#yes: that was the inspiration for this reply

[jungaji]

3:16AM

cw: drunk haechan, fluff (lie), angst

you found donghyuck swaying on the sidewalk, his head drooping slightly, a lopsided smile breaking through his otherwise spent expression. his usually bright eyes held a dreamy haze—the result of a few too many drinks.

with one arm around his waist, he leaned his head on your shoulder, soft breaths brushing against your neck as you walked him home, the quiet intimacy stirring a familiar warmth inside you.

once home, you guided him to the couch, where he slumped back, eyes blurry and unfocused.

you sat next to him, coaxing him to drink some water. "cmon, just a little," you murmured, holding the glass to his lips.

he managed a few sips, before looking up, meeting your eyes with a mischievous glint. "you're always s'good to me," he mumbled, voice thick with sleepiness.

you smiled softly, giggling at his intoxicated state. "who else if not me to take care of you?" you replied, gently brushing the hair from his face.

you traced your fingers over his features, admiring the constellation of beauty marks on his face that trailed down to his neck. he leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he mumbled, "mm, wanna go to bed."

you nodded, taking his hand to help him up, gently leading him through the dim hallway toward your shared bedroom.

as soon as you reached, he let go of your hand and collapsed onto the bed heavily, sighing deeply as he sank into the mattress.

you giggled at the sight before carefully lifting each of his feet, slipping his shoes off as his arms stretched out, reaching for something. you took this as a sign to hold his hand once more, giving it a light squeeze.

"baby," he slurred, his voice soft and sleepy, his fingers curling around yours. "you're my favourite person ever, y'know that?"

a faint smile tugged at your lips, your heart warming at his words. "yes, yes. get some sleep, hyuckie," you whisper, tucking the blanket around him.

he looked so peaceful, lying there with his eyes barely open, a lazy smile playing on his lips as he stared at you like you were his whole world.

as his eyes closed, snuggling deeper into the comforter, he murmured, "i love you, __."

you froze.

the words hung in the air, heavy and fragile, the warmth in your chest turning cold as you realised—

that isn't your name.

your heart seemed to stop for a second, and the subsequent silence was filled with the steady, gentle sound of his breathing. he was asleep before you could even respond, his hand still loosely holding onto yours, unburdened by the words he'd just said.

you pursed your lips in an attempt to swallow back the tears that threatened to fall. smoothing the blanket over him, you leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"i love you too," you whispered, the words aching as you pulled away.

authors note: this was looowkey inspired by tonight (i wish i was your boy) by the 1975 !!! (thank you myungie for proofreading)

[schlattslambo]

for goodness sake | schlatt 18+

a/n: inspired and dedicated to @blaineandergel . thank you my friend

is this edited? no. was this written while im at work? yes. please enjoy. i tried to make this as gender neutral as possible. if theres anything i can do to improve on that front, please let me know! ❤️

————-

you weren’t sure when the whimsy of christmas came back, but as you stepped back from putting the final ornament on the tree, it was swirling around in the air alongside cinnamon and apple.

the tree was fluffy and looked soft from a distance. with the twinkling lights and generic ornaments, it looked even better. soft christmas music played on a record player on the mantle, where your boyfriend was fastening stockings.

christmas wasn’t much of a celebration once you grew up and moved out. it was more of an excuse to eat ham and stromboli and sneak cookie dough as your mother baked cookies whenever you visited their house. this year was different.

this year, you were spending your first christmas together with your boyfriend, a youtuber named schlatt. you’d met him through a mutual friend and hit it off instantly. at first, your relationship was secret. fans had noticed a brightness in schlatt’s eyes that wasn’t there before and began questioning it.

eventually, fans assumed that he was seeing someone. with that assumption, a bit of hate was spewed whenever someone brought up the fact. you let the hate fall off your shoulders, mainly because nobody would see this side of schlatt. the side that was wearing matching christmas pajamas and humming along to frank sinatra.

a soft, loving smile tugs at the corner of your lips as jambo waltzes in, red and green collar jingling. schlatt stands back and admires his handiwork of the mantle as you snake your arms around his waist. he smiles down at you, heart warm.

“hey there baby.” he says, turning around and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“you did a really good job with the fireplace.” you say softly, nuzzling your face against his chest.

“thank you,” schlatt replies with a smile. “i’m gonna light a fire, what do you think?”

you smile. “baby, it’s not cold enough for that.”

“and?” schlatt asks. “it’s romantic.”

you roll your eyes but allow schlatt to putz outside and grab some wood from the pile on the porch. this man absolutely loves that fireplace and would have a fire lit all the time if he could.

you pour yourself a glass of wine and watch as schlatt lights the fire. it crackles to life and he smiles proudly. he’ll never say it, but this kind of thing is what keeps him going. the domestic side of your relationship. him working hard and you just sitting there looking cute. in this case, you curled up on the couch with your wine and him cracking open a beer.

as schlatt sits down next to you, you snuggle into him instantly. his arm goes around you just as it always does and the two of you admire the decorations. the twinkling of the lights on the tree, the four stockings hung on the mantle (two for the cats, of course), and the fire all bring a warm feeling in your chest.

you both sit quietly, watching as jambo lays down in front of the fire place, squirming onto his back so he warms his belly. the scene is out of a christmas card and you couldn’t be happier.

————-

a little while later, the wine has made your cheeks flush and schlatt has switched to sipping on some whiskey. you’ve gotten through half of the bottle of white wine and you’re feeling frisky. it doesn’t matter that frank is still playing on the record player; you want schlatt and you want him now.

your hand goes to schlatt’s thigh as he scrolls on his phone, probably responding to an email. he barely notices until you start moving your hand up closer to his crotch.

“what’re you doin’?” he asks, smiling at you.

“baby,” you draw out.

schlatt peeks over at you and notices your flushed cheeks. he smiles, taking a swig of his drink before placing the glass down.

“what’s up?” schlatt asks, turning to face you. “what do you need?”

you jut your bottom lip out and peek up at him. “you.” you whisper.

your hand goes to his crotch and you begin to feel him through his pants. his cock grows hard and he allows you to touch him for a bit before gripping your wrist. if he doesn’t stop you, he’ll end up cumming in his pants like a teenager. he’s not gonna let that happen again.

“behave.” he grits.

“why?” you pout. “i need you.”

schlatt looks at you, pupils blown and cheeks flushed. he looks into your eyes, knowing that if he doesn’t stand his ground, you’re going to be a brat again. ignoring the fact that you were told to behave, you sit in schlatt’s lap.

“baby,” he sighs, breath catching in his throat as you bite at his neck, his weak spot. “we just finished decorating.”

you don’t respond verbally, only grinding your hips down. you feel schlatt’s cock harden even further under you, and you’re sure it’s pressing against his zipper. he grips your hair, making you arch your back. he bites down on your now exposed neck, eliciting a mewl from you.

“didn’t i tell you to behave?” he growls. “do you really wanna be a brat after we just decorated?”

you smile and nod. schlatt can’t help but smile himself. that’s one of the things he loves most about you (trust me, the list is long, but this is towards the top). he loves that you push his buttons and bite back.

“oh, baby,” he muses, licking along your pulse point. “you better be good.”

“make me.”

the two words leave your lips easily before you yelp as your hauled across schlatt’s lap, ass in the air.

“for goodness sake, doll.” he says as he grips your ass harshly. “i’m gonna have to do something about that.”

you lurch forward as his hand comes down onto your ass harshly, a soft moan leaving your lips. you lay there with a smile before schlatt slowly pulls your pants down, exposing your plush ass.

“can’t have any barriers.” he mumbles before beginning his punishment.

each ass cheek is slapped at least 10 times. he wants you squirming and near tears. his cock is pressed up against your stomach as you take the spankings. he doesnt stop until your ass is red and stinging. you whine and look back at him.

“n-no more.” you sob.

“are you gonna be good?” schlatt asks, yanking your hair and pulling you further back. “you gonna be good?”

you nod the best you can. “yes daddy.” you whimper.

“good,” schlatt says, gripping your stinging ass firmly. “because next time i’m going to fuck you in front of the fire place but you won’t be cumming.”

you whine at the threat, knowing full well that you’re going to be pushing his buttons again later that night and getting fucked into the floor for his pleasure only. you giggle as ‘santa claus is coming to town’ plays on the record player. the lyrics make you smile as you snuggle in schlatt’s lap.

you’re gonna be bad, for goodness sake.

[randomfandomisuppose]

I think it would be really REALLY funny if the batkids for some reason all took an online autism test (Like the good ones from embrace autism, this exact scenario has happened to me twice with two different friend groups, yes I scored high for autism how’d you guess) “just for fun” and it turned out Damian scored high or something.

Someone jokes about autism being genetic so they’re all debating about who else in Damian’s family might be autistic. Damian insists that he can’t be autistic and that no one in his family would be autistic, Talia and Ra’s certainly aren’t.

Cue Bruce “No emotional intelligence, nonverbal replies, perfectly switches between the masks of Batman and Bruce Wayne like he’s been masking all his life, has to be prepared for everything” Wayne walking in right on cue and the batkids slowly turning around.

Even funnier if they say nothing to him and just secretly start collecting evidence and adding it to the “autism cork board”.

Tim asks Bruce about the show he’s watching, Bruce goes into depth about how much the grey ghost was an inspiration to him since he was a child and how he’s still got a ton of memorabilia (like in batman the animated series) and Steph is just aggressively taking notes.

Each of the Batkids is just subtly trying to slip questions from the online autism test into casual conversation. Bruce is confused about why they’re asking him so many questions about how he handles emotions and people but answers anyway cause he thinks they’re asking for advice.

Like just:

“Hey Bruce is it ever difficult for you to understand how other people are feeling when they’re talking to you?”

“Hm…Sometimes. Why do you ask?”

“Oh just trying to communicate better.”

“Hmm. Cass would know more.” (Translation: “I am the worst person you could have asked for advice on this please seek someone emotionally competent.”)

[beerok23]

Runaway Groom AU - Chapter 17

With the compliments of my beta @somewhere-in-wales

Excerpt from Chapter 17 - Spirits

It was past 8 in the evening, and he was taking a stroll down the high street. After the longest day of the year, the shops were finally all closed, and all the owners had gone home to their friends and families. It was a particularly cold night, and Aziraphale could feel the chill passing through his immaculate beige coat down to his core. You could spot little puffs of air coming out from his mouth, but his recently grown beard was proving to be really helpful to protect at least his cheeks from the glacial winter. Aziraphale was so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost didn’t notice the sound of steps on the pavement behind him. He was being followed, and when he eventually realised it, he turned around in one quick motion, startling the person who was approaching him. “Fuck, Az, you scared the shit out of me!” Aziraphale chuckled at his best friend’s colourful language, “I’m sorry, Anathema. You shouldn’t have been following me like a pickpocket, then.” Anathema narrowed her eyes cunningly, “It’s funny that you should mention pickpockets, because that might have something to do with what we’re about to do tonight.” “What I am about to do is go home and wallow in the misery of the distasteful, troubled, fragile existence that I’ve carved out for myself here.” Anathema scoffed, “You sound just like Crowley.” Yes, I do. So what if Aziraphale had spent the last couple of days reading all the pieces Crowley had published in the last ten years? What if he’d been inspired by his almost lyrical language? Sue him! “What do you want from me, Ana?” Aziraphale sighed in exasperation, and the fact that he’d just short-named her was proof enough of his distress. “It’s late, it’s cold, and I want to go home.” “No, you don’t. Because tonight you will be haunted…” Anathema moved her fingers in what was supposed to be a spooky gesture, “By Three Spirits.” It was Aziraphale’s turn to narrow his eyes at his friend, “What are you talking about?!” “Without their visits you cannot hope to shun the path you’re treading.” Aziraphale had known Anathema for years, and she’d never used those two verbs since she’d become a British citizen, not once. Good Lord, he knew British scholars who’d never used the word ‘shun’. But Aziraphale knew who did use it. “Why are you quoting Dickens to me, Anathema? You know I don’t like him that mu—” Anathema thumped her feet on the ground, “Will you just shut it and let me act?!” Aziraphale smiled tenderly at his friend and waved his hands so that she knew that she could go on with whatever silliness she was up to. “I am here tonight to warn you that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping a horrible fate.” “This sounds a little bit improv.” Anathema scoffed, “Maybe if you let me finish, Mr. Scrooge, you would understand!” “Right, sure. I can most certainly shut up.” “Thanks,” Anathema nodded hard at him. “Can I take the visits all at once and have it over, Anathema?” Aziraphale was deliberately misquoting the novel, now. But two could play this game. Anathema gave him a scornful look and mouthed a silent ‘fuck you’. Aziraphale replied with a whispered ‘love you’.

[READ FROM THE BEGINNING]

TAG LIST

@firephoenix2305 @on1occasionfork @moralsofanalleycatsposts @captainblou @bellisima-writes @shadesofecclescakes

With the ineffable trailer created by @ineffablerainstorm and the support of my second beta @pookasluagh 💛🧡

[fandoms-in-law]

Ophelia's Son: Abigail

Summary: Abigail Adams turns up at the Harrington house to try and get Steve to help her schemes. Nobody agrees with her.

Following on from these Ophelia's Son Smoking and What Will Grow

Mostly inspired by the Feud in the Addams Family episode for those who know the 60's series.

/\

Since meeting the Addams’s and especially since he first had the flower crown take root, Steve had come to expect a few new reactions when customers entered Family Video. None of those helped when Nancy came storming in, not even reacting to him as she seized the phone, “Hello, Welcome to Family – Hey! Nancy, you can’t just use the phone.” He switched to complaining mid greeting.

As he impatiently watched, she dialled a number that looked like it was noted in his handwriting and held a finger up to emphasise she wanted him to wait while she called rather than complain about it immediately.

“Hello Mr Addams, I’m Nancy, a friend of Steve’s.” She greeted cheerfully and he snorted at the formality. He was sure the first reply would be something about calling him Gomez but resolved to carry on listening to why-ever his uncle had been called.

“Yes, he’s well… Yes, I’ll tell him, but I am calling for a reason sir… Yes sir, an Abigail Adams turned up at his house this morning. I was dropping something off and… Okay… I’ll do what I can… I’ll let Steve know to expect her. Thank you.” Nancy stared at the phone for a moment, a little surprised the call had finished so quickly though Steve wasn’t. While Morticia took her time to speak and think through her words, Gomez often spoke quickly and acted impulsively.

He cleared his throat after a moment of her staring though, still annoyed that Nancy had come all the way to Family Video to make a call she clearly could have done at his house. All the party knew where his spare key was kept after all.

“Sorry.” She apologised a little sheepishly, “That Abigail woman wasn’t leaving so I didn’t want to unlock the door after I’d locked it. I think she’s still parked outside your house, set on waiting until you’re home.”

“Okay, that explains why you called from here, but not why you’d brought the number with you or why you wanted to call them before telling me this.” Steve stated, unimpressed with her actions still. “Also who should I be expecting other than Abigail?”

Nancy glanced back at the phone. “Mama? Granmama? I think for you it’d be the latter, apparently she wants to fight Abigail over something, or they all dislike her, maybe. And I wanted to call them because Abigail mentioned how you or she should be head of the Addams family rather than Gomez. I didn’t mention that to him, did I?”

“Nope, but if she’s tried taking over before that might explain them disliking her.” He offered. “Maybe you could head to the library to see if anything about her has reached Hawkins newspapers.”

Nancy smiled, nodding and clearly happy to have something to research over the encounter that must have been more than stated given how unsettled she still seemed.

/\

He knew Abigail was someone disliked by his Aunt and Uncle and knew that she was probably still outside his house, but Steve was not expecting to have “Mr Harrington!” called out as soon as he got out of his car, nor the dark haired lady in a dress suit and kitten heels hurrying over to him while he straightened up.

“Steve, if I may. I so wanted to meet you. I’m your relative, Abigail Adams. Richard suggested I visit and I’m sure you’re just as charming as your father is.” The words were genially said but immediately soured him on her. Anyone his father liked was someone to be wary of, but also likely to be mentioned and bring anger if he scorned her.

Steve decided to worry over his fathers reaction later and headed towards the house, “Congratulations Abigail, you’ve met me.” He sarcastically called. “Leave now and you can keep that impression. Stay and I’ll have a fair few families helping you leave soon enough.”

“What?” She asked, shocked but so far keeping pace and intent on inviting herself in.

Steve smiled coldly, unlocking and stepping through the door fully enough to block her entry as he turned around. “Delighted. Goodbye.” He slammed the door, biting back an annoyed groan as locked it and heard knocking immediately start up.

He wondered what would happen in an hour when everyone started arriving for Hellfire since she was likely to still be there it seemed.

/\

“Hey, Harrington?” Gareth popped his head into the kitchen uncertainly.

Steve smiled warmly, carrying on setting out the snacks for the evening, “Yup, what’s up?”

“A couple ladies just invited themselves in and seem like they’re having the most polite fight ever.” Gareth glanced back over his shoulder as Eddie’s voice could be heard cheerfully greeting Granmama.

For a moment Steve frowned, “Was one of them the woman in a dress suit who’s been sat in her car all evening?”

“Yes. I know you said we shouldn’t let her in, but-”

“Don’t worry about it,” He interrupted the apology he could hear coming. “Perhaps if I let her say whatever it is she wants I’ll get her to actually leave.”

For all he hadn’t expected that to actually work, Abigail did leave to find a hotel after making her case for the head of the Addams family to him, often raising her voice as Granmama corrected, challenged or just interrupted her. He was sure that wasn’t the end of it though, especially when Nancy mentioned while picking Mike and Will up that this would be the fourth attempt Abigail had made to take control of the Addams fortune.

/\

Robin had come over to hang out and Dustin had refused to go home, even with Eddie giving everyone lifts. Both of them claimed they wanted to meet an actual Addams, not a Frump like Steve and his mother and had been getting along with Granmama for most of it.

Steve had been telling them about his first encounter with Abigail which had led to Robin and him joking over Starcourt and the Russian code, laughing between themselves since Dustin rarely found it funny given what happened next.

“Ah, young love.” Granmama smiled at the sight of the pair.

Dustin nodded, grinning broadly, “I know right! I keep telling them-”

“We’re not dating.” Steve and Robin cut off his insistence that that should date, matching glares on their faces as they stopped giggling together.

Granmama looked indignant at the words. “Only you reacted happily to her Russian. It’s only reasonable.”

“We went through stuff together around Russians. It’s not a romance language.” Steve explained, brow furrowed and shaking his head at how little sense she made.

“I’ll whip up some love dust. That’ll sort you.” Granmama nodded.

“No!” Both snapped, Steve adding on, “In fact you’re banned from the kitchen while you’re here. I’ll do the cooking as normal, thank you.”

Granmama nodded, “Well that’s just good manners, but I’ll still get some. It’ll do you good if the Russian reaction says anything. Just like the French one.”

Robin and Steve shared a look. “We’re not going to ask right now, and we’re never going to date. No need for any dust love or otherwise to fail at that.” Robin spoke for them this time. “It’s Platonic with a capital P.”

“And they’ll always say that.” Nancy agreed, knocking on the door frame. “That Abigail is a piece of work from everything I’ve read. Actually, before we all met Ophelia, that’s how I’d imagined her.”

“Can’t blame you there but it’s my father who acts like her.” Steve shrugged. “I think Will offered to have El try spying to figure out a way to get her to back off too.”

Nancy smiled, letting out a heavy breath. “Good. I really don’t like what I found.”

“I said Fester should’ve come with me. He might not be one for travel but he will shoot her in the back quick as you like. Might even hit her.” Granmama cheerfully suggested. “I’ve got my axe but that’s messy and I know Ophelia will plant daisies in our garden if I upset this house.”

“Hm, I could do that, but let’s see what secrets we can get to silence her first.” Nancy nodded, as if the suggestion was reasonable when they weren’t facing the Upside Down.

Steve held his hands up, looking commandingly between the two, “No. We do not condone murder outside of Hawkins events here. What would the kids start doing if we did?”

“Torture?” Granmama offered, as if that was a better suggestion.

He huffed, “Yes, they probably would start doing that too. So we won’t. See what you and El find out. Then blackmail her gone.”

/\

Apparently nothing more needed doing for Abigail to leave. She did stop by before going, asking Steve to call off the cousins or ghosts.

He played innocent and wondered if there were invisible Addams cousins or if El had decided to go further than just spying and instead moved things around to make Abigail think she was getting haunted. Either way she seemed to have given up on taking over the Addams family once more and that hopefully meant she’d leave him alone too.

“Morticia and Gomez will be visiting with the kids when school holidays start, but they’ll be happy to hear about you before then.” Granmama brightly said as a car pulled up outside. “And I’ll make sure they have love dust with them then.”

“You really don’t have to.” Steve gave a false smile. “I’ve got a partner already.”

He really hoped that meeting more of the Addams family wouldn’t get more pressures on him to date Robin, even if he was curious why reacting to a language being spoken would equate to love.

[ishomieokay]

ALONE TOGETHER — homelander ♡ 18+

HOMELANDER x CLEANER READER

you're homelander's cleaner, but he's found a different use for you

✰ tags // warnings: cleaner!reader, non-con, dubious consent, objectification, forced relationship, naked/clothed, vaginal sex, power imbalance, cockwarming, references to gangbang/oral/anal (not between h/r, just in a tacky porn video).

✰ summary: homelander uses you as a fleshlight while watching porn on his big tv wall. you're not into it, but you kinda are. inspired by this post.

✰ author's notes: not for the faint hearted. seriously guys, this is foul. re-uploaded/edited to be more inclusive. find the original here.

✰ taglist: @welikeimagines-andfandoms

"So, whataya wanna watch?" he asks as he runs a hand down your naked back. You stifle a sound, feeling a shiver run through you. After all this time, you still haven’t gotten used to it—the feeling of his leather gloves against your exposed skin. 

“I don’t know, Sir,” you reply, hoping he will drop it. “I don’t watch porn.”

He's not hard. Sometimes it takes him some time to get there. You never comment on it, of course, afraid that he will lash out, that he will blame you. Still, he’s a warm, unsettling presence inside you. You can feel yourself dripping around him, aching for movement, for stimulation of any kind. You hate it.

“Yeah, yeah, all women say that. I wonder what I would find if I searched your browser history, though. Bet there’s some freaky stuff there.” Homelander takes the remote from the coffee table and turns on the TV. It’s obnoxious looking, large enough to cover the entire wall. The type of purchase men only make to flex and show off wealth. You had never seen him use it before. You’re not surprised to learn he bought it with the exclusive purpose of watching porn. 

Homelander paused, then, as if something had just occurred to him. “You ever starred in a sex tape, Becky?”

You clench your teeth, struggling not to snap at him. He keeps calling you that, no matter how many times you remind him that’s not your name. “No, Sir,” you reply curtly.

“Aren’t you a dream? ‘Sir, this,’ ‘Sir, that.’ They sure trained you well when you first got hired.” Homelander said, placing a hand around your hips, as if to keep you in place. You bite into your lip, struggling not to grind against him, not to search for contact. “You called me something else the other time, though. You haven’t forgotten, right? When I was fucking your ass raw against the dinner table?”

No more, master. Please, no more.

Just the memory has tears of shame and anger flooding your eyes. You refuse to let them spill. Over time you’ve come to learn that only arouses him more. “Master?” you repeat with a frown. You don't even know where that came from. You'd just been trying to appeal to his ego, to get him to stop hurting you.

“That’s the one! Love the sound of it, you say it so prettily,” he states, and you know he’s mocking you, that he doesn’t mean a word. If there’s something you’ve learned in your time working at Vought is that there’s always a double-meaning in Homelander’s praise. “You’re gonna call me that from now on.”

“Yes, master,” you say, cringing. There’s really no end to the humiliations this twisted pervert can come up with.

“Now, I won’t ask again. What are we watching?” he asks, pushing the remote into your hand. There’s no point in fighting him and you know it. You turn your head towards the TV Screen, quietly examining the adult website he’s chosen. It’s a catalog of his favorite videos. You struggle not to roll your eyes. What kind of loser catalogs his porn? God, he’s fucking pathetic. 

As you scroll down the list, heat builds in your lower stomach. You don’t like what you’re seeing. Porn is violent and demeaning and you’ve never liked it. You’ve been aroused for some time now, though, and you can feel your judgment slipping. It’s been over an hour since Homelander ordered you into his bedroom, forcing you to abandon your domestic chores to attend to more pressing matters. An hour since he had you undress and sit on his lap, warming his limp cock while he lounged about on his leather armchair. You know he’s teasing you, leaving you aroused, wet and unfulfilled on purpose. It’s a game he likes to play.

“I like this one,” you say, opening a random video. Homelander huffs out a laugh.

“Ohhh, would you look at that? Girl on girl action? I knew you were into weird stuff,” Homelander says, and he sounds amused, almost gleeful, but there’s an edge to his voice—an underlying irritation that lets you know you’ve committed a mistake. He grabs you by the throat, then, fast, roughly and without warning. “You’re not a lesbian, are you, Becky?”

“No, master,” you say, trying to stay calm, to not let your fear show. That only makes things worse. “I like men.”

I like you, it’s what he wants to hear, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. 

“Good. Didn’t feel like watching that, anyway,” he says, taking the remote from you. You struggle not to make a face. Of course he asks you to choose, only to have the chance to say no to you. He’s such a manchild. “Oooh, this one’s better. Girl gets gangbanged at local billiard. That will get us in the mood.”

You can feel heat rising up your throat, and force yourself to take a deep breath. It abates the nausea, to an extent. It’s not a stretch to say that vomiting right now could very well be the death of you. He skips the video forward, seemingly too impatient to power through the foreplay. He stops at a frame of the woman laying on a pool table, surrounded by at least 15 men, her legs spread and completely naked. You swallow hard. She looks like you.

He doesn’t strike you as the type who likes sharing, and he’s much too fixated on power to be a cuck. Still, you hope he’s not getting any ideas. The video starts rolling. The woman moans, loud and shamelessly, those fake high-pitched sounds only porn actresses make. A man is fucking her on the front, another in the ass, and a third one is using her throat like a fleshlight, unbothered by the spit and the gagging sounds. The other men are masturbating to the sight, waiting for their turn, ready to cum all over her. It’s disgusting, and you have to look away. 

Homelander is pulling you by the air in a second, forcing you to look. You don’t fight him. You stare towards the screen, unblinking, unseeing. He’s finally getting hard. That’s a good thing. The sooner this torture ends, the better. 

When he’s done, he comes inside you. That’s a given with him, although he never bothers to use a condom. You fish some wet wipes from your purse and clean yourself up as best as you can. His eyes are on you as you put your mandatory pink uniform back on, along with the tag with your name on it. You don’t stare back. Not until he addresses you first.

“What do you say?” he asks, a twinkle in his eyes. 

You swallow your pride, as you’ve done so many times in the past. “Thank you, master. I’m always glad to assist you.”

Homelander smiles at you, wide and unsettling. “You’re a good girl. Now, go finish with the living room, will ya,” he says, spanking you as you finally make your way out of his bedroom, “this place’s a fucking mess.” 

[lured-into-wonderland]

"I've never seen a creature quite like him," the stable boy murmured to his friend, peeking through the crack in the stall door. Two pairs of eyes, wide with curiosity, watched as the snow-white kitten strutted out of the shadows, his fur as pristine as the fresh snow that had fallen outside the palace walls. The kitten's eyes, piercingly gold, swept over the two humans before focusing on the warm bundle of hay in the corner. He approached with a regal grace that belied his youthfulness.

"What a strange little fellow," the other boy whispered back, his voice carrying a hint of awe. "Look at his fur, so long and soft! And those eyes..."

The kitten looked up at the sound of his voice, and for a brief moment, the stable was silent except for the sound of their collective breaths. Then, with a yawn that stretched his tiny jaw wide, he pounced on a dust mote floating in the shaft of light that pierced the gloom.

The boys watched as the kitten curled up in the hay, his plume of a tail wrapping around him protectively. He began to purr, the sound low and rumbling, like a distant storm.

The door to the stable creaked open, and a figure clad in royal blue stepped in. Her golden hair was pulled back into a neat braid, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. It was the young princess, Nunnally, who had heard whispers of the peculiar new arrival. She scanned the stalls, searching for the source of the commotion.

"It is there my princess," one of them exclaimed, spotting the kitten. She knelt down and offered a gentle hand. The kitten regarded her with a look that could only be described as skepticism before deigning to allow her touch.

The bond between the two was instant, a silent understanding passing between the future ruler and the unlikely creature who would become her closest confidant. Regulus, the snow-white kitten, had entered the world of the palace, and with him, a whirlwind of mischief and mystery that would soon make him a legend in his own right.

She shouldn’t have been in the stables. She knew that better than a n y o n e. And yet, she was a more frequent guest there than anyone would ever imagine. The young princess didn't care about the scolding nor about the punishment for her too-often-to-tolerate escapades. Nunnally knew there was a reason that she was so attracted to where-the-princess-should-not-have-been-seen.

And that day she just needed to be there. The whispers of the p e c u l i a r arrival spread like the hurricane between the maids. Even her ladies-in –waiting (unlike usually) seemed to be interested in that white-fur creature. They told it was the most beautiful kitten; and many wanted to claim him for them. Though Nunnally felt it was HIM that she was waiting for all the time.

Her steps were light and quick when she run towards the stables. No, she wasn’t worried that the creature might not have been there. If it was meant to be with her (and the lonely girl strongly believed in that), it would be there. Waiting for her. Looking for her. Accepting only her.

The stable boys did recognize the princess. She knew them pretty well, too. It wasn’t rare that she was sharing little secrets with them. And so they knew w h y she had come. Guiding her instantly towards the white animal, Nunnally’s heart started to ponder as if she was expecting to meet a dear (but lost) friend. Though when she gently approached the kitten, he seemed to r e f u s e her. Not to recognize her? Her heart stopped for a brief moment. Though the princess did nothing to enforce her will (her wishes and desires) onto the animal. She was well aware she shouldn’t. Instead, she waited and her patience was rewarded. The touch HAPPENED creating the instant bond between them.

And soon the kitten was in her tight embrace; his white fur and her blond locks almost intertwined together. Their eyes so similar and so different. The moment she entered her chambers, the kitten found his place on her bed, and she was lying next to him: first telling him the stories, and then reading to him, and then finally sleeping by his side. That was how they found them in their first day. Two creatures sharing the bed; sharing the space, sharing their rest.

And although they intended to separate the princess and the kitten, there was nothing they could have done. The princess was stubborn, and even her father – the king – could see that only a b r u t a l force could divide his daughter and the white-fur kitten.

---

So, there thein union was reluctantly accepted. Admired even. Feared by some. As some claimed it wasn’t a simple kitten, but a god turned into a kitten. A god that fell in love with the princess. Other whispered it was a demon that possessed the princess to steal her land and her crown. Others believed it was good story. An enchanted prince that is waiting for the princess’s kiss to regain his true form.

But what was the truth? No-one knew. Not even the princess. The story was still waiting for its end. Happy or unhappy one.

The princess and the kitten? They didn’t care about the whispers. About the rumours. About what was being told about them. They knew what they were, or what they wanted to be.

Every night, when the castle was silent, and most of its inhabitants were in deep slumber, the kitten and the princess were living their dream. Free of their physical bodies, a white-haired boy and a blond-haired girl, they run, and danced, and played. Two young adults being there for themselves. Discovering the notions of friendship, of love, of devotion. Two souls that were destined to be together. That would always find themselves. This life or another. This time or another. This universe of another.

FOREVER BOUND.

A god? A demon? A prince?

What are the names after all, Nunnally and Regulus. A princess and a kitten. Eternal lovers. And world’s eternal curse.

Would the curse become real again? Would the kitten become a human? Or was this story fated to have another end?

---

It’s not important for the kitten and for the princess now. As they sit in the garden gazebo enjoying the sun, the food, the book, themselves? What are they talking about? It’s their secret. They wouldn’t share.

They are not aware of the past and of the future. It’s only “now” that’s important. Now…let now last forever.

@fallesto

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Wouldn't squirrels be a really god observation morph? As I saw a page point out for Squirrel Girl, Squirrels are pretty much everywhere.

Yes! We see the Animorphs use squirrel that way a little in #35 and #4 — their dexterous "hands" and banality come in handy. That said, I don't know that squirrel nets a huge advantage over seagull or housefly.

Gulls are everywhere outside (it being a beach town) and seen as uninteresting as squirrels, BUT they're better able to escape, more known for approaching humans, and eaten by predators less often. Flies are more vulnerable BUT they're one of very few animals that can move around inside without humans killing, evicting, or even noticing them much of the time. Which is why we see gull or fly morph used in almost every book, more than any other group morphs except maybe raptor.

[l12ps]

kind of a messy sketch

i also can't draw hands *^*

[heireign]

rhaenyra waking up one day at the tender age of seven and deciding to break a world record is still the most hilarious thing she’s done😭

[notmoreflippingelves]

saemi-the-dreamer asked:

OTP ask 😉 ! Krisnix: 10, 14, 30, 39, 42 ; Estelanor: 2, 5, 18, 30, 51 please?

Splitting these up into two posts again as I rambled on for way too long. And this way, I can post at least part of it sooner <3. This one is the krisnix one.

Krisnix

10. Describe their first date

They have like three "first dates" lol. The first would be the first time Kristoph invites Phoenix to join him for dinner at the Borscht after Phoenix finishes his shift there (or in-between shifts). Kristoph offers to pick up the check (he will do this on all their subsequent dates as well, and Phoenix doesn't resist in the least). Phoenix *technically* gets an employee discount when he dines at the Borscht but he never uses it with Kristoph--both because he enjoys making Kristoph spend more--and because he knows that Kristoph himself is enough of a snob that he'd hate feeling like a "cheap date" who couldn't afford to pay the proper bill.

Neither of them really expects this to turn into a regular thing. They just happen to be there (either Kristoph was working on a case in the area or purposely sought Phoenix out following the Bar Association's ruling) and be hungry at the same time. So they figure that they might as well eat together and talk through the conversation. And again, both of them are pretty surprised at how agreeable they find each other's company.

Phoenix is much more intelligent and well-read than his unpolished "every man" exterior would suggest--largely due to his time as an arts major. And Kristoph is surprised at how much they have to talk about. He may not be as cultured as Kristoph by a long shot, but he's surprisingly interesting and insightful, nevertheless. And the conversations end up being a lot more stimulating (in more ways than one) and engrossing than Kristoph ever expected.

Meanwhile even though Kristoph Gavin comes across as the coldest, most remote and pretentious person that you've ever met at first (and to be fair, there is a good bit of that in him still), Phoenix is amazed at how full-of-life-and-light Kristoph can be when you catch him on the right topic. He positively gushes about dogs and tells the funniest, warmest stories about Klavier-as-a-small-child. It's rather adorable and super unexpected. He's also surprisingly funny. His wit is much drier than Phoenix's own, and a bit more biting. But still, it's there and it's sometimes irrestitable. Plus, Kristoph is also funny in unintentional ways, given how stiff and formal and seemingly stoic he often is. So much so that Phoenix can't help but look at him and laugh--simultaneously with derision (i.e. "can you fucking believe this guy?") and with genuine affection (i.e.. "it's fucking cute how ridiculous he is without meaning to be.")

Their second "first date" would be the first time that they do something together in a place other than the Borscht Bowl. Neither of them come even close to acknowledging it as a date. This is simply an" outing that we will do together since I enjoy your company and we are sort of 'friends' now." It probably comes about rather organically. Kristoph mentions a different restaurant that he recently tried with Klavier and wonders if Phoenix has ever tried it. (Of course, he hasn't. The entrees cost more than he makes in a given night at the Borscht). Which then naturally extends to Kristoph saying that it's a pity Phoenix hasn't had a chance to go yet, and perhaps, he and Kristoph might go together some evening as friends.

Their third "first date" would be much the same as one of the ones that came before. But with a crucial difference. They are still nowhere near identifying this particular outing as a "date." But since their last "first date," their "friendship" has since extended to include physical intimacy of some kind. Maybe they've had a drunken kiss or two--or maybe they've actually done teh sex. Nevertheless, they are both acutely aware that things are DIFFERENT between them from then on, while also stubbornly refusing to admit to each other that things are different. They know this is a date. They know that they are much more than friends--even ones "with benefits"--but you will never get them to acknowledge this fact. This is just a shared social experience between two men who enjoy each other's company and lips and there is nothing more to it than that. (There is a great deal more to it than that).

Sadly, they never got to the point of a fourth "first date" (i.e. one that they openly acknowledge as a date) in canon, but they still can in my heart.

14. How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash?

Both Phoenix and Kristoph are artistically-minded, driven, and very intelligent (albeit in different ways.) As I mentioned in the previous point, Phoenix is somewhat more "cultured" than one would imagine and Kristoph is not *quite* as much of a humorless stick-in-the-mud than he appears. So they actually find that they have a great deal to talk about and can enjoy each other's company. Due to the circumstances that brought them together, there is inevitably a little bit of a facade to their "friendship" but not nearly as much of one as you might think.

In terms of their differences counterbalancing each other, Kristoph's cautious and reserved nature helps reign in some of Phoenix's unhinged impulsiveness. Meanwhile, Phoenix's sense of humor and spontaneity can sometimes force Kristoph to stop taking everything (especially himself) so damn seriously and to open himself up to life outside professional success.

However, it isn't all smooth sailing for them. These same differences can cause friction between them just as often as they smooth it. Moreover, the fact that both men are extremely stubborn also leads to clashes.

As a workaholic and supremely ambitious person in his own right, Kristoph also finds himself frequently frustrated by Phoenix Wright's perceived laziness and lack of ambition. They both know that Phoenix is capable of being more than dubiously sober piano bum and illegal poker player at a mediocre dive bar. So why isn't Phoenix "trying" harder to find something better for himself?

Meanwhile, Kristoph is also trying very hard not to acknowledge that Phoenix's current state is very much Kristoph's own fault. He tries to convince Phoenix to lift himself out of his sorry state, at least in part to ease Kristoph's own conscience.

Kristoph is also very unaware that much of Phoenix's perceived lazy, aimlessness is an act--one carefully tailored to lull Kristoph into a false sense of security so that Phoenix can make his move.

Naturally, the biggest barrier between them is the one that they can never directly acknowledge. Kristoph's role in orchestrating Phoenix's disbarment and Phoenix's complete awareness of this fact. On the rare occasion that the topic comes up indirectly in conversation (ex: any mention of Phoenix's former legal career, Kristoph's Bar Association duties, Trucy's life before Phoenix, media coverage of the so-called "Dark Age of Law,"etc.) things between Kristoph and Phoenix become decidedly more tense than usual. Lots of sarcastic remarks, comments that can be taken in more than one way, and little arguments over matters that would normally not have provoked such a response. Again, they can't ever discuss the real state of things openly so they have their little proxy spats and then quickly try to change the subject.

30. Your OTP gets to pick out each other’s outfits; what is each wearing?

Phoenix loves to make Kristoph dress more casually--both because it's cute but also because he thinks it's mentally/psychologically "good" for Kristoph. He will be more relaxed when he wears clothing that is softer, looser, and/or more comfortable. I think Kristoph probably has a Gavinners-branded hoodie or sweatshirt that is leftover merch from Klavier, and Phoenix is constantly trying to persuade him into wearing it--ideally with jeans instead of Kristoph's normal dress pants. He eventually gives in, partly because Phoenix Wright is unbelievably stubborn but also partially because damn it, the sweatshirt (though far too casual for professional use) is very soft and very warm--and Kristoph has always been the sort of person who gets cold easily. And there is something very relaxing and soothing about letting himself dress for warmth and physical comfort instead of trying to impress people. Also he feels much freer to cuddle with Vongole (which is also psychologically very good for him) when he's less concerned about getting dog hair on his nice work clothes.

Kristoph, conversely, likes to dress Phoenix up. Underneath that dreadful hat and sweatshirt, Phoenix Wright is a rather handsome man with nice broad-shoulders, a pleasingly strong jaw, and bright, twinkling eyes. He really should show off his handsome features and physique. And yet, he hides himself in this loose, plebian garb and two days worth of stubble. (Kristoph is in deep denial about how much he likes Phoenix's stubble. Phoenix is completely aware of the effect he has on the other man).

So Kristoph is always looking for excuses to put Phoenix in a suit or even just a button-down shirt with a tie. And sometimes, Phoenix is willing to indulge him, even if it still feels weird to put on his "trial suit" to go anywhere other than courtroom. But he does like reminding Kristoph (and himself) just how nicely he can clean up when he wants to.

(Kristoph is so lucky that he never got to see three-piece suit dilfnix and his waistcoat of sexyness. He would've died of lust on the spot, and all Phoenix would've done was laugh.)

Another "compromise" is that Kristoph is able to talk Phoenix into a bit more often is a short-sleeve polo shirt. A little more dressy than his normal hoodie but still not properly formal.

(Of course, Kristoph never quite thinks through the ramifications of this. He is Victorian level of repressed-yet-horny. And so the instant, Phoenix's bare forearms enter the chat, kristoph.exe promptly stops working.)

39. Who would rescue an injured animal and nurse it back to health? What would the other think?

Honestly, I think its fairly plausible that either would do this. But honestly, it's much more interesting to think about Kristoph being the one to do it so that's where I'm gonna focus.

This could be a possible backstory for Vongole acquisition. Kristoph's job led him to find the most Beautiful Dog in the World™ left abandoned (and possibly wounded) after her owner died or went to prison. At first, he intends to take Vongole in for a short while until he can find a new home for her. (She's a purebred and a very good girl so Kristoph isn't ready to just dump her in an animal shelter's care and hope for the best). But it's not long until he finds himself just completely enraptured by her and unable to imagine his life without her.

Phoenix, meanwhile, has enjoyed watching this unfold from a bit of a distance. He doesn't meet Vongole officially for awhile, but he notices how quickly Kristoph is completely "puppy-whipped" for her. Kristoph can't stop talking about this "foster" dog he's looking after. He talks about more even than he talks about work--which is saying something. His eyes light up behind his glasses and he can't stop smiling when he's chattering about how SMART and cultured Vongole is, because she sits and listens and wags her tail whenever Kristoph is practicing his violin. And she's so got the most refined palette too. She likes only the best dog food made from the finest ingredients.

It's adorable seeing Kristoph like this, so happy and relaxed and at peace with himself. Even with all the baggage between himself and Kristoph, Phoenix genuinely likes seeing his frenemy in this light and is happy for him.

After a few months worth of Kristoph "fostering" Vongole, he finally announces that he's decided to keep her permanently and Phoenix is all ...

(Phoenix saw this coming about a week after Vongole came into Kristoph's life).

I am also struck by another possible "Kristoph-rescues-a-wounded-animal scenario" as well and would like to discuss it. In this case, I think Kristoph should find and take care of a wounded bird (preferably a baby). I think the most narratively satisfying (i.e. metaphorically resonant) would involve Kristoph having accidentally caused the bird's injury in the first place. Maybe he accidentally hit a passing bird with his car or caused the bird to fall out of its nest and injure itself, while Kristoph was tending to his garden. Kristoph would therefore have to take accountability for having hurt something so beautiful and delicate and would see his nursing the bird back to health as an atonement for his past missteps.

Phoenix, meanwhile, would have very mixed reactions to seeing Kristoph's diligent care for this particular bird. He can't help but feel a little envious seeing Kristoph take responsibility for his harmful actions in this respect, while Kristoph has utterly failed to do the same where Phoenix is concerned. The significance of this being a bird--and Phoenix's own name being a (mythical) bird is not at all lost on him either. But on the other hand, he sees Kristoph being so patient and caring and gentle with this little wounded bird, and Phoenix can't help but love him for it. Can't help but wonder if--if only circumstances were just a little different and if he and/or Kristoph were able to swallow their pride for long enough--maybe Kristoph would have been able to do the same thing with Phoenix after all. But of course, they are doomed by themselves, their anger, and the narrative so this would never happen.

If the bird is unable to be safely released back into the wild after all--or Kristoph is simply unwilling to let the bird go-- it's also possible that the caged blue bird in Kristoph's cell is in fact this very same bird. Which adds some additional metaphorical resonance to the obvious Phoenix-bird parallels. Either Kristoph has already damaged the bird (and Phoenix) so severely and irrevocably that even his most ardent attempts at atonement/undoing the harm are not nearly enough. Or Kristoph has become so mentally and emotionally attached to the bird (and Phoenix) that he refuses to let it fly away from him--especially while Kristoph himself is wasting away in prison.

42. What’s their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.)

Phoenix most enjoys bright, warm sunny days (especially in the summertime). This is more in general than relating to Kristoph specifically. There is so much more to do when the weather is nice--including a few particular things that he enjoys doing with Trucy and often with Kristoph as well. They've gone berry-picking a few times (on Kristoph's dime), something that neither Kristoph nor Trucy had ever done before and something that they are both pleasantly surprised by. They will go for picnics at the park and talk Kristoph into taking Vongole with them. (Trucy enjoys playing several rounds of fetch with her afterwards). Sometimes, when they have a day at the pool, Kristoph will wear a big, floppy hat to keep the sun off his face, and Phoenix can't help but find it rather endearing.

Kristoph, meanwhile, enjoys the rain. Or more specifically, a steady, lightning-less medium downpour that is heavy enough to keep everyone indoors (and prevent Phoenix from leaving too soon) and water the grass, while still being nowhere near heavy enough for there to be any danger of flooding.

He enjoys taking Vongole for walks after the rain and breathing in the fresh, clean scent of the air. He particularly enjoys it when he is able to rope Phoenix (and sometimes Trucy and/or Klavier) into joining him. Especially on the very memorable occasion that they saw a full rainbow just as the sun was starting to set.

[shima-draws]

Props my head up in my hands I really really want to draw a lot more this year so. What kind of content do you all want to see from me. What do you desire. What do you CRAVE. What characters or ships or AUs that I’ve made do you miss and would die to see. I will jot down every idea sent my way and hold it close to my heart over the next year so that I may put pen to tablet and draw them

[ryukyuin]

the first time feitan sinks his dick into you he actually lets out the most choked off whine, twitching inside you for a second before actually getting so embarassed/disgusted at himself that he instantly jerks himself out, tucks himself back into his pants, and avoids you for a week hits post now

[cleewii]

wait now i’m so curious. tell me your visionnn 👀

OKAY WAIT LISTEN—

i’m not saying that there is something kinda hot (and sick and twisted) about finding that little broken sword dummy, and maybeeee using it in ways it was def not meant to be used.

and i’m def not saying that MC potentially being a bit of a tinkerer results in the ancient mechanism coming out with one or two new appendages. and, you know, maybe a conscienceness .

and it’s not that a conscience just appeared, or that it came to your home with this purpose in mind, but with these new mechanisms and environments and sensations, it—he starts to become more aware, starts to think in things outside of sword technique and training, until one day he finds himself fantasizing about the lonely little weirdo who stole him, who fixed him up, gave him a home outside of the wailing storms and pounding hail. he knows he���s not supposed to be alive, but he realizes he doesn’t want to go back to being a training dummy anymore. especially when his little owner is so cute and pretty, and they make such strange sounds in the middle of the night, can never seem to look him in the eye come morning.

anyways yeah. i’m not saying anything. not saying a word.

[autofloricide]

would anyone like to hit me with a big rock if I started a multi-muse blog

[gunthermunch]

Idk of it's a coincidence but Jojo reminds of the cat from coraline, texture and all. Also I wonder if lilith makes eye contact with Jojo and something in her spirit just says something isn't right (yes I believe that Jojo is a human who panic-transformed into a cat)

lilith thinks he's just ugly. for now