. For reasons you can't quite articulate, the thought of him doing that to you feels wrong somehow. Which on reflection is kind of funny since it's not like you've never had him inside of you in different ways before, so it really shouldn't be a problem.

"I, uh, whichever one is easier?"

"Standing, then." He either doesn't notice your distress or is simply choosing to ignore it, barely sparing you with a glance as he dispenses the lubricant. "Bent over the table is acceptable."

Leaning over the table on your elbows you try to not think about what he's about to do. How can he be so-

"I believe I said bent over." Placing the thermometer on the table in front of you, he puts his hand between your shoulder blades and pushes you down. "That's better." Then you feel him slip his knee between your legs, spreading your legs apart. "And that's perfect. Now, just try to relax..."

It's uncomfortable as he starts sliding it in, but all you can do is bury your face in your hands with a whine and wait for it to be over. The entire time he keeps touching you, sliding his hand over your buttocks and the backs of your thighs, and it feels like an eternity passes before he pulls it back out.

"Temperature is normal, so that's good."

You press your forehead to the cool surface of the table with a sigh, not sure what else he's got in store and getting worried about whether you really want to find out. Then he's caging you in with his arms, rubbing himself against you as he leans down.

"I will need you to answer some questions for me," he murmurs right by your ear, "before we can move on to the pelvic exam." Then he pushes off of you, discards the gloves he was wearing and grabs the clipboard. Leaning back against the desk, he clicks his pen impatiently. "You can get back up, by the way. Sit."

Your legs feel weak and shaky as you clamber back up on the table, but he at least waits for you to get as comfortable as you can on the hard surface before leafing through his papers until he finds what is apparently the correct form.

"So," he clicks the pen a few more times, probably just to annoy you, "let's get started. Are you currently sexually active?"

"Yes." This doesn't seem so bad, you can totally do this.

"Mm-hm. And when did you last have sex?" It's a miracle that he can keep a straight face because if anyone knows the answer to that question, it's him. Still, you'll play along.

"Last Tuesday."

"Did you reach orgasm and, if yes, how many times?" He's still not dropped out of character once, so you decide to mess with him.

"I think I did? Really not sure," you shrug, "the guy didn't seem to know what he was doing, so the jury's out on that one."

You think maybe you see the corner of one eye twitch, but that's all. It was worth a try, but you suspect you're going to pay for it fairly soon.

"I see. When did you last masturbate?"

"The day before yesterday."

"And you reached orgasm, I assume? How many times?"

That one makes you blush, just a little.

"Yes, I...twice."

"Have you ever or do you currently use a sexual device, alone or with a partner? If yes, how often and what type of device?"

He must be having an absolute ball with this, because the questions just keep coming, covering everything from what sex positions you prefer to what age you were when you first started masturbating to whether you have any fetishes or paraphilias. By the end of it you're ready to dig a hole, crawl into it and pull it in after you, never to be seen again.

"I think I've got most of what I need." He puts the clipboard down and gets his phone out. "A few photographs for your file, and we can get started on the pelvic exam."

He's as detached about taking photos as he's been about everything else tonight, positioning you this way and that as if you're no different from a mannequin, but it's definitely working for you in a way you had not been anticipating. It's about a dozen or so photos before he's satisfied, covering a variety of angles and body parts, though he's careful to avoid your face.

"There. You can lay back on the examination table now." It's even more uncomfortable laying down on it than just sitting. He must've seen you grimace, because he shrugs his coat off and folds it up, sliding it under your head as a makeshift pillow. "Better?"

"Yes, thanks." It shouldn't be anything but the small gesture still makes your chest feel tight. You do your best not to show it, watching as he pushes the sleeves of his shirt up and puts on a new pair of gloves.

"Open your legs for me." The lack of any stirrups makes it a bit awkward but putting your feet up on the table helps, so you make it work. This isn't the first time he's had his face between your thighs but it almost feels like it, and it makes you wish that you could cover up. It would probably be easier to bear if he wasn't just looking at you, but the reappearance of his little pen light doesn't exactly help to put you at ease, either.

When he touches you it's almost gentle, fingertips pushing and prodding as he examines you, taking the occasional break to jot something down. You can't really see much from this angle and he's talking so quietly that it's difficult to hear everything he's saying, but you pick up enough to get the general gist of it, that everything is basically fine and exactly as it should be.

"Well, on the surface everything appears completely healthy but I will need to do some further testing to make sure."

"What kind of..." you trail off as he runs a finger back and forth over your clit, making the breath catch in your throat.

"Just muscle tone and flexibility mostly," he says dismissively, clicking the penlight off. "Nothing you need to worry about."

This naturally makes you worry even more, which is no doubt deliberate on his part.

When he slides two fingers into you without any warning it's got you gripping the edges of the table, struggling to stay still.

"Squeeze around my fingers, please." Your body is already wanting to clamp down on its own, so it's not a big ask. "And again." He makes you repeat it another six or seven times before he tells you to stop. "Good." Face impassive, he drives his fingers right into your g-spot and presses his thumb to your clit, making you gasp. "How does this feel?"

"That's, hah, really good..."

"Mm-hm." He presses his other hand down on your stomach as he massages you from the inside. "And this?"

"As if you don't know," you moan, legs trembling. It's embarrassing how he can pick you apart like this, with just a few twists of his fingers. "Don't stop, please..."

So of course, he does. You close your eyes, cursing quietly to yourself as you hear him walking off, and then there is the scratch of that fucking pen again as he no doubt scribbles down his findings.

"Patient presents with," he mutters as he writes, "increased production of vaginal secretions during digital exam..."

You can't see what he's doing, but you can hear him rattling things around and then the squeak of the lubrication bottle.

"I'll be testing your flexibility next," he strokes your leg with the back of his hand, "so just try to relax." The lubricant is cold, but thankfully it warms up quickly as he slides his fingers back into you. He starts with two, but quickly adds a third, thrusting gently a few times. You're already twitching on the table, but when he begins adding a fourth finger you can't hold still anymore.

"Am I going to have to restrain you?" It's clearly supposed to be a threat but it has the opposite effect, making you clench around his fingers without meaning to.

"I'm sorry, I'll do better, I promise!" That promise turns out to last for all of three seconds though, so he gives a long-suffering sigh and pulls his fingers out, discarding the gloves.

For a moment you think that you might have ruined it, but then he fetches the restraints. He slides them onto your wrists and tightens them as if he's done it hundreds of times before, but rather than use the collar part like you were expecting he connects it to the bottom frame of the table, trapping your hands over your head as he tightens it. Not stopping there, he goes for the rope next.

"You know..." he says, securing your ankles to your thighs with a few knots, "you're a fairly troublesome patient. We will have to work on that in the future." Then he secures the ends of each rope underneath the table, leaving you unable to close or barely move your legs as he pulls it taut.

"Now, where were we?" Snapping a fresh pair of gloves on, he wastes no time squeezing out some more lube and going right back to tormenting you. This time around he goes right to three fingers, beginning to slip the fourth in almost straight away. It goes in easily and when it does, he hooks them up and presses the heel of his hand against your clit.

"Flexibility seems good," he wiggles his hand back and forth a few times, the squelching noises loud in the quiet room. "Does this hurt?"

"No, it's good, please, oh please..." It makes your toes curl, and you can't hold back a moan. If he keeps this up, you're going to come.

"I see." And then the pressure on your clit is gone as he changes the angle and probes around your entrance with his thumb. As he starts pushing that into you too, you struggle against the restraints, not that it does you any good.

"Oh, you are so mean," you groan, head dropping back which releases a faint trace of his scent from his bunched up coat.

When he slips into you up to his wrist it feels like he could reach up into you and squeeze the life from your lungs, or perhaps your heart if you're not careful. He doesn't dignify your outburst with a response as he continues with the 'examination'.

"Cervix and posterior fornix appear normal," he murmurs, wholly uncaring of the desperate noises falling from your mouth as he probes your insides. When he twists his hand and massages deep inside, your entire lower body starts tingling, and for a second you think you might come, or perhaps pass out. He's apparently focused on reducing you to a drooling mess tonight.

"Blaine...please!" You didn't mean to yell, but it slips out before you can stop it, making him frown as he pulls his hand out, leaving you empty and whimpering.

"Will I have to gag you as well?" You're not sure if that's supposed to be a genuine question or not, because he doesn't wait for a response before going back to his clipboard. "Patient exhibiting highly increased signs of arousal on stimulation of anterior fornix." He sounds entirely unaffected as he writes it down.

You don't see him grab the speculum but you can hear the crinkle as he rips the packaging open and the lube bottle being squeezed again, then he's hunched between your legs.

"This might be cold," he quickly warns, then slides the clear plastic instrument into you. As he starts turning the screw and opening you up he continues, "You might find this next part of the exam slightly uncomfortable, by the way."

Once the speculum is cranked open to his liking he grabs his phone again, making you blush as he snaps a few quick photos, including what is probably the closest close-up you've ever had. After flicking through the photographs he nods to himself, then steps off to the side and gets a tripod out, positioning it between your legs. You can only watch as he snaps his phone to it and turns it on, fiddling with the zoom and the angle until he's satisfied that he's capturing every intimate detail before hitting record.

"Now I will manually stimulate you until you reach orgasm," he states, partly for you, partly for the recording."and the camera will record your vaginal and cervical movements." When he sees the look on your face, he explains, "For your file, you see. Shall we get started?"

He goes to stand next to you, running a gloved hand down your body, carefully studying your reactions as he settles two of his fingers on your clit. For a moment you consider trying to fight it, but the promise of finally getting to come is too much. And besides, you're not even sure if you could fight it at this point.

As he rubs you his eyes never once stray from your face, making your cheeks burn. He's entirely methodical, expertly drawing you right up to the edge and keeping you there for what feels like forever. By the end of it your eyes are stinging with frustrated tears and the fact that you're being recorded is completely forgotten about. The only things that seem to matter are his cold eyes drawing you in and the slick feeling of his fingers on you.

"Please," it comes out garbled, words almost entirely out of reach as he reduces you to a keening mess, "please, oh fuck, please, Blaine..."

Despite how much you beg, he doesn't change anything about what he's doing except put his free hand over your mouth, drawing the moment out like a piece of rubber until the tension inside you is ready to snap and there's a high-pitched noise ringing in your ears. When you tip over the edge it's almost too good, too intense, but the only thing you can do is let it happen, convulsing helplessly as the scream bubbling up through your throat is muffled in the palm of his hand.

When your head slowly stops spinning you're only dimly aware of him stepping away and the tiny 'beep' as he stops the recording. You're still sucking down huge lung-fulls of air, and it barely registers when he loosens the restraints and undoes the knots, settling you down in a more comfortable position. For a minute you feel almost too weak to even move, and by the burning in your shoulders and hips you know you're going to be sore tomorrow, but that doesn't feel very important right now.

"Feel better?" He's leaning nonchalantly against the edge of the desk, clipboard in hand, watching you ungracefully try to sit up.

"Oh my god..." You hide your face in your hands, "you're a monster, you know that? Fuck." As you come down from your high the cold starts seeping into your bones, so you grab his bunched-up coat and drape it over your shoulders. It's not very warm but it'll have to do for now.

"Noted. So..." he flips through the papers and frowns."I have some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that you seem to be suffering from a severe case of hysteria, I'm afraid. But the good news is that it's very much a curable condition. The treatment is available in both oral form and as a vaginal suppository, to be taken nightly for at least one week." He scribbles something in his notes, then continues, "I can administer the first dose right now, so let me know which treatment form you'd prefer."

Then he smiles at you for the first time this evening, blank mask finally cracking."Do keep in mind that no matter which one you choose, you're going to feel a prick."

[writing-for-life]

It's me again, hi. C: Do you think in Season 2 that they will look into what exactly happened with Dream and Calliope? I want to write something about their relationship, but I don't know all the details (and as you mentioned) I also don't know those things that absolutely integral to understanding him. But I want to. I want to know why he is that way and what made him that way. I'd have to read all the comics from the start, no? A daunting prospect. 👀

Ha, I pre-emptively answered this in a few of my comments already, sorry (the curse of going through my notes from the top 🤣).

Yes, I absolutely think they will get into that in the show because in a way, we already know they will (we’ve seen BTS shots from “The Song of Orpheus”, which details both his relationship to his son and why he fell out with Calliope).

But even that story arc doesn’t exist in a vacuum, and as someone who’s been sitting with the comics for decades, I will always say: You need to read the whole thing. Probably even more than once (it truly is the gift that keeps on giving). All 75 issues and specials, and also Endless Nights, Overture (especially Overture!) and Dream Hunters. There is no understanding him, or the relationships to his parents, siblings or partners without that. It’s not as daunting as it sounds—if it really gets you, you’ll literally eat it 🤣 [Word of warning: On my first read many moons ago, I wasn’t keen on a lot of the art, but I was absolutely hooked on the story. If you’re not a regular comics reader, you might need to adjust a bit.]

As a fic writer myself, I’m an absolute sucker for character accuracy. It’s not a must in fanfic (we have tons of e.g. College AUs people obviously enjoy, but accurate character portrayals, they are usually not), I totally know that, so don’t let it hold you back if you want to operate on the vibes you’re feeling now. But whatever you intend to write will be so much richer if you really get them on a deep level. Plus, we have so few canon m/f writers on here (most m/f fics are reader fics and/or smut, and most fics in general are for the m/m juggernaut), so you’ll have some very grateful readers.

I’m tempting you officially: Read along with us in the community (or read ahead, because once you start, you’ll probably not want to wait one or two weeks between issues). You know you want to 😉🫂

@inastarlesssky ask answered

[auspex]

VtM Fangfest 2024 Prompt 9: Strength

Hello! Here is my ninth fic for Fangfest 2024 :) I am fallin' behind but still writing!!!

All my fics will be about characters that are previously established, so you might not have context for everything mentioned or hinted at within :( Feel free to reach out to ask I love explaining!

I've never really posted my writing before so be kind!

my first fic is here

my second fic is here

my third fic is here

my fourth fic is here

my fifth fic is here

my sixth fic is here

my seventh fic is here

my eighth fic is here

This fic is about Eden! Eden was a character i made for a game that unfortunately died after session one. She uses she/him pronouns (mostly she, but likes he as well) anddddd god i love her so much. He was a firefighter in life. She's a lasombra embraced into the Camarilla after they defected. He's a known corpse <3 he eats people who won't be missed <3 She has SELF ESTEEEEEM ISSUESSSS and she is super gay. Yeah.

EDIT: ALSO SHOUT OUT TO @dykeferatu AS THEIR OC PEYTON IS IN HERE FOR A BIT :D they were gonna be a player with me

I wanted this piece to be longer but wanted to post it... so maybe i'll continue this later!

Eden still liked the crunch of her boots on the snow, even if the icy feel of wind on her face wasn’t as sharp now, since she was cold too. He missed how the cold made everything come into focus, though to be fair, his senses were far stronger now than they ever had been when he was alive. That she liked. 

What she did not like was having to report to her fucking sire, Dante. 

Up the stairs to the his porch. She hated how this old wooden building looked like a stereotypical vampire mansion. She hated how she was hand delivered letters like it was the goddamn 18th century. She hated Dante, ordering her around like she was a child. 

But most of all, she hated herself for just going along with it.

It wasn’t time to think about that though. Bang on the door, yell “I’m here,” wait for his ghoul to open up. 

And there he was, the sniveling pathetic man. “Good evening, Miss Cheng.” God, could he be any more stereotypical, always insisting on ‘miss.’ 

“I’m here, so it could be better.”

His lip curled, shifting his graying mustache. “Certainly. Come in, Master Dante is ready.” 

Eden was already walking in the door. 

Dante’s haven had shockingly modern furniture for his age; probably because he was feral in the woods with the Sabbat less than a decade ago, and only recently joined society. Eden’s lips curled in distaste upon passing the foyer; he had bought more wine that he did not drink. What a joke. She made a note to ask him sometime if he even remembered what alcohol tasted like. 

Eden made a point to stomp wet snow and mud on the rug specifically on the way to his office. The door was open, and she swung it open without a second thought. 

“Sup.” 

“No knock today?” Dante gave his standard asshole grin and ran his hand through his hair as he replied. “Sit down.” 

Eden did as he was told, and said nothing. He hoped that Dante didn’t know what ‘sup’ meant and was just refusing to ask. 

Wait, oh my god. Was that another skull on his desk. 

“Is that another skull?”

“How observant, Miss Cheng. Yes, it is.” 

Eden almost spat on his desk at that; he hated being called miss. Second time tonight. However, he had previously told her not to spit in his office. She gave him a tight smile instead as he continued. 

Dante picked up the skull and looked at it, holding it just above eye level, as if he was in a goddamn theater. “This fellow is actually what I am here to talk to you about tonight. Can you feel it, Eden?” 

Eden sucked in her breath, stalling as he tried to come up with a witty reply. Failing that, she just said “no.” 

Dante’s grin never faltered. “Not surprised, you are certainly not a natural.” Bastard. “Look at this skull. Deep into its eyes. It’s a surprisingly strong fetter, even you should be able to discern this. Take it.” 

Eden took it, though she felt absolutely nothing. 

“You shall show this to Peyton, and request their sire take a look at it.”  

Peyton’s mysterious sire. Dante was always asking about her, in a roundabout way, though Eden had no idea why he was so fixated on her. “And what’s in it for you?”

“Promise them more where that came from if they teach you how to feast upon its energies. Do not show Anisha until Peyton promises you something, even if they cannot commit to fully teaching you.” 

“What.” 

“What is the confusion?” 

“You want me to ask them to teach me to feed off of energy? Huh? Isn’t our whole deal that we eat blood and only blood?”

“Eden, you sound like a fool.” 

“No, you do, what the hell dude. Vampire 101” 

“I’ve told you not to curse. It’s disrespectful. Now, do as I said”

Eden stood up abruptly, and stalked off without a word. She almost punched the ghoul when he tried to get the door for her. 

“Miss Cheng, you may want a bag for the, erm, skull.” 

“Don’t fucking call me that.” He stuffed the skull under his armpit, mostly hiding it, and headed out. 

Time to text Peyton, or whatever. It was difficult to do with one hand. 

“Hey need to talk to u got somethin”

Eden was not about to carry this thing around all night. He stalked back to the apartment complex where he had been making his haven recently. It was a good hour long walk, and the skull was already digging uncomfortably into her. 

She gritted her teeth and continued. 

~

In her current, temporary as usual, apartment, she set the skull casually on the kitchen counter. Seeing Peyton hadn’t texted back, he pulled up a stool and stared at this skull. 

It looked like a regular skull, not much notable about it. It was fairly white, so couldn’t be that old. Eden reached out and rubbed the top of it, trying to tap into well, something, but there was nothing. No energy, or whatever. At least not to her. 

Eden had only turned on one light; the room was dim and shadowy. Closing her eyes for a moment, she gathered the shadows around her - something she usually did to stalk prey in the middle of the night. 

Now, looking at her hand, or rather, trying to - it was cloaked in shadow - she lifted the skull once again, unintentionally similar to how her sire did. 

He focused in. Were the shadows darker, or just in his imagination? 

As she waited for something, anything, her phone vibrated. Eden put the skull down. 

Peyton had replied, finally. 

“Ok i’m free”

“Cool im at apartment 109 come when ya ready” 

Guess she’ll just bullshit it. 

[user-needs-new-hyperfixation]

For the character ask game, how about Fay D. Fluorite! (Or maybe Qi Rong lol whichever you prefer).

Send Me a Character & I'll Tell You✨️

Fai D Flourite (Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle)

(please excuse my spelling variant, I've been using this too long lmao) (I might do Qi Rong tomorrow but alas I havta go to bed)

My first impression: tragically, I have no idea. It's simply been too long. This man has been living in my head so long that my love of him could get its driving license.

My impression now: I feel like Fai is the foundation of all my blorbos. The horribly traumatized self-hating little guy who pretends to be strong and cheerful for the sake of those around him and has strong Mom energy is basically the template all my other blorbos are variations of.

Favorite thing about that character: he's so good, for all that he thinks he's so bad. He cares so much in spite of himself. He loves his children so fiercely. He's also just hella clever.

Least favorite thing: No notes, 10/10, all of his bad traits are Important to the makeup of what makes him special.

Favorite line/scene: the infamous punch signalling the end of the divorce arc is great and probably my favourite happy bit, and for sadness that part in Acid Tokyo when Kurogane jerks away from him and he slides down the wall and sits there with his hand over his face. Oof. Lovely pain.

Favorite interaction that character has with another: that moment in World Chronicle where Syaoran launches himself at Fai and Fai sort of stumbles back against Kurogane and stays there looking up at him all adoring and beautiful with Kurogane's arm around them both? Life-changing.

A character that I wish that character would interact with more: Yuuko, for the entertainment value

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character: so many characters I've loved. William James Moriarty, Xie Lian, Dani from Bly Manor, even freakin' Dean fookin' Winchester. They've all got a little something that reminds me of him.

A headcanon about that character: Does not only bottom, in spite of the obvious Yaoi Dimorphism 😂😂

A song that reminds of that character: pretty sure I first heard this song in a Kurofai amv a decade+ ago and it's stuck ever since. Also this for some reason.

An unpopular opinion about that character: see headcanon 😂 (actually I've seen a fair number of fics with him topping. I'm not in touch with this fandom enough to know what is and isn't popular.)

Favorite picture: since I'm already talking about it --

[greatcheshire]

How would you rank your vids based on how much you like them?

Ah yes!! I can answer this one

The Many Adaptations of Berserk: I feel like it has to be this one as my fav. There’s parts of the video I wish I could redo (mainly the audio), but to put out such labor of love and have it receive such a positive response back, it’s so fulfilling. From people telling me it got them into Berserk to survivors messaging me to tell me how much the video meant to them. It’s a sense of pride and accomplishment that I never thought I’d ever feel with my art.

Spider-Man Musical: This, for me, feels like the prime example of what I want my channel to be: exploring relatively obscure things in a way that shows how strange they are while also taking it seriously and really examining them. As someone who has been fascinated with this musical for over a decade, finally finding a way to make an essay about it and letting people know about things like the spider fucking and the shoe song.

Dollar Store Game Show: I wish I could redo the audio here. God I wish I could redo the audio here. That being said, I’ve always seen this as the hidden gem of my channel, and whenever I talk to other creators, chances are this is the video of mine they bring up. The Facebook conspiracy “In Motion” part might be my favorite editing gag I’ve ever done

Demo Reel: I would’ve ranked this much lower if I hadn’t rewatched it a few weeks ago for the new Demo Reel vid. Despite some first time video mistakes that I would happily fix if I could, I think the script here is really solid and could have been way worse. I get why people like this one so much. I probably would’ve been really into this video if I wasn’t the one who made it. I still can’t believe I actually got away with the Evangelion intro gag.

Kitchen Nightmares: I started outlining this video back in my college days. I rewatched it about a month ago and my main note is that it feels like a video anyone could’ve made on Kitchen Nightmares, for better or for worse, and lacks a lot of the… personal energy I like to include in these things? But I still think it’s pretty solid. I also meant to include an entire segment on Nathan For You and just… forgot to lmao oops

The Return of Demo Reel: This one is still so new that I haven’t fully processed my feelings on it. This is probably the meanest video I’ve done so far lol I wasn’t sure how much the two halves would connect together, especially since it’s the only video I’ve done so far that isn’t broken up into segments but is rather scripted as one long thing. The stinger is my second favorite stinger I’ve ever done for the channel. I’m so glad that landed for people as I almost cut it entirely lol

The Cinemassacre Backlash: It feels weird to rank this one so low. I still am proud of the result, but I also think it has the same issue as Kitchen Nightmares where it’s like oh, anyone could’ve made that. I did like getting to interject my perspective into the discourse as someone who co-writes and makes online content and I have gotten a lot of praise for this one by my peers which has been nice. Having it blow up so much was wild and has definitely been a career benefit, even if I’m unsure if I’ll ever do a video like this again

Harley and Ivy: I don’t know why but I can’t help but feel like I could’ve made this one better. I’m not sure how, but it just feels like it exists to me. I actually didn’t even remember that I did the whole thing with the Be Gay, Do Crime scale until I saw it referenced on my TV Tropes page

Lost Film About Internet Memes: This one is fine but it sits in a lower place in my head for a lot of reasons. First being that a lot of personal life stuff surrounding the release and aftermath of the video. Second being my hatred of the original thumbnail and the belief that it tanked that video in a way it’s only now recovering from, which affected future business dealings and negotiations and algorithm stuff. Then the fact that this is the only time I’ve regretted going soft in one of my videos. I originally put more stuff in the script about how I believed the guy who made it was a grifter who seems to do a lot of scams but I changed it to make it more subtext and less of a personal attack and then in the aftermath of the vid it turns out, oops, this guy had a history of screwing people over and grifting and jumped into cryptocurrency because of course he did. I don’t think I’d ever revisit this subject, but if I had a time machine, I would’ve had way more testimonials in the vid from former PopMalt people.

Existential Horror Of Making Content About Content: The nicest thing I can say about this one is that it was the first time I ever made a thumbnail myself and I’m actually pleased with how it turned out, all things considered. Otherwise I can’t see myself ever watching this again

I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m too harsh on my own work lol I just have a unique relationship to it, I think. I’m generally proud of my videos, even if I do have issues with them as their creator.

[catchyhuh]

Oh god I am so in love with the way you write these, I’ve smiled like an idiot reading all of them. I laughed aloud at the idea of Goemon returning someone’s kid only for them to suddenly be a master of stealth.

If by any miracle you catch this ask and feel like thinking about it; do you have any opinions on what jobs the gang might be keeping should they belong in a universe that is totally mundane? Are they all interlinked/do they keep well out of eachothers’ way, has Lupin ever managed to stay employed for over a month etc. etc.

:,) I’d love to hear your takes on this simply because I think about it a lot. I think it’s an interesting character study.

i pride myself on my thoughts either being true or funny so it warms the lupin sized hole in my lupin sized heart that i am hitting one of those notes at least SO THANK YOU SO SO VERY MUCH LET’S TALK ABOUT MORTGAGES AND SHIT

lupin:

lupin. does not change that much as a person. like demeanor, personality-wise, he's still loud, giggly, smug even when it's unjustified, he’s just slightly less main-character-y about it, but he’s still the guy that says goodbye to everyone in the starbucks before he leaves and for some reason everyone feels compelled to say it back

jumps from job to job BUT. there was ONE time he got employee of the month. he was a solid olive garden waiter. but maybe he was just getting those favor points for being too lazy to bother the table refilling water every two minutes, and the little magic tricks he did were cute, and frankly, lupin is just a memorable name that you’d bring up if someone asked about the service there. honestly he only worked there to sneak bites of the pasta and because he thought the getup was sleek

jigen was his neighbor as a kid, and honestly they didn’t immediately like each other until they were like 15ish and caught each other trying to sneak out of the house after they’d both been grounded for completely separate events. they thought it was funny and hung out that night and after that they started to ACTUALLY grow close. nowadays they’ve got that “we’ve known each other for two decades and we’re still as close as ever” type thing everybody wishes they had, and they catch up about a week on average if they don’t just normally bump into each other. they were prob even roomies at some point

jigen:

i can very easily see his like mundane normal life being oddly content. this is maybe weird but i’m getting like. an everything-repairman here. he still has that gruff, doesn’t totally want to be here vibe, but he’s so damn good at like carpentry and mechanics that his yelp review average is pretty good! like hey. if your washer works again your washer works again. it just took two and a half hours of perfect silence with this guy sitting in your home.

as a result, jigen is unusually the tie between fujiko and goemon to lupin. he did some work at their places of business, mentioned this woman who barely looked up to wave when he came in to fix the lights, and then this man who wouldn’t STOP keeping his eyes on him once he came in, watching him like a hawk, and lupin was like wtf. weird people. unrelated uh where did you say they worked and what were their names, heights and zodiac signs?

definitely the porch guy. y’know the neighbor everyone had at some point who just gets home and sits on the porch for like three hours. jigen is that guy. the funny thing is cuz of his hat (which. maybe is like a baseball cap now idk the fedora seems unfitting for standard average joe life) nobody can even tell he’s fallen asleep twenty minutes in and isn’t actually casually keeping watch over the street. classic jigen move

fujiko: 

the funny thing is. honestly aside from the theft and espionage her CURRENT life could translate pretty well. there’s no cap to the discord kitten grindset. BUT SHE’D NEVER STOOP THAT LOW LMAO she's probably just chatting up the usual camps of nepo babies trying sooo hard to impress people and old men that miiiight write her into the will

i think she’s got a gig at a bridal shop/just a formal dress shop in general. she’s very interested in the way trends change and the sheer amount of bank people are willing to lay down just because of a brand? like she got her boyfriend last year to buy her this prada bag but that was someone ELSE’S problem, not hers! 9 times out of 10 she’s just doing her job but if she slowly starts to actually click with a client she’ll guide them to where they can find some nice jewelry that’s still quality but not highway robbery

still in that schrodinger’s relationship with lupin, it’s just, slightly more communicated between them here. if you asked if she had a boyfriend, she’d probably say no, but after spending a bit of time talking to her you notice that she keeps bringing up this one specific guy she used to be with, kinda like she. is currently with him? and then lupin comes in like “hey bbg i brought you some panera for your lunchbreak! they were outta the soup you like at the first one so i ran by two <3” and she’s like “thank you darling just set it on the table over there!” and he leaves. and you just stare at her. no further conversation on the matter transpires

goemon: 

oh god it’s so hard for me to imagine him being some average guy. first thing that came to mind is his hair is still that long, he just keeps it tied back for convenience’s sake and when he lets it down everyone’s like oh shit!! he’s kinda rocking that! also tends to wear big cardigans and coats to like. evoke the imagery of his usual attire Wait those are more character redesign notes than anything let's get back on track here

what job would fucking OHHH A MUSEUM GUY?? not really the sharing history with people half but like, keeping artifacts clean, organizing displays, having all that knowledge in his head but just not really telling anyone lol IT’S NOT THAT HE’S BOTHERED by the idea of throwing a little knowledge on the patrons, he just gets into so much of the nitty gritty that the average person has no idea how they went from talking about wood carvings to erosion on the shore of shizuoka. on that note are we set in japan here? uhhhhhhhhhhhhh?hhhh?? maybe

only really consistently hangs with jigen, and really, it’s because of jigen’s repair gig. museums break a lot! goemon doesn’t really mesh with too many people upfront, so he’s very interested in why he has some gut reaction to jigen despite only having spoken to him for two hours total in the last month. over time they’d become actual friends, but it’d take a bit for him to reach the “this is my man lupin and the purse with legs is his broad” introduction and then the way he WORDS that introduction starts an entire fight that leaves goemon absolutely baffled at how these people are. maybe friends? in time he warms up to them though, but maybe it’d take some unusual bonding experience, like a camping trip that immediately went south

zenigata:

saying he’d be a cop is BORING he wouldn’t be a COP. … there’s a distinction between a cop and a private investigator alright? BUT NO REALLY LET’S HAVE FUN WITH THIS yknow what would suck but really be funny. boring job. 9 to 5 office shit with nothing to do all day. oh he’d hate it, he’d be like pacing the room and shit just waiting for an excuse to actually DO something cuz its so fucking DULL in this FUCKING BEIGE BUILDING. like that bob's burger's bit where he has a nightmare about working in accounting or whatever

the story in the og manga was that somehow lupin and zenigata (and i believe fujiko too?) met in college. which. hey man the numbers could line up and frankly it sounds hilarious so i’ll buy that. he runs into him time to time just organically and  still doesn’t like him a lot lot but it’s more of a personality thing than anything else. and without the occasional heroics their original life has, zeni doesn’t get to see the actual good potential for a kind person like he has before so despite them having less reasons to beef HE LIKES LUPIN EVEN LESS IN THIS WORLD. maybe he’ll come around eventually 

sorry to keep going on this train of thought but really he’d be so different from his actual self just because of the different circumstances that it's really interesting to me. internally he’s the same but being subjected to the crazy shit in the franchise (strangely enough) kinda softened him up externally, but THIS zenigata doesn’t have that. so he’s like, polite to strangers and all. holds the door open for you. but he’s just so BITTER inside about how much more interesting things COULD be, like there’s envy there about how the gang doesn’t seem bothered by anything and has fun almost every day he happens to see what they’re up to. how does that even make sense?! SORRY THAT’S NOT REALLY FUN I DUNNO WHAT'S POSSESSED ME HERE just give him some time, some weirdo event will happen and it’ll knock everything within him back into place as we know him normally. he just needs the right insane motivation to fire up that deranged part of him that’s been lying dormant for a few decades

it just occurred to me i never mentioned mortgages once. damn

[animehouse-moe]

Oshi No Ko Episode 1: Overhyped To The Moon, Or, Crucifying An Adaptation

A release schedule that's had the first episode in the works for a month in the making. Ninety minutes of content to start. An Akasaka story. This first episode, and its subsequent reaction, is like throwing a dud of a bomb and everybody pretending that it went off. But why? Well, even though I'm a fan of Akasaka's work, and even if I suggested the license to various publishers through their suggestion channels, I feel like an explanation is owed to the overhyped mess that appeared today.

A Nine Point Three Six on MAL. You know, the website where FMA:B reigns supreme and anything that challenges it is review bombed into oblivion? The site where the next highest rated anime is at a 9.11? Yeah, that MAL.

This is Doga Kobo's highest rated series, by Over One Point Three points. That's the Akasaka Difference™, and it's insane.

Let me dispel any preconceptions you might have about it. It is nowhere near that number. It's nowhere near A-1's adaptation of Love Is War. Oshi No Ko does have an interesting, if not abrasive, story for its first episode. But that can't carry it that high. It's story can't get rid of the limitations that Doga Kobo has, it can't get rid of flaky and flat direction, it can't get rid of shallow work that relies on the individual.

So, allow me to paint a more accurate picture of this first episode, starting at the bottom. Doga Kobo is... a studio. Not a particularly outstanding one, and one that hasn't had any "big" titles in its repertoire for a long time now. Arguably, their most memorable titles such as Plastic Memories, which are the poster children of the studio, are well out of their prime now. The majority of their higher rated series are 5 or even 10+ years old now. Stuff like Yuru Yuri, stuff like Nozaki-Kun, stuff like... stuff like. Would you consider New Game? Or Gabriel Dropout? I guess really, they only have Plastic Memories for the average anime fan.

They're not a studio that you entrust with big projects or names. Not that they can't deliver adaptations that make full use of and more of their source material like Nozaki-Kun, but that was almost a decade ago now. It's been over a year since Doga Kobo had an anime that was over a 7 in score, and I'd be surprised if their average score for the last 5 years could punch above a 7.3 (side note: excluding Oshi No Ko, it can't. It doesn't even break 7, it sits at 6.99).

Alright alright I swear on my life this is the last piece of Doga Kobo/OnK slander before I start getting to the episode itself. That would be the director. A career Doga Kobo in-house man, Hiramaki Daisuke has had forays into other studios for an episode or two and even some storyboarding, but has stayed close to home for his biggest projects. You know, big works like An Angel Flew Down To Me, or Selection Project (which is another Idol Anime), or Koisuru Asteroid... Also, you might be wondering, "Why is the direction so bad at times, and so much better at others?". Well, to the astute and curious people out there that had the same thoughts as me, it's because there's Five people credited with episode direction for it. So, odds are you're picking up on the direction changes that are of issue with the episode. I'd have to find proper time frames and everything to give real answers, but I'd say there's probably two episode directors in this first episode that offer solid direction. Anyways, point made, moving on.

The first half is painful. At a glance you might think "oh this isn't too bad", but when you get into it, in a single sitting, it's hard to get through. The direction and delivery is incredibly flat, and it relies totally on the energy that the quality VAs bring in.

It's a lot of single character and focus frames that suck any originality or uniqueness from the content, and causes it to feel like it's just droning on as we suffer an onslaught of dialogue that's ill-equipped to match the visuals.

I could pull hundreds of these layouts from the first half of the episode alone. Conversation bounces back and forth between incredibly static characters, closeups that can hide detail, and any number of other tricks. Of course, it's not that it's all terrible or lazy, but that the overwhelming direction is of this lazy and flat nature.

And this is where the core issue arises. As a visual adaptation, it's plain rough. The character designs are alright, if not a pretty big overgeneralization of the art of Oshi No Ko, and the art is solid enough, but it has nothing to give itself a leg to stand on. The direction is limp, the animation only in bursts, and the whole appeal is almost nonexistent to the manga.

They use transitions rather than animation or more creative cuts, they reserve everything for a few moments in the episode, it's just something that can't hold a candle to what the manga can do with its medium.

Just look at this stunning animation. Doesn't it just scream quality work? I wish I could give more examples (I could find a good few if I wanted to slog through 90 minutes again), but Doga Kobo is crafty with it. They very rarely show full characters in motion, and hardly is there more than one person moving in a scene.

I've said it a lot, but it really is just bad enough that I have to say it a few times. I wouldn't have to, if people were to take it at face value, but as it closes in on a 9.5 on MAL it's impossible to separate.

Now, I wouldn't say that all of it is bad. The second half of the episode seems to pick up on the fact that it's meant to do something, but that thought only appears... about 35% of the time.

Thankfully, that 35% appears awfully close to each other, and we get stuff like Ai's Idol scenes. They're well choreographed, and incredibly well animated compared to the rest of the episode. It's fluid, it's creative, and there's lots of moving parts to it. I just wish there was more of that quality in the rest of the episode.

Truthfully I think it's a good example of where the talent and ability comes from in the episode. The idol part has a measuring stick. You can find similar direction in real idol performances, and the flair/impact frames are found later on in the episode (most likely from the same animator).

What I can say at the end of it all, is that this clip is as good as it gets, by a pretty large margin. The direction adds emotion to the clip, the animation heightens it, and the anime original aspect of the music and choreography is the icing on the cake. But in reality? I'd say it's good. Not great, not outstanding, and certainly not worth its outrageous score on MAL.

Oshi No Ko has good pieces, but not a good whole. You can take parts of it out and say "yeah, I think the layout for this scene is really solid and makes use of the full frame afforded by an anime vs a manga panel", but you don't watch an anime in pieces, you watch it as an episode, a total experience. So yeah, you'll get some nice pieces like below, but you're trading off everything I've already talked about and then some for it.

Is it really worth it? Is it really worth that insane score that lords it over other entries this season like Heavenly Delusion, Demon Slayer, Hells Paradise, Skip and Loafer, MahoYome or GWitch? I think the obvious answer is no. Akasaka's story certainly has charm and talent within, but as an adaptation, I really had no interest in most of everything that Doga Kobo gave it, especially considering that they dropped content from the first volume still.