#what about the plots when people DO find out who iron man is -- like with the actor and that one guy who thought he WAS iron man in the end

[the-faultofdaedalus]

@docdracula‘s robot iron man concept has completely taken over my brain, rent free, absolutely no intent to evict, ect ect and i have THOUGHTS i have too many thoughts.

for one, like, how early on does tony die? how early is this ai/robot created? is there a possibility that it was created before anyone knew who iron man was? before even Happy? because that’s So fucked up. no one (but yinsen) ever knew who he was and now no one ever will because there isnt anyone TO know underneath anymore. there’s a single picture of iron man back when it was still tony, back when the eye holes were just holes. back when you could see human eyes under the mask. the eye-slots are opaque now, but. there was a person in there once. so everyone assumes there still is. the assumption is that he’s someone who tony met in vietnam. maybe a soldier. that the two of them were close -- you need to be close, to trust someone with your life like that. for iron man to continue being connected with SI even without the payroll of tony stark’s bodyguard. for the mansion to be left to him. (i am setting tony’s death pre-avengers formation, because i think that is Fun)

No one connects tony stark and iron man beyond that. they knew eachother. they were close. iron man attends his funeral. he doesn’t say a word.

also, in my head, the iron man AI/robot is Distinct from any sort of AI tony. both because this early in canon, i want to say that a perfect copy like that just wouldn’t be possible, and because tony isn’t necessarily trying to replace himself: he’s just trying to replace iron man, and this distinction matters. quite a lot, i think. like, with AI tony we know that tony programmed him to still be an alcoholic. i... don’t actually think he’d do that if he was just building a robot to continue to be iron man, especially with how much tony tends to build up the seperate identity as better than himself.  is this AI still absolutely fucked up, even if it is supposed to be what tony considers the best parts of himself? absolutely! hes still kind of based off tony of COURSE hes just a fucked up guy.

i just,,, him. i love this fucked up lil robot trying to be a person, trying to be the best person, trying to be everything tony thought iron man was. being almost tony, but not really. he always feels weird around pepper and happy and ms abrogast because he doesn’t know them but he knows about them. they’re his friends (they were tony stark’s friends) but he doesn’t know how to talk to them. they don’t know what he is. he doesn’t fully know what he is. he isn’t tony stark, but he isn’t not tony stark. he’s iron man, but that’s just an identity, a mask for someone who used to exist and doesn’t anymore. he’s iron man, but not tony stark. he’s just a mask. he’s just a mask and nothing else.

i think he’d start metaphorically sobbing the first time one of the team called him “shellhead” because thats a name FOR HIM!!! he gets a name! he’s been given a name! i don’t know if he’d HAVE one before that. i don’t know if tony would have time to name this AI, or would even... consider giving him a name other than iron man. i feel like he’d get so soft whenever the team treat him like a person but also feel so bad about it because he doesn’t want to deceive them (even as he increasingly feels like he has to, in order to be what they want him to be). i feel like he’d want to reach out, so badly, so very badly, but feel like he has to hold himself back, because if he reaches far enough to make contact whoever he’s reaching for is going to discover there isn’t anyone else there.

i think about him having some actual articulation underneath the armor, mostly in his hands, so he can take the gauntlets off and have fine-motor control enough to build things, things to give to his team who he loves so so much with the heart that isn’t there. i think other than that there wouldn’t really be much else. he can fill the suit up with gadgets and extra pieces and more processors but there isn’t really a point on building a skeleton. the armor is his body.

i like to think that he feels bad whenever the team worries about him. because he ISN’T in the same level of danger as they are. he can’t be hurt in the same way they can. it’s just another way he feels like a liar. he feels like a liar a lot -- moreso than tony, even, because at least tony’s just lying about who he is, not what he is.

honestly the most tragic part is that even though tony’s dead and this robot has no heart to have problems with

he’s still got to plug himself into a wall

[dragonpotter]

i find it funny how allicent says that viserys is "blind" when it comes to rhaenyra's sons and rhaenyra in general. of course he is not blind, he knows very well how his daughter is, he knows her son's aren't laenor's, he just doesn't want to punish her. does alicent really think that viserys would exile her, kill her for having bastard sons? what kind of father would do that? not one who loves his daughter like viserys does. and alicent doesn't understand being loved unconditionally, she doesn't understand how someone can just be loved for who they are, their flaws and mistakes combined. all her life, she did everything by the book, everything just right and that still didn't make anyone love her. and for her, it's rhaenyra's fault, because she is loved, even though she broke several of those "rules". and alicent, instead of realizing that maybe those rules are kind of stupid actually, just blames rhaenyra instead of admitting to herself that she is jealous. she envies rhaenyra for being free, and being loved even though she doesn't follow the stupid rules that alicent does.

alicent says that viserys is blind about rhaenyra but i actually think he is way more blind about her. she has been plotting treason (telling his children that aegon will be the king), spreading rumours about rhaenyra's sons, threatening rhaenyra and her sons with a knife???? and viserys never did anything substantial to make her stop.

the most ironic part of them all is that she complains about viserys being "blind" to criston cole of all people, who i have NO IDEA why was never punished. he KILLED a man in the royal wedding and nothing happened to him. and when harwin strong beat criston up, he was removed from his post as commander of the city watch, but criston beats a man to death in a royal wedding and nothing happens?? let's not forget that when the king explicitly forbade that luke's eyes be taken out after, criston still tried to do it, he only didn't do it because daemon stopped him.

viserys wasn't blind about rhaenyra. he just loved her the way that she was and wasn't going to do anything stupid to harm her. like a father who loves her daughter unconditionally would, but alicent wouldn't know anything about that, would she? and for her, it's rhaenyra's fault that she is loved unconditionally, not otto's fault for being a shitty father.

the irony is that i believe viserys was in fact blind about alicent. about her ambition for her sons and bitternes towards rhaenyra. he was also blind about criston cole, who murdered a man in her daughter's wedding and wanted to take his grandson's eye out, but didn't get punished for any of it.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Hello I was wondering if you could do Jackson ellie x bestfreind reader and like they have had a crush on eachother for a while and have a sleepover where they smoke or drink maybe or play some type of game like truth or dare and find out they like eachother and get kinda freaky idk. Thank you!

EEE I am so excited for this one watch me cook on this request. This is a rlly good request and I wanna write something just as good!! Also I want to recommend you an ao3 fic with this EXACT plot it's tagged here actually my favorite Ellie fic ever.

Content: 4k words, bestfriend reader, Jackson setting, pent-up feelings, nipple-play (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), tribbing, Ellie puts a finger into your mouth how fun!, a lot of dialogue before the actual sex sorry but I loved writing Ellie to be funny, reader likes pink a lot (couldn't help myself) and is afab, reader and Ellie 18+, NOT PROOFREAD LMAO

You're far from safe from liking people you shouldn't like.

That doesn't even cover the multitude of feelings! Like doesn't cover it. You're pretty sure you love Ellie.

Maybe in another lifetime, you and Ellie could've met and went on a date. You could've loved her freely. In this universe, she is your childhood best friend.

You know it could ruin the best thing that has ever happened to you if you tell her, or if she finds out in some way, but fuck; when she looks at you, it's like you forget how to breathe. You just wanna breathe her in, you want to share the same air and feel her lips on yours.

Ellie is unlike anyone you've ever known. She's sweet for you. She's impulsive to others, and honestly sometimes an asshole. That only makes you fall more and more in love for her. You didn't know it was possible to be attracted to someone's flaws, but you want every piece of her, even the bits that others in Jackson label as "annoying."

Ellie has always been there for you since you were just 15 and she moved to Jackson right by Joel's side. You just seemed to click. She was brash, foul-mouthed, and told ironically funny dad jokes. You were the type of person who liked having adventures and never shut up. Ellie always listened. She held you while you cried, let you borrow her book of puns, and volunteered to do patrols with you just so she could have fun adventures with you.

You couldn't ruin a good thing. You don't know what you would even do without Ellie in your life. You didn't wanna freak her out or make things weird. You feel like such a coward, but even thinking about Ellie distancing herself from you because of your stupid crush on her? It just makes your stomach churn with dread.

Little did you know Ellie was equally obsessed with you.

You're like a fucking ball of sunshine to the girl, always there laughing at the stupid things she says, defending her when she gets in trouble for something minor, and your smile should be considered warfare for how easily it could kill her. She tries to keep her feelings to herself, but it is so hard to when you look at her with bright eyes and the sweetest smile like you're trying to give her a toothache.

It's a recipe for a bomb, and it only takes one game to set it off.

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You're sitting criss-cross on your bed and Ellie is in your floor. It's a Saturday, which means both of you get to have a sleepover. No patrol, and no major chores to be done around Jackson.

Ellie just got back from a multiple day lasting patrol and she missed you so much while she was gone, it's not even funny. Seattle is beautiful, but boring when there isn't a sunshine girl in awe about how the verdure clings to the buildings. But at least now she is here, back in your bedroom which she loves so much.

Ellie's room is vastly different from yours. Well, her garage is. Her bedsheets are grey and minimalistic, and her make-shift kitchen is lined with posters. Her favorite is the one with the punk green-haired man holding a guitar. Her closet, however, it quite impressive. Her shelves are lined with comics and space movies, and her hangers are lined with flannels, of course.

Your bedroom, in contrast, has white bedsheets and a cozy pink blanket. You have a few raggedy plushies from scavenging around and your shelves are filled with lighter-colored clothing. White curtains decorate your windows and frilly pillowcases (that end up in the floor most of the time) compliment your bed. You have a full-length mirror in the corner of your room and a shelf of DVDs you usually just bring over to Ellie's garage, since she has a much nicer tv than you do. Ellie glances up at you from the floor, squiggling her eyebrows.

"I'm so fucking bored!" You groan, making Ellie laugh in the process.

"And how is that my problem?"

You flip her off and she clutches her stomach.

"Seriously, Ellie. I wanna actually do something and not just eat grilled cheeses and read your nerdy comics."

She scoffs.

"Excuse me? It's not my fault you have bad taste in literature."

You snort at that. "Starlight Savage and Raven Mouse are not literature."

"Oh, then what are they, huh?" She stands up, amusingly offended.

"Comics!"

Ellie grabs one of your pillows and pretends to suffocate you with it. You're laughing and trying to pry it off of your face.

"Hey, quit! You're actually gonna kill me!" You giggle, your voice muffled from the cushioning.

Ellie finally relents, laughing along with you.

"Better think twice before disrespecting Starlight Savage." She is wearing her signature shit-eating grin.

"Oh, whatever.. Hey!- You got me off topic." You groaned.

Ellie laughs at that. "And what was the topic?"

"I am bored out of my fucking mind," you complain, your voice rising in pitch to sound whiny, which she pretends to absolutely hate.

Really, she just hates that it makes her stomach clench when she hears your cute complains, and the tone of your whines only makes it worse.

"Okay, okay, fine. We can do something fun." She feigns reluctance, setting down on the bed beside you.

"Great!! So, what should we do?"

"Seriously? You don't even know what you wanna do and you gave me whiplash bitching about being bored?"

You scoff, jumping to your own defense. "I was tryin' to get you to come up with something," and then you add to complete your argument, "I wouldn't be bored if I knew what we could do."

Ellie sighs, and you smile because you know that means she has had enough of your bullshit and she just wants to throw in the towel.

"Fine. Well, we can play a game perhaps?"

You groan in protest at the suggestion. "You're a dirty cheater when it comes to Monopoly!"

Ellie only lets out a sheepish laugh at that, because she knows that you're being 100% truthful. "That is what makes the game fun!" When she sees your glare, she sighs once more. "Fine. How 'bout Truth or Dare?"

That sounds intriguing; the game begins.

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You and Ellie sit across from each other, and the game has been going on for around 10 minutes now. It's getting quite boring - always questions like "What's a secret you haven't told me?" or Ellie dares you to do something she knows you won't do, like lick the toilet bowl.

Then, she asks a question that brings the game onto another level.

"What's your favorite sex position?"

You stare at her, your jaw practically in your lap. You don't wanna talk sex positions with the girl you secretly wanna do sex positions with.

"What the fuck, Ellie?!"

She looks a bit guilty, but shrugs with a smirk that doesn't go unnoticed.

"What? I wanted to spice things up. C'mon, don't be a pussy."

You think it over, but finally, with a heated face, you say fuck it and give into her bullshit. "Missionary."

Ellie bursts out laughing.

You're sitting there not knowing what to do! She is laughing like a hyena at this point, tears in the corners of her eyes. She slaps her knee. What the fuck?!

"What's so funny?!"

Ellie just laughs, falling over and she is snorting like a pig now before she finally settles down. "It's just.." she tries to stifle a giggle, "that is the most boring thing you could've possibly said.”

You know that, but you're keen on defending your word. Ellie loves that about you, how you're always quick to stand up for yourself. "It's romantic!"

"Okay, okay," she shrugs. "Enlighten me on how missionary is more romantic than any other position that actually feels good."

You don't hesitate to list off the facts. "First of all, it does feel good! You just haven't tried the pillow method. Second of all, you can kiss your partner and actually talk to them." You sigh, getting a bit flustered (and turned on) by the conversation at hand. "Imagine fucking someone and getting to kiss all over their face while doing so, or on their neck or their tits. It's about the intimacy."

Ellie looks just as flustered as you now. She is silent for a moment before giving you the benefit of the doubt. "Okay, I guess you can rest your case now. But there is much more intimate positions than missionary, you know. You're just thinking vanilla ones like riding the strap-on, or from behind."

You raise an eyebrow at that. "Okay, I'll bite. What's more intimate than looking into someone's eyes while they cum?"

Ellie laughs at your vulgar question, pink tinting her freckled cheeks. "Tribbing." Her voice is more quiet, and that only makes you more aware of the slight tension.

You quickly brush it off with a laugh.

"Of course your gay ass would say that."

She grins and sits up at that, quick to defend herself. "Hey, you have no room to be talking, little miss 'my gay awakening is Rose from Titanic.'"

Your jaw drops and you look at her like she has said something crazy. "Hey, Rose is hot!"

She giggles. "Yeah, Sherlock, thanks for pointing out the obvious."

You roll your eyes. "Okay, okay. Can we get back to the game?"

She nods, and it continues.

As time passes, the questions grow more and more...uncomfortable to answer. You're still asking her the more casual things, but Ellie is daring you to do stupid, impossible stuff, or to answer questions like "what was your first time like?", "do you have a friends with benefits situation with anyone in Jackson?", and "if you could kiss anyone in Jackson, who would it be?" (which you brushed off jokingly by saying old man Eugene. She didn't press any further, only mocking you).

Then, she leans forward after you choose truth, and she whispers something you can't really brush off.

"Who do you like?"

You're fucked. If she asked "do you like someone?", you could answer without revealing who it is. She knows she has you trapped. Sneaky cunt.

You don't answer right away. Ellie is so close, your knees touching. The air in the room is insanely hot, and you want to leave your own house, you want to hide under your blankets or cover your face, but you can't.

Ellie doesn't wait for you to answer.

"I know you like someone, I can tell when my best friend is in love. Who is it?"

"That's way too personal, I.."

She scoffs, but it's not a rude sound. Just shocked, maybe slightly hurt. "You have always told me your crushes. Why won't you tell me now?"

You feel guilty now because she doesn't understand. She doesn't get why you won't tell her. She can't understand that it's because you like her. You want to scream it: I'm in love with you, Ellie! But those words won't be the next you utter.

"I just...I feel like this time it should be private." You know that your reasoning is weak, for once in your life, the defense is slipping and it's ugly. You internally wince.

She just stares in silence, not really meeting your eyes. It makes you panic, and then, then the words slip from your mouth seeing the hurt on Ellie's pretty face.

"It's you."

She stares at you like she didn't quite hear what you said, even though it was shaky, nevertheless loud and coherent.

"What...?"

"I..I'm in love with you, Ellie." You repeat yourself.

She leans into you. "Fuck.." Her breath hitches. "You better not be fucking around with me, I swear to-"

"No!", you shout loudly and quickly try to compose yourself. "I mean..I'm not joking. I like you. I hope this doesn't fuck with our friendship, or like.." You trail off, not wanting to think about what could happen now.

"I'm in love with you, too." There, now Ellie has gotten it out too.

Ellie didn't even fully understand why she asked you that. She knew she could've gotten her feelings hurt, that you could've liked someone else or that it would definitely mean you did like her, and then she had to be vulnerable and confess it back. Still, she was so exhausted, so fucking tired of pretending like hugs and casual touches were enough. They were never enough.

"Can I kiss you?" She doesn't even give you the proper time to react to her shared confession before she springs that onto you. You don't complain, only nodding quickly.

Her breath is warm against yours, and you can tell how shaky it is. You've never seen her so nervous, it makes your own stomach flutter with butterflies. Then, Ellie's grasping onto your face and smashing her lips against yours. Her mouth is warm, and the kiss doesn't even start out gentle. It's all devouring, all need and passon.

You quickly move into her lap, thighs on either sides of hers, and both of you are desperately pulling each other closer, finally sharing the same air. She tastes like everything natural, something so unique it can't be described but you immediately know you need more of it. Her tongue moves inside of your mouth, devouring you just like how she has been dreaming of for who knows how long, and when you're forced to pull away for a breath, her lips are sloppily trailing down your jaw to your throat, her hands grasping your hips to pull you closer.

"I've wanted you for so long, you know that?" Her voice is warm against your sensitive skin, and you think you could just burst with how it feels to be practically intertwined with her.

"Show me how it feels, Els.." You gasp and tilt your head back for more, but Ellie pulls away to look at you.

"How what feels?' She doesn't sound rude, only confused with her lips swollen and wet.

"The intimacy..the intimacy you talked about.." Oh, that.

She nods quickly, and her mouth is all over your shoulders, leaving soft pecks between words, "We can do that, but I wanna do something first..is that okay?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

With that, she pulls your shirt over your head and stares at you like she has never seen a pair of boobs before. Her eyes are wide and she takes you in before her.

"You're so pretty," she mumbles with conviction, kneading your tits through your bra. You can only moan when she sticks a hand into your bra and rubs her palm over your nipples, her other hand deftly undoing the clasp of the fabric.

That was the hottest thing you could do for a woman, Williams..

Her lips quickly find a nipple, pulling it into her mouth to swirl her tongue around the bud. Your fingers tug at her hair, begging for more. You need her closer. She reluctantly pulls her mouth off off of its new favorite place and leans back up to face you, planting an affectionate kiss on your cheek before smiling sheepishly.

"I'm gonna say something I want to do to you, but you can't laugh.."

That makes you already giggle, despite the heat building between your thighs. That is something you love about Ellie, the way she can make you laugh even when you aren't supposed to be.

"I'll try my best. What is it?" You ask, and she fiddles with her fingers nervously.

"I wanna use my fingers on you," she says it so quietly, voice nervous but filled with hunger before she quickly adds, "if you want me to. It's okay if you don't wanna go any further-"

"I want you to finger me, Els."

That was easier than she thought it would be.

She nods now, slowly unbuttoning your jeans and watching with an intense gaze as you hop off of her lap to shimmy them off. Now you're in nothing but a cotton pair of panties and you look so gorgeous.

Ellie has always found you to be beautiful. During patrols and on lookout, your hair had a shine to it that most people wouldn't care to think too much about, but Ellie always noticed it. Ellie always noticed the way your lips parted when you were zoned out, or how you walked like you always knew where you were going even on the paths that were mainly uncharted. You were so lovely-looking.

Now, nearly naked for her, she doesn't know if she can bare to blink even for a second. She is currently having a never-ending starting contest with your body, and she has to stop herself from pouncing on you. She wants to love you, not just fuck you.

Ellie is on her knees between your legs, hooking her fingers into the waistband of your underwear. Her eyes flicker over your body before looking to yours for confirmation.

"You sure you want this?"

"Please, Ellie. I want you." You know you sound desperate for her, but it can't be helped. You were soaked through your underwear, clit beating with need, and Ellie is just eyeing you like she wanted to devour you. She probably would, but she wants to save your clit for later.

She nods and slips your underwear down your legs, pulling them off of your ankles and throwing them behind her. The action made you giggle, but Ellie quickly squashed your outburst.

"Somethin' funny?" She asks, slipping a finger through your slick folds. You gasp and jolt.

"Hey, where the fuck is the warning, you cunt?"

She has to stifle her own laugh at your outburst, but she is growing tired of the cute giggles; if you laughed one more time, she'd be fucking you until you were limping-

"Sorry, pretty. I'm gettin' impatient." Her tone mkes you involuntarily clench. You rarely hear that tone, the serious one when she is either around someone she doesn't know and is keeping it professional or just not in the mood to joke. Now, you discover it's her horny tone, too.

You nod, tilting your head back to rest it on your frilly pillow. Finally, she slips two digits past your lips and you resist the urge to let a whorish whine slip past your lips. When she easily slides into your heat, you then can't resist.

Ellie's eyes are glued to your pussy like it's magic, watching your hips try to rise for more, feeling the way your walls tighten around her intrusion.

It's too much for her poor, fucked head to bare.

She is already as wrecked as you are. She wants to taunt you for the way you already look like you're going to cum from her barely brushing at your spongey g-spot, but she can't. She is probably in rougher shape right now.

"You feel so warm." It's all she can manage to get out, and she curls her fingers inside of you into upward, making you moan.

"I wanna cum, Els..please, more. Give me more." Ellie has never seen you this dumb for pleasure before, but who is she to deny you?

Her fingers aren't thrusting in and out or finger-banging you, just slowly sliding through your cunt, her fingertips stroking where you need them to. You feel so full, so complete. You hope she does this every single day from here on out.

It doesn't take long to get you into a state of complete bliss, and you haven't even climaxed yet. Your legs aren't clamping down, rather spreading wider as if you're begging for her to take you in the most obscene ways possible, fill you up with more than just her fingers. If only she you two were currently at her house, she has that unopened strap-on box... maybe for another day.

The knot that builds in your stomach, the temperature of it overheating your insides is about to snap. You're begging as if Ellie is teasing you or something. You're whining, and you look like you're about to start sobbing if she pauses her pace even for a nanosecond. She just wants to gives you everything, thinks you deserve the whole world, so she leans forward and intertwines her fingers with yours as her other fingers pump deep inside you, and you swear it's rearranging your guts. You wanna be wrecked so damn badly.

"You keep fluttering around me, gonna cum?" She asks, and you whine and nod.

Your orgasm soon hits you like a tsunami, once in a crash and then it simmers throughout you in waves. This is probably the hardest you have ever came. You gasp onto her hand tight, squeezing her fingers. You can't even speak or you'd be howling her name. It feels so euphoric and you wonder how it can get any better than this.

When you come down from the peak, she eases her fingers out of your tender insides and licks her ring finger clean. Then, she settles her hips between your legs, bringing her soaking middle finger to your lips.

"Open up."

You do so without question, tasting yourself on her digit before she swiftly pulls her finger away with a "pop!"

"I taste weird," you mumble and she rolls her eyes, mumbling a little "fuck you" before sitting up to strip out of her flannel.

You feel maybe a little nervous before. Something about the thought of feeling her in such an intimate way makes you feel even more fluttery inside. You've been with women before, you are far from a virgin, but you've never clashed clits before (omfg what). Most girls thought it was just a porn thing.

"You okay?" Ellie pauses, her flannel on the bed and a black t-shirt layer underneath it.

"Yeah," you mean it, "just a little nervous."

Her eyes soften, and she takes your hand and squeezes it. "I promise I'll be slow with you. I'm not gonna rush you into this, and if you want, we can always stop."

You feel more assured now, and you smile. "Okay."

When she finally strips out of her clothing, you take her in. She is breath-takingly beautiful. Her body is pale but covered in tan freckles, and her nipples are perky with arousal. Her shoulders and collarbone look so fucking kissable. You're still in a daze as she hooks a leg over yours, her warm cunt only an inch or two away from yours. She hovers.

"You ready?"

"I want you, so yes."

That makes her smile, and she slowly eases down onto you, her folds rubbing up against yours and both of your neglected clits finally getting the attention they deserve. Both of you are already moaning and Ellie leans down onto you, her tits brushing against yours as she kisses you deeply.

This kiss is slower than the first, less desperate but just as emotional. It's hungry and consumes you in a sensual way. Her hips grind against yours, her slick mixing with your soaked pussy to make you only whine into her mouth.

Now you understand how intimate this is. You feel so connected to Ellie in a way you hope you never get to feel with anyone else. You wanna always be this close. You think that even after this ends, you'll feel that tie to her body and heart, always leading you back to her.

When you both cum together, it's much different than what she gave you before. You can feel her tense up with you, hear her shaky breaths and moans, and you feel a warmth inside of you reminding you that she feels this way because of your pussy, because of her feelings for you. It's making you obsessive to feel this way.

When the high fades, she collapses on top you. You're both breathing heavily for a few minutes. Her breath is against your neck and it feels like a kiss. Your brain is thinking of something stupid now that the horniness is over.

"Isn't it obvious that I'm your girlfriend now?"

Ellie laughs and squeezes you tightly.

"Yeah. You're my girlfriend now, and I'm not letting you go."

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[fadelbison]

I do find it quite insane that people think Bridgerton season 3 was too rushed. I really think Colin's every plot line has been to bring him closer to Penelope. I think there's plenty of gifsets already that show the little affectionate or longing looks between Colin and Penelope starting from season 1. But I don't even mean those when I say that Colin is written in a way that perfectly matches Penelope's fat girl romance story. People skirt around calling Penelope a fat girl and therefore her romance one that's strife with struggles around being fat because somehow that is what they think will betray their fatphobia. But it's not fatphobic to recognize the way that a fatphobic society has fucked with both Colin and Penelope's heads. Colin's incredibly strong, incredibly illogical crush on Marina Thompson, Penelope's cousin, suddenly makes so much sense when you contextualize it as his feelings for Penelope being misguided onto the closest eligible target. (It honestly even felt that way when I watched season 1 as it was coming out.) Because here's the thing about Penelope, right? That society has deemed her ineligible. A fact that we know Colin is painfully aware of by the end of season 2 when he declares to his 'friends' that he would never court her. The same friends he calls shallow to their faces in season 3. So was it surprising that Colin's whole arc in season 3 was about shaking off the shackles society has on his decisions and more importantly, his desires. Because Colin isn't just trying to get by with society's expectations like Anthony was, no. He was trying to change himself to like it. He was trying to buy into it. Because society made him miserable before and maybe embracing it would make him happier. There's a reason he's so passionately anti-Whistledown. She represents those very shackles of society that ironically keeps him from acknowledging his feelings for Penelope. Colin has been in love with Penelope for just as long as she has been in love with him, if not more. But Penelope wasn't the only one who thought that was impossible simply because she was fat. In fact, this is a very common fat girl dating experience, you meet men who would absolutely fuck you, heck they can even love you in their own way but they're not ready to face the shame of other's judgement in acknowledging you. Colin's every appearance on this show starting from season 1 has been setting him up to release those shackles. He wanted to for Marina, but his feelings for her were not genuine. He chased her out of obsession, not love and I think that distinction was infinitely clear to Marina. She could never inspire this soft, sensitive man to harden his backbone in a way that Penelope can. His love for Marina brought him anguish, his love for Penelope brings him joy. The Duke and Daphne barely had a conversation that entire season, Kate and Anthony met and created all of this havoc for what? Colin and Penelope are the only two, whose emotional connection has been established over the course of three whole seasons. Lots of criticisms can be made of their romance I'm sure, but rushed? Listen, I know why people think it's rushed and while season 1 and season 2 Colin would really really care that you think Penelope is unfuckable but season 3 Colin doesn't have a single fuck left to give.

[bloobydabloob]

Any tips on getting better at realism? I've been drawing very cartoony works forever but I really want to branch out and draw more realistically and hone that style but Everytime I try it never feels human 😔

Suuuure. Sorry it’s fairly long, answer under the split thing.

I’d say mainly just practice drawing from reference first. Before I started doing any sort of more abstractive or non referential realism, I spent time practicing with maybe 20 or 30 paintings from reference.

Here are just some that I made during that time. I think they really really helped me to learn the principles of painting appealing realism, different kinds of people, color, skin, lighting, and anatomy.

In terms of actually drawing realism (whether from reference or not) I think the most important tip I can give, as well as the most overlooked ironally, is stylisation. Most realism that I see doesn’t connect at all with me which I think is maybe what you’re talking about when you say your portraiture doesn’t “feel human”.

Learning to draw realism in my eyes is largely about learning how to shortcut every single thing you can. So instead of drawing everything exactly how it is using an image, learn how to stylise realism in your own way. I find that if you don’t find a way to simplify the process, it can end up being A : Busy and B : hard for you to create more realistic images from imagination or from real life instead of photographs.

Here is a 40 minute drawing I just drew from a random photo I pulled off Pinterest + small explanation on what helps me to break down an image. I simplify realistic portraiture by adopting somewhat of an angular style, but the best realism / semi realism artists I know of draw realism using their own stylisation methods.

I also personally find that it helps to start by blocking in instead of sketching with lines, but I understand that this is a personal preference and might not work for you.

I also say this for everything but there is no “cheating” in art and anyone who tells you there is fundamentally doesn’t know anything about drawing, especially in the learning process. Cheat if you want. Use grids to plot where things will be, colorpick, trace, liquify, transform, whatever. Although I do also recommend that you only use this as a way to learn and don’t rely on it as a crutch, it helps a lot to be able to draw independently of all of these factors. But I learned to draw partially *by* being a kid who traced and colorpicked and fucked around. Who cares

This applies to everything too but just practice a lot. I’m too embarrassed to show but when I first starting drawing semi realistic art without reference it fucking sucked. Like *really* fucking sucked because I am extremely extremely faceblind and I mean that. It takes me 3 seasons of a show to recognise an actor’s face. But because I’ve drawn hundreds of faces now I know what I’m doing kind of. I also never post any realism art immediately because oftentimes if I don’t look at it for a day or two, I’ll come back to it and notice that something doesn’t look quite right. I would say that definitely helps.

ALSO very important but look at it from far away or a little version. I always look at my drawing in the digital navigator on FA and it helps me to notice when something looks dumb.

Anyways hope this helped at all… lalala. I don’t know man. Don’t take my words as bible I’m just some guy and I am also not a professional and realism is definitely not my strong suit. Tutorials are bullshit and if you think any of this advice sucks for you then don’t take it and forge your own path. Bless

[dantenyhpmir]

Branding

Pairing; Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Plot; You want to make it clear to everyone who owns you

Warnings; Branding, CNC ish

Word Count; 1642

Dante Nyhpmir Master list

You could not take your eyes off the stove. No matter what he seemed to do to you, your eyes were locked onto the iron. Watching it heat up. It felt odd being tied to a chair in the kitchen at first but Simon always had a way of taking you other places. He was the only man who ever seemed to be able to actually have you let go. You swear you could feel it alter your brain chemistry. Like your body just craved him now, it practically belonged to him. He'd say as much and you never got tired of hearing it.

His.

Only his.

Something about belonging to a man felt so good, as much as you'd hate to say it out loud. He would make you feel safe and cared for while also being able to fuck like he hated you. Anything he did had you soaked really, it was so new to have someone have such an affect on your body. To take it from you.

Or to show it off.

Marks did something to you.

Emotionally.

The odd remarks about the bruises on your knees. You'd chalk it up to rock climbing or some other sport you didn't do if people ask but you'd know. All the bruises from taking him. From his fingertips digging into your thighs or the shower floor. Knowing the hand print would still be there when you sat down, not going to the beach for the next few days while it took its sweet time leaving. The bite marks were your favourite. If you knew, you knew.

And if you knew, you wouldn't say anything.

It was like wearing the collar in public to some degree. Once the collar was on you were his to use, to play with as he saw fit but that wasn't enough. The hand marks weren't enough, or the bruises or the bites. There had to be more.

A tattoo of his name felt cheap. Not really indicative of your dynamic anyway. A branding though….

With a quick turn of the wrist he lifted up the iron. Leaning on the counter as if this was nothing. He looked so good in all black. Always all black.

You'd have to be naked.

Always.

Well, unless you count the cute rope harness keeping you firmly attached to the chair, an outfit.

“Not yet,” his eyes trained on it before fixating on you “let's let it get a little hotter”

You don't know how he does it, how his eye contact always feels like a threat. His eyes burned into your skull hotter than any iron.

It had been a long night of play. Basically putting you into a sweat as he'd pace around you, move your hair out of the way and bite into your neck. Twisting and groping everything, slowly. Firmly. You, making a mess all over the chair, any embarrassment would've left early in the night. You were gone. And you had a front row seat.

Your eyes never left that iron.

He noticed. He knew every sign in your body. It wasn't very hard to read your excitement. It looked just like terror.

You needed a closer look at it, by now a white hot glow.

“That's looking better” he says, pointing it at you. Still far enough away, for now.

You're too excited and can't help but squirm. Can't help but give him the usual attitude either.

“How do you even find an iron with a skull on it?” You tease

“Would you prefer my initials?” He says as he turns it, observing it

“Not sure which looks more embarrassing”

His eyes change as the iron finds it way closer to your neck. Slowly.

Creeping in.

Your back goes up, you can't move away from it as much as you're trying. He leans down to match your level, a kindness he doesn't often give.

Soon to be taken away.

“You're not in much of a position to mock”

He holds the moment. You don't have anything to say, what could you say? Your eyes say everything

You're stunned.

A coy smile creeps across his face, you can hear him exhale before he stands up. Everytime you hear him breathe it sends chills down your spine. Even if it's not on your neck, it's always a buffer. The sign before things escalate.

It's so satisfying when he stands over you, but daunting. You don't think your chin has ever been higher, the few hairs on it feel a singe. He hasn't touched you with it yet but it's close enough. Just a warning.

Usually he'd grab onto you as tightly as possible when it gets to this part of any scene. Of any escalation but the branding iron is doing all the work, he doesn't need too. It's the opposite really as his fingers brush your hair out of your face. Incredibly gentle as his thumb runs up and down on your cheek. So light, one side of your face being met with such kindness and the other side of your neck feeling like the sun could swallow it.

“Look at me”

You're not in a position to not listen

To not follow instructions

“Are you gonna keep squirming?”

You wanna shake your head no, you're in such a daze it feels impossible to speak but even slightly turning your head feels like a gamble. Your doe eyes widen staring up at him as you swallow your own fear that's caught in your throat

“Use your words”

“No”

“No, what?”

“No Sir”

“What are you going to stop doing?”

“Squirming”

“Good girl”

His thumb isn't so gentle anymore as it finds its way under your chin and holds your face in place, tightly as the iron bar gets closer. You didn't think it could get any closer without touching you.

“That wasn't so hard was it?”

Your eyes dart back and forth between the tool and his eyes. His dead sinister eyes. The eyes that call you out on every snippy remark you've ever made. The eyes that get you on your knees with a single side glance.

“No Sir” you gulp down as he almost tosses your head aside while stepping back with the iron.

Everything is hot, every single thing. The air is strangling you just as much as the rope. How did they seem to get tighter, how can you feel every rib rub against the knots as your chest lifts with every breath. Every breath that falls out of your mouth that you try and pick up again.

He takes some hot water he left in the kettle from over 20 minutes ago. Hot but not enough to burn him, and wipes it over the inside of your thigh.

Where anyone who comes near would see.

His mask.

His property.

“Not having you get any infections” he says, wiping down the area.

It's real.

It's happening.

“Simon”

You can't help shaking again

“I told you to quick squirming”

You try to stop, it feels impossible.

“I don't think you can handle this after all” he condescends with a tilt of his head and daggers in his eyes

“No I can, I can” you stammer

“You're sure about that?” He says with one finger moving up, farther and farther. Feeling how excited you are, feeling how scared you are.

“Jesus Christ” he says, soaking his fingers before looking back at you.

You blubbering mess.

“I can, I can, I can, I promise. Sir, please. I can handle it.” Over and over again.

His disposition is so still, not stopping you from going on and on. Every step is calm, walking to the counter to grab the blindfold. Setting down the iron on the stove only to put the sleepmask over your face.

“You're not gonna make me watch?”

“Don't want you to faint” he says as your eyes go dark.

Everything is so heightened. You swear you could feel every hair on your leg, every goose pump that runs through your body. His hand wraps back around your head, gentle. His thumb caressing your cheek.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You”

“Use your words”

“You, Si–”

But just as you say it you can feel his hand tighten around your throat to brace you for the white hot burn that engulfs your inner thigh. That feels like it's radiating heat you've never felt. The sting is almost agonizing and you can't help but cry out. To whine.

With each yelp getting tighter and you feel him press you into his chest and the pain subside from your thigh. The shock burned into you, taking so long to leave even if his force had.

His hands wipe away sweat before the blind fold. You swear his eyes have an evil smile when you see them again, knowing you're drenched in sweat, barely able to keep your eyelids over your eyes or your mouth from hanging open. So much breath to catch. So much fog to see through.

His kisses on your cheek bring you back to earth. Taking your time before you notice….

“Where?” You try to stumble out, wanting to remark on your trophy but,

“Where is—”

You look at him, leaning down over you. He holds a cube of ice in his fingers like a dice and sets it back on the area for a brief moment. You flinch.

“Its not–” you choke out, you can barely speak.

“No sweetheart” he says, again with condescension as he makes his way to the sink. The tap water hitting the iron, the sizzle of water to heat has you turn away. Your body rejecting the sound, a bigger wince.

Thinking of your skin.

He saunters back over, holds your face in both hands before kissing you.

“You're not ready for that”

Dante Nyhpmir Master list

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

VI. “dinner”

parts: previous / next

plot: after a sour interview attempt, you find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, brief mention of sa (which did not transpire), anger, arguing, feeling helpless

words: 2.2k

You quickly remembered how furiously he beat up the man in the alley. Maybe the truth was more transparent than you'd realized; you saw the Batman edge to him so clearly now. Batman was in the way his jaw set, his stature as he walked closer to someone. The staccato of his pointed words and how they flowed so securely past his lips. You could see it in every flex of his muscles, the intensity of his gaze. You never wanted to be on the receiving end of his vitriol. For now, all you had was his frustration and annoyance. Better than being prey.

"Forcing your dick into a stranger isn't exactly getting anything meaningful, is it?" You bit back, running over the pattering in your chest. Bitterness stung your tongue as you watched him pull back and pace between the desk again. "I'm talking money. Assets. Opportunities. If people had everything they needed, they wouldn't pillage the streets trying to find a means of self-preservation—"

He cut you off as rage seeped into your voice. "You talk like you know from experience."

"I know I'm far closer to them than an out of touch rich kid." You turned the recorder to OFF. He looked at you with suspicion. "What are you doing?"

"This is pointless." You clenched fingers around the recorder and grabbed your phone from where it sat on the table. Anger was starting to overtake you listening to someone who had everything in life handed to him look down on those who had less lucky circumstances. "I'm not dealing with you. I'm leaving."

Quick, heavy footsteps came up behind you and he grabbed your elbow. You ripped it away from him and kept on down toward the iron door. "I'm leaving." As you walked you remembered you'd left your heels; you wanted to turn around, but kept forward. Heat flushed your cheeks when you reached the door that wouldn't open. Panic. Would he even let you out? Is this when the torturing began?

"Master Wayne?" A British man's voice filled the basement. A clank, the sound of metal, and then a stutter. "Who—”

You spun around to face a grey-haired, well-dressed man peering out from an open-plan elevator. He had a pair of spectacles in hand and a worried expression. Opening your mouth to speak proved futile when Bruce Wayne was always so ready and willing to answer. "She knows, Alfred." His tone was flat and to the point, if a bit terse. Worry melted to curiosity as he nodded at you. Was that a statement or a signal?

You did a small, annoyed wave. "I'm Y/N. Wanted to interview Gotham's elusive billionaire." You covered the words in as much sarcasm as humanly possible to mask your deepening anxiety. Did he know how to fight too?

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. How about staying for dinner?" You felt softer with the presence of this man in the room. Was this his godfather? They didn't look particularly alike... His parents had pretty famously died when he was a kid, right? You recalled vague memories of hearing a breaking news story on the living room television from a town you had never heard of before. Maybe he was a caretaker of sorts? A cook? Maybe it was too naive, it was likely so supremely naive as to be moronic, but you felt the mood shift when this 'Alfred' walked in. A positive one.

Bruce Wayne started to answer the dinner invite with a resounding hell no, which plastered a smile to your face. "I'd love to!" You scurried over to retrieve your heels and sidled beside ‘Alfred’ in the elevator. Your heels ached and you wanted nothing more than to crash in your own bed. However, pissing off this asshole? And getting free food? You felt it the utmost priority to get under Bruce Wayne’s skin as much as possible. Maybe you could get more information for your paper while you were at it.

Alfred gave a come here motion for him to join you, and after a heavy scoff and eye-roll he slumped his way over. With a press of a button the doors closed and elevator shot up. To your right wafted a gentle scent of fresh musk; whoever he was, he even smelled fancy. To your right the smell of old clothes. Your eyes wandered to the stiffness of Bruce Wayne's suit; it looked like it hadn't ever been worn, and the musty scent lent that credibility. Clustered together in this small space with Alfred too, you got a bit more brave. Tested the waters. Wanted to see if your anxiety could be alleviated. You picked off a piece of lint that was on his shoulder; as soon as you touched him his head whipped toward yours, expression accosted. You suppressed a laugh. "Just some lint, Jesus."

The elevator stopped suddenly, forcing you to grab the bars as you stumbled forward. Him and Alfred walked easily as you stumbled behind them. You looked up to the massive staircase across the way, and noticed this elevator was placed adjacent to the kitchen in a dark hallway. The ceilings were impossibly tall with gothic arches and swirls in excess.

"I'm changing." Bruce Wayne walked unceremoniously out of the room and off somewhere in the gargantuan mansion at the first opportunity. Alfred showed you around the kitchen, handing you a heavy ceramic plate. Knowing them it could even be diamond. The house wasn't particularly well-lit; surprisingly for a wealthy family. Your mind immediately went to rich celebrities and their glistening homes. Gotham was so fucking weird.

Alfred winked at you as he got out two more plates. "Master Wayne can dish up himself, being how grumpy he's acted." You let out a small chuckle when the man himself silently appeared beside you, empty plate in-hand. He was suspiciously quick, and it looked weird outside of the suit. He smelled a bit better now, like a woody oak tree... and detergent. "Sorry, the prince has to dish himself." You crooned, handing him the ladle to the crockpot.

The sound of scraping dishes brought you back to meals with your mom and dad at the living room table. Homesickness enveloped you. How were they doing? They seemed excited to go to graduation; you hadn't seen them in nearly two years.

The scraping stopped. You watched carefully for the first fork to touch a tongue that wasn't yours. You made pleasant conversation until Bruce grew suspicious. He gestured to you. "Didn't you want to eat?"

Goosebumps riddled your thighs and you did your best to will them away from your arms and prying eyes. The house was so dark, but he was fucking Batman. Part of you wondered if he had x-ray vision. You stumbled over some dumb excuse. "I always let the hosts eat first." It went over about as well as you thought it would with him.

"You think my butler poisoned you?"

Shame did wheelies in your mind, so much so you didn’t notice his butler glare at the brooding man. It seemed a bit storybookish; come to the secret lair, have a final dinner before inevitable demise. The arches, the long table... it was all very reminiscent of something underground, something akin to holiness but more sinister. He stared at you when Alfred took a scoop from Bruce's bowl, and swallowed. You took a bite and instantly settled at how delicious it was. "Alfred, is this, uh, mulli—"

"Oh, yes! How did you know?" He was chipper, likely making up for his less kindly dinner partner. You told him how you'd asked what sort of cuisines Bruce was into—to which he shot another glare your way and the old man grinned.

You made sure to draw out the length of the dinner in spite of Bruce Wayne. He picked at his food, not eating, as you and Alfred prattled on about this, that, and oh, this other thing! It wasn't all a ruse, however; you thoroughly enjoyed Alfred as he seemed exceptionally kind and competent. Looking into his weathered face and hearing his posh accent took the burning sting of Bruce's presence away—which was another thing: he always had people refer to him with formalities, so you resigned to calling him Bruce.

"I'd like to leave, Alfred." Bruce spoke through grit teeth and pushed his plate toward the center of the table in protest. If he had been a bit more animated, it might have looked like he was throwing a tantrum. You didn't bother to hide the grin twitching your lips because you knew he'd hate that, too. It was as if nothing mattered more than getting under his skin. The bickering was peaceful, really.

Alfred wasn't having it. As far as he could tell you were being a perfectly pleasant guest, and it befuddled him why Bruce was behaving that way. He’d put a few pieces together down in the batcave, given Bruce’s unceremonious announcement that you knew about Batman, but why would he be so cold? He had always told the boy it would happen eventually, and you didn’t seem to be a particularly malignant presence.

You'd notice a glare being shot from him to Bruce after he made a snide comment or a face to something you had said, which only made you add another cherry to the pile. It wasn't like Bruce was completely in the right; in fact, he had poked at you equally as much. His transgressions were more passive, less perceptible. A judging twitch of the eyebrow, a squint, an eye-roll. It was his house and he knew he wouldn't be kicked out for acting up, so he didn't bother watching himself.

You frustrated him. Your voice was grating, your chipper demeanor nearly making him gag. But. There was something more. He truly could have gotten up at any time, as Alfred was still under his payroll. Alfred had little say in how Bruce behaved at the end of the day, and he knew he could have stormed off to his bedroom without (much) consequence. You felt like an itch he couldn't scratch. You weren't dismissible, no, but that was due to how uniquely you frustrated him. It made him feel like bees swarming in his mind, thoughts scattered, body constantly teetering off the edge. A thorn he couldn't get out of his side. The very fact that he could not pin down a sure reason sent his frustration past manageability. You knew he was Batman and you were blackmailing him for it, but that was what anyone else would have done in that situation. Why was your personality so infuriating? Like a knife slipping under his fingernails?

ZZZ ZZ. ZZZ ZZ. ZZZ ZZ. Your phone buzzed and Alfred took his cell out of his breast pocket. You opened your phone to an emergency alert. FLASH FLOOD WARNING FOR GOTHAM METRO AREA. SEVERITY: MODERATE THREAT TO LIFE AND PROPERTY. STAY INDOORS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

Bruce's brows knit together again, much as they did at city hall. "What? What's the alert?"

Alfred spoke first. "It seems there's a... flash flood warning for our area. It says to stay indoors until further notice." You hadn't noticed the sound of the torrential rainpour until you really focused in on it. There were light pattering sounds far above with the terrifically high ceilings, though very steady and consistent. If it were in your apartment you wouldn't have been able to sleep in that damn cube. Wait. Sleep. You started typing into your phone the Gotham City website, and there was a red banner posted 12 seconds ago scrolling through bolded words in white. You read them aloud.

"It says on the city website to... expect delays for up to 72 hours?!" You couldn't hide the shock in your voice. Alfred immediately turned to Bruce who got up and slammed himself out of the chair. "Great. Just great." His annoyance ricocheted off the entryway walls, his hands fists at his side. Shit. Shit shit. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. "Wait, my paper! It's,"

"It's alright dear. I'll make you a bed in a spare room down the hall from me. I have a laptop too, if your professor still expects you to turn it in during a monsoon." Alfred tried to laugh but you weren't in the mood, your heart pounding against its cage as you sobered at the thought of having to be around Bruce for more than another hour.

"Master Wayne, you'll give a tour to Miss Y/N while I draw up a room."

"Are you kidding me?" You couldn't see him but the frustration in his tone was different now. It felt... inescapable, which made the terror more palpable. You had just blackmailed the most infamous vigilante in the world. And now you were stuck in his house. Fuck. Karma.

[ravisinghs-wife]

Hii!

Could you please do Aaron Warner x reader dating post? cause I live for that man.



Aaron warner x gn!reader

warnings: ooc!Aaron (?), I changed the timeline and a tiny bit of the plot from unravel me, my poor attempt at writing anything besides headcanon, cringe writing, mention of being drugged, being shot, curse words

word count: 1.6k +

notes to the reader: reader's gift is to make people believe and do everything they say. reader has been at omega point since their childhood and is best friends with kenji. reader wears a dress

other notes to the fic: Juliette and Aaron are just friends (well still kind of enemies, but Aaron's main focus from bringing her to the reestablishment was to help his mom, instead of rescuing her bc he was in love with her), a/n: I am SO sorry that this took so long, I'm currently trying to work on my request before I open them again but I just don't have that much motivation to write rn😭, I hope you still like it:)), my first language isn't English so please respect that, I tried to write something different from what I normally do...

Masterlist

you two met when he was taken by omega point

after he was allowed outside of his room, and castle made sure that Aaron wouldn't destroy any more furniture, he kept seeing you on his daily walks with castle and began asking questions about you

"what's their name" Aaron looked focused, directing his question to the person joining him on his walk. Castle waited a few seconds before answering Aaron's question: "y/n, their gift is to make people believe and do everything they say" Aaron gave you another intense look before turning his attention to castle again and nodding, to signalize that he understood him.

after that he kept noticing you and eventually agreed to eat dinner with the others, just so he could sit at the same table as you and listen to your conversations with Kenji

you had been friends with Kenji for as long as you could remember, so you always sat at the same table, different friends of yours joining you both, be it Ian, Brendan, lily or the brand new members Adam, James or Juliette, with whom Kenji was especially close

but when the new omega point member, the infamous Aaron Warner joins you both you of course notice him

you also didn't miss the glances he kept sending you

so when castle, who also didn't miss the glances, asked you to train him you rushed to say yes because you just couldn't believe that a person could be so pure evil like Adam pointed him out to be

yes, he let someone tortured your best friend (which you still were pretty pissed about) but you believed that there could be something nice in him and assumed that he was under much stress due to his father, who you haven't heard a single nice thing about

his first training session was on an Tuesday afternoon, to which he arrived exactly on time and in perfect clothing, as if he somehow found a way to iron it

you started with some simple tasks to try to find out what exactly his power is and why he is immune to Juliettes touch

around three sessions later you come to then training session in your prettiest dress that you normally safe for special occasions

aaron, he demanded that you call him by his first name, immediately had one of his rare smiles spread out on his face when he saw you in that dress

he kept asking you to do a twirl so he could see the whole dress but you refused at first

it wasn't until he came closer to you, held your hands carefully in his and asked like a little puppy "please to a twirl for me, my beloved" that you made one with a shocked face

when he saw your expression he rushed to stop you and asked panicked if everything was alright

you told him that he just practiced your gift and couldn't do anything but do a twirl

after that both of you quickly figured out that his gift was to practice other peoples powers and copy them

the night after you are me in his room, trying to work on his powers

you do that until you notice him staring at you

"what's wrong Aaron?" you ask, looking concernt at the boy. you notice that he isn't smiling or grinning a bit like he normally does when you say his name. "my beloved, I- I'll have to leave in the morning. My father can't suspect that I'm here or where exactly omega point is, he'll know soon if i stay longer. I can't put you at this risk." You were shocked to say the least. "Aaron you can't- how would you even do that? Do you even know the way out?" "I wasn't really unconscious when I was brought here, you know? And I found a way to navigate myself around here in the last two months." He looks at your shocked face before adding: "But don't worry, I won't tell my dad or someone else about anything here. I'll hope that you'll miss me the same amount that I will miss you. I hope we will see each other soon again"

He doesn't let you protest any further, gives your hand a gentleman-like kiss and leaves

you had absolutely no idea where he went to, it was his room that you spent your time just mere minutes ago in, after all

still in shock you don't even think about following him, the only thought in your head being that he would be gone tomorrow and will probably spent his time with his pathetic excuse of an father

You don't even think about telling castle or someone else at omega point about Aaron leaving, and at the morning of the very next day you find out that he succeeded

days pass until each member from the rescuing mission of Brendan and Winston, who where both kidnapped my Aaron's psycho dad, Anderson, were ready and prepared to start the mission

the mission seemed to go well until you saw the bombs falling from the sky directly on the place where omega point was located

you were in shock and didn't notice the arms grabbing you and dragging you into a tank

you'd been handcuffed and your eyes were covered with a cloth

there was a voice saying something but you didn't catch was it was saying

someone forced a liquid down your throat and you soon passed out after that

the first thing that you noticed was the warm light

you sat in a kitchen chair but soon noticed that a person, who you assumed to be Anderson, Aaron's dad, because of the obvious resembles, joined you

shit

you didn't catch everything he was saying because you were still feeling dizzy from the drug you were forced to consume, something about revenge, the stupidness of his son (who apparently had joined you two), leading and shooting someone

you soon found out that with someone they meant you, when you were shot in the chest

right into your heart

being shot and drugged at the same day wasn't a nice feeling

you were bleeding and if it didn't stop soon you'd be dead in a few minutes

and if that would happen you couldn't exactly tell because you passed out

for the second time today

it was a shock, to say nicely, when you woke up next to Aaron

he immediately asked you if you were okay but you just stared at him

"I- What the fuck happened?" "my father he- he wanted to 'teach me a lesson'. I'm sorry, my beloved. If I never would've asked him to spare your life he wouldn't have tried to kill you or make me try to kill you." he rambled, trying to explain the earlier actions. But one question was still lingering in your head: "why exactly would you have asked him to spare my life?" He could've carered so much more about someone else's life than yours. Juliettes or maybe James. Besides his constant dining you were sure that he cared at least a bit for them. "Because I care for you, my beloved." You don't know what to say after this confession and just look at him and take his hand into yours.

that's how you met<33 sorry, I got carried away

anyway

that man SPOILS you

you see a pretty flower at the market? It's yours. There is a new collectors edition of your favorite book, but it's out of your price range right now? It's on your desk the next day. The limited edition vinyl that just restocked? already ordered, you get the deal

despite everything he says he actually loves dogs and you'll get one when everything with the reestablishment is over

he'll always pick out fancy colars for the dog and style it<3

he definitely has a fashion blog and posts his daily outfits on there

he'll also pick out your outfit everyday and he always tries for you two to match

every time you go shopping with Juliette and/or Kenji he insists on tagging along so you don't chose some ridiculous clothing items that would wash you out or something

he's obsessed with coffee after delalieu introduced him to it

and when you already like coffee you two have this ritual that every Sunday you guys drink a cup coffee on your balcony and just enjoy the early morning

but if you don't like coffee he always tries to get you into it and 'accidentally' places an extra cup on the breakfast table

"i promise my beloved, it's really good you just have to try it for once"

his love languages are words of affirmations and physical touch

he can't go longer than five minutes without touching you

he always has his hand rested on your lower back or holds your hand because your touch comforts and relaxes him<33

also loves to hold your pinkies

he may not look like it but he LOVES cuddling

you can't sleep anymore without you normally grumpy boyfriend squeezing you like his life depended on it

he also loves to rest his head on your belly before sleeping, while you both read something

he's so mesmerized by your presence

he tells you at least ten times a day how gorgeous, smart or lovely you are

you could literally just walk to the kitchen to get a snack and he'd drop everything to tell you how much he loves you

at the beginning of your relationship he was way more open than you expected with his feelings and already told you one month in the relationship that he loved you

I don't know why but I think he'd write you poems frequently

[fuckyeahisawthat]

While I absolutely adore all the "Viktor acquires Jayce's last name for accidental/practical/non-romantic reasons" ideas, I think Viktor would have had to solve his last name problem for paperwork reasons as a student at the Academy, and if he didn't have a last name, the simplest option would be to steal one.

He figures out within three days of starting at the Academy that he needs a family name.

Introducing himself as "just Viktor" gets him marked out as from the undercity immediately, if missing one of a hundred other social cues hasn't already. "Don't you know no one knows whose kids are whose down there?" he hears someone scoff from down the hall, after he's extracted himself from a conversation that was going nowhere good.

Family, like most things in the undercity, is assembled from spare parts more often than not. Family is who will have your back if someone is giving you shit; who will offer you half of something that is already not enough. His parents by blood are both alive and still live together, but no one knows them as anything other than Iveta and Hal.

But topsiders care about things like bloodlines and inheritance, and they all have family names. Not just the rich kids whose family names are carved into buildings, but the children of merchants and craftspeople and workers.

So, he needs to acquire one.

He can't just make one up. What if he picks something that sounds obviously fake to their ears? Or worse, the name of a real, well-known family that he then has to explain his connection to? No, it has to be a real name, just not one that anyone would care about.

He goes to the cemetery. Not the fancy one with the high wrought-iron gates and elaborate masoleums, but a humble one, in a part of the city filled with the modest homes of tradespeople. He searches until he finds an ill-tended family plot, the most recent date of death a hundred years in the past. A simple man, maybe a baker, judging by the carving on the headstone. That will do.

He makes up a story to go with it (a Piltover family of small shopkeepers, forced into the undercity by hard times several generations ago, but topsiders by ancestry still) and starts writing his name as Viktor Trini on homework assignments and forms.

"Viktor." Professor Heimerdinger catches his attention after class one day, a few weeks into the term. Viktor has a routine for this steep amphitheater-style lecture hall by now. Sit in the front so he doesn't have to deal with the stairs; make a bit of a show of gathering up his books and papers slowly after class, letting the students who are in a hurry get out the door first, without his uneven steps slowing them down.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Excellent work on the last assignment. Inspired problem-solving, if I must say."

"Thank you, Professor." He'd been gratified by the solution he came up with, but it's nice to hear someone else say it, too.

Heimerdinger is still holding his problem set paper, rocking on his toes on the small stepladder he uses when lecturing, when he doesn't get too animated and just start striding across the desk like a stage. "You know," he says. "I knew an Aloisius Trini, many years ago. Lovely fellow. He could get a bit gruff with the customers, when the shop was busy, but he made the best meat pies, so nobody cared. I was wondering, might he be your...grandfather perhaps?"

"Yes," Viktor says quickly. "Though I never knew him."

Heimerdinger lowers his voice conspiratorially. "I think you will find that great-grandfather works better, given the math." And he winks.

Viktor's throat goes dry. "Professor, I--"

"Ah-ah. No need to worry, my dear boy. Most people you meet in Piltover won't be nearly three hundred years old." He leans in, drops his voice to a whisper again. "We'll keep this our little secret."

Ah. He understands what's going on now. "Of course. What do you want in return?" He doesn't like this, owing someone who could have him expelled with the stroke of a pen.

Heimerdinger looks surprised at the question. "Nothing!" he says. But that can't be true. He'll ask for something sooner or later.

"I want you to succeed," Heimerdinger says after a moment. "I've seen a lot of students come through these halls, and you're very bright. I predict you'll do extraordinary things."

It still feels like a trap, and maybe it shows on his face, because after a minute Heimerdinger makes a noise of frustration and says, "Fine. If you insist on viewing this as a favor to be repaid, come to my office. There's a lightbulb that needs changing and I can't reach it."

That, he can do. "Thank you, Professor," he says quietly as Heimerdinger hops down the stairs of the stepladder.

"Don't thank me until you've seen the state of this light fixture. I can't reach it to dust, either."

[superman86to99]

Action Comics #702 (August 1994)

Bloodsport (not the black one, the anti-black one) returns, which means this is gonna be another distressingly violent issue, but hey, at least we get to see Superman hit a Nazi! Right off the bat, we start with Bloodsport mowing down a nice black family because he wants to, as he puts it, "Keep Metropolis Clean." After the "Fall of Metropolis" storyline, the place is pretty messy, so I guess what he actually wants to do is Make It Clean Again, but I digress.

Meanwhile, Ron Troupe, who helped get rid of Bloodsport the last time he popped up, is working on an article in Lois Lane's borrowed laptop, which is apparently the only working computer in Metropolis right now. When they hear about Bloodsport shooting people up on a bridge, Lois and Ron rush there and arrive right in time to watch Superman get owned by pink goo. Racist pink goo.

(New writer David Michelinie sure loves covering guys in goo, huh?)

Bloodsport recognizes Ron (so he can tell black people apart), who once again has a chance to shoot him but can't bring himself to do it. Bloodsport is like "thanks, now I'll kill you anyway" and shoots at Ron but ends up killing a police officer instead. She looked Latina, though, so I guess that's still a win for him.

By the time Superman has freed himself from The Nazi Goo™, Bloodsport has left for "the largest African-American neighborhood in Metropolis," and not precisely to experience the rich culture and cuisine. Once Superman gets there, Bloodsport teleports a bunch of automated guns all around him, which don't look terribly intimidating to someone with bulletproof skin... until Bloodsport points them outwards, targeting random people in the neighborhood to keep Supes distracted while he goes off to do more hate crimes. I regret to inform you that this makes this racist asshole smarter than 90% of criminals Superman has fought.

While Superman deals with that, Ron, feeling guilty because that cop lady died due to his inability shoot guns, decides to fight Bloodsport through something he's actually good at: journalism. And also by logging into Lois' notebook without permission, but I'm pretty sure she'd understand (you'd think she would have gotten stronger passwords after Lex Luthor hacked her, though). Ron uses his own reporting and the dirt Lois recently dug up on Luthor to find out that all those guns Bloodsport can teleport on demand are currently being stored at the LexCorp tower. Luckily, it's much easier to sneak in there since half the place got blown to shit.

The next time Bloodsport tries to teleport a gun to his hand, he gets something else: a handful of molten metal, courtesy of Ron. Turns out Ron can't pull a trigger, but he's perfectly capable of pulling the pin on a grenade.

Without his teleporting guns, Bloodsport is just a regular bigot in a silly costume. Superman doesn't even deign himself to punch this worthless scum with his whole hand, since a finger will do.

Later, Clark compliments Ron on his bravery, but Ron says the real hero is everyone who goes through their day not being a racist asshole. Pretty low bar, Ron, but a nice sentiment.

NEXT: Zero Hour! Finally!

Creator-Watch:

As mentioned, this is the first issue written by Roger Stern's replacement, David Michelinie, fresh off his long run in Spider-Man comics where, among other things, he co-created Venom, the character who still keeps him infrequently employed at Marvel. This is a bit more violent and darker than I like my Superman comics to be (not surprising from the guy who introduced Iron Man's alcoholism and killed Aquaman's Aquababy) -- I'm not sure I like Clark smiling at the end when so many people died in the issue, including a little girl. At least he didn't wink this time!

But, other than that, I think this is a solid done-in-one story and I appreciate having Ron actually contribute to the plot in a meaningful way. Michelinie clearly did his homework in regards to the continuity and seems to have a good handle on the characters, particularly Lois and Clark. Their interaction in this issue is kinda hokey, but come on, it's Lois and Clark. They're allowed to be hokey.

However, I do remember having one serious complaint about Michelinie's run the first time I read it: an almost complete lack of Bibbo, which is unforgivable. We'll see how accurate that impression is.

Plotline-Watch:

Bloodsport says he survived the explosion in his last appearance because the circuitry in his weapon teleporter got "jangled" and teleported him away. Wait, so he suffered a teleporter malfunction in a comic and didn't become fused with his guns or something? Missed opportunity, if you ask me. At the very least he could have gained the ability to teleport at will, like a racist Nightcrawler. Maybe he could have inexplicably gained a German accent too.

Jimmy Olsen, who's apparently been looking for Lucy Lane since he ditched her with some wannabe rocker girls during the Massacre storyline (that had to be days ago, right?), finally finds her with those same girls, but it's okay because they're friends now. Lucy tells tells Jimmy that the Riot Grrrls invited her to that charity concert for rebuilding Metropolis we've been hearing about lately, the mere mention of which seems to offend Jimmy. Don Sparrow says: "I want to believe Jimmy’s 'whatchoo talkin' bout Willis' expression is due to his shared (with me) hatred of Jeb Friedman, the concern organizer." That, or he remembered that the concert headliner, his old friend Babe, owes him $5.

I've been reading several DC comics published in August 1994 and this is one of the few that didn't include any teasers for Zero Hour whatsoever (stuff like the future city in Green Lantern #54 or the dinosaurs in the latest issues of Guy Gardner: Warrior). At the time, some might have thought that having a full-on Nazi running around in the present could count as an anachronism but, uh, I think we've established by now that that's sadly not the case...

Plug-Watch:

On the subject of Superman punching Nazis, I fully recommend our old pal Patrick Ryall's "Superman vs. Bigots" column at The Avocado, where he goes over instances of Superman Family characters facing bigots across the ages, from the time Supes arrested Hitler in the '40s to the "Perry White vs. the Ku Klux Klan" issue from this era (which we haven't covered yet, so spoilers). Good stuff!

Now a self-plug: as mentioned in our post for the time-displaced Action #642, I've been putting together a sort of Superman '86 to '99 reading guide at my fav'rit current social media site (sorry, BlueSky), League of Comic Geeks, where I'm writing a short blurb about every issue from this era mentioning what's special, noteworthy, or weird/funny about it. At first I was just copying a paragraph or two from our old posts and throwing in a "read more" link, hoping to drive more readers to the newsletter, but I've started rewriting them to be more like something you'd see in an episode guide or a book about the '86-'99 period... which is an intriguing idea. Anyway, here's that reading guide link again, because this paragraph doesn't have enough clickable words in it already: https://leagueofcomicgeeks.com/profile/mrmxy/lists/58097/superman-86-to-99-checklist-wip

Shouts Outs-Watch:

Nazi-punching shout outs to our supporters, Aaron, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, Bheki Latha, Mark Syp, Ryan Bush, Raphael Fischer, Kit, Sam, Bol, Dave Shevlin, and Dave Blosser! Join them (and get extra non-continuity articles; we've got some cartoon-related ones lined up) via Patreon or our newsletter's "pay what you want" mode!

To see more of Don's take on this issue, including his thoughts on Jimmy's physique, keep reading!

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

We start with the cover, and it keeps the tradition of other Bloodsport covers where Bloodsport is firing a ridiculously high-calibre weapon.  I know the cover text (which generally I dislike) is ironic in this context, but it still bugs me slightly—Bloodsport’s views are so poisonous, even as a villain I hate seeing them represented. But buckle up, because there’s a whoooooole lot of that in this issue.

Lucky for me I’m mostly here to focus on the art, and it’s good throughout, as upsetting and violent as some of the visuals are.  The doomed, completely innocent family who are mowed down by gunfire on page 3 are very well drawn—and coloured—I love rim-lighting, and it’s rarely rendered in orange.

An odd thing happens on page 5, which you sometimes see—artists get so used to drawing everyone with superheroic proportions that even civilians get He-Man action figure physiques—this happens with Jimmy Olsen in that first panel (yes, another Superman song reference on a Jimmy Olsen t-shirt, this time it’s Crash Test Dummies being given a shout-out) looking pretty ‘roided out complete with obliques visible through his shirt.  Not to say that I don’t think Jimmy’s in good shape, but typically he’s a bit more average in build, or so it seems in this suggestive pin-up by Jerry Ordway in 1988…

[Max: You have no idea the amount of research Don did to find that pin-up, which both of us remembered but couldn't place (it turned out to be in the incredible Modern Masters: Jerry Ordway book by TwoMorrows), but it was 100% worth the effort.]

Moving on, the upside down takeoff on page 13 is well done.  Jackson Guice’s Superman always seems to have slightly longer hair than how the other artists draw him, but it’s a consistent thing, so I can’t complain too much.  There’s an unfortunately Michael Jackson-looking Superman grimace on page 18 (shamone), but by the end of the story, Superman’s extremely ticked face is a great panel.

SPEEDING BULLETS:

The Daily Planet offices are, apparently, very near Boring Plaza, named after longtime Superman great, Wayne Boring.

GODWATCH: Dig the beat cop, Marcy, characterizing Superman as an answer to prayer on page 8.  As things go wrong in other places in the book, both Ron Troupe and Superman invoke the almighty in frustration or despair.  Lastly, as Clark and Ron bond in their agreement that racism is gross and wrong, and share an amen.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Bloodsport does not support the then-current Democratic President, Bill Clinton. 

Same as the last time this Alexander Trent version of Bloodsport popped up, I find this an extremely troubling issue.  I get that Bloodsport is a villain, and a dastardly one at that. But even so, I hate some of the words and views he’s sharing—words I don’t even want to type to repeat here—appearing in a Superman comic at all.  With characters this heinous, we almost need an editorial box disclaiming Trent’s statements, as they go unchallenged in the narrative as the character monologues to himself.  Similar to the last issue with Bloodsport, there’s an awful lot of carnage and innocent death for a comics code book, and it’s something I think the better Superman stories steer away from.  It’s hard not to be bothered by the juxtaposition of a black family being gunned down discriminately against Lois and Clark comfortably flirting.

Kudos to Ron for figuring out where Bloodsport’s weapons cache was, but, like in the last appearance of this Bloodsport, I can’t help but wonder why Superman doesn’t try to ionize the air around Bloodsport using his heat vision, since it was so effective the first time he faced this kind of teleporter tactic.  A single line of dialogue could have hand-waved it away, but it seems like a missed opportunity. [Max: True. I would have even taken a "Drat, can't do that since I already did it in another issue! Gotta mix it up!"]

Some small irony that it was a clone war that reduced Metropolis to rubble in this issue, in the first issue from new Action Comics writer David Michelinie, who slinked away after kicking off the wildly controversial Clone Saga over in Spider-Man before joining DC Comics.

Any serviceman’s death in the line of duty is a tragedy, but this Carroll O’Connor looking sergeant must have been pretty close to his pension as it was, no? [Max: I think Bloodsport spared him, though... probably because he loves Archie Bunker so much.]

Missed an issue? Looking for an old storyline? Check out our new chronological issue index!

[lunarmoonanons]

Sequel to the cursed dragon w the reader older now up maybe fighting for rhaenyra to get the iron throne after viserys dies?

Dragon War

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

A little time after the death of Viserys, his dragon daughter tries to fight for her sister's right to the throne.

(this is just gonna be about they episode about the usurpation since we haven't see any fights between the sides yet.)

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

YN stayed in her room the day after the disastrous dinner with her sister and Alicents children. She wanted to go back to Dragonstone with her sister and await her newest niece’s arrival, but the pleas and begging from her father made her stay in Kings Landing for a fortnight. Though she hated her half brothers and her stepmother, she could never deny her father. Eventually she got bored and wanted to leave her room to find her father. But when she went to open her doors she found them locked and her unable to leave. 

“What is the meaning of this?!” YN demanded and pulled against her door. 

No one answered and she yanked against her door with all her might. Her abnormal strength, her dragon strength started to make the door splinter and bend. But she stopped when she noticed something strange she heard. YN looked out her window and noticed people being herded somewhere. 

Something was happening and she had to be smart. So she waited. She sat in her room, eye on the secret door that would lead to the passageways. YN’s mind raced at the possibilities of what was happening. Her father must’ve suffered some kind of stroke or debilitating medical thing. YN knew that Alicent and her family were plotting something and now that her father was incapacitated they were taking control of the Red Keep.

“Well they must need me for something. Probably to swear allegiance to some idiot. Well they have another thing coming, because I have no allegiance to anyone but Rhaenyra.” YN muttered to herself. 

After a good hour of pacing, the door to her room opened and Alicent entered. YN scowled and clenched her fists at the sight of her step mother. Alicent knew YN didn’t like her. Blaming her for not being the mother who birthed her, hating her for the treatment she gave Rhaenyra, hating her for giving birth to her awful half brothers and always taking their side, and for many other things. YN did not get along with her step mother, no matter how hard Alicent tried to bond with her as a babe and even now. Now YN watched as Alicent came into her room and tried to look kind. 

“I will do you some courtesy to explain yourself about the my treatment this morning. I will assume there is a good reason for it all.” YN demanded. 

“My dear regrets for your treatment princess.” Alicent said. 

YN looked at her face and knew the worst had passed. Her father wasn’t debilitated, he was gone. “Father…” Alicent said nothingas YN read her face. Not only was her father dead but the hightowers were usurping the throne from her sisters rightful claim. 

“And now you’re usurping the throne from my sister.” YN said, her brows furrowing.

“It was your father’s dying wish.”

“Oh and I’m sure only you got to hear it.” YN scoffed and crossed her arms. 

“You don’t have to believe it. Aegon will be king.” Alicent said. “I came here to ask for your support as I am going to ask Princess Rhaenys.” 

“Well you certainly are eager. Very bold of you, STEP mother.” YN bit. Her eyes burning into Alicent’s. 

“Your sister has allied herself with house Velaryon and what will it get you?” Alicent aksed. “Rhaenyra lies and has children with another man and you are still unmarried. She has had two husbands. It is she who grasps so tirelessly for the throne. And She who had left you here last.” 

“You certainly have a skewed view of what you think bothers me.” YN smiled sinisterly. 

“I loved your father but we both know your cousin Rhaenys should’ve been queen. She will come for our support don’t be on the losing side.” Alicent pleaded. 

“I will not be your puppet against my sister. You need the dragon princess on your side to legitimize your claim, but I will never support you.” YN smiled still. “You are truly pathetic asking my help. But you forget, my loyalty is with my sister not your hightower half 

Targaryens.”

YN stepped forward suddenly and grabbed Alicent’s wrist tightly, her hand unusually hot. Alicent tried to pull away but YN was stronger. Her Manic eyes bore into her stepmothers and scaded her immensely. Alicent had never seen this side of YN, she looked manic, slightly insane and bloodthirsty. 

“I am not afraid of war, you may think you have the advantage but Rhaenyra has me and I am stronger than a hundred of your men. I see through your desperate attempt here. You wish the throne for your house, for your father. But I will kill my kin before I see a hightower half breed on the throne.” YN whispered into Alicent’s ear and then harshly pushed her away. Alicent stumbling before leaving. 

YN laughed maniacally as she watched her step mother leave the room in a hurry. Her laughter stopped when she knew she was all alone. She couldn’t go out the secret passageway because she knew her secret ways would be watched.  So she waited. Day turned to night as she waited. Then she heard someone outside of her room. The door opened revealing ser Erryk holding a cloak and looking for her. 

“Come with me Princess.” He assured and YN quickly put on the cloak, coming to face with Rhaenys waiting outside. YN gave her a quick hug and they followed Ser Erryk. YN looked around the dark castle and watched Rhaenys for her reaction. They walked a while before finally making it out of the castle. Rhaenys asked for her dragon as the day broke. But hey were eventually swept up in a crowd that was being driven to the dragon pit. YN followed Rhaneys and kept a hand on her cloak. Her dragon wings were uncomfortably pressed down against her back and her hood just barely covered her horns. Eventually they made it into the dragon pit and underground. 

“What is the plan? You’re going to just fly Meleys out of here?” YN asked as she followed Rhaenys to her dragon. 

“We are leaving that is all. You are welcome to ride on Meleys’ back with me till we are in the air. Then I assume you can fly yourself?” Rhaenys explained and looked at YN. 

“You’re not going to attack them are you? YN asked. 

“I will not commit kinslaying. And I expect you to do the same.” Rhaneys got onto her dragon's back, YN followed and sat before her. 

Rhaenys commanded her dragon to go up. They crashed through the floor and broke through violently. People scattered and YN looked around for her half family. They faced them and YN scowled at their frightened faces. YN so desperately wanted to burn them. She hated them. She could end this war right here right now. But before she could jump down and do as she wished. Rhaenys held her close and whispered for her to calm down. YN obeyed. She did not want to be branded a kinslayer. So she sat back as the dragon screeched in their faces. 

They flew out of the pit. And into the sky. YN believing she made a mistake in sparing their lives.

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Aegon at the sight of his sister who looks ready to murder him

[leoruby-draws]

Decided to add another member to the Training Wheels Outlaw team, Gillian Wahrman aka Wyldheart!

This spirited young girl is a very obscure character seen in Grant Emerson's 1994 book Damage! She's only ever seen in relation to Grant, and Grant's a bit obscure himself, so she has very little appearances in the comics.

From what little we saw of her, she seemed fairly nice and pretty naive, I'm guessing she was pretty sheltered in life. Her adoptive father, Abriam Wahrman , found her in a spacecraft as a baby, so she kinda has a superman style origin (in fact, I thought she could fit the team as the superman expy, but I ended up having other ideas...).

Her father is part of the organization that gave Grant his powers but are also trying to hunt him down. She and Grant ended up as friends, but are keeping their friendship a secret for now. For now it works, tho I doubt that'll stay the case. She and Grant get along very well, he helps ground her and tries to prevent people from taking advantage of her naivety. In turn she helps him lighten up a bit and have fun!

Anyways, when she learned about Grant hanging out with this strange group, she decided she wanted in! And so she did! Jason is amused if a bit overwhelmed by her positivity, he's not quite sure how to deal with her but at least he has fun with her. The rest of the team likes her cheerfulness, bit of a break from the more serious and 'edgy' members attitudes.

Here's a couple of extra doodles of Gillian meeting the others:

This last one is was a first draft of her, I'll be real her outfit is kinda strange, simultaneously both overly designed and yet super basic. I didn't really like it honestly, but I could see underneath all that there was a way to make it work. I'm not sure if I succeeded, might've oversimplified it but I tried.

Now I'm gonna stop right here and talk about something real quick. If you go over to the DC fandom wiki and go to Gillian's page, here's what you see in the sidebar:

Is this some sort of mistake? I don't know if I missed something, but in none of her appearances was she shown to be a New God or Genesisian. Was she planned to be one but the writers dropped that plot point? Or did they not get the chance since Grant's book got canceled? If not, why did the wiki put that in? I don't know man, but I really do like that idea, like a lot. In fact in my au, she is in fact a New God! Perhaps her parents got in trouble of sorts and maybe sent her away to protect her? I'm kinda wanna make up a story of the parents being on opposite sides and their Romeo/Juliet romance caused an uproar. I'm not too well versed in New God lore, so I don't if that would work but it's one idea at least.

Here's a page of Gillian finding out her heritage:

Everyone looks shocked! (btw that guy in the back is Iron Munro, who helps out Grant sometimes). If Gillian's a new god, what would she be the god of? Maybe something like Harmony or Joy.

Well I hope to draw Gillian some more, she's a pretty fun addition to the team, and I hoped you liked all this!

A correction! Gillian is a New God, it's explained in Damage #8!

This is what happens when you speed 'read' and completely look over the details. Sorry about that, I can be pretty spacey sometimes. Thanks to @isfjmel-phleg for the correction! Still isn't it cool and unique that Gillian's a new god? DC should bring her back!

[intairnwetrust]

Round three in defence of Violet Sorrengail

because apperently she is still the bad guy regarding Xaden's and her relationship problems and this take irritates the fuck out of me more and more the more I reread Iron Flame because have we read the same book?

Buckle up my dragon riders (who if we're honest half of us would end up like Dylan) this will be a bit long.

So what can you expect from this post:

I'm going to copy some paragraphs from my post "Round two in defense of Violet Sorrengail". On the one hand because I still stand by what I said and on the other hand so that you have a more chronological progression. Round three is basically an extension and supplement to round two (and other small posts i made on that topic)

Also i will absolutly call out Xaden on his bullshit but i won't paint him here as the devil. I still love Xaden it's just my annoyance with him is compounded by the fact that he 100% deserves it looking at his behaivor and how he handled things and the fact that certain parts of the fandom hate Violet for their relationship problems and won't look at Xaden at all.

Also some words to their relationship overall

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First, I want to address the lack of empathy for Violet

People are usually like "I know Violet is in a tough spot and she is only 23 but still..."

No honey it's so much fucking more then that.

I would love to see your reaction when you find out that your whole life, everything you believed in, was a lie. Then on top of that, you didn't even have time to process the whole thing properly.

After the revelation, Violet went straight into battle, in which she almost died! Then she finds out that her brother is still alive and then overall her being involved in the whole revolution. Violet didn't even got a break to process the whole thing properly and on top on that, in the first half of the time she didn't even have anyone to turn to. Her two dragons betrayed her and so did the man she loved and who wants to discuss relationship problem with a brother who played dead for 6 years? Plus she couldn't really talk to her friends either because then she would be forced to explain the context to them so they could develop an understanding, which obviously wasn't possible.

I completly agree that all this running in circles between the two of them was annoying as hell and you really only saw improvements almost at the end but Xaden is sooo much more to blame for the two of them not making progress than Violet.

Moreover it doesn't hinder the plot at all. We are shown their problems at the beginning and when she is with Xaden. I know shocking that we have come across problems that a couple is having when that said couple comes into the picture. She didn't cry about her problems to anyone accessible. Whenever we learned about her relationship problems it was in her inner monologue. It is completly normal, it is realistic, for someone in Violet's situation to thing about her whole relationship. If she wouldn't think about her issues with Xaden then it would means she wouldn't care.

You know you see this mindset in many areas of life where you think you would act better than the person in question, but how can I believe them when so many people can't put themselves in Violet's position? I admire Violet for being able to keep up with Xaden's bullshit for so long. I don't think I could.

The bullshit I will adress now

Like Ufff Xaden I love you but do better.

Let's start with empty promisses:

“You are going to tell me everything once I can properly shield, right?” It’s all I can do not to grab onto him and start shaking. Hard. “That’s what you promised in your bedroom.” He is not doing this to me. “‘Anything you want to know and everything you don’t.’ Those were your words.”

I so seriously wish he had never said that he would give her complete disclosure then at least I and Violet in this matter, would not have right to be mad about it that he wouldn't keep It

And another promise or rather let's say he didn't live up to his words

“I’ll earn your trust as soon as you realize you don’t need full disclosure. You only have to have the guts to start asking the questions you actually want answers to."

This statement annoys me on so many levels. First of all, let me quote Violet for some variety: "Trust is earned, and he isn’t even trying." He is indeed not trying or better tried not enough throughout the book. He didn't prove to Violet that she doesn't need full disclosure. We are here in chapter 3, unfortunately looks like this was forshadowing. Now to the second part of the Statement. *Talking a deep breath* Exuse me the audacity??? When you have the guts??? He did not just put the responsibilty on Violet here. Sirrrr you are the one who fucked up.

Which brings us to the next point (Hard work and this stupid 'Ask me a question'-game)

"I’m not afraid of hard work, especially not when I know just how sweet the rewards are."

Hmmm sureeee. You whole behaivor in IF says otherwise aka the whole question game .

Xaden is the one who broke Violet trust but for him waiting for a question from Violet basically means he expects from Violet to make the first step when he actually should do it! He broke her trust not the other way around. He makes it so easy for himself when he himself said he don't mind hard work to get what he wants. Yes, then act like that.

Also let's add another one:

“Both ways, but you’re shutting me out while I’m trying my damnedest to open up to you.”Says the man who’s never so much as told me he loves me. If he does. Gods, I’m so sick of having to make the first move when it comes to this man.

This! This! This! Yeah Violet I was also sick of it while reading the book.

today isn’t the day to open myself up to that rejection, too.“Sure, as long as you can keep your secrets. Has it ever occurred to you that this”—I gesture between us—“is all because you don’t trust me?” I take a step backward. “You expect complete, blind faith without giving it. It. Goes. Both. Ways.”

First of all This! This! This! and Yeah Xaden where is your hard work?

Also sorry but no this boy had the nerve to look disappointed when Violet didn't ask her question. Honey you could have simply start the conversation!

Like even Garrik is calling him out "Just doing my part to help your communication skills thrive in a stable relationship."

Now ladies and Gentleman let's jump to the prime of I want to struggle Xaden - Chapter 55

*Talking a deeep breath*

"You let me stew in it for months?"

"You didn't ask me!" He pushes off the wall but stops himself from taking more than a step. "I've been begging you for months to ask me what you want to know, to break down that last insurmountable wall you're keeping between us, but you didn't. Why?"

He has the nerve to put this on me?

Yeah seriously the audacity. He has the nerve to put it on her???

"You're the one who said you'd never be entirely truthful with me. How am I supposed to know what you will and will not answer? How am I supposed to know what there is to ask?"

Yes exactly

"I'm not mad about the deal." How does he not understand? "I'm pissed that you kept it from me, that you insist on making me ask for things you should openly share

And this is a principle Xaden and the hater don’t understand.

Because you were too pissed about my refusal to answer the superficial questions about the revolution to ask the real ones about us.

Let's talk about this quote in detail because it shows the two main issues I have with people calling Violet stupid and whiny for wanting full disclosure (or let's say two and half reasons because Xaden literally promised her that!)

First it's not (only) about the revolution it's about the simple fact that Xaden, subconsciously, shows Violet that he doesn't trust her when he doesn't speak up on his own about things that should be mentioned regarding their relationship; them and on top makes her work for it with expecting her to ask the right question.

He can tell me or he can choose not to, but I’m done having to guess which questions to ask.

This speaks for itself

Second, now let's look at Information about the actual revolution because Violet is not as stupid as the hater makes her out to be because let me quote this again "You are going to tell me everything once I can properly shield, right?"

Violet is not just like that standing here demanding crucial information that could put everyone in danger if it becomes public. She explicitly said once she can shield. Again Violet is not stupid. Moreover once she can shield it's her fucking right to know. Violet is such an important part of the revolution starting with her signet being such a powerful weapon. But wait there's more. She got important information about the Venin and worked out the plan on how to get information to restore the wards and also actively translate that information. She has a right to know what is going on.

Another point is how he handled Cat, or rather how he did NOOTT handle her.

Excuse me it was his ex who was vindictive and hateful to Violet for literally existing and he did nothing. Why did we get 'I will throw you off a cliff myself' from Dain and not Xaden? What annoys me even more and also confuses me is the fact that he even suspected that Cat would cause problems, hence the runes in her dagger like then why not talk to her??? Or the fact that Cat was literally his betrothed.

He basically just go with the flow and let Violet Deal with it (Although it has to be mentioned Cat just being a bitch, Xaden can't help it either)

Now after all this bullshit the light at the end of the tunnel - Chapter 58

“We don’t keep secrets. No more ask me. No more tests to see who’s in and who’s out of this relationship. It’s full disclosure between us…” I take a steadying breath and map out the golden flecks in his eyes just in case it’s the last time. “Or it’s nothing.”

“Done.”

OMG it was that easy?

"I understand that there will be times you can’t tell me everything—that’s the nature of what we do as riders—but I need you to stop setting me up for failure by insisting I figure out what there is to ask."

"Done."

Omg it was that easyyy??

Okay In the end, their whole problem was reflected on again by Violet and yes Violet even blamed herself partially, she was scared to ask because she feared the truth, but considering what the question was about (talking about the scars on his back) who can blame her? Xaden should have been much more accommodating all the way there. Violet's world was turned upside down, not his. Xaden shouldn't have waited for Violet to ask a question, but simply should have started the conversation.

Also I know it wouldn't have been actually that easy considering their circumstances. They're leading a freaking revolution and at the beginning of the book they were geographically separated so realistically there wasn't that much time to simply talk but the point still stands when you really want to be annoyed with someone because of these constant, repetitive and therefore annoying problems that the two of them had in their communication then please look at Xaden first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now some words to their relationship overall.

They fucking love each other.

They are unhinged for each other. They would die for each other.

It's the fact how happy Violet was that Xaden wrote her a letter. It's the fact how obssesed Xaden is with Violet's hair. It's the fact how both crush for the other. How both long for the other.

“You’re my gravity. Nothing in my world works without you.”

“Gravity,” he whispers, a slow, beautiful smile curving his mouth.

I wish everyone who says Violet doesn't deserve Xaden (and vice versa) wet socks for the rest of their lives 😛

If you have read this far, take some cookies 🍪🍪🍪

[thedarkmistress16]

here's some long-awaited tony food for your thots

(im serious this is 100% PWP done in like, *check watch* 6-8 hrs or so in one sitting- it's all over the place, fam)

let me know immediately if any of you want me to community label this, if that makes you more comfortable. if you want another installment (it will have actual plot i promise) just let me know. None of the used images here are mine, they belong to their respective owners, I only own my garbage writing.

Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Experienced!Unfaithful!Reader x Jealous!Yandere!Tony Stark- Repression and Suppression

and here are some messy A03-esque tags for your reading pleasure (srsly read these before continuing or you void your reading warranty):

(Lime, Lemon, G-rape, Cheating, Physical Cheating, Unintentional Cheating, Affair, Noncon, Dubcon, Forced Orgasm, Overstimulation, Fingering, Oral, Vaginal, MxF, PWP, Love Triangle, Jealousy, Third Wheel Tony Stark, Sexual Deviant Tony Stark, Manipulation, Humiliation, Dirty Talk, Swearing, Teasing, Gaslighting, Sexual Coercion, Power Play? Beard Burn, The run of shame?, Lust used as a manipulation tool, Tony blatantly misunderstands words, The horny ruins lives, Reader’s never cheated in her life ong she just misses sex, Tony is all kinds of wrong here, OOC Tony Stark, His dialogue is probably OOC sorry about that, No descriptors besides gender have fun)

...

You don’t know how this happened.

…

Okay, you do know how this happened. You and Tony stumbled upon the same floor in an otherwise empty Tower and you both plopped on the same couch shooting the shit. No paperwork for you to do and no big baddie causing a commotion in New York for the Iron Man to stop. And you may have overshared a tad about the feelings you’ve been having at his prompting about your relationship status, but hey, that’s normal, even for sober people. Everyone needs to vent every once in a while. Or overshare, or both.

What you didn’t expect, however, was your totally innocent sex conversation with Tony to turn into dirty talk. Which, alright- fair, this was Tony you were talking to, so probably not your best moment.

“It’s not like he’ll find out.” Tony’s palm rests on your thigh. “And you said so yourself, he doesn’t give you what you need.”

But thankfully, that’s when your brain started working again, and you actively began to create some space between you, with his hand falling off your leg.

“No, Tony. You know who I’m with and you know he’ll be coming back.”

Tony follows you and- what the fuck? Was this couch always this small? The palm greets your thigh again, more insistent now if the pressure was any indication.

“Can you really wait that long?”

You stare at Tony, incredulous at the turn of events. He wouldn’t- would he?

You see him smile at you before diving in for a kiss.

Wide-eyed, your first reaction is to push him off, but he practically falls on top of you, keeping you pinned there as his tongue goes to work in prying your mouth open.

You struggle, and then, well, he knew how to kiss to get what he wanted, that was for sure. It was so different from what you were used to with him, all chaste and loving. Tony used the flat surface of the appendage to massage your tongue, and- holy fuck you really forgot what good kisses felt like. Tony feels so good- so warm and passionate, that his embrace sends you into a blanketed bliss.

And as you make out, that blanket grows more and more stuffy. You lose track of time, and- well, yourself. The next time you open your eyes, you’re greeted to a shirtless and more disheveled Tony Stark on top of you, kissing down your neck, and humping his bulge against you and- oh fuck your pants were gone.

Okay, this had officially gone too far. Yes, this was hot, and yes your body was awakened from the longest dry spell ever by his kisses, but you had to try and stop this. You had to get Tony to shut this shit down, and then blame your horny self later.

But first, Operation Turn off Tony.

“Wait!” Your hands fly to Tony’s chest, pushing with effort despite wanting to melt into a puddle. “I can’t- you know I can’t-”

Okay, your voice would’ve sounded commanding if Tony hadn’t run his hands under your shirt.

And if his arm wasn’t practically glued to the damn cushions you would've had more leeway to shake him off. And if he wasn’t so stron-

Wait- one arm?

…

…oh my god why is he pushing against you?

“Oh?” It comes out automatically and your body absolutely preens at the sensation before you come back down.

Oh fuck no- now two of his fingers are inside you and you’re not sure if you can even try to hold him off now.

Think of Steve think of Steve think of Steve think of Steve-!

“Tony, mmn-m, pl-”

“Why refuse this?” He pauses to let his fingers talk and the resulting squelching has you trying to seal your mouth in protest. “Why refuse me? When the sweet release you want is right in front of you?” His fingers fall away. “And when this-” he rolls his denim-covered penis over your pussy, eliciting a groan from both of you, “cock is ready and begging to be inside you?”

There is no hope to quell your blushing at this point either, you unhelpfully surmise to yourself. But even so, you don’t let up, forcing yourself to meet his eyes.

“He’ll, ah- find out, hah, Tony.” Fucking hell it was hard to form words now, “and he w-will-”

Tony, more envious than you’ve ever seen him, snarls in retaliation. “Don’t think about him! He’s not the one who’s going to be fucking you tonight.” He takes a moment to regain his composure before adding, “don’t worry, baby. I’ll make you feel so good you can’t stand it.”

“Ton- ah!”He hit a sensitive spot inside you, and your body jolted with the feeling. “P-please...ha...” You pant, trying to control yourself as his fingers retract. Trying to think of Steve instead, and all the other reasons why you shouldn’t be doing this. Why he shouldn’t be doing this to you and how he’s currently making you tingle in too many places.

In mock concern, he inquires, “what is it, baby? I’m right here...” You swear to the highest moon that Tony Stark’s teasing is the worst kind you’ve ever had to experience in your entire life; mainly because he does it in a way that pisses you off to no end.

“I- Tony, I n-need you to-” He shushes you, leaving you more baffled. He doesn’t even know your request yet and he’s already cutting you off. The playboy slides two fingers inside your wet canal and you cry out in surprise. They slip out within the next second, not allowing you to properly process the action. He languidly laps at his fingers and you actually whine at the sight, which is literally the worst reaction you could've had. Tony hums at the taste and his eyes, holding your own, gleam wickedly as you attempt to recover.

“Oh, you need me to fuck you baby? Say no more.”

You gasp, utterly scandalized. How the fuck did he interpret a nothing sentence into that? He’s already working on unzipping his jeans and you’re quick to remedy the situation, despite your breathlessness. “No, Tony, that’s not-” A hand swiftly comes down to palm your sensitive pussy and squeezes, attempting to shut you up with desire. You’re shameful when you realize his tactic worked, as you find it elicits a sexual groan from you strong enough to make your head tilt up towards the ceiling and your back arch off the couch. Tony tuts at your wanton display.

“Don’t deny it, honey. You’re absolutely dripping for cock.” He leans in close to your ear and latches his mouth onto your neck. The man nibbles and suckles enough to probably leave a mark before playfully biting your earlobe and whispering, “and I’m more than willing to provide that relief.” A small part of you finds it ironic he’d use the word willing when you haven’t vocally confirmed it in this case.

When he’s fully sheathed inside you, he sits still for a minute, groaning at the feel of you. Tony then starts circling his hips, not thrusting in the slightest, and at this point you’ve had enough of his games. If he wants to do this so badly then so be it. “No teasing…” you huff unpleasantly.

“Hmm? What was that?” His member is still nudging against the ridges of your vaginal walls, causing your lower body to spasm and tighten at random intervals.

“If you’re going to fuck me then actually fuck me.” You make your voice harsh to get your impatience across, keeping your gaze even. Tony simply winks and wastes no time setting a pace inside you, smirking pleasantly as your body shifts from his thrusts. He licks his lips at the sight of your breasts bouncing underneath your shirt and impatiently forces the fabric up to your neck to squeeze at one. 

You close your eyes and furrow your brows, focusing your efforts on meeting Tony’s thrusts and tightening your pelvic muscles frequently to help his orgasm along. Judging by his strained moans, the fruits of your past lovers' labor seem to be working. He starts to shudder and you beam with pride.

Jackpot.

That is until he yanks himself out of you completely, struggling to hold himself over your body.

“Mngh, hah- baby,” he laughs in between ragged breaths, “let’s not spoil the fun too early, now…”

Tony then switches to playfully dragging his cock along the splayed seam of your lips, right over your spasming hole, and you wouldn’t have been able to hold in that unholy moan if you tried.

He flips you over without a word, leaving you disoriented with an “oof,” as he re-positions you to make your ass hang lewdly in the air. Tony swats one asscheek and your hands scramble to find purchase before he tries something else, which you seldom find in the firm material. Another mocking sound escapes his throat at your reaction and you turn your head to glare at him.

“Could have given a girl a warning, y’know?”

“Well, sweetcheeks, I can’t very well tackle this raging problem unless I approach it from all possible angles~” His eyes rove over your new position admiringly. “And this view is definitely worth the effort.”

He winks at you, smirking all the while. You refuse to react, deadpanning, before giving up. “Fuck you, Stark.”

He says some other comment you don’t care about- on the lines of having patience- when something wet wiggles across your folds-

Your eyes widen. Was this a better advantage point for him to-

His tongue thrusts itself inside your walls and you lose all sense of thought, wanting to collapse into the couch already. Tony’s firm and swift in his movements, pressing the angle of his chin into your mound harshly and rubbing your sensitive areas consistently. The stiff hairs of his beard rub themselves across your clit as he leans forward and you lose all sense of yourself, screaming into the cushioned void and spasming around his mouth.

Your hips lull into a gentle rocking, you realize, when the sensations have dulled. You can still feel Tony between your legs, but licking you much more softly now. Your satisfied mews fall out of your mouth like a gentle stream, and you let yourself bask in the well-overdue afterglow.

Tony slowly parts from your pussy with a smacking sound, and you feel saliva trailing down your thighs as you whine. You hear him say the word “ready” and you hum questionably, not in the mood for words. He leans forward to kiss up your back and make a path for your ear, reiterating himself.

“You ready for me, honey?”

“Mm, you’re not-?”

“-finished? How kind of you to offer, baby. After all, I haven’t finished fucking you into forgetting him yet.”

Your brain almost fits the pieces together, already turning towards him to voice the question when you feel him line up his cock at your entrance. You don’t even bother doing anything other than bracing yourself as Tony thrusts into you, and you realize too late that you’re still too sensitive.

He’s more insistent as he fucks into you, just as his mouth, but he’s humping into all the right places despite your body singing to the point of pain.

“Ahn! O-oh!” At this point, you literally didn’t care that your face was practically being suffocated by the cushions that Tony Stark- your not-boyfriend- was pushing you into and fondling your breasts. You were about to get an orgasm on a dick you haven’t been treated to in months on top of a great orgasm, and it was quickly feeling like it was going to be one of the best ones you’ve ever had.

“Oh, fuck- yes, oh- Tony- fuck-! me!” You manage to scream out over your lack of breath, feeling his thrusts grow frantic. The determined mumbling he’s spouting over your ear becomes noise as your second orgasm crashes over you. Your ears are fuzzy but you can make out Tony proclaiming your name in ecstasy before he plops down on your back, causing your legs to fully give out.

You pant there, lying in sweat and regret, wanting to move just yet but knowing you have a lot of cleanup to do.

Tony shifts first, stroking your hair as he whispers once more, “So, was that a thorough fucking for you baby?”

Despite yourself, you laugh. Whether it was from the now spiraling guilt slowly ebbing away at your brain or that it was from the sudden feeling of loss in how to handle your new infidelity status, you didn’t know. You chalked it up to exhaustion.

Tony mumbles again, but you’re coherent enough to understand his words and nod, calmly lying there as he gets up. 

You waited until the bare ass of Tony left your line of sight before you shot up like a lightning bolt, gathering your clothes and racing toward the elevator in one fluid motion.

You impatiently return to your room to inspect Tony’s damages in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, trying to ignore the aftersex glow you still had. Your hands trail over your naked body, taking note of the reddened marks with each twist and turn. Yep, that was definitely a hickey.

They halt on your thighs when you feel a searing pain there and your eyes grow wide, mouth hanging open with a hiss.

Oh fuck. You had beard burn. How the hell were you going to explain that to Steve? Covering them up was one thing- but the itching pain you were going to feel?

The cum inside you suddenly shifts downward and you instinctively clench to hold it in, cringing at yourself. Another man’s mess splattered on the carpet of your and your boyfriend’s room is not what you needed right now.

Biting the inside of your lip, you hurry to the connecting bathroom and wash yourself of the sexual encounter the best you can.

[sgiandubh]

Pretzel logic

I never liked funerals - who does? - and I have always tried to avoid them, under different pretexts. This is one of the moments we meet the Great Beyond and we are at our most vulnerable. It's only fair and it is not something to be taken lightly, ever.

August 10, 2022 happened a few days before I decided to give OL a try and by the time I landed in here, that YouTube live had already been taken offline, perhaps with good reason.

That people watched it should come as no surprise to anybody: it happens in all cultures and societies - Death fascinates us and makes us curious, even if it's a questionable, voyeuristic kind of curiosity. It was posted for everyone to see, on the biggest content streaming platform on planet Earth. It was posted in consideration of the ending peak moment of the COVID pandemic, to allow for more people to attend, with the family's prior consent. It was most probably shot from the organ balcony, at a respectful distance and I am being told the streaming was blurry: a good thing, if you ask me. People screeching for "more clarity" of those screenshots should, in my humble opinion, think twice: context and taboo and all that.

That people saw something bizarre in the front pew was unavoidable. That the said detail (Occam's Razor would help us conclude that ambiguous things are usually anything but...) was screenshot, edited and made its way in here and elsewhere - impossible to control. However, I have not read any disrespectful comments about the event. Nobody snarked. Nobody grinned. A hole in the plot was pointed out, adding to the whole array of inconsistencies and if I remember well, it was almost missed out entirely (a taboo is a taboo, after all) and started its career online only days after.

Was it shared ad nauseam? Maybe - but who the hell am I to judge? Again, not something you can control, unless you set yourself up as the Torquemadas of this fandom and slap everybody on the wrist with your twisted righteousness. When your people discuss the Data Lounge findings in great, lewd detail, that is called having fun and (I love that one, don't you?) gossiping, as if you were just talking about Miss Scarlett's new petticoat, not a man's reputation. When our people dare to post pictures from a public event, or published for public consumption, that is immediately taxed as being insane or snooping.

A neutral person venturing in here would call out the bias immediately. I call out your hypocrisy and have no problem doing it in writing. And I never peddled neutrality, in here: I simply peddled decency and I remind everyone I have probably never posted any pictures from August 10, 2022 (I will triple check later, but I am pretty sure I didn't). It is a personal choice and, as you know very well, I am not alone in the Shipper community. Far from it.

That you chose August 10 to post the largest, most consistent amount of content I have read on your blogs during the last six months, shows me once more what I already knew: you simply can't help yourself, can you? It's all about slap-a-shipper day, even if this community remained remarkably silent and collected, yesterday. Extremes exist, they are a fact of life: silencing them is useless and unproductive, at least as far as I am concerned.

You have once again showed me your true colors, Mordor. At the end of the day, you do not really have a problem with the pictures floating out there. What you do have a BIG problem with, is the person sitting in the front pew and you would go to great lengths - to any lengths, for that matter - to disguise it under a thick sanctimonious cloak of civic disgust. Your shrieks backfire: if anything, they confirm, not deny. And for the sake of politics, anything goes. It is, therefore, ironic, that in order to post your reasoning, you did look, in great detail and for a consistent amount of time, at the same exact screenshots and pictures you send to hell so gleefully.

Spare me the dramatics.

[riririnnnn]

Warning: Anime Spoilers.

So this:

It was revealed in the very start of NEL that Kunigami was trained/made to be a copycat of Noel Noa.

But.

Until now it was never said that the whole program of Wild Card was to help the Blue Lock-ers (not eliminated) get better.

And as sad and heartbreaking it was for me to see Kunigami like this, I also couldn't help, but notice that this, ironically, has been the calmest he has ever been while talking with someone. I mean, it's probably one of rare times when he actually talked without hurling curse words or roasting someone (Yes dear, it's only one word, "No," but let a girl dream, okay?)

Which makes me think that Kunigami is purposely, consciously sacrificing himself. Why? Well, what heroes do? Yeah, they sacrifice themselves for others. He is sacrificing himself to be a stepping stone for his peers to walk on and go ahead.

BUT.

We know that Ego and Noa had been rivals in the past, and judging by the former's hostility towards the other in the recent chapter, which by the way, is the first time we are seeing them interact, it's safe to say that they didn't have a friendly rivalry at all.

Which brings me to my actual theory that what if Wild Card was a lie? What if everything was a lie? I mean, we know for sure that Ego is a proficient liar, so it wouldn't surprise me if he did it more often. So what if Kunigami is just faking it till now about everything under Ego's orders? To raise the level of players you know, just as the way Ego lied about having higher stratums or something like that before the second selection.

OR

This goes a bit darker.

What if Ego already had his eyes on Kunigami? Especially since the orange head and Noa are VERY similar (people who have read the LN would understand better) to eachother especially in the emotions department. So, maybe, Ego already had some kind of plan to pull out Kunigami from Blue Lock, and to train him in order to dethrone Noa since he himself couldn't do it on his own.

If that's true, then Kunigami getting out in second selection was just a golden opportunity for Ego. Further, the humiliation Kunigami felt because of Shidou made things more easier for Ego to mold him to his liking— that man is a really good talker.

Well.

Even though I had fun making my two braincells roundhouse kick eachother while thinking about this theory, deep down, I highly think this thing isn't plausible. Wild Card has been hyped up till now, and readers are very curious too. I don't think so that Kaneshiro-san or Nomura-san will break the silence just to make Ego a villain.

Personally, I too believe in the widely popular theory that Kunigami eliminated the rest of the players during the Wild Card training which includes the Team Z which in turn made him hollow since he is crushing people's dreams, and Heroes don't do that.

However, one small plot hole (?) I can't wrap my mind around is that NEL wasn't planned. I mean, when the Blue Lock project started, I don't think that Ego had thought that JFU would try to halt it in between, but even if he had thought about that and beforehand made plans of taking over the Japan's U-20 soccer team, I find it really hard to believe that he had predicted that the whole world would get invested in Blue Lock.

So, it leaves me with a question, "What the hell Ego was trying to do?" I mean, if NEL was never planned to happen, then what would've happened to Kunigami? Why was Ego invested in Kunigami to give him a second chance? Would he have just thrown back Kunigami into the pit with others without explaining anything? What was even the motive?

Maybe only time would tell.

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Ego is my babygirl. Even if he indeed becomes a villain, I'll just be like, "oH hi vEnOmOOsE!"