#unsurprising since who else would care enough to do it

[dreadark]

I just realized lee jihye's final attribute is "monarch of the great sea"

and the title of the 999th turn's kim namwoon is... "monarch of the great abyss"

he literally named himself after his forty thousand year old crush...

[allertonhoe]

haunted - rafe cameron (18+)

* * * I know if I'm hauntin' you, you must be hauntin' me * * *

note: wrote on here //years// ago but haven't in a while, pls be kind !! also kinda rushed to get it out asap since not october anymore lol so sorry if the editing isn’t amazing

content warnings: 18+ MDNI - smut, afab!reader, unprotected p in v, toxic relationship (on-and-off dynamic), mentions being under the influence of alcohol + drugs, desecration of a room in a strangers house smh, not actually halloween-themed but angsty af ❤️

length: 2.1k words

It was like a practiced routine at this point. A different Kook’s place getting sacrificed every weekend for another unsanctioned rager, the older adolescent crowd seizing any opportunity to get wasted. Plus there wasn’t much else to do on Figure 8, and it’s not like any of your parents really paid enough attention to stop you. More than likely boozed up themselves at the country club down the road.

You’d lost count of how many drinks you sculled back and joints you’d puffed pretty early on. The cocktail of substances that rushed through your system directing your conscious, your hips twisting along to the music without a care about who might be around. But you could tell there were a pair of eyes fixed on you, and you didn't need to look that way to know who was staring you down.

You couldn’t do anything, go anywhere, without your name being tied back to your ex-boyfriend, Rafe. Living in such a small, gossipy town, your long-standing (yet very contentious) affair was a hot topic. You knew it was all your mother ever talked about at the club with her girlfriends - she didn’t have much else to brag about anyway. Plus with not very far to go, there was no avoiding him forever.

One day, you'd been bickering and everything suddenly came to a head, storming out in the middle over a detail you couldn’t even recall anymore. He didn’t follow you out, didn’t text you later to apologize or check in on the status of your relationship. Both of you too proud to concede first, dragging out another melodramatic rift that didn’t need to happen. Your equally stubborn attitudes being your main obstacle instead of the original argument itself.

You ran in the same circles, that's how you'd gotten close in the first place. Your mutual friends urging you to just skip to the inevitable and reconcile, tired of hearing about your tumultuous dynamic. Catching brief glimpses of the brooding boy at every local function you showed up to, whether it was some annual club fundraiser that one of your parents were on the board of or another random house party. Always sensing his unwavering glare but never actually approaching to clear the air with you.

And from his unchanged demeanour, people would probably assume everything was fine. Rafe typically staying reclined against some wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching over you the entire night like some malignant curse. Shooting dirty looks at any guy that even glanced your way. Attempting to cope by chugging down more alcohol, trying to keep him off your mind and just have a good time with your friends, but you knew he wasn't just focused on your immediate surroundings.

At some point, you found yourself wandering through the hallways in search for a bathroom. Getting peace from the chaos as you found refuge in some random guest room. You scrambled into the attached ensuite, clumsily closing the door behind you as you assessed your surroundings as best as you could in your intoxicated state. Eventually composing yourself enough that you could return downstairs, but not expecting to be startled by a tall figure lurking as you returned to the bedroom.

“Fuck, Rafe. You scared the shit out of me." You announce, unsurprised as he grinned to himself at your unsuspecting alarm.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to."

“Did you follow me up here?” You question, getting your answer when he began to mimic a kid caught in a candy store.

"You, uh... You look really good." He compliments, shamelessly ogling you as he gradually approached.

You rolled your eyes, trying not let the sweet words affect you, especially knowing he was doing it to get a rise out of you. He knew it was better to get you alone, when the girlfriends you’d been venting to weren’t there to remind you about how distraught you’d been. Where he could trap you with his comforting musk - a blend of sea-salt, weed and expensive aftershave.

"Come on. Don't be that way, baby..." He pleads.

"I'm not being any way. And don't call me baby." You assert, trying your best to stand your ground. You knew how little it took for him to get under your skin, which took even less effort in your tipsy state.

"I miss you." He admits bluntly, his broad frame towering over you dauntlessly.

"I'm not doing this right now. I’m drunk, I’m sure you’re off your shit too." You protest, rubbing your scrunched-up face in distress.

"You don't have to do anything,” He reassures, his hands taking yours to uncover your features before dropping them to grip your hips. “And we don’t have to talk.”

That was your predicament - You were each other's weakness, unable to turn down the bold advances he would throw your way. Remembering of how much you adored how gentle he was when it was just the two of you, the opposite of his usual aggressive tone and shortness with everyone else. Falling victim to him again just from his commanding touch, trying your best to ignore the way he chastely kissed your exposed shoulder.

“We both know this isn’t a good idea.” You declare, but didn't outwardly reject him.

“Us a bad idea? Since when?” He surveys, sporting a cocky smirk as he realized it wouldn’t take too much convincing on his end.

His half-lidded eyes stayed on you as he waited for your response, gauging your reaction. His lips deliberately hovering over yours, dangling over you like bait. Unsure if it was because he didn’t want to overstep or was coaxing you to make the first move, trying to get you to give in first. He brought one of his hands up to your cheek, instinctively leaning into him as his thumb brushed over the skin.

“Rafe…” You remark softly, knowing he was already breaking down your walls again. “I can’t keep doing this with you. This back and forth. This break has been good for me...”

“So you’re done with me?” He retorts, emitting a scoff from you.

“I know you wouldn’t let me shake you off that easily Rafe.”

“Then why are you still picking a fight?” He raises his brow, his arrogance shining through.

“Because it’s more fun being a pain in your ass?”

“Yeah?” He grills playfully at your mouthy comment, too caught up in his teasing to notice he'd been subtly directing the two of you towards the bed.

“Seems to keep you coming back.” You reply, mirroring his steamy expression as he drew you closer.

He kissed you like it was all he’d been thinking about since you'd unceremoniously walked out all those weeks ago, like he needed to actually convince you to reconsider him. His movements in sync with yours as he helped you lay backwards, letting him take complete charge. Proceeding as if there had been no time lost, as if there was no unresolved tension between you. A disappointed whimper leaving you when he pulled away, which was quickly amended as he pecked down your neck hungrily.

“You always have me coming back, baby.” He mutters smoothly. “Doesn't matter how long it’s been…”

Holding his intense stare, you took the hem of your top and stripped off the fabric, silently affirming that he could keep going even though your body language had given him more than enough permission. He follows suit, removing his own shirt without hesitation as he returned his focus to you. Hooking his fingers into your skirt and ripping it off, only preoccupied with how good it felt being back here with you.

“You just walked out with no fucking explanation. Nothing. You really believe I’ve thought about anyone else?”

“Then show me how much you missed me” You request simply, Rafe wasting no time as he brought his lips back to yours.

He looked down at you like you were his hunted prey, only a thin ring of his striking cerulean irises visible around the edge of his blown out pupils, knowing at this point it wasn’t just the result of the coke he’d done earlier. Reaching behind your back and unclasping your bra, his vacant hand fondling one of your breasts, basically covering the surface with his large digits.

Dragging his lips up and down your torso, the only sounds filling the room being your ragged panting and the muffled noise coming from downstairs, neither of you paying any mind to the party still going on. Carefully making his way across your flesh, nipping at the skin as if to physically imprint you with his mark once again. Not that you'd even entertained another man’s company during your time apart.

His pace was agonizingly slow as he made his way to your panties, watching as he pecked down your stomach gingerly, tending to every area he stopped at. Your breath shuddering when he took the waistband between his teeth, not breaking his heated gaze as he tugged them down your legs. Fumbling to discard his own pants and boxers, hurrying to continue his initial task.

You gasp as his fingers purposefully skimmed against your core, your hands flying to his chest for some stability as you surrendered into his touch. Feeling his accelerated heart rate under your palms, the hasty rhythm matching your own just from the building anticipation. Giving him the same kind of attention, you confidently took him into your grasp, earning a similar, fervent response from Rafe.

Your shared desire unwavered as you angled him towards your entrance, the muted gesture doing more communication than you had for weeks. Instantly getting the fix that no drugs or alcohol had been able to satisfy. The hint of unrest that had been lingering since your last encounter vanishing at his invasion, trembling as he stretched you out and made himself comfortable inside you.

"Fuck," He grunts deeply, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, a wave of pleasure washing over him. "That’s it baby."

He only let you adjust to him for a few moments, too caught up in the fact he had you again to hold himself back any longer. Fucking you like he was making a statement with every thrust, knowing exactly what he needed to do to elicit the reaction he’d been craving from you, your walls enveloping him snugly with every jolt. His name falling from your lips like some sacred chant, sporting a cheeky grin as you fed his ego.

“Never letting you go like that again.” He proclaims, his words only pushing you further. “You’re damn frustrating, but fuck, you’re mine.”

His hand threaded through your hair, holding you firmly as he rested his forehead on yours, not letting up his fierce momentum. A familiar pressure started to build within you, Rafe never having to work too hard to bring you to bliss, slipping back into your accustomed dynamic. Knowing you wouldn’t last much longer, but recognizing the same went for him as his movements got sloppier. Absolute euphoria taking over as he relentlessly pounded into you.

“Say it. Tell me you’re mine.” He growls out, hearing the faint vulnerability laced underneath the demand.

“I’m yours…” You agree smoothly. “Always. Only you.”

This only drove him wilder, making him cling onto you even tighter, realizing he’d been just as lost without you as you’d been without him. Neither of you holding back the urgency that had built up, channeling whatever unspoken resentment that remained into your frenzied actions. Not too worried about how uncoordinated or desperate your efforts had become; just content that you were back together like you were supposed to be.

“R-Rafe, I-” You stammer, barely able to even get that out.

“I know, baby. I got you.”

A strangled moan escaped your throat as your orgasm hit, being fully consumed by him, his own release following seconds later. Leisurely making out as you reveled in your highs, cuddled like you were the last two people on Earth and not in some random bedroom hiding from a sea of your drunk peers. Not in any rush to get up right away, Rafe wrapped his arms around you protectively, holding you against his chest.

You’d kinda forgotten how much you loved being the object of his affection, how right it felt being held and kissed and taken care of by him. It was obvious as you both laid there that you wouldn't be neglecting your relationship again anytime soon, especially over some petty argument. Not missing the smug look on his face as you caught your breath, already back to finding the somewhat patronizing gesture more endearing than you probably would’ve an hour ago.

“What?”

“Do you even remember why you were so mad at me in the first place?”

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut: Match and Kon and the time magic made them do it. tw: unnegotiated degradation kink, unnegotiated exhibitionism/voyeurism. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Thirteen gave him his body. Literally and deliberately and very, very intentionally. 

Match isn’t the one who set up the spell, after all. 

“Kon, are you trying to make me call off patrol just to watch you screw this asshole all night?” Tim asks, his tone sounding very deliberately resigned. 

“. . . maybe,” Thirteen says, his voice a little small and strangled. 

“Definitely,” Match corrects, and pushes Thirteen’s thighs farther apart. Thirteen flushes darker, but doesn’t pretend to try and stop him this time. 

“Yeah?” Tim asks even more dryly. “And what makes you think I want to do that, Match?” 

“I don't care if you want to,” Match snorts, dragging his hands down Thirteen’s thighs and being wholly unsurprised by how easily they fall apart under the contact. The other’s hole looks abused and thoroughly fucked, and as wet as the greediest cunt would be. “You're going to, because if you don't I could hurt him and you wouldn't know until it was too late to stop me. Or because that's a good enough excuse for you to give yourself to let yourself get off on what an eager slut your useless excuse for a boyfriend wants to be for me. Whichever.” 

“Match!” Thirteen sputters, covering his face with a hand again. Judging by the way he still doesn’t try to close his legs, Match thinks it’s safe to assume he’s more embarrassed by the conversation than anything else. “He’s not my–we’re not together, Jesus!” 

“Oh, so he platonically volunteered to watch you take dick for the first time?” Match asks, raising an eyebrow at him. Thirteen scowls at him past his splayed fingers, his face still bright red. 

“It wasn't like that, oh my god,” he hisses at him. 

“Apparently what it's ‘like’ is that you let your baby brother fuck you up the ass before you let your creepy stalker boyfriend so much as cop a feel,” Match says, sliding a hand under Thirteen’s thigh to make a point of digging his fingers into said ass. Thirteen shudders again, but glowers at him too. Match doesn’t really care, since he knows that ass is still up for grabs either way. 

“We’re not–” Thirteen starts to snap. 

“Apparently,” Tim cuts him off with, his tone perfectly neutral. Thirteen turns red. 

“. . . Tim,” he says, not quite pleading. 

“Mm?” Tim says. 

“Tim, I–” Thirteen cuts himself off this time, his voice strangled. “You–you’re–”

Technically, Tim gave him Thirteen’s body too, Match reflects. 

At least, he really doubts the idiot set up this whole thing alone and then asked Tim to watch. 

Match rolls that thought over in his mind for a moment, idle but intent. It’s . . . a thought, isn’t it. 

Then he flips Thirteen back onto his stomach and shoves his face into the mattress again, and also takes the excuse to rub his dick against the cleft of the other’s ass. His interest level’s . . . recovered. 

Very much so, has it recovered.

“Wh–you prick, I was trying to say something!” Thirteen sputters, digging his fingers into the bed as he pushes back against him, but doesn’t even put up a cursory illusion of struggle. He’s pushing back against his cock more than anything else, in fact. 

“You can say it while I've got my dick in you,” Match says. 

“I–oh god!” Thirteen gasps, because that’s as long as Match bothered waiting to shove back inside him and fuck him, very literally, like a jackhammer. “Fucking god!” 

“Hm,” Tim says. 

[markantonys]

While I still don't think the show has done enough to show why the world despises and fears male channelers (since it really should've been embedded into the world building, so far we only know that the Aes Sedai hate and fear them) and it does kinda lessen the impact of the narrative that none of the EF5 had at least an initial gut reaction to Rand being able to channel. I do wonder how they're gonna handle that topic moving forward, cause it kinda has to be addressed now that Rand is actively channeling. I could see it being expanded more deeply as Rand's madness progresses/tie it into his arc.

the show has made it ABUNDANTLY clear that Male Channelers Are Considered Bad News By All. it IS embedded into the worldbuilding. was the king saying that logain's gone mad and trying to kill him not enough for you? was the people of tar valon jeering and throwing fruit at him not enough for you? was rand and mat saying "hey if i'm a male channeler please kill me" not enough for you? was rand's terror the second he realized selene saw him channel not enough for you? was selene's act of how a normal person would react to finding out her boyfriend can channel not enough for you? was his heartbroken yet unsurprised reaction to her rejection not enough for you? was the whole backstory of a male channeler causing the apocalypse not enough for you? do you think that show-onlys are completely incapable of putting all these pieces together along with aes sedai treatment of male channelers and coming to the conclusion that male channelers are probably not very popular with most people and it's going to be very tough for rand that he is one?

literally what else should they have done that would make sense within the very small world and very early story of the first 2 seasons/3 books that they didn't already do? shown emond's fielders sitting around the dinner table talking about how much they hate and fear male channelers when none of them has ever met one and thus it's not relevant to their lives? wasted time doing a whole sidequest for rand in s2 where his abilities are discovered by some Average Citizens and they react badly? shit all over show!mat's characterization and given him a negative reaction to rand in s2 that would not make sense for his current show headspace, just for the sake of furthering rand's randpain? i'm sick of the rand stans who act like rand is the only character who matters and mat's characterization should be sacrificed just so we can go "oh poor rand uwu even his own best friend is mean to him". portraying mat in 2x06 as the sort of person who bullies and kicks his best friend while he's down would've been beneficial because......? what is so wrong with the show making the ef5 feel like mutually loyal friends instead of "rand is the best and most loyal friend in the world but the rest are little shits who abandon him as soon as the going gets tough"? seeing as in the books, mat continues to be an extremely loyal friend to rand throughout the series but most readers are too stupid to see through his unreliable narration and realize he doesn't mean it when he says that rand channeling is like him eating babies, i'm not surprised the show decided to simplify things in order to convey the true heart of mat's character (loyal and caring friend to rand) in a more obvious manner.

and i guarantee you that no show-only is going "oh, it's only aes sedai who have a problem with male channelers, everyone else thinks they're cool". that's not happening. show-onlys are not stupid, and they understand that male channelers are considered bad news by all; or maybe they haven't thought much yet about how male channelers are viewed by the average public, but in future seasons once we see rand getting shit from the average public, they are not going to be surprised or confused or go "but i thought it was only aes sedai who had a problem with them and everyone else thinks they're cool?", they're going to go "oh, well we've seen how much aes sedai hate them, so it makes sense that everyone else does too". stop. think for 2 seconds about "have i actually seen a large number* of show-onlys misunderstanding X and/or do i think it's plausible that a large number of show-onlys would be likely to misunderstand X, or do show-onlys have enough context clues to figure out X for themselves or to be unsurprised when X is expanded on and made more explicit in future seasons and i'm working myself up into a state over a non-issue?"

*there are always going to be a handful of people incapable of critical thinking who willfully misunderstand what the show is showing us, just like there are readers like that with the books, hence unless a LARGE number of general-population show-onlys are misunderstanding X, as opposed to just 20 idiots on twitter, i do not consider it a failure by the show in portraying X.

[kairiscorner]

HI SO HERE'S MORE MIGGY X BLACK CAT DYNAMIC HCS !!

(part 1)

you're the first one he trusts when he has to back down from being the leader for a bit. there are times when miguel has to step down as the leader for a little while, most of the time, it's because of jess and peter b encouraging him to take a break, and it's also because of how you've been telling him at times that he looks exhausted or could use some rest. when it comes to you, miguel thinks twice about what he's about to do and considers your opinion over his initial thoughts. the only reason why miguel refuses to take breaks in the first place was because of the lack of competent adults who could handle keeping the multiverse and spider society together--but then you came and proved to be capable yourself of handling all these people, along with jess and peter b. you became his right hand person, when he was gone, everyone answered to you. and the best part was, everyone was chill with you. they all listened and never really made fun of you, in fact, many wanted to get to know you better and get closer to you, so that was a plus. he does still worry about peter b letting most of the spider people have too much liberty when he's gone, but you're the equalizer to this trio of chaos, with you being a kind of "negative chaos" to balance them out. as long as you're around, miguel doesn't worry that much about anything.

he's always interested in you and what you love, in so many ways. with you coming off as a mysterious kind of character in the beginning, miguel has since become fond of everything you like, because not only does it remind him of you, but because it also reminds him of how happy they make you. he also sometimes finds himself watching you be mesmerized with something you're interested in, and when he asks you about it, he's treated to long sessions of you talking and rambling about the things you love; sometimes for hours on end. he hates it when people take up too much of his time, but when it's you, he never feels like he's wasted his time or that hours of listening to you was worth nothing--quite the opposite, really. miguel looks forward to talking to you about the things that interest you, and when your eyes beam, when your smile widens, and when your voice gets a little louder and you open up much more--he's satisfied. he's happy, and he's very open to listening to you talk and talk and talk when it's just you two, even if no one else is there and you've only got him to talk to. that's just the way you both like it, actually.

he's surprised yet unsurprised at how much you know about his little quirks and routines. you were always an astute one, always observing and listening for the tiniest details anyone could honestly never notice. though miguel never thought of himself as a subject of your interest, at least not enough for you to point out his little quirks and routines throughout the day. he never realized some of these quirks that he did when you one day pointed them out; like how he furrows his eyebrows when he's trying to read something, how only his top teeth show when he's smiling, how when he's being sarcastic, his eyes narrow--and how when he's really excited, his bottom teeth along with his top teeth show when he smiles. when he tries to hide it, he'll purse his lips, but his smile would still show; and a small twinkle dances in his eyes that show right now is not just a normal moment. you also point out how he usually has his coffee, and at what time, and what time he usually has his daily announcements at HQ, when he does his rounds--it makes him feel like someone's concerned for him when he doesn't follow these routines, that... maybe this is what it feels like to have a partner who cares about you and notices these small things. and when you don't do them, something feels off and they get worried. miguel blushed out of bashfulness when you first pointed out his little habits and out of surprise when you paid attention to his routine. it never struck him as creepy, because knowing you, you had your own little world; one he loved to be a part of. and when you showed that you were aware of such intimate, obscure details about him, he had felt a strange warmth for the first time in his life.

he loves sitting in silence with you. miguel hates chaotic and loud situations, much more with people who instigate these situations. you were never one of these people, you always valued your calm, serene quietness and abhorred unnecessary noises. miguel loved that about you, how you could work without bothering anyone nor being happy about causing noise. you were always yourself when you were in the quiet, you were sometimes in your own head when it was too quiet, though. you've never spent a long period of just silence as you worked, but when you got to know miguel and work with him, you felt a comfortable silence with him. it was never awkward, unlike how you anticipated it to be, but instead, it was a comforting silence that assured you he's here, even if you don't want to talk or do anything else, he'd rather just sit here in silence with you. maybe hold your hand or cuddle with you if you'd like.

he admires your out of the box thinking. despite looking like you'd have a "one way is the right way" kind of mind like miguel, you're the complete opposite. you don't rely on written or spoken rules to show you how to do something; you make your own way and never bother anyone else while you do it. you work independently and very, very creatively. you hatch up plans that nobody, not even he'd, ever thought of. being very open-minded and observant, you'd see details and things that slip out of many others' sights. miguel is incredibly proud of the way you solve problems, though he wants to be the one to solve them for you so you don't have any burdens or troubles to worry about, neither of you have to worry when you're able to fix things on your own. but when the going gets tough, miguel's door is always open for you. he'd be honored to help you out with a problem, and he'd wanna solve things your way before his own. because you're always right, and the right one for him :>

a/n: I LOVE THIS TROPE SO MUCH WTF, I'M MAKING MORE PARTS OF THIS AAAAAAAA

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @luvstarrstruck @binibinileonara

[evilhasnever]

Funky xiyao prompt: Modern reincarnation au— the Lans remember but no one else does. JGY is stressed and upset because LXC's family hates him with no apparent reason.

Thank you, this is such a juicy prompt!! I got inspired for some reincarnation shenanigans today, I hope you enjoy.

(no CWs except perceived classism)

xiyao - modern reincarnation AU

When Lan Huan invites him to their “grand occasions” date spot, Meng Yao knows what to expect. This was their first date restaurant, a place expensive enough that Meng Yao had been on pins and needles the whole time - yet casual enough that Lan Huan had worn just jeans, a T-shirt and a fancy leather wrap bracelet, distracting enough in itself to get Meng Yao through dinner without panicking. 

It has been seven months since then and they’ve been going steady, but Meng Yao knew it in his bones that it couldn’t last. Experience tells him all good things come to an end, and this has been the best thing to happen to him yet, so it stands to reason that Lan Huan took him here for one last bout of nostalgia. One last expensive dinner bestowed on the food stamps kid, before he likely tells him they simply aren’t going to work out. The thought infuriates him, even though he knows Lan Huan likely sees it as a kindness. No text breakups for Lan Huan, he is too pleasant and tactful for that level of disrespect.

Meng Yao isn’t being paranoid. He has irrefutable evidence that the Lan family, as a whole, detests him. He has met Lan Huan’s uncle and guardian exactly once, and the man obstinately refused to even look at him. Lan Huan’s brother is worse, somehow, because he stares at him intensely every time they cross paths and couldn’t even muster paltry pleasantries when Lan Huan introduced them.

It is hard not to draw a logical connection between their different lots in life and the Lan family's stubborn cold shoulder towards Meng Yao. It is entirely unsurprising that old money elite like the Lans would turn up their nose when Meng Yao started skulking around their heir - who wouldn’t be suspicious? Except it had been Lan Huan who sought him out, Lan Huan who asked him out, Lan Huan who seemed trepidant that he would be turned down, absurdly.

So even though his family obviously disapproves, Meng Yao had to conclude that Lan Huan himself genuinely liked him. He doesn’t think himself particularly lovable, but he can tell Huan-ge is not the type to fuck someone he does not genuinely care for. Small mercies.

It had been nice while it lasted, but the signs are now clear - halfway through the date Lan Huan started minutely fidgeting with his watch, looking down at his lap rather than holding prolonged eye contact as he usually does. Meng Yao eats his fancy dinner in bitter silence.

“A-Yao…” Lan Huan finally says over the organic tiramisu they’ve been picking at. “You have probably already guessed I have something to say.”

Meng Yao takes a deep breath and holds it in his lungs, a buoy to keep himself afloat. “Go on, Huan-ge.”

Lan Huan shakes his head for a moment, then takes out a little box and slides it gently across the table. Meng Yao stares at it blankly. 

“I had a speech,” Lan Huan begins, “but I don’t really think it was good enough for this. So I will just come out and say it. A-Yao, would you… consider marrying me?”

Meng Yao can count on one hand the times in his life he’d been utterly poleaxed, and this one firmly tops them.

“You… want to get married?” he blurts out, forgetting all about composure. “There is absolutely no way your uncle will approve.”

Lan Huan’s brow crumples elegantly and he looks down, his fingers tracing the little velvet box almost stubbornly. “It’s 2023, A-Yao. I do not need anyone’s permission to get married.” 

“But… but your family hates me,” Meng Yao stammers, brain trying to recalibrate itself too quickly. He’d been steeling himself to smile in the face of a breakup, and the face-turn is making his head spin.

“Why would you think so?” Lan Huan asks, in his gentle but diplomatic voice that means Meng Yao is right on the money.

“Huan-ge,” Meng Yao huffs. “Your uncle pretends I do not exist and your brother looks cross every time he is reminded that I do. I am pretty sure he had someone run a background check. It is very obvious that they have something against me.”

Lan Huan’s handsome face twists into a rare expression of discomfort. It would be fascinating, if it weren’t for the fact that Meng Yao hates to make Huan-ge unhappy for any reason.

“Is there… something you think they should hold against you?” Lan Huan finally asks, delicately but intently. He lets the question hang for much longer than it would normally be polite, looking half hopeful and half terrified.

Meng Yao can't help a frown. Other than being born poor, what crime has he ever committed? In another situation he’d pout to get Huan-ge to fuss over him, but this time his confusion is entirely genuine. ”Well. I didn’t go to Harvard, for one,” he tries to joke. “I assume your uncle wanted you to date among peers.”

“A-Yao’s academic and professional results speak for themselves. But,” Lan Huan sighs thoughtfully, “I am aware that people will often look at labels and no further. I promise you, Uncle is not such a person. He will come around once he realizes how much you have achieved on your strength alone. Don’t let anyone’s expectations get in the way of your ambition.”

Sometimes Lan Huan seems wise beyond his years - Meng Yao initially wrote it off as a by-product of his being obscenely educated, but on occasion his observations hit too close to home in a very personal way. It is almost unnerving. 

“If you know my ambitions, you know that I do not want to marry rich,” Meng Yao murmurs, reaching out for the velvet case. He does not dare open it.

“I know,” Lan Huan promptly replies. “My proposal is entirely selfish. I would be the one with the most to gain if you said yes.”

Meng Yao chuckles sadly. “You are such a charmer, Huan-ge. There is no need to flirt at this point.”

“It’s no flirting, A-Yao,” Lan Huan says, staring at him with that deep-water gaze that occasionally seems to see beyond Meng Yao. “I am certain that I do not wish to live a life without you. If… If you also want me.”

Meng Yao has goosebumps, and he is not certain if it is because of Lan Huan’s unusual intensity or the enormity of the commitment he is considering. But that glimmer of uncertainty on his boyfriend’s gentle features is unacceptable, so he has to reach across the table to peck a kiss on his lips. 

When he sits back down he opens the little box, almost fearful of finding a diamond too big to wear in public. He needn't have worried - Lan Huan, while a romantic, is never a show off. His sentiment is shown through care rather than big displays. The engagement ring sitting in the little velvet case is a gold band with a bluish-green inlay, rather masculine and simple in design. 

“Jade?”

“Jade,” Lan Huan smiles, though Meng Yao has never seen him so nervous. “Do you like it?”

The ring fits perfectly, of course. Magically so. “Yes.”

He’d say he must have done something right in his past life to get a man like this if he believed in that stuff. But the point remains that Lan Huan is offering his heart in a little velvet case, and he simply cannot imagine not taking it. The thought of anyone else ever making Lan Huan squirm like this, care like this, plead like this, fills Meng Yao with turbid jealousy, immediately replaced with the taste of triumph. His answer was a rather foregone conclusion, he supposes.

“Alright.”

“Is that a…”

“Yes.”

His fiance rises to hug him tight, making him sputter through laughter as a glass is upturned in the process. He hugs back, and squeezes his eyes shut. His vision is swimming, for some reason.

When he finally releases him, Lan Huan’s eyes are red but he is grinning widely, nearly looking half his age from sheer joy. “Go on,” he says, “call your mother. I’ll go get the check so you can tell her about how I almost utterly fumbled this.”

Meng Yao pretends to be scandalized for a moment, then waves him off with a laugh and takes a picture of his ring finger to text to his mama. 

After dinner they have excellent celebratory sex at Meng Yao’s apartment - it gets so enthusiastic that Lan Huan even forgets that weird foreplay of his, the “kissing-Meng-Yao’s-heart-until-it tickles” thing. Meng Yao enjoys his oddities, truth be told, but today he’s too well fucked to notice that Lan Huan forgot about his routine until the third round. Perhaps engagement sex just hits differently. 

“Need to buy a desk and an easel,” Lan Huan murmurs against his nape in the sleepy, sweaty afterglow. 

“What?” Meng Yao garbles back, ready to drop off at a moment’s notice.

“For me. Moving in. I assume A-Yao doesn’t want to move into the Lan’s family home with uncle.”

Meng Yao giggles hysterically, then reaches back to stroke Lan Huan’s hair approvingly. “Tomorrow, then.”

Irrational, caliginous thoughts crowd his half-asleep self, even as he drifts off into warmth. Sometimes he wonders if Lan Huan knows him better than he knows himself. Foresight is the only explanation for these occasional strokes of genius that manage to put even him on the backfoot. 

But that can’t be right… if he did, he’d know better.

He tries to reason with his unconscious, but the darkest part of his dormant mind worries that Lan Huan wouldn’t have approached him all those months ago if he truly, truly knew him. 

If he truly knew all about him, Er-ge would know to stay away.

It’s a good thing Huan-ge doesn't know, then.

[silentstaresfanficandfanart]

thinking back now in nostalgic recollection of my times on amino, i wont share who i once was, i wont say where i was popular, but back then it was shockingly easy to become a popular artist on there, it was so cool being a part of a community, and how when you really put in a lot of effort other people could submit your art to be featured, and how everyone was so much more interactive since they were like ya know, grouped by fandom and or group

it was so fun fighting for the number one spot on the leaderboard its where i spent my earliest years of drawing...

its so strange being here on tumblr as some rando with a small handful of buddies who interact with me.

one funny thing is once you get popular enough people stop talking to you except the occasional really excited person whos *really* eager to talk to you (its so sweet...) but like everyone else is just...weirdly distant-

its a little like how i am now, but now its quiet because im so unpopular! its so neat seeing how much it changes, i wonder if it differs depending on the platform how popular people are treated? i love studying the like, psychological side of things. I dont think im likely to ever find out, but if anyone popular on here has some insight id love to hear your experiences with it, or how you felt on other sites, or people who were previously popular other places but find it really quiet here, etc.

though i would like to add a random note: while i may have had a few thousand followers on amino- they have a SERIOUS bot problem, i would be INCREDIBLY unsurprised if over half if not more of my followers were actually bots, i dont think that exactly counts as true popularity, but regardless other people viewed it as the same thing as genuine popularity and as such, treated me accordingly, i also managed to reach the top of one of the leaderboards, mostly by posting agressively- which probably helped matters. It was a very different system than most sites and i assure you i do not expect any sort of clout over it and frankly id rather not draw the attention of certain people from that time in my life who were...weird toward me in a way that made me uncomfortable and thus i will be keeping most details of it private. im happy to answer most questions if anyone has any especially on if i think amino is a good site or not to hang out on for artists but nothing revealing please , for my sense of safety and comfort-thank you-

on that note i do not suggest joining amino if you're a child, though i left in part because it is frankly, mostly children, ive had personal experiences (and so have my friends) with people who were very dangerous toward children on there though im not entirely sure if they knew i was a child regardless they pushed my boundaries in a very uncomfortable way and this was a VERY common complaint about amino when i was younger) I think it was a fun site and all, and with the right safety rules it was MOSTLY safe, but a LARGE part of why i wasnt as badly affected as some of my friends is because i was better at setting boundaries and I knew what was and wasnt appropriate and i blocked people that made me uncomfortable and my mom was careful to teach me internet safety rules. A lot of my friends didn't have that security and safety let alone parents they could tell comfortably "this person is making me uncomfortable and i need help from an adult"

so please do not take this as a reason to join amino ESPECIALLY if you are underage even though i know most of the userbase is quite young, it does not have safety protections in place for these children and its scary stuff. and remember to please trust the internet safety rules, i know it can be kind of annoying to have rules, but straight up ive had to scold my younger friends for randomly doxxing themselves to me and it scares the frick out of me that people would just tell me where they go to school-which yes is also doxxing yourself dONT DO THAT PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU- no im not mad at you or scolding you JUST FREAKING WORRIED OKAY theres some really dangerous people who might have hurt me when i was younger if i Hadn't known better!!! and dont ask for that information of other people please! or share your real name! do! not! but im getting derailed now-and IF YOURE ONE OF MY FRIENDS

I LOVE YOU BUT I DO NOT NEED TO KNOW THAT INFORMATION PLEASE KEEP IT TO YOURSELF OR I AM GOING MOMMA MODE AND YOU ARE GETTING A LECTURE, EVEN IF YOURE NOT A CHILD I WILL SCOLD YOU- YES IM AWARE IM MILDLY A HIPOCRATE AS SOME OF MY (NOTE: **ADULT FRIENDS WHO ARE CAPABLE OF DRIVING AND MAKING CHOICES FOR THEMSELVES AND VOTE AND STUFF AND THEREFORE, ARE OLD ENOUGH TO MAKE SUCH DRASTIC DECISIONS AND GRASP THE DANGERS OF IT AND KNOW THE SAFETY RULES AND I HAVE KNOWN FOR MANY MANY YEARS TO BUILD THIS LEVEL OF TRUST**) FRIENDS HAVE COME TO VISIT ME , BUT THAT WAS STILL A VERY CAREFULLY DONE PROCESS AND THERES A LOT OF RULES YOU SHOULD FOLLOW WHEN DOING THAT, JUST FOR THE RECORD, YOU KNOW, SO YOU DONT GET SERIAL KILLERED OR SOMETHING ELSE HORRIBLE- i love you please stay safe- please do not just assume im not a serial killer, i didint even trust that nightowl and person werent serial killers untill theyd visited me at least once and did not do any serial killing

uhh i honestly kind of lost my train of thought and forgot what i was writing about this is just a ramble, toodloo stay safe ya little gremlins and remember popularity means nothing its just a random thing that happens to people sometimes, and is rarely based in pure skill alone and stuff, stay hydrated ,and maybe do some stretches or something or your bones will get all crunchy and pop rocky if you dont, love you guys!

[silvfyre-writings]

Please don't hate me (BSD Fanfic)

Crossposted from AO3

Ranpo is awake.

He’s been awake for several hours now, but that’s unsurprising at this point, it’s not like he’s slept well in years. The only difference is that now he has the chance to sleep, and yet his mind just won’t quiet down enough for him to drift off. He has plenty of blankets, a comfortable pillow, and a warm weight at his back, yet somehow it’s still not enough, and he doesn’t understand what more he can do. It’s not like he can look it up the answer either, not without having a phone or computer to get the access he needs, and a lack of money means he can’t get any of those things either, not unless he wants to sacrifice the temporary roof over his head.

So he suffers.

Quietly.

Ranpo knows that he doesn’t have to anymore, but five years of torture and conditioning builds habits that are rather hard to break, and it’s those habits that’ve driven him into the situation where he doesn’t dare to get out of bed, lest he risk waking the one that shares it with him. Because it is what’s happened in the past; he’ll have lain awake for hours, and get up, only to be stopped by a hand that will gently wrap around his frail wrist.

Always gentle, always.

Every time this happens, Bram insists that he doesn’t mind staying up with Ranpo when he can’t sleep, but the vampire has endured decades of starvation and abuse, far worse and much longer than the measly five years that Ranpo did, so he always feels guilty for disturbing the peace that Bram finds during the nights when he gets the chance to sleep; because just like Ranpo, Bram too has trouble sleeping, only, he’s had a lifetime of experience to help force himself to sleep. Experience that Ranpo doesn’t have.

There’s a little bit of moonlight shining through the one window of the hotel that he and Bram are currently staying at, bathing the room in just enough night that Ranpo can name the objects that are in the room. A chair, a small kitchen, a table, a lamp. Everything that a basic rundown hotel has, which is more than he’s had in a long time. It hasn’t been long since he and Bram escaped from the facility they were held in, so being in a room like this feels both oppressive and relieving, but mostly, he feels as if he doesn’t deserve such a luxury. How can he deserve it when he’s done nothing but be a problem?

Years ago, he would’ve had food, a home, and people in his life that he loved and cared for.

But now? Now he only has Bram.

Bram, who without any hesitation, broke Ranpo out of his own cage at the risk of getting caught again himself, carrying him out of the facility when there was no guarantee that Ranpo would even survive what he’d done in the first place. He’s not quite sure what Bram did to keep him alive, but the next thing that he knew was that they were in some abandoned building, tucked away in a corner with new—that Bram had stolen from somewhere apparently—clothing and scraps of food that Bram insisted Ranpo eat.

Bram, who has gone out of his way to keep Ranpo safe from everything around them but also from himself. Ranpo knows he’s a little broken from what happened to him, that he’s traumatised and nothing more than damaged goods capable of doing nothing else but being a burden. But despite that, Bram stays by his side, patches him up when he takes a blade to his skin because Ranpo needs to get the feeling of grossness out of his body, and bloodletting is the only way he knows how.

The vampire even mentioned trying to find a job so that they could make real money, and find a more permanent place to live.

And what’s Ranpo done to help? Nothing.

He doesn’t know how to do anything anymore, having been robbed of all the skills that he’d had before everything that happened. One thing Ranpo remembers is the silver haired swordsman that tried to save him, but wound up having his life stripped away instead. Ranpo remembers the way the man fed him, and told him he wasn’t a monster, and the theatre they worked together at. He wishes he could go back to such a time, to a reality where he might’ve been saved and not taken to some strange facility that had seen to brutalise him.

Such a world can’t possibly exist.

Ranpo blinks, his brow furrowing when his vision blurs, and he raises a hand to touch his cheek, surprised to feel that it’s damp.

Well that’s new.

He can’t remember the last time that he cried.

A quiet sigh falls from his lips, and he slowly inches forward, out of the arms that hold him close. He can’t stay in that bed for another second, otherwise his thoughts will truly start to get the better of him and that’s the last thing he needs. The memories are already bad enough to deal with, and he sucks at dealing with those too. His emotions—or lack thereof—are something he’s choosing to ignore the existence off entirely. Who needs them anyway? All they do is make you weak and susceptible to manipulation; regrettably something that Ranpo knows all too well.

It takes several minutes for him to crawl out of the bed, because he doesn’t want to wake Bram, and the vampire is quite the light sleeper, so it’s slow progress. But finally, he makes it and stands, but now that he’s standing, he doesn’t know what to do next. He can’t go to the bathroom, because Bram will wake up in an instant thinking the worst, and for once, Ranpo doesn’t feel the urge to make himself bleed. He lifts an arm, and looks at the lines from the last incident that are still healing; he promised Bram that he’d try not to add new wounds until the old ones healed, and so far, he’s managed to keep that promise.

So if the bathroom and the room aren’t suitable, then there’s only one thing that he can do, really, and that’s leave the room and go outside.

The thought of stepping outside, alone, makes his heart pound. The city they’re in right now is safe, with no nearby threats unless Ranpo wanders too far. Which he won’t—he can’t, he needs Bram close by to keep him safe—there’s no one else that can.

That’s when Ranpo remembers that the room their staying in is a few floors up, which means there’s a balcony that he can sit on instead. He turns on his heel and sure enough, there’s the balcony, and he beelines for it, keeping his footsteps quiet and light. The door is heavy and pain dances up his arms as he wrestles to open it, and he doesn’t bother shutting it behind him. He doesn’t particularly want to have to open it again.

Ranpo walks to the railing and sits on the ground, sliding his legs through the bars so that he can lean against the cold steel and close his eyes. The cold keeps him from drifting away with his thoughts, keeps them at bay long enough so that he can look out over the city that’s bright with the lights that the buildings and street lamps produce. He doesn’t know what city that Bram and he are currently in, since their main focus had really been finding a cheap place to stay, especially since they’d just spent the last week sleeping rough in the middle of nowhere.

It wasn’t the worst, but Ranpo hadn’t been able to sleep the entire time from the stress of potentially being discovered by strangers.

There’s a part of Ranpo that hopes they can make their way back to Yokohama, since it’s the only city he actually knows aside from his hometown, but it’s also the city where everything in his life went wrong and he’s not too sure how he’ll feel about going back to it. He doesn’t even know where he and Bram escaped from; the facility had been buried so deep into nature according to the vampire that it’d taken hours to get to the closest town. And he’s not sure he could ever find his way back—not that he wants to, to begin with.

“Ranpo.” Bram’s voice makes him jump, and Ranpo turns to look over his shoulder where Bram stands, in nothing but a pair of shorts. The weather is cooling down, yet the change in temperature doesn’t bother the vampire in the slightest, unlike Ranpo who hates feeling cold. Bram’s looking at him with open concern, even as he blinks sleep from his eyes. “Not sleeping?”

He shrugs, and turns back to face the city.

Another thing he struggles with is talking to Bram, which really shouldn’t be as hard as it was considering that he’s known the other for five years now, but Bram’s face, other than when he’s openly worried about his wellbeing, is hard to read, and Ranpo just can’t deal with that, not when his captors used such a thing against him once upon a time. It’s not fair on Bram though, so he tries, but more often than not, conversations between them are one sided.

He listens as Bram moves, coming to sit beside Ranpo, shifting until his chest is pressed to Ranpo’s back.

Ranpo appreciates the warmth, and leans back into the touch, wriggling a little as arms wind around him. A silence falls upon them both, a peaceful one punctuated with the occasional night sounds.

“Do you…” Ranpo starts to say only to trail off as his heart begins to race, pounding uncomfortable in his throat. He can’t, he can’t get the words out, it’s too hard. There’s no one around that can hurt him for asking a simple question, but it’s the fear, the what-if of if he does. He will never forget the few times that questions escaped him, and the way that someone would hold his head underwater until he nearly died to teach him that it wasn’t okay to do so.

Bram hums, and Ranpo shudders as long nails slide under his shirt to gently scratch at his stomach in soothing patterns. “Take your time.”

Ranpo nods and takes a moment before slowly speaking. “Do you… think we could… get a map?”

“You want to know where we are?”

“Yes. And where to go.” Ranpo manages to say through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezed shut. He’s tense now, and can feel the tension grow even stronger.

Bram raises the hand that was on his stomach and starts to run it through Ranpo’s hair—white, what it’ll most likely be for the rest of his life because of the stress that his body and mind underwent. It’s a constant reminder of what happened that Ranpo hates, but is something he knows he’ll have to live with no matter how much it hurts to.

“We can find a map in the morning. Do you wish to go back to the city you were in before that place?”

That place because they don’t know anything more about what the facility even was. Military, government, or some radical scientist institution, there’s no way for them to know who it was that took the both of them and tried to hurt them. Ranpo deduced easily when he was first taken that all three would have their reasons, but none of the reasons helped in figuring out the truth. The truth that went down when the facility did during their escape.

Ranpo still doesn’t know what happened that day, and Bram refuses to tell him.

A decision he respects, since he hasn’t told Bram about his life prior to the facility, other than he had no family to return to.

“Maybe.” Ranpo answers finally. “I’m not sure.”

“That is fine. We have the time.”

For some reason Bram’s words cause him to frown.

Do we?

Something tells him that they don’t.

[electricbluebutterflies]

Hands rubbing together to warm them up + damerey kiddos

It is 2023 and I am formally back in this spiral and... doing my usual vaguely-post-canon thing that didn't happen several years ago due to Assorted Unrelated Personal Bullshit. Turns out I missed these babes. PG-ish, pre-relationship, and also on ao3.

She’s cold. She hates this.

There is, admittedly, a lot of life that Rey hasn’t experienced yet. An extended stay on an ice planet is not nor will it be the weirdest, but it’s still…

“Warm enough?”

There’s a lot more she needs to get used to, really. The fact that people care about her – both on a peripheral level, where it is very important that someone of her position have adequate clothing for every stop on what one of her friends described as the victory tour, and the existence of said friends, the fact that there are other living beings she trusts completely and-

Rey turns to look at her designated minder, who looks even less thrilled than she is about this particular adventure. “I will be. Eventually. Maybe.”

Normally this is the part where she’d add some little comment about how her comfort doesn’t matter, as long as she’s functional she’ll deal, but she’s learning to moderate that around certain people. Well, one specific person who absolutely refuses to listen to her and-

It’s not personal. It’s deeply personal. She’s not used to duality.

What she’s figured out, in these months of closure or whatever, is that the official reason they’re stuck together is the droid apparently has separation anxiety and that’s definitely a new one by her standards, and the unofficial one is that someone somewhere in Resistance administration figured that two chaotic humans would cancel each other out. This is… not exactly what’s happened, but it’s kept both of them out of trouble better than she suspects any other scheme would, and-

“So, not warm enough and going to pretend otherwise because you’re a self-sacrificing-“

“Like you’re any better!”

This is the part she’s gotten used to, the too-public verbal sparring matches that are still… affectionate, somehow. She heard all the rumors long before they got to this point, and she knows there’s no harm meant in whatever too-perceptive accusations might get thrown around, and-

“I think I’ve at least figured out layers,” Poe mutters, giving her an unimpressed look. “Whereas you…”

“Don’t… don’t make my inexperience into-“

“Worried, not amused. You look frozen.”

“I feel worse.”

“C’mere.”

She takes half a step closer and is unsurprised when his gloved hands wrap around hers, moving just slightly in repetitive motion, very careful not to touch the little strip of exposed skin between glove and jacket sleeve and-

“We’re getting you better gloves,” he murmurs.

“These are fine. They do fit. That’s more than-”

He gives her that look she’s starting to recognize as a specific flavor of… not exactly disappointment, that would imply more harm than she thinks he intends, but…

“Do you know how bad it looks for them if you get frostbite?”

“No?”

“Disaster. Complete petty disaster. We do not want that, understand?”

“Since when do you-“

Her voice cuts off as she processes the accusations that want to fall out that… aren’t quite accurate, really. Almost everyone she’s met in this world has been kind to her, at worst in awe and confused, but this man is…

“I’m sorry,” she says just a little too soft. “I know you care. I’m not sure why, but-“

“I have a droid who likes you more than me, you kinda saved the galaxy, and…”

“And?”

“I like you. Does it have to be more complicated than that?”

Yes, she thinks, yes it absolutely does have to be more complicated, but… she has months of evidence that it may not be. He’s been consistently kind and protective in a different way than anyone else, but it hasn’t gone any clear direction yet. No comments about her appearance, let alone-

“You like me,” she repeats, and the words taste right in her mouth. “That’s…”

“I didn’t mean to-“

“I don’t mind. I’m just… unsure what you want me to do with it.”

“Right now… nothing? I’m not sure I should’ve said that but-“

“Probably better to get it over with. Gives me time.”

“No pressure, okay? I’m not-“

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“What, is that not helping?”

Rey rolls her eyes in a way she hopes comes off as flirtatious and okay she’s never wanted to do that before and-

“I trust you,” she says, glancing down at their hands. “That isn’t…”

“Still-“

“We can fight about this when I’m not an icicle. Deal?”

“Deal.”

[the-white-soul]

Yeah, of course! We’ll do a lot better than last time, I promise. *Flowey feels an even greater attachment to Chara now, after hearing that specific deal of their mother starving them as punishment. Nothing like that should ever happen to them again. To go along with the soul-amplified empathy for Chara’s situation, Flowey also feels vengeful and proud even, to have killed their mother.*

*Flowey burrows back to Kara, unsurprised by the commotion not only because he was warned in advance, but also because it’s just a common event at this point for physical fights to break out. He doesn’t bother to step in yet though, since everyone else seems to have it covered. He stays at the ready just in case.*

Jeez, what do people have against you, Kara? You’re like a battle magnet. I think you should run from the battle this time since you’re already hurt. Undyne will have the anon distracted for a while.

(Kara) " I guess the more people know me, the more people hate me. Luckily, my arm will improve soon enough if I replace it with a mechanical arm." (Dess) "I didn't promise that. Kara gives Dess the side eye. But we do have the tech. You will still be technically different, though. It might even be able to control from others." (Undyne) "While fighting I never thought an Airbender was real since Alphys told me anime was fake. Anyway, I can't fight alone for much longer." Kara swings their sword at them and,

(Kara) "I guess that's a win?" (Sans) "You didn't die." (Kara) "True." Everyone gets an alert on their phones except those who don't live in this universe. There's a news article. (News) "Today, we're finally revealing that Asgore will be tried in court for the murder of 6 kids in a few weeks. Now, if the people think Asgore should be found unjustified in those killings, the penalty will be no less than death. If found justified, then no penalty shall be placed. If it's not a unanimous vote in the jury, it'll be up to the Prime Minister. If you remember the laws, you might realize that the death penalty is strictly prohibited. However, this does not apply to monsters since they don't have similar rights. Thank you for listening, and keep notified to see more about this case." (Dess) "Starts laughing Wow, this is hilarious now, just how much evil is in humanity. Using the death penalty? PFFT, and they call America evil. I wish all humans would just kill each other already! It's obvious total extinction will come when they all A-Bomb themselves anyway. Why can't I kill them?" (Kara) "Smacks Dess in the face. Listen here, you little shit. Humans, I'll admit, are sometimes evil. But you want to kill them all? What the hell is wrong with you? I thought you were a good monster. At least that's how you reacted to Noelle and…" (Dess) "NOELLE'S DEAD!!! I say those who are dead don't care anyway." (Kara) "Wait, has all this backlash and anger been because you miss Noelle?" (Dess) "What? No, I'm fine. I'm just a jerk to everyone I meet." (Kara) "It's okay if you are sad. Can you let it out to me?" Dess looked in the opposite direction, fighting back tears. (Kara) "You know, I remember when we all used to go to ICE E's Pizza's. We all used to sit down and talk. Remember what you did when Noelle got scared because the ICE E's mascot came through." (Dess) "I would hold her in my arms. I would say, 'Shh, it's okay, he won't hurt you,' and she'd be happy. She couldn't hold it in and cried. Kara, Sniff I miss our childhoods. I miss when we used to be friends and be happy together. I miss my dear father. I miss my little sister. I even miss my Mom. I've tried to start a new life with all these people, but they're never as good as us. And seeing you with Flowey shows we are about as far apart as ever. You have friends and no longer need me nor love me." (Kara) "Hugs Dess Listen to me. It doesn't matter if we're friends, lovers, or acquaintances. We make our lives better by being together. That's all that matters." They cry for what seems like forever until finally, they both stop. (Dess) "Alright, we can continue."

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

How would this characters (Joanne,Ciel,Maurice and doll) react when reader tells them that they were having an affair and want to break up, but then they are told that it was a joke. (A cruel joke :/)

oof, a cruel joke indeed!

Joanne's reaction just makes me Sad :c

… Are you serious? Really? He knows that a lot of people have secret affairs like that, but he’s never heard of someone so boldly confessing to it, ruining their relationship with another person in the process. All things considered, he holds himself together quite well despite a lot of different emotions running through him. It feels like he’s being betrayed and abandoned and told he isn’t enough all in the same breath. It hurts. However, a lifetime of hurt has steadied him to the point that he doesn’t fall apart. His hand and voice shake as he points you to the door. “You want to leave me? Fine. Go. If you’re not happy, if that’s what you want, go.” It seems cold; he’s preparing to break down after you leave and not a second sooner, so you have nothing to use against him. Of course, he’s both angry and embarrassed that he fell for it once he’s told it was a joke. Regardless, you will be leaving at least for the night, because he doesn’t want you around after a stunt like that. He pretends it’s because he doesn’t have time for pranks. In reality, he’s simply very hurt, and doesn’t want to talk to you. Possibly for a few days or even up to a week.

The… the ‘ell?! What do you mean, there’s someone else and you don’t want to be with them anymore?! The poor thing is stock still as the information runs itself through their mind, over and over, and they just stare at you. All the while, their eye is gradually welling up with tears. They don’t understand. You have been their whole world since their feelings bloomed, and they thought they finally found a person who’d love them for who they were. It’s like someone has reached into their heart and begun to slice out their heart, piece by agonizing piece. They should have known, right? And that’s what they shout at you, as they sink to their knees and sob into their hands. “I shoulda known, ‘uh?! Y’ found someone else, ‘cause I ain’t enough, ‘cause no normal person could ever love someone like me w’o’s missin’ parts!” It feels as if they’ve been tricked into falling in love with somebody who couldn’t care less about them. They only get angrier when you tell them you were just joking. “Fuckin’ really?! THAT AIN’T FUNNY!” they wail as they scramble to their feet. That’s the last thing they say before they run out of the room, shoving away any attempt at you comforting them. They want to be angry for a while, because they can’t believe you thought that was a good joke to play on them. They’ll come back and talk eventually, and they might stay with you, but… unfortunately, you did a lot of damage to the trust they had in you.

You… you what… don’t love him anymore…? You have someone else? H-how… how long have you been seeing this other person? He can almost see the future he’s fantasized with you being torn away like the pages of a book he hasn’t finished reading yet. It’s perhaps unsurprising that he starts to cry immediately, possibly before you’re even done speaking. He has so many questions, but he knows none of them matter. Answers won’t change that you’ve been unfaithful, they won’t change that you’re leaving, and they won’t heal all this pain. He just buries his face in his hand and weeps, barely able to speak at all. He manages to get out squeaky whimpers of things like, “I-I’m sorry” (thinking your leaving is his fault for not keeping you happy) and “is there a-anything I can do…?” (because as much as he knows it’s your choice, he doesn’t want to lose you) in between sniffles and hiccups. Upon being told it’s just a prank, he quickly lifts his hands up and stares at you in pure shock. Those big eyes, full of tears, blink at you with a mix of betrayal and relief. As he thinks, nothing else really matters; you’re not leaving him, and you’re not unhappy with him, and that’s what’s important. He’s far too forgiving, because he starts to cry again, running over to throw his arms around you and cling. Please don’t ever scare him like that again!!!

Haha… this is your poor attempt at revenge, isn’t it? For some mean prank he pulled on you or some accidentally hurtful remark he made earlier in the week or something. He does his best to brush it off at first, even though there are a million voices in his head telling him that you’re finally done with him. His initial response is that you shouldn’t be so silly, that he’s already apologized for what he did so you can abandon this nonsense. As you continue your… joke… he gets visibly more agitated and keeps telling you to knock it off, this isn’t funny. At last, when he thinks he can’t deny it anymore, he abruptly gets to his feet and takes a breath. He’s not composed at all, his face red and tears pricking at the edges of his eyes. “So leave me, then! Go be happy with someone else, because you’ll never find anybody half as great as me, so don’t be surprised when they leave you after a couple of weeks! But I’ve got people falling all over me, so I’ll find something better. Enjoy the rest of your life.” Before he starts to actually cry, he attempts to hold it together long enough to stalk right out the door. As soon as you stop him and confess that it was a prank, his face goes even redder. He’s flustered that he fell for something like that, and he’s terrified of how scared he was that you’d leave him. Most of all he’s a poor sport about being tricked in such a way despite that he’s dished out things that aren’t dissimilar in the past. He just thinks this is a line you shouldn’t have crossed. He physically takes your hands off him, and doesn’t say another word as he storms out. You’ll be lucky if he ever talks to you again, and it will only be because he was so scared of losing you in the first place, and only after he feels you’ve sufficiently apologized.

[erimeows]

Violet

The air in Vesuvia is cold and crisp on this dark, tense winter night as Julian Devorak scales a dark brick wall with cool beads of sweat dripping down his ivory skin. Admittedly, it’s more exercise than he’s used to, but it’s worth it to see Asra. When he gets to the window, he’s unsurprised to find that it’s unlocked. He lifts it, climbs in, then closes it behind him and pulls the sheer gold curtains shut. He notices Faust, who is asleep in a tiny hand-crafted bed that rests on Asra’s nightstand. 

“Asra…”

The white-haired man is leaning against the wardrobe that’s by the window, his arms crossed over his narrow chest. His hair is dripping wet and his golden skin glows like shiny morning dew on lush green grass, as if he’s fresh from a shower. The familiar scent of his lavender soap proves that suspicion to be true when Julian moves closer, close enough that the two men are nearly touching when Asra finally speaks. 

“Ilya, my love,” Asra whispers, Julian’s name falling from his lips like it’s something sacred. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you,” Julian answers plainly. “I know I’m not supposed to be here this late, but we didn’t get to talk much today, so I thought I’d come by… I’ve missed you dearly over these last few weeks.”

“I could sense you coming, but still… Can’t say I was expecting it. I know everything’s been busy and that we haven’t gotten to see each other too much, but what if someone sees us?”

“Let them see,” Julian answers, completely and utterly unashamed. Their relationship is a secret, and it has been for a long time. Having it that way is the smart thing to do; if one of them gets caught breaking Lucio’s many ridiculous rules and laws, the other won’t immediately be implicated as an accomplice by association- that and they don’t have to fear Lucio hurting the other as punishment for if one or both of them can’t find the cure for the plague any time soon. Still, Julian can’t help but imagine what it would be like if they could get married, wear beautiful matching rings out in public, hold each other’s hands, and go out on dates… What it would be like if they could live life as a normal couple. “I want them to see.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Asra huffs, but the exasperated noise doesn’t carry to his face. Instead, the magician smiles fondly and places his hands on Julian’s hips. “If someone were to see us together, Lucio would order us to be hung at the gallows for what we’ve been doing- especially since we’ve been doing it behind his back for so long now.”

What they’ve been doing is nothing nefarious, but it is forbidden; the way that Asra falls into Julian’s arms, the way that Julian runs his nimble fingers through Asra’s damp white locks, the way that their heartbeats seem to sync as they hold each other close- it’s all forbidden because of the Red Plague that’s been spreading through Vesuvia. Since the death rate from the disease has skyrocketed, Lucio has demanded that everyone working in his castle quarantine themselves from others outside of work hours and that they follow a strict 6PM curfew. 

Julian has been violating both of those rules since they were announced, all for the sake of seeing his long-time lover. Even Asra, as cautious and as intelligent as he is, has been indulging in Julian just the same, going against his practical nature. 

And somehow, the risk of what they’ve been doing makes the budding feelings he’s had for Asra since the start of the plague even stronger. It’s a little complicated, too.

Asra’s previous lover, his apprentice, passed away just a few months ago from the plague. Julian suspects that he’s nothing more than a replacement, a substitute of sorts until Asra manages to overcome the grief that he’s been so tactfully hiding from everyone else. Julian doesn’t mind that, though. He’ll allow himself to be Asra’s rock if that means that Asra will lean on someone other than himself.

“I don’t care,” Julian finally responds and pressed a kiss into Asra’s hair. The other man melts into his embrace like he always does. Julian can’t help how his heart flutters at that. “I’d let Lucio hang me a thousand times if it meant seeing you every night like this.”

“Such a romantic,” Asra praises half-heartedly and reaches up to rest his hands on either side of Julian’s face.

Julian’s pale cheeks burn bright red with the contact.

“If you truly want to see me that way, how about this?” Julian proposes and pulls a flower from his pocket. It’s somewhat crumpled, but for the most part, it’s intact. He saw it growing outside the castle in Lucio’s garden and picked it with the intention of saving it for the magician in front of him. “It’s Belladonna, your favorite. According to the book of floriography, the red blossoms like this are meant to communicate love and passion for someone when given to them as a gift.”

“So you’re familiar with floriography, hm?” Asra inquires and plucks the flower from Julian’s hand. Then, he turns to the tiny kitchen within his quarters to put it in a vase full of water. Julian follows him like a lost puppy, a little too close behind with his eyes carefully trained on Asra’s each and every motion. “I didn’t take you for much of a Victorian literature type…”

“I, uh, I’m really not,” Julian says with a nervous laugh. “I just read up on it because I know how much you love belladonnas…”

“That makes you even more of a romantic, then,” Asra replies. “Maybe just not the most cultured one.”

“I guess you’re not too far off.”

“Hm… Would you like to stay over tonight?”

“What about Lucio? It’ll look weird if we come out of the room together… One of his guards is bound to see us.”

“I’ll sneak you back in the morning. Hell, if he catches us, we can tell him we were working on a cure together… Or I could just blast him into another dimension,” Asra laughs.

“You’d never.”

“For you? I would in a heartbeat.”

“Oh, please, Asra,” Julian shakes his head and moves to wrap his arms around Asra again. With how much they’ve been working, he’s hardly been able to touch the other man in weeks. It’s so overwhelming when their skin connects once again that Julian shivers. “You’re too much of a charmer.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been told that before,” Asra shrugs and slips away from Julian’s touch as fast as he always does, flopping down onto his bed back-first and staring up at the ceiling. Julian quickly lies next to him and doesn’t dare move or complain when Asra curls up against his chest. “Julian… When- or if- this all ends, will you still want to do this with me?”

Julian blinks. His steely grey eyes glance down to meet Asra’s deep violet ones, which are already peering up at him.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I… Well, I don’t know if you’re infatuated with me or if you’re just into this because it’s so exciting, or if you actually… Well…”

“I love you,” Julian murmurs, effectively cutting off Asra’s ramblings. “I mean that, truly. I would do anything if it meant that all the excitement would end and that I’d be able to live a calm, normal life with you.”

Asra swallows and lifts a single hand to brush Julian’s dark red locks away from his eyes. 

“I’m glad, then… Shall we go to bed?”

“No,” Julian answers with a shake of his head. “Let’s stay up tonight… It’s not like we get much rest anyways. I want to enjoy this time with you while I can; the last thing I want to do is spend these next few hours with you sleeping.”

“Fine, then,” Asra agrees with a large smile that brings out the big, beautiful dimples that Julian has come to love so much over the past few months. “We’ll pull an all-nighter. How should we spend it, Ilya?”

Julian stops to consider the question before offering a suggestion.

“I have a great idea,” The doctor perks up and takes Asra’s hands in his. “Let’s sneak out to the city and grab some food, hit a party or two, take a stroll. We can take Faust with us, too.”

Asra sits up, grinning back at him.

“I love that idea… Let’s get ready to hit the town, then, shall we, my love?”

Julian leans in for a quick kiss. He revels in how his lips feel against Asra’s much softer ones.

“Let’s.”

[skye-huntress]

Justice League x RWBY Part 1 Reaction

I watched it other day though I took a bit longer to put this post together than I planned. Overall it was a fun watch and I am certainly interested in seeing Part 2 whenever it comes out. It didn’t feel much like a Justice League or superhero movie in general, it was much closer to watching RWBY that was just a bit different from normal. It was a bit weird to see the JL as awkward teenagers trying to adjust to the way RWBY’s world works but there were some interesting and fun interactions.

I will join many in the FNDM in saying that Jessica Cruz is a precious bean and DC should allow us to permanently adopt her in the RWBYverse. DC, you’ve got a dozen different human Green Lanterns, let us have this one! I promise she will be loved!

Let’s talk about the evil plan for a minute. It was certainly ambitious, too ambitious, in fact. Forget about how Kilg%re got trapped themselves, the simulation and the alteration of memories were clearly never going to be enough to fool Team RWBY or the Justice League. They clearly had the technical skills and powers to break out on their own, so the only real obstacle in their path to freedom was to beat Kilg%re. That said, it seems the real dangerous one is whoever from Remnant managed to contact and manipulate a supervillain from another world and what they’ll do next.

When I’m watching a superhero movie, it isn’t unusual for me to just go along with all those names. That said, the names are kind of ridiculous, especially to Huntresses who don’t do the whole double life/secret identity thing.

Somewhere, Oscar is going about his day like normal and he suddenly hears a sneeze. He looks around, sees nobody and wonders if he actually heard it or if it was his imagination.

Yes, yes, it is cute how after meeting Diana, Blake’s first instinct was to call Yang. However, I would like to point out that Weiss had no such excuse but she tried to call Ruby anyway. She hadn’t even met Bruce yet, so as far as she knew, she just found herself in Altas, realised Ruby wasn’t by her side and decided to call her instead.

Apparently not even fake Oscars are safe from violence. This is how many times he’s been slammed into a wall?

Jaune asking why they are learning kid stuff is a bit ironic considering how cluelessly undereducated he was when he first came to Beacon. Still, if the world is built off of the memories of Huntsmen who never even completed a full year at Beacon, it’s unsurprising that there isn’t much material for actual classes.

Yeah, Jaune, don’t think about Oscar’s age too much, it won’t lead anywhere helpful. Actually, everybody here is older than they actually are, especially for the Justice League since they’re all apparently adults in reality. And from Volume 10 on, we know someone else who will be permanently in that category. So really, I’m trying to not think about it too much.

It’s not uncommon for there to be something going on between Bruce and Diana, so her going to see him is not unexpected. On the other hand, as leader, Ruby feels obligated to go where she feels she is needed most and she will trust in Weiss to take care of herself until the Bees pick her up.

All the cool kids are picking to go to the forest full of monsters, leaving Jaune to be the one to volunteer to go with Jessica.

Dick move from Victor. Who is Ruby? She grew up in a world full of monsters and she dedicated most of her life learning to fight them, the same as Nora. She’s also a leader and is constantly thinking about the safety of others and her team so if there is anyone Victor should be talking to about surviving Grimm encounters, Ruby should be at the top of the list.

You know I could have told Diana that it’s a bad idea to practice flying in a tightly enclosed space

I like the conversation between Diana and the Bees. Diana relates a lot more to them and vice versa because of her similar upbringing. But it also highlights just how different Remnant is from our world or even the DC version of it. Even when Oscar was just a farmhand, he still ended up having to fight Grimm. Ren and Nora’s background is fairly common in that world. Throughout Remnant’s history, countless civilisations have risen and fallen. Atlas was the most technologically advanced and had the largest standing army and it still fell. That Vacuo might be next is a too real possibility. I see people judge the current system with the Huntsmen Academies for training “children” to fight monsters, but that is so easy for us to do when we don’t have to live in that world.

An interesting idea for Bruce to be presented with the possibility of going to Remnant where he can actually have powers that are his own.

Although their reunion was a little late, we got some good White Rose moments in this movie, including the team attack. It’s been so long since they had one just between the two of them.

Bruce really chose to arrive last so he could have his dramatic entrance. What a dork.

I don’t think I have much more to say. However, I did have one last observation. Blake mentioned something about a training mission, so whoever did all this is either in the Atlas Military, has inside connections, or somehow managed to hack into Atlas tech. Watts isn’t a likely candidate since he needed Jacques’ Council access to get into Atlas’ secure network. Plus there’s still the mystery about how whoever was able to contact a being from another world.

Perhaps there is an Atlesian scientist who was researching creating doorways to other worlds, after all the Vaults are existing proof it can be done. Whoever it was also considered the young Huntsmen their enemy. Merlot’s name was floating around, and it would make a certain sense. Otherwise, it might be someone whose toes Team RWBY stepped on since coming to Atlas. Before they showed up, Ironwood didn’t have enough people he trusted to look into any important or sensitive matters. If someone within the military was working on a secret project they wanted to keep from the General, it would have been easier to do so during that time period when he was only relying on those within his inner circle and focused on the Amity Project.

Part 2 will likely kick off with a hunt for the culprits, as well as whatever was used to connect the two worlds together. We must see the Justice League come through to Remnant for real this time, or Team RWBY will end up chasing the bad guy on their side to Earth. Either way, it should be interesting.

[fanboy-2004]

Another controversial opinion…

Hagrid’s Hogwarts House…

I think he was likely in Slytherin. This is entirely based on his conversation with Tom Riddle when Aragog was framed for Myrtle’s death.

First Point - they’re on a first-name basis. Riddle calls Hargid “Rubeus” and Hagrid calls him “Tom”. If they were in different houses, adding the factors of the two year age difference and the fact Hagrid was a half-giant miscreant and Tom only associated with pureblooded bigots, it wouldn’t make sense for them to know each other at all, let alone by first name. But if Hagrid was in Slytherin that would make Tom his house Prefect and someone he’d already known for 2 years prior to this.

Second Point - the way Tom talks to Hagrid. The language he uses and the way he uses it is very specific. It’s familiar and almost even sympathetic. He’s trying to frame Hagrid, yes, but from an outsiders view, or even from Hagrid’s view, Tom’s approaching the situation very tactfully. He makes it seem like he’s trying not to hurt Hagrid’s feelings. He even makes excuses for him. “I don’t think you meant it to kill anyone… I suppose you just let it out for exercise…” He even says “Come on, Rubeus.” This is polite, almost even friendly. If Hagrid was in another house there would be no need of this. The exchange would be a lot more like a telling off coming from a Prefect.

Third Point - Hagrid isn’t scared of Tom. At the end of this exchange he literally tackles him. Hagrid snatches Tom’s wand out of his hand and throws him to the ground so his spider can escape. Not only does that take guts, as we know Tom Riddle probably terrified younger students, but I can’t imagine any 13 year old, even a 7 foot one, doing that to someone who holds the kind of power over them that Tom did in that moment. Hence it can be assumed that Hagrid knew Tom well enough, or so he thought, that he wasn’t afraid of him. Remember, Hagrid didn’t know he was being framed. As far as he knew Riddle had just made an accidentally false accusation, a mistake. He had no reason to be enraged enough that this assault could be explained by anything other than he was buying time for Aragog to escape.

Fourth and Final Point - Riddle chose Hagrid to frame. Think about it. In Harry’s fifth year, Ron and Hermione were made Prefects. How well would they know the younger students of other houses? Not very well, even the troublesome ones. Unless caught in the act, Hogwarts Prefects seemed to deal mainly with their own students. And out of everyone in the school, everyone Tom knew anyway, he chose Hagrid. He stood in a classroom in silence and thought of every possible person he could frame and chose Hagrid. He must have known him well enough to know that this was a safe enough plan. This is Voldemort we’re talking about, he’s careful, he’s clever. His plan had to be foolproof. There could be no room for what ifs or mistakes.

Conclusion? I think Hagrid was in Slytherin. It makes no sense in regards to the this specific scenario for him to be in any other house. ESPECIALLY since Tom surrounded himself with the pureblooded, rich and well-known. Someone like Hagrid would only have even the slightest possibility of a look-in if they were in the same house.

And I know, I know, Hagrid seems to dislike Slytherins just as much as everyone else in the books but there could be lots of reasons for this. Maybe he hates them because of Tom’s actions. Maybe he doesn’t hate them at all, maybe he just dislikes a few specific ones with good reason. (I’m in Slytherin and I hate Malfoy and his friends). Personally, I believe he dislikes Slytherins because he was probably tormented and bullied by his housemates in school. Slytherin house in the 1940s, full of pureblood mania and hatred of half-breeds? I’d be unsurprised, if he was in Slytherin as I suspect, if he spent every single night at Hogwarts wishing he had been sorted into a different, more accepting house.

Maybe he was ‘t in Slytherin, maybe he was. It’s not been specifically stated anywhere I can find, so I’m gonna stick with this. We need more good Slytherin representation.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

happy 200! i’m so glad to see your blog grow, it’s one of my favorites and i adore all your writing. i’ve never cried so much and i love the kind of unsettling feeling you write in your fics, it’s perfect in the category of yandere and dark content. in particular, i loved your drabble about shigaraki mourning over a dead reader and i’ve reread that one too many times to count haha! as for asks for headcannons and drabbles, it would be amazing to see that with bully!eren especially since he was such an awful person to the reader. i’d love to see him suffer honestly, but if you don’t want to write it, that’s completely fine! once again, i’m so proud of you for hitting 200! that’s such a huge milestone and hopefully, there will be many more in the future! :)

SYNOPSIS: bully!Eren has to navigate the world without you.

Pairing: Bully!Eren x Fem!Reader

A/N: I can't even explain in words how much I CHEESED at this message like my grin was ear to ear. can't explain how many times I read this. It singlehandedly made my day anon, and to repay you for my happiness....here is some angst. this is a slightly different route than the shiggy one but I hope it still suits you <3

TW: mentions of death, past dubcon/noncon, mentions of trauma, bullying, alcohol addiction, drunk driving, abusive behavior, revenge porn, nonconsensual photography/videography, mentions of infidelity, angst, so much of angst, violent behavior

WC: 2.5k

It's not like Eren had been doing a lot of soul-searching. He's not delusional enough to label his half-assed epiphany of "maybe I'm a shitty person" as soul searching.

It's just the conversation with his very sick mother burned holes through the back of his mind. Carla had asked about you and why you don't come by the house anymore. How she missed baking with you in the kitchen, and how you sweetly smiled whenever you would see soft creamy peaks form in the meringue.

Eren felt like he was swallowing needles as he assured his mother with false truths, that nothing was going on and distance between childhood friends is natural, and if it means so much--ok ok he'll bring you over.

He stays until he sees her chest slowly rising and falling into a gentle asleep. He touches the tip of his ears, unsurprised by how hot it was.

Eren, when you tell a lie, the tips of your ears turn red.

You're not at school the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Guilt is not an emotion he feels often but the events of the past weekend replay in his mind. It was just a dumb party that Floch threw, and he was surprised to find you cornered by a trio of thee dunderheads. Like a distorted fairytale, he swept you away from the bad guys like a knight in shining armor, to only shove you in an empty room and demand compensation for playing hero.

Fuck, with that big mouth, you would think that you'd know how to suck cock.

Use your tongue stupid slut. If you use teeth, I'll shove this dick in your ass without any prep.

No, I don't care, you're taking all of it.

There's a video on his camera roll. How could he not record it? You're sobbing, mascara running down your cheeks, looking so beautiful and ruined with jizz smeared at the corner of your mouth. He was brutally fucking your mouth, making you take all of his length.

Breathe through your nose dumb whore. Or else you're gonna run out of air.

You were pleading with whatever garbled sounds you were constricted into producing.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren is conflicted with muting the video because he can't stand to hear himself like that. But he didn't want to miss out on your pitiful whines.

He remembers the distraught expression on your face when he was finally done with you. He tucked himself inside, and sneered, "I've got a girl coming here. Get lost." You looked so fucking distraught. Why? All he did was make you suck his dick. He didn't even fuck you.

He should have. Eren thinks grimly when he stares at your empty desk on the first day you didn't show up to school. He's gotten off to the video more than enough times than he can count over the weekend, and he was aching to see your pretty face twisted into a terrorized expression when he flipped up your skirt to grope your ass.

Kindly, Eren decides he'd allow you to have a rest day. But the second day, Eren pays a visit to your house finding it dark and locked, like no one was home and hadn't been there for a while.

On the third day, you're declared missing.

Your incompetent workaholic mother who finally came home and decided to give a damn reported you missing to the authorities who had scratched their heads because as far as they knew, the pivotal 72 hours were up.

Paradis was surrounded by forests. No one wanted to say it, but they were all thinking it. If you got lost in there, chances are you wouldn't make it out.

Eren wasn't always this admired and fawned over. He had his fair share of behavioral issues that frightened people (not you though, not then at least, not when you were children, and you still came back every day to play).

But when he channeled that anger into sports, there was somewhat of a star in the making, especially for some small-town boy. He was becoming extremely popular, and that's nice and all, but at the end of the day, he has a mother whose health was taking a sharp decline. He was constantly under stress, stress that he took out on you.

Where did his favorite stress-ball go?

It's all fucking surreal. Having detectives in the school. Not that there were many students to question (because christ, did you even have any friends after Eren turned everyone against you?).

Eren was questioned. He can't help but mirthfully chuckle. Maybe this was your grand plan, maybe you were able to finally sort out a mountain of evidence against him. If you were going to fuck him over, didn't you want to see it happen with your own two eyes?

The dark-haired boy wishes that was true. If you had gotten your revenge, would you be here? No, revenge isn't the right word. If you got any justice for what he made you suffer, would you come back?

Hi, I'm Detective Hange. I would like to ask you some questions today. You're Eren Yeager, right?

Yes, that's me.

How do you know ___?

We were childhood friends. We're uh, we're not as close anymore.

When was the last time you saw her?

Friday night at Floch's party-

-Floch Forster right? There were a number of kids there from your school.

Yeah. It was a big party. She uh, doesn't usually come to parties but she was there that night.

You were the last person to be seen with her. Other kids have said that they saw you and her entering a room together, and then only her leaving the said room.

[Sigh] Yeah we sorta...hooked up.

I thought you said you guys weren't close anymore.

You can be not close to someone and still hook up with them.

But you guys were close once right?

Yeah. Once.

The dark-haired boy asks if he was under any suspicion. The detective waves their hand in a dismissive gesture, “If her diary tells us anything, it’s only that she really liked you.”

Were detectives even allowed to divulge that sort of information? Eren doesn’t know but the stray detail that they offered off-handedly made him feel like he was swallowing needles.

At that point, Eren honestly still doesn't believe you're gone. You had a habit of running away, even when you were little kids, but you always came back.

Still, he participates in the search parties with a renewed vigor, even going alone in the forest with a flashlight on most nights.

And he's just so fucking tired. The darkest crevice of his mind almost wishes you were dead because this ignorance was just agony. Almost. Because he still clings to the feeling that one day, he’ll stroll into class and find you in your seat in the back of the class, looking out the window like some cliche shojo manga protagonist.

There are folders and folders on his phone. Albums. The most recent one is dedicated to your crying face as you were choking on his dick. Earlier albums are composed of creepshots of your panties, of that obscene o-face, of your skirt flipped up and your ass cheeks, pictures of your cleavage, videos of you thrashing as he dunked your head into toilets like a villainous middle school bully.

Pictures of your neck covered in hickeys, your naked breasts, ass cheeks striped with red after getting spanked, your leaking cunt, just endless and endless media dedicated to pieces and pieces of your body like you were never a whole person.

The earliest ones though tell a different tale, from off-guards to your drooling face as you napped in the middle of the day.

He has a favorite picture. Your eyes are watery from the cold, snowflakes stuck between lashes, nose and cheeks flushed red, and you're smiling. Smiling right to the camera. Right at him.

"Eren, are you taking a picture?" You asked, bouncing in place, giddy that it was finally snowing.

"Not of you, shut up. Get out of the way." His voice is gruff but not harsh.

You laughed and jumped into frame anyway, and the bright streetlamp behind you made you seem like you were wearing a halo.

He wishes he had more pictures of you being...yourself. Because now your crying face displayed over countless pixels haunt him. But like a fucking degenerate, he still jerks off to all the nudes he coerced from you. Sometimes he cries when he's jerking off which is probably the most pathetic thing he's ever done. This is what you've reduced him to.

He hates the sound of his own voice.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren goes through the motions of life without really feeling like he's in the moment. Seasons change and time flies. His mother dies, and his withdrawn father dies a year later. He proposes to Mikasa because it's something he was always supposed to do. She loves him unconditionally, so even when he doesn't put any effort into the relationship but proposes, she says yes hoping he'll change and be a good husband.

He doesn't go to his parents' funerals because they're already dead. What's the point. He doesn't visit the candlelight vigils in your honor either. After tearing his ACL again and a somewhat traumatic injury, he kisses his pro-football career goodbye. To be totally honest, he's relieved. Because he had gotten quite bored, and maybe he was looking for excuses to quit the entire time. It's not like you'd be cheering on the bleachers anyways.

Mikasa has an affair, more out of a desire to see her fiancé feel something for her as opposed to any burning lust. But when she asks him if he's ever cared at all, with tears springing out of her eyes, he's just calmly drinking his fifth of whisky.

The dark-haired man doesn't even look up, "Let's break up."

"Is this about her, huh? Fucking get over it already Eren. She's GONE. And you have some big fucking audacity moping about her death like you weren't making her cry in the bathroom stalls every fucking day you piece of shit."

"Get out."

"You know what, I bet she killed herse-"

SMASH

The dark-haired woman doesn't finish her rant because the whiskey bottle smashes on the wall next to her head, sending glass everywhere and staining the carpet amber. She's unharmed, knowing it wasn't Eren's intention to hit her but Jesus Christ, what a monster.

She packs her bags and leaves the town like she should have a long time ago. All her friends had left years before and she stayed behind because that's where Eren was. She thanks her lucky stars that they didn't marry.

It's funny because he had always imagined himself being the first to move out of their small town, but he's the one staying. He can't leave this place. feels too tethered to ever leave. Every diner and liquor store is saturated with memories of you. He remembers buying cigarettes and exhaling the smoke to your face to piss you off in empty parking lots.

Maybe he stays in case you'll come back.

Eren's days consist of alcohol-fueled hazes. He doesn't know how his liver is still functioning. He doesn't know he's still alive after crashing his car into a tree when he was drunk out of his mind. He was on his way to get some more vodka.

He barely recognizes himself in the mirror anymore, not that he looks at himself much. His hair is long, nestled around his shoulder because he couldn't be bothered to cut it, dark circles under viridian eyes, and a perpetual stubble on his jaw.

His parents had left quite a sizable inheritance so there's no need to work but he's good with his hands. Likes crafting up birdhouses and cabinets, and occasionally does odd jobs around the neighborhood, never charging the elderly.

He's under the sink, tinkering with a wrench against the pipes when he hears the old lady coo at him.

"We're so lucky to have you Eren. I'm surprised a handsome young man like yourself doesn't have a special lady. The girls must be lining up at your door!"

The dark-haired man winces, and offers no comment, knowing that that the older lady was susceptible to long tangents.

"You know, we're getting a new neighbor." Eren grunts as a response. "They're young, I've heard. Isn't that exciting? Oh my, Eren! I think they're gonna be living in the house right next to yours..."

He tunes out the rest of the conversation because doesn't really care. He just hopes his new neighbors are quiet.

It's Sunday noon when obnoxious noises of moving trucks and people wake him up from his deep slumber. Eren's annoyed to wake up despite the fact he's probably been sleeping over 15 hours. He oscillates between getting too much sleep and getting none, his sleeping habits completely dependent on his dreams.

His nightmares are too visceral, visions of your corpse asking him if he'd enjoyed hollowing your soul with his teeth.

His dreams are achingly sweet. You in your prom gown, shining so iridescently like diamonds were sewn into the silk. He's dancing with you, holding you close, and then after you guys go to your favorite diner and gorge on burgers and milkshakes.

There's a peal of distinctly feminine laughter that stirs up Eren's senses. He's so pathetic, was the mere sound of a woman laughing getting him excited?

He sighs. He thinks of the whore he's frequently visited because of her resemblance to you. Hair color, skin color, face shape--with enough alcohol, he could really convince the person beneath him, was you. Maybe it's time to give her a call, but she's gotten so fucking needy and he hated how her voice didn't match yours.

The green-eyed man peers from the lace curtains, irritated by the brats playing on his lawn. A full family next door? Great, just what he needs.

The friendly knock on his door breaks him out of his daze. He contemplates whether he should answer but on the second more muted knock, he lets his feet guide him.

He turns the knob.

And Eren Yeager completely shatters.

Because it's you isn't it? You're the person standing in front of him? He can hear what you're saying but he doesn't really register it, soaking in the cadence of a voice he had long forgotten because all he had were pleading whimpers and frenzied moans stored on his cell.

He's shaking. Is he dreaming? He's dreaming, right? He knows it's you. You're older, far more beautiful than he's ever seen you. You have a different hairstyle, wearing clothes he would have mocked you for, and there's this joyfulness within you that makes you glow.

There's a mess of emotions electrifying in the pits of his stomach from euphoria, anger, and dread. He could feel his skin growing clammy like he was about to vomit at any second.

"Hey, are you all right?"

Doe eyes full of concern peer up at him. He voices out the syllables of your name like a desperate prayer.

You tilt your head to the side, "How do you know my name?"

[luveline]

in the morning, afternoon and night [Fred Weasley x Reader]

tags: reader-insert, hurt/comfort, self esteem issues, low self esteem, reader has acne, sad reader, insecure reader

pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

word count: 1.8k

You glared at your reflection.

You'd think with such amazing magical medicine available, some witch or wizard would've invented a cure for acne, or at least a spell that covered it up.

You'd struggled with it since your third year. The muggle doctor you'd seen with your mother had suggested it was hormonal, and would calm down as you got older.

That was years ago.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. It wasn't, really. It wasn't usually very painful, though it was itchy as a stinging nettle and twice as unsightly. A large part of you knew it wasn't your fault, that acne was something that simply affected people at different times in their lives. You'd tried topicals and changing your diet, you'd tried losing weight and exercising and dermaplaning and everything they suggested in your mams fashion magazines.

Nothing worked.

Tears welled in your eyes and you sniffed them back, blinking rapidly.

It might've been silly, but it honestly made you want to hide away. You'd skipped dinner without really thinking, finding your way into the girls bathroom you inhabited now. You straightened your tie and robes, dusting down the sides. You leaned forward again, dabbing under your eyes with your sleeve.

The last thing you wanted was for anyone to know you'd been crying, because then someone might ask why. You didn't want to talk about it, ever.

If Fred saw you like this...

You and Fred Weasley had been almost dating for a few weeks now. Almost, because you hadn't talked about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing yet.

It had been years of thinking he was the fittest boy in Gryffindor (besides George) and months of meeting his gaze in the corridors and catching his eye over dinner. Gradually it had become something more; he started carrying your books between classes and opening doors, touching your arms and your hair and your face.

You cringed at the memory. He had been so caring, moving to wipe an eyelash from the skin under your eye. You'd violently flinched from his hand, afraid he might feel the bumpy texture of your skin, feel the acne beneath your makeup. He'd been apologetic and a little confused, filling you with guilt. You hadn't been able to find a way to tell him it wasn't him, it was you. Of course you wanted him to touch you, the thought of him cradling your face had been the subject of many dizzy daydreams, but you just couldn't tell him this one thing.

It was your deepest insecurity.

The stress had only made it worse. Redness was easy to cover with muggle make up and even some wizarding tricks you'd learned over the years, but there wasn't a way to smooth your skin, and the acne was textured.

It was depressing. You didn't want to use that word, it felt ungrateful to compare your skin issues to something so severe, but it made you miserable.

You but down on your quivering lip, pushing away from the mirror unhappily and opening the bathroom door, a frown on your face.

"Y/N!" a familiar voice said.

You jumped, startled but unsurprised. Fred had a talent of always knowing where you were. You'd find it creepy if he wasn't so endearing.

"Fred," you said, plastering a smile over your frown. "I was just coming to find you."

"What a coincidence, ma chérie, I was doing the same."

"Well," you began, easily sidling into his space, "you found me."

"Yes, I did," Fred hummed, wrapping his arms behind your neck, grinning.

He took a long look at your face, his forehead creased. "What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong, Fred."

He moved his hands to your shoulders, looking down into your face searchingly. "Have you been crying?" he asked.

You shook your head, lying without thinking. "Something in my eye,"

"Both of them?"

You stepped backwards. He let go of your shoulders accordingly.

"Y/N?"

"It's really nothing," you said through a forced laugh.

He frowned at you for a few seconds more and his face cleared. "Alright," he said slowly, rolling the words in his mouth, "if you say so, doll."

You opened like a blooming flower at the pet name, your whole face softening. You smiled, hoping he understood that the smile meant, oh I just so adore you, Fred Weasley.

He threaded his fingers through yours, dragging you down the corridor beside him and waxing poetic about their newest lot of Peruvian darkness powder as you went.

-

It got so bad you couldn't go to class.

Okay, so you definitely could've gone to class, but the thought of leaving your curtained bed was enough to make you sick with anxiety, so worried that everyone would see you - see your face.

NEWTs were coming fast and hard. Everyone who wanted to be anyone was working hard studying their asses of, on top of Professor Umbridge's million new rules you had to abide by, including her newest life-ruining rule: Boys and girl are not to be within 5 inches of each other.

What a joke. You struggled through classes, wrote essays so long your hand burned at night and now you weren't allowed to sit next to your almost boyfriend at lunch? It was miserable. It was making you miserable, and now you may as well have sharpied on your forehead how equipped your body was to deal with it.

Fucking badly.

You groaned to yourself, rolling on your side to face the wall. You were at your wits end. It felt endlessly unfair that the thing that was stressing you out most was getting worse from stress.

Your stomach growled hungrily.

You threw your arm over your eyes in defeat, eyes finally filling with tears. You felt so hopeless. There was nothing to be done except keep up your routine until the flare up was over, or until your mothers next 'miracle cure' popped into existence.

The tears felt too hot against your sore skin. You couldn't help but sob quietly to yourself in self-pity.

A knock sounded at the door. You gasped, wiping the tears away in panic.

"Y/N?" It was Alicia. "Are you alright? Can I come in?"

"Yes," you managed. "Yes, of course. It's your room too, after all."

The door clicked open. Alicia appeared, tanned skin completely clear and glowing, though each perfect feature was marred with empathy. "Fred's been begging every girl in the common room to come fetch you, but I told him to leave you be."

"Thank you," you said.

You cleared your throat. Alicia moved her weight from foot to foot, twisting her hands.

"I- Y/N. I won't pretend to know how it feels, but I promise you, Fred won't care. He's beside himself worrying that you're bedridden and dying or-" she laughed to herself, "or that you're still mad at him for the itching powder. What I mean is... he's a good guy, and you're upset. Maybe you should tell him what's wrong. He won't care."

You sniffed. "I know," you admitted, feeling the weight of her shifting the bed. "I know he's a great guy. I just wouldn't blame him if he, if he didn't like me anymore. If he found it ugly. I would understand it, and I think that makes it worse," you choked on your words, heat building behind your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N," Alicia said, placing a tentative but comforting hand on your shoulder.

You lay in quiet, listening to your own ragged breathing.

"I'll go talk to him," Alicia said.

"No! I mean, no. Thank you, but no. I... I'll speak to him myself."

Alicia nodded, rubbing your arm kindly.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind her finally spurred you into sitting up. You dressed in a hurry, chucking a wool jumper over last nights pyjamas.

He wouldn't care, would he? You cringed. Yes, he definitely would. Whatever was between you would stop. He'd have the grace to let you down slowly, drawing away his affections. He was a polite guy, he'd probably even say the whole spiel of "it's not you, it's me". But he would, eventually.

Well, you figured. Let it be quick. Like ripping off a bandaid.

You tread lightly down the steps, hoping to see him before he saw you.

Of course, when the slightest groan on the bottom step sounded, his lovely face whipped to meet yours. He smiled in relief, but it was mixed with something else. Disgust, your brain supplied nastily. He was disgusted. He rose to his feet, smiling smiling smiling. But something in his eyes was different, now.

"Y/N," he said.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi yourself, beautiful. Where've you been all day?"

"I'm... sick. Bad cold," you settled on.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sound okay," he said, not unkindly.

"I..." you looked down at your hands.

A siren was sounding in your head. You didn't think Fred had seen you without make up for the last 3 years. Fight or flight was leaning heavily towards flight.

"Well, are you hungry?"

You shook your head.

"Are you sure? You haven't eaten all day. You need something in your system if you're gonna fight this cold."

"I'm not actually sick, Fred," you admitted under your breath.

"I know."

You looked up. He was still smiling kindly. It was infuriating.

"Look," you said finally, rushed and all at once, "if you don't want to- if you're grossed out. Then it's fine, I'll understand if you don't want to see me anymore."

Fred was stricken.

"I know it's - ugly."

"Ugly? Nothing about you is ugly."

"Fred, my face-"

"No, listen to me, Y/N. It's not ugly. It's not gross. You're not any of those things, are you kidding?" he said, grabbing your hands. "You're beautiful. All the time, in the morning, afternoon and night. You're beautiful in charms and transfiguration and care of magical creatures. You were beautiful yesterday and you're beautiful today and you'll be even more so tomorrow." He stopped suddenly, looking down at your joined hands. His cheeks had turned bright red.

"Smooth, Freddie," came George's voice, from the sofa behind them.

"Shove OFF," exclaimed Fred, growing more red by the second. Heat filled your own cheeks.

"It's skin, Y/N. That's all it is."

"Okay," you said tightly, trying not to cry.

Fred breathed out, his hair shifting in response. His corded arms pulled you tight to his chest. You breathed him in. He smelled sweet and rough, like burning caramel.

He thought you were beautiful.

You smiled into his shirt.

<3<3<3

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