#you were made to be absolute and impartial

[sincerely-sofie]

*Skitters up to you on all fours and drops this in your lap, then scrambles up the walls and onto the ceiling and immediately falls asleep*

Comic time! Lucky wakes up in the middle of the night and has a chat with Sen in this one.

[starsofang]

simon riley x autistic!reader requested by anon! <3 tw: none!

When a certain John Price had recruited you under his own jurisdiction, you were cautious yet excited to be joining a new task force. It was an opportunity you simply couldn’t pass up, and you’d be insane to say no. Price had promised you would fill in the gap that seemed to be missing from their team, and for the most part, he was absolutely correct.

Gaz and Johnny were the most welcoming in the beginning. Price was more the serious type with an occasional bad joke here and then, but all in all, everybody approved of you and had your back so long as you had theirs.

None of them seemed to mind when you’d have days where you’d be talkative on one, and quiet the next. They’d listen to your passionate ramblings on specific topics, or they’d allow you to sit in comfortable silence if they knew you needed it.

There was one person in particular who didn’t seem quite fond of you, and that would be Ghost – or Simon, as Johnny called him on occasion. It wasn’t that he didn’t seem to like you, no. He just seemed distant, purposefully keeping you at an arm’s length and only acknowledging you when necessary.

Johnny had told you not to worry about it, that he’d come around eventually. Simon was impartial to new people and it took him a while to open up.

You did notice, though, that Simon was someone who stared. One too many times, you’d catch those brooding eyes boring into you, as if trying to puzzle you together and figure out where the pieces fit. It would always cause a bit of anxiety to well in you when you’d find his eyes across the room, already locked in on you, and you would find yourself avoiding his stare as soon as you felt it.

It wasn’t until a particular mission had gone bad that you completely shut down. In the presence of your new task force, you had successfully masked yourself as much as possible. But now, when Johnny had nearly been killed, all due to an error in your own judgment, that mask was slipping off and you needed time to let it crumble on your own.

You thought that was all you needed – time. But time proved fruitless as you spent the next few days on lockdown, avoiding all conversation and interaction. Your eyes would stray to the ground, or you’d find yourself staring blankly at the walls of the mess hall with your nails picking at the skin around them from beneath the table.

You didn’t think anybody noticed. After all, everybody was on edge and decompressing from the failed mission, and they didn’t have the focus to see your mind eating you up.

Simon did, though.

He’d seen all the signs, from the way you picked at your nails, to the way you’d consistently tuck your hair behind your ear, even if it was already tucked, and to the way you’d tap your foot along the ground in a repetitive motion, leg bouncing wildly underneath the table during breakfast or debriefs.

At first, none of it made sense to him. He thought it was simple signs of anxiety, and for that, he truly thought that if one bad massion made you close up this much, you wouldn’t last long enough to see a second one. But when he returned to his quarters and searched up all of your stims that he’d taken mental notes of over the course of the week, things clicked.

He didn’t know much about autism. To his embarrassment, you were the first person with autism that he’d actively been around on a daily basis. Everything he’d seen made complete sense, and that last puzzle piece he was trying so hard to fit seemed to fall right into place.

Simon took it upon himself to educate himself. He, too, had his own struggles that not many people had an understanding of, and now that he knew what made sense, he didn’t want you to continue hiding yourself away for the sake of the rest of the team.

It started off small.

When Simon would notice you picking at your fingernails, he’d place a large hand over yours to stop you without sparing a glance in your direction. If he wasn’t there to stop you, he’d silently wrap your fingers up in cute bandages he purchased himself, because he noticed you liked them more than the typical brown ones.

If he noticed you zone out and lose a piece of yourself, where your eyes would find the walls and focus in on them as if they were the most interesting thing in the world, he’d gently grab your shoulder with means to snap you out of it and remind you that he was there with you.

At first, you were surprised when Simon began showing you these subtle signs of companionship. He hadn’t shown any interest in you up until this point, but as time went on, you found yourself actively seeking out that safe space that Simon was slowly building for you.

You crawled your way out of that hole you found yourself in and began returning to normalcy; except now, you didn’t feel you had to mask all the time.

When you returned to your rambling moments, your hand would subconsciously find its way to Simon’s, grasping and fiddling with his fingers while you spoke. He’d never pull his hand away, and instead, he’d sit there quietly with his full attention on you, eyes soft and affectionate from beneath his mask.

Often times, when he’d head to the mess hall to grab a snack or a drink for himself, he began to bring you something back as well – cookies, chips, you name it. If he knew you liked it, he’d snag a couple of whatever it was and place it in front of you without a word (and would absolutely ignore Johnny’s childish whines of how he never did that for him).

This back and forth between the two of you didn’t go unnoticed, and when Gaz nudged Johnny when the three of them sat in the debrief room together, claiming that Simon had a crush, he didn’t blatantly deny it.

Simon wasn’t sure what it was he felt for you. He wanted to see you happy, that he knew for sure, but when Gaz and Johnny continued to feed into their teasing remarks, he was beginning to think that, okay, yeah, maybe he had a bit of a crush.

It took him months to even proclaim this confession to you. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, or god forbid you didn’t feel the same way, didn’t want you to close up on him like you had with others before. Being your safe space was something he took pride in, and for a man who had no knowledge months ago on how to approach you in a way that showed he understood, he didn’t want to ruin that.

That wasn’t at all what happened, though. When he had the gall to tell you, you were practically bursting at the seams. Hands moving wildly, feet causing you to bounce with excitement as you eagerly confessed your own feelings for him. He was scared your lips were crack open from how widely you were smiling and babbling on about your affection.

And when he had the chance to kiss you? He did it with so much tenderness, keeping it as gentle as possible, hands only cupping your cheeks when you told him it was okay.

You had never met someone who was so passionate about you, that they’d learn everything about you. He knew your quirks, your hyperfixations, your interests, your stims. He knew more about you than he did himself at this point.

To have somebody cherish you in such a way that they’d go that far for you, even when they themselves aren’t partial to getting attached to people, it was all Simon ever hoped to make you feel, and it was all you ever wanted to feel understood and accepted.

Simon would happily assure you of that any day.

—

thank u for this idea anon!! i really hope it lived up to your standards, i tried to make it as accurate as possible while trying not to make the stims too specific and detailed since i know many people have different ones and that autism is not linear! <3 please enjoy fluffy simon because he’s my favorite

[darlingghoulette]

blame the “hitting on your mom as a punishment” tiktok i just saw that literally blew my brain up. established because they’re disgustingly in love and because i say so

Eddie would normally consider himself pretty immune to the roar of arguing teenagers. Chaos surrounds their little Party. They’re not a quiet bunch when all together. It’s all shoving and yelling, giggling and roughhousing. Carpet-burned battle scars from the floor of Steve’s living room.

Lord knows Eddie himself wasn’t an inside-voice kind of person. He was certainly wont to standing on coffee tables and screeching demands for the remote when it was unjustly stolen away by villainous hands.

Eddie loved these people to death, and they were a lot of fucking fun to hang out with, it’s just this...this was an unreal level of noise. A normal sleepover night turned a little too rowdy, the adolescents celebrating the start of Summer with a bang.

Steve had already asked them to keep it down four times this evening. Nothing seemed to calm them. Not requests. Not threats of being sent home. Usually their Dungeon Master threatening their characters’ souls did the trick, but no go. 

Getting teenagers to listen? A feat more impossible than defeating creatures from an alternate universe. 

Dustin and Erica were in a bitching match about the best D&D class. Lucas and Mike had been fighting over movie choices for the last half hour. Eddie’s money was on the VHS player breaking before that, the constant mishandling and shoving of tapes had the poor thing practically smoking.

Will, ever the diplomat, was trying to be an impartial party when asked his movie opinions. Which, of course, caused more yelling. 

Max and El had been the only ones being semi-quiet, but that quickly ended when they followed through on their surprise attack pillow fight, pummeling the boys senseless and causing the already unbearable volume to kick into overdrive. Eddie could practically feel Steve’s migraine building, even from where the dude had retreated to the kitchen. Dinner had been pizza. Quick. Easy. Clean. Or, it would have been if it hadn’t had been for the food fight. Steve was still in there scrubbing cheese out of his parents’ tiled backsplash. Dishes clattered in the distance when the cacophony hit its crescendo. 

It was the proverbial straw. 

“Alright, that’s it! Hey. Come on, guys. Knock it off,”

Nothing. 

“HEY!”

He maybe overdid it that time, but the absolute ear-splitting boom of a yell he let out stopped the ruckus dead. 

Silence rang for a beat.

Huh. Maybe Eddie should try out incorporating that into his music. He honestly hadn’t known he could get to that range. 

The teenagers in the room stared at him, not cowed in the slightest, but curious enough to know what the hell Eddie’s problem was. Max was the first one to quirk an eyebrow at him.  “Geez, need attention much?” 

Eddie folded his arms to show he meant business. “Steve has asked you guys to tone it down. You’re waking the fucking dead. Why don’t you guys, like, actually go be good human beings and help him clean up your mess you all made in the kitchen, huh?” 

Lucas snorted. “Yeah, okay, mom. Why don’t you go help him, you guys will probably just make out in there, anyway.” 

It was a teasing comment. Meant to jokingly rib before getting back to doing whatever the hell they wanted to do.

But, see. That just gave him an idea. 

Never let it be said Eddie couldn’t be creative with his punishments. He was a DM after all. 

“Alllllllright. New plan. Listen up or suffer, ankle biters,” 

He really didn’t appreciate the snickers that brought about when he was trying to be intimidating. Rude. 

“You going to send us to our room or something? I’m real scared,” Erica’s scathing, dry wit was unparalleled, truly. 

“Nope. Better. It’s a new rule: You little shitheads give me attitude and don’t listen, I hit on your babysitter.”

It was silent for a minute, brains audibly computing that statement and coming up ERROR. Will hesitantly spoke up. 

“Uh, Eddie, I really don’t think that’s--”

“Yeah, what the fuck?” Mike interrupted. “Why would you beating up Steve hurt us? I mean, like, I guess it would emotionally, but that’s fucked up, man.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, still smirking wickedly as his plan solidified.  “Oh, I don’t mean that kind of hitting, young Wheeler. Though, it may yet get physical--Hey, Steve?” He called out. The sink in the kitchen shut off after a second.

“Yeah?” 

“Can you come here?” 

The kids shuffled around on the floor warily as the other man walked into the living room. The energy had obviously shifted, it was probably an odd vibe to walk in to, but Eddie cut Steve off before he could ask any questions.

“You tired?”

“Uh, no. I’m fine--”

“It’s just you just keep on runnin’ through my mind constantly. I figured you’d be exhausted, sweetheart,” Eddie purred, the words cloyingly sweet and full of exaggerated charm. 

There was a countdown, three, two, one...

A collective groan let out. A few uncomfortable laughs.  “Dude, what the hell?” 

“You guys agreed not to be gross in front of us!”

“Oh, my god, can I actually get sick from how cheesy that was?” 

Eddie had to work at keeping in character when his very first line had pulled the intended reaction. He was already reaching forward to curl an arm around Steve, pulling him in in a slow, sultry attempt at being smooth. 

“What? Can’t I be sweet on my guy? You all will understand when you’re in love one day. Right, sugar?” 

Fake gags and retching sounds, too dramatic to be real protests, but still indignant and annoyed. Eddie was pretty sure Dustin slapped a hand over his eyes.

“Uh...yes?” Steve, who had previously looked like a car accident had happened directly in front of him, was catching on to the play. He eyed the disgruntled floor-children with a growing grin and let Eddie snuggle up to him.

God, his baby was so clever. He always knew what Eddie was thinking. 

Too busy having a non-verbal conversation with Steve on how to best annoy the kids, Eddie didn’t see Mike turning his attention back to the tv. He did, however, hear him telling the others to “Just ignore them, they’ll get all gushy and leave us alone.” 

Oh, Michael, Michael. Wrong move. 

“How you doing, babygirl?” Steve flushed, deep and red and--huh. Okay. Revisiting that one in the future. “You good? You need anything? Your head hurting, sweet thing? I can kiss it better,”  Eddie ducked forward to kiss Steve’s cheek. It was chaste, a sweet little thing...that Eddie made infinitely worse by the smacking, obnoxious kissy sounds he emulated there. The chorus of groans and protests started up again. He didn’t even pull his face away to call over to them. 

“I’m sorry, is that attitude? Am I hearing more attitude?”

“Dude, Eddie, noooo!” 

“Jesus, it’s like watching your parents make out, oh my god.” 

“You guys, let’s just go already,” 

“Yeah, I’ll take washing dishes over this,” 

The grossed out teenagers whooshed past them. Grumbling and glaring--except Eleven, who smiled up at them sweetly--leaving Steve and Eddie standing in the living room, still wrapped up together. 

It was too tempting then, with the kids safely out of range, for Eddie to resist the temptation to drop his kisses a little lower down Steve’s neck. To let them get a little less chaste. Just a little.

What can he say? He’s a weak man. 

“That was evil,” Steve hummed. His shoulders dropped, though, relaxing into Eddie’s hold, the closest thing they’ve had to quiet all night settling in. 

“Hey, I accomplished two things. Got them to chill out and I get the perk of feeling you up in the middle of sleepover night. It’s a win-win.” 

A crash and a muffled argument broke out in the kitchen before Steve could respond to that. 

The audible scuffling was cut off by Eddie calling out “Your ass looks great in these jeans tonight, Harrington!” 

The fierce whispers and shushing were enough to get both of the older boys cackling loudly. 

[pearlywritings]

A slip of the tongue

synopsis: as smart as Alhaitham is, sometimes he blurts out things without thinking twice. It's good, however, that your husband knows when an apology is due, even though it doesn't mean you (and your friend) won't come up with something to pay him back with~

pairing and characters: Alhaitham x fem!reader

tw: established relationship (marriage), little hurt/instant comfort, a bit suggestive, Kaveh is lowkey couple's marriage counselor

word count: 3.7k+ words

a/n: wow, finally releasing this one out of the basement!

Here is the second part btw

Your cheek starts hurting from how long the knuckles of your fist have been digging into it. Fingertips drum on your knee, as legs stay crossed and stare fixed on the figure before you, sitting on the chair across the table and not taking the eyes off of the book pages. The most infuriating part of it? The figure is talking.

"...and so you should be prepared for Rajkumar's endless questions. He might not have any relation to Haravatat or languages at all, but he has a bone to pick with me, so being my wife puts you in a position to attack. And you know how annoying it is to converse with an idiot."

Yeah, probably as much as hearing what you are already aware of. You love your husband, you truly do, but sometimes the urge to smack the back of his head and tell him to shut up is too tempting.

All you said was that you were a little nervous and mentioned that tomorrow is indeed one of the most important days for you. After all, you are going to defend your second thesis, one you spent years to complete and pass all sorts of verification, reviews and censorship. Having the Scribe as your husband had both its perks and drawbacks in the process - he could easily push your work forward to the necessary people in charge of all the mentioned above stages of approbation, but then the fact he was your spouse put a label on you for those who were aware, and it said “Needs to be examined more thoroughly”. Though come to think of it, it’s pretty illogical.

Fortunately you never had troubles with that - after all your brain was in place, and both topics of your first and now current papers were innovative. Moreso, many of your Haravatat professors agree on your academic success and some of them expressed their hope to see you in the role of their colleague in the future.

But it’s for the future. First you need to become the Dastur, and for that you need to defend your thesis in the present. You have absolutely everything ready, no one knows your topic better than you are (maybe only Alhaitham can come close, since he read and reread it multiple times, helping with editing and providing impartial perspective), and years at the Akademyia taught you how to withstand the piercing eyes and prickling words of the jury. You will be fine.

Or you thought so, before just one phrase of yours started this whole exchange that is now happening in your kitchen.

“...and remember the part in the third chapter we discussed with you. This will be the one they’ll claw at, since it’s a turning point in a whole theory and I heard some of them already criticizing it,” the male hums, turning another page, eyes scanning the words written on a yellowed from time piece of paper. This seems the last comment of his, as he falls silent, reaching for the cup of coffee you’ve made him - in the process of which you were short-sighted to voice your concern.

When a minute passes and you do not answer anyhow to any of the valuable advice he’s just given you, Alhaitham lowers his book and stares at you. You keep drumming your fingers on your knee, eyes boring into him and almost unblinking, and it’s not hard for such an observant man to notice a barely-veiled displeasure in your tired eyes and a scowl.

"You know you could've just said you are worried about tomorrow too, and leave it at that?"

Alhaitham blinks, hand frozen in the middle of lowering the mug back on the table. He is holding your gaze and you can practically see the thoughts running through his mind, he is clearly contemplating how to answer your bold statement.

“Why would I be worried?” He finally answers with a question on your own, putting the mug on the flat surface. “It’s just a thesis defense, and if you get rid of your nervousness you’ll see that you already have the Dastur title in your pocket. Tomorrow is just a formality for you.”

“So you are not coming to watch me tomorrow?” Your scowl and frown deepens, fingers stopping abusing your knee and curling in a fist instead. Your husband sighs, marking the page with a bookmark you’ve made for him and closing the volume he’s been on for the past week. Then his captivating eyes are back on you.

“Scribe isn’t required to attend. Besides-”

“Yeah, yeah, you know my work enough to not hear anything new in my presentation,” you interrupt him and he can clearly hear rising anger in your voice that wasn’t there before. It actually manages to shut him up. “As my husband, as my support, are you going to come?”

The man feels a twinge of guilt in his heart. He always prided himself of his intelligence and attentiveness, yet just now he failed to assume what exactly you expected of his presence. Of course he’d want to give you a peace of mind by being there, but it seems he is too used to uttering the same phrase every single time someone asks him to come, that it was out faster than he had a moment to think it over properly.

He sees a bit too late how your face drops when he doesn’t give you an answer immediately - it looks like his pause appeared to be hesitance to you. He slightly panics when you lower your gaze and move to uncross your legs to stand up, having an almost iron grip on the back of the chair.

“Wait- Dear, I will come,” at that your eyes flicker at him, with doubt on display in your beautiful orbs. “I promise, I’ll be there.”

“I thought you didn’t like to be around idiots the whole day,” you huff, crossing your arms, reminding him of how unflattering his words towards some of his colleagues were. You do not mean to act childish, but tomorrow is really important to you, and obviously you’d want to have your husband be there to share it with you.

Alhaitham puts the book aside and stands up as well, rounding the table and coming closer to you. His fingers deftly touch your elbow, and you will yourself not to jerk it, some annoyance still bubbling in your system.

“That is correct. However, you are not one of them,” he murmurs, caressing your arm. You huff again, but this time your posture is more relaxed. “Besides, all you need is to be confident, and if my presence can assure you that, then I’ll be more than happy to be there for you.”

You give him a long stare. Your drilling eyes to his bewitching ones, searching for the truth in the greenish depths, while he stands still, waiting patiently, expecting your verdict silently. It’s as your frown softens, he knows you’ve found what you’ve been looking for in this kind of staring contest.

“Oh Archons, Alhaitham…” You shake your head with a small smile and the man feels relief washing over him. You are no longer mad at him. At least, it seems so. That is definitely good. “We’ve been married for years and it still surprises me how you can be a jerk - affectionately - one moment, and a completely sweet guy another.”

“Maybe just as quick you are switching from fuming to forgiving,” his palms are warm as they slide up your arms, featherly resting on your shoulders. Your smile widens a little and you meet him in the middle when he leans to press his forehead to yours.

“Yeah, yeah… But to your credit you were quick to fix your attitude, and as long as it’s sincere, I am grateful.”

“It is sincere,” he says with emphasis. “You know I am not the one to change my mind lightly.

Or rather realizing when an apology is due.

You hum, content with his answer. Yet, a mischievous glint finds its place in your eyes.

“Even though you are forgiven, I am still complaining to Kaveh about the mean and heartless husband of mine.”

“Of course you are,” he rolls his eyes, but you know it’s playful. He knows it too, and the shift in the mood is apparent, and he is thankful for its course to the positive destination. “I guess it’s deserved.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t be glaring at you murderously. Much.”

Alhaitham only sighs at your giggles. He could care less of what the blond architect would say about him, so he’ll survive some annoyed buzzing from the senior, and if the little exchange which is about to occur makes you happy - he doesn’t mind. Plus it will be good for you to take your mind off of tomorrow.

“I’ll trust you on that,” he finally says, slowly leaning back. You smile, patting the back of his hand still resting on your shoulder in reassurance. With a promise to collect you from your ‘girlish talk’ (you swat his shoulder at that) in a couple of hours, your husband helps you to make a new pot of tea. It’s quite ironic that this one is gonna be emptied while he’s the main focus of the conversation.

Minutes later, when you leave the kitchen with a tray, Alhaitham can faintly hear the knocks on the other end of the house, and the door opening not a minute later, the voice of the man you two have been housing for months coming clear and concerned. Kaveh remained your friend even when he and Alhaitham got in a horrible fight over their beliefs and you were partially the reason why the Haravatat graduate was convinced to let the blonde stay. Though loud, flamboyant and snarky, there is some perks of having him around - even if the architect always complains how he didn’t sign up to be a marriage counselor, he’s never let you or your husband be in a conflict for long (fortunately it happened really rarely), being your shoulder to tear up on or begrudgingly becoming an ear to be talked of by the other man and the foot that would kick Alhaitham into action or the hand that would gently nudge you in the right direction.

Or, just like tonight, simply be ‘your girl’ to chat with.

Alhaitham, as promised, lets you be for a couple of hours, meanwhile busying himself with his book. To outsiders this scene may appear weird and paint the Scribe in an awful light as a husband - but it is just like that with this man. And the strange dynamic the three of you have while staying under one roof: a wife, a husband and their… loquacious canary-like-therapist.

Only when it’s close to the time you usually go to sleep, does he also end up before the door of Kaveh’s temporary room, and firmly knocks three times.

“What?” Unsurprisingly it's the blonde’s voice, and by the tone of it he is pissed. The ash-haired male chooses to ignore him.

“Darling, let’s go to bed,” he calls for you softly. 

Alhaitham hears shuffling and muffled curses the architect surely prepared for him and some short, but incomprehensible conversation happening between you two. Not a moment later though, the door opens revealing your face, and your husband can’t help but feel extra weight lifted off his shoulders. No line reappeared between your eyebrows, no pout and no distress is written on your face. Quite the contrary, when your eyes meet, you give him the same warm smile you graced him with back in the kitchen.

“Sure, let’s go. It’s quite late already and we need to wake up early tomorrow,” you hum, exiting the room. Through the gap Alhaitham spots Kaveh sitting over some blueprints with two mugs on the table and a chair placed on the opposite side of the fine piece of furniture. When the architect lifts his eyes to glare at him, the Scribe slams the door closed. To your bedroom you returned with arms linked.

The silence of your shared space is comforting and is only disturbed by your light steps and rustle of changed clothes. The Scribe glances at you every two minutes, still a tiny bit concerned about that animatic exchange you had back in the kitchen.

“You know I will come, right?” The man suddenly asks you, as you’re fluffing the pillows. Your eyes slightly widen for a brief moment, so quickly that he almost misses it, but then they soften again as you chuckle.

“Yes, I know, dear. Sorry I reacted the way I did initially. It seems I really was pent up after all.”

“I could tell. You looked like you could bite my head o- ow!” He gasps when you throw your pillow into his face, which he catches at the last second.

“Oh, shut it, or I might get mad again,” but there is no anger in your eyes, only hardly veiled mischief. He drops your weapon of choice back onto bed and raises his hands in defense.

“Okay, okay, point taken. Any way I can make it up to you?”

At that your eyes strangely glint, and the scholar can’t place his finger on what exactly feels off about it. But it does.

“Actually you can. I’d like you to wake me up when you do, and let me use the shower first.”

And that’s it? Well, odd, but not disturbingly odd. Surely you wouldn’t go as far as to play some pranks on him by mixing something in his shampoo - you are way too intelligent for that. Also not one for revenge. 

“Of course. I will wake you when I do so myself, and let you use the bathroom first.”

Even if the mornings are not Alhaitham’s forte, he still opens his eyes disgustingly early, so sleeping for a bit more while you are at your morning routine sounds nice. Not as nice as doing it with you in his arms, but still quite nice.

“Thank you, dear. Now, if you are going to read-”

“Not tonight. You need sleep,” to that you smile warmly, crawling under the blankets, which he is quick to follow. You do not deny his embrace, and willingly scoot closer, extending an arm to put around his waist, as he does the same. Nor you turn away from a kiss he places on your forehead, pecking his chin in response.

“Good night, Alhaitham.”

“Good night, Y/n.”

True to his word, your husband pulls you out of the dreamland just moments later after exiting it himself. Cerulean eyes drink in your sleepy face contorting in displeasure, arms reaching over your head, and body arching in a morning stretch. He can’t help himself, leaning close and pressing a kiss just above the hem of your chemise, relishing the feeling of your heart thumping against his lips. You yawn, reaching a hand into his hair, but your breath hitches, when his mouth is suddenly on your throat, peppering it with soft pecks.

“Mmm… If you are trying to make up for yesterday you are a bit late,” your groggy voice is so adorable to the man. With you he tends to forget how to rationalize things. Yesterday was one of the times when his ‘Alhaitham for anyone else but his wife’ slipped into his interaction with you, the behavior he’s been trying for years to suppress when it comes to you. Now he knows he should’ve acted differently, and regrets his unique way of trying to give you reassurance. If only he-

“Are you overthinking again?” 

Your question makes him emerge back to reality. Eyes meet, and his heart skips a beat when you smile at him. Archons, you are beautiful.

“You know I am joking? Yesterday was yesterday, and you are already making it up to me, right?”

Words can’t describe how much he loves you, and at this moment he feels like he’ll never be able to express it fully.

“Right. Shower is all yours. Also,” he leans in again, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “good morning.”

Your smile gets wider and you wrap your arms around his frame to kiss his cheek.

“Morning, Haitham.”

With you gone to the shower, the man buries himself in your pillow, inhaling the lingering scent. Sometimes he thinks he doesn’t deserve you. Your husband is intelligent enough to evaluate his own deeds and behavior, so he knows he is far from perfect to be someone’s partner. Yet, here you are, loving and accepting all his flaws - not without some complaint, but you are trying.

He might come off as arrogant to some people, but in arguments with you, he can tell when it’s his fault and not blame you for giving him a cold shoulder and requesting some space. He might look like he doesn’t care, but he cares for you, for your well-being, for your likes and dislikes, for your opinion, carefully storing all this valuable information in his brain, to show how much you mean to him. He is aware he has a long road ahead of him to get rid of all of his annoying conversing habits, but he is willing to keep trying for you. He seems to not show gratitude to anyone, but he is so grateful that you remain by his side, going as far as telling him you are proud to be his wife.

He wants you to know that it’s mutual.

That being said, Alhaitham is a smart man, but when he himself exits the bathroom after his shower time, his brain is reduced to just one thought.

You are absolutely gorgeous.

His gaze is chained to your pretty fingers, rolling the long, dark green stocking up your left leg. His throat bobs, when the elastic hem of it snaps against your skin, squeezing the flesh of your thigh a little. Then you take the second one, elegantly lifting the other leg and repeating the taunting process, but this time he is here to watch it from the beginning to the very end.

You happily hum, observing your work, and, satisfied, get on your feet, adjusting the band of your panties a little. Archons, you are wearing a matching set of the richest green shade. Lace leaves little to imagination, as his eyes flicker up to your chest, noting the pretty, natural swell of it and the outline of your nipples, and then down, as you turn around and bend to grab the shirt from the bed, demonstrating to him your ass and thighs.

His hand almost reaches out to touch you, to get a hold of the round globe, to sink his lithe fingers in your flesh. After all, your husband is not above earthly pleasures.

But your voice snaps him out of it.

"My love, if you keep standing like this in the middle of the room with just a towel on and no intention to dress, you might be late for breakfast," you chide him not even turning around and throw on the shirt, hiding the bra and some of the lower half, yet still leaving a bit of an appetizing view for an eye.

Alhaitham wills himself to tear the almost burning gaze away from you and redirect it to his own clothes, already prepared and neatly hanging on a chair. You mischievously smile as he takes a step to move past your figure. He's kept alarmingly silent and you are dying to know what reaction he has for your little plan. 

The man has just a second to react when you abruptly turn around and stumble into him. Big palms instantly grab your hips to steady you against his chest, and the heart quickens at the feeling of soft lace under his fingertips, peeking from beneath the hem of the shirt he accidentally crumpled in the process. Your hands on his chest are so warm, put out just in time to catch yourself, and Alhaitham finds himself thinking of how would've it felt if your chests collided - maybe the thin material of the only layer of clothes you have on paired with some flimsy bra would not make any difference from direct skin to skin contact?

"Ah, sorry, 'haithy," you sheepishly smile up at him, eyes soft and staring innocently, "Are you alright? I haven't heard you speak ever since you left for the shower…"

Archons, please, don't let his voice betray him.

"I'm," he quickly clears his throat, "alright. Was just about to start dressing."

You hum, pushing onto his pectorals to move away and continue with your own - though slightly changed - routine, but strong fingers flex, keeping you in place by the sheer hold on your hips. You look at him inquiringly, ignoring how the very tips of his thumbs just barely slip under the thin material of your panties to caress your hip bones. It's almost an absentminded action.

"What's with this lingerie?" He finally drops the question swirling on his tongue ever since he first laid his eyes on the tantalizing sight. It's hard to hold back a smirk - you admit you were a bit doubtful if it'd actually grab your husband's attention. Who knew the stoic man was into it…

"Oh, this?" Nonchalantly you tug on the collar of your shirt and Alhaitham sharply inhales upon catching a glimpse of your barely covered breast again. "Do not worry, habibi, it is not to seduce you," he is not that sure about it. 

Taking his hands in yours, you pry them off of your body and put them back to his sides, gracing his waist just above the towel with your touch. He shivers.

"I know it's different from what I usually wear, especially to work," you admit, turning around again, to grab the robes of the Akademyia's scholar. "But I really-really loved this one I purchased a couple of weeks ago on that outing with the girls. I feel so beautiful in it," fuck, you are. "And today is a special day. Want to have some confidence, you know?"

And as the rest of your body disappears under the long article of clothing, Alhaitham is finally aware of what this whole thing is about.

It's going to be an agonizingly endless day, where the only thing he can do is watch.

[gemissleeping]

Velveteen|Theodore Nott

"He knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else."

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: As the last surviving witch with ties to an ancient form of magic, Dumbledore has you tracking down horcrux hotspots.

Length: 2.2k

Notes: Angst mostly, some fluff. Blood, swearing, smoking. Percy Weasley hate (valid). This is just a little something I had the urge to write. May or may not continue as a series at this stage.

Fuck trees, fuck trolls, and fuck that smug little Weasley auror from the Ministry. He was a rat in y/n's eyes. A scheming, conniving rodent of a man. How he had even tracked her out there was beyond her. She'd made sure to take all of the precautions Snape had given her.

She'd apparated out with Professor Dumbledore. A good fifty kilometres from the point of interest too, might she add. Fifty kilometres she'd had to trek over two days to remain undetected. On foot. All for nothing in the end thanks to Percy.

Bootlicker.

There was no worse feeling than a failed task. Especially when it was one of her most important to date. The map was atrocious really, they clearly had no idea what they were looking for. Just that y/n should be able to sense it. Sniff it out as though she were some kind of blood hound.

Percy she had sensed. Thankfully she had gotten out before he'd seen her face, or the sea cave entrance she'd been eyeing on the cliffs below. She'd have to go back now. Which was absolutely wonderful and definitely did not make her want to tear her hair out.

Merlin, she thought she might hit the next Weasley she came across just for looking like him if she didn't calm down soon. Not Ginny of course, Ginny was lovely. Ronald was fair game though. Fred she would also be impartial to.

To top things off, y/n now found herself fleeing from the edge of the Forbidden Forest towards the castle. She'd missed the welcome dinner, which was a shame. But in all honesty, may have been a small mercy at this point. At least this way most of the students would be asleep, and she could get into the castle undetected.

It wasn't Dumbledore's fault that the end location of the Portkey had seemingly been inhabited by a troll since he had selected it. But how hard was it to check up on, really? Especially knowing she was wandless and unable to cast any regular spells. She'd blasted it to bits, of course. Not before it had gotten one good shot at her though, flinging her into the nearest pine tree.

It was just rather inconsiderate she thought.

The dizziness was setting in as she entered the castle via the Viaduct Bridge, snaking her way down to the dungeons. Making sure to grip every railing or wall available to her. Merlin was on her side that night, not one Professor crossed her path while she had floated through the dim halls. Once the concrete snake had appeared, revealing the door, she almost fell over with relief

The stairs felt so horrifically long, but finally she reached the dim, candle-lit depths of the Slytherin common room. Keeling forward for a moment, y/n placed her hands on her knees as she tried to calm her breathing. Her left palm came away bloodied. There was a tear in her stockings, and a huge gash across her knee.

y/n groaned, making her way around the corner to the couches her friends had claimed in third year. She couldn't wait to fall into one, maybe never wake if she had her way. And she did fall, only into Theodore Nott's eyeline. He looked as though he'd been waiting there for hours from the sweltering anger on his face. She took a deep breath, knowing she was about to get her ass handed to her for a second time that night.

"Nice of you to notify me of your delay."

"Does it look as though I planned on it?" y/n mumbled, sinking into the green velvet couch across from him. She sighed as her tension eased for the first time in days. Head lolling against the couch's back. Her hands shielding her eyes as a headache set in. While Theodore sat deathly still, awaiting further explanation with a burdened gaze. Something told y/n the burden was her.

"Mind if I borrow your wand?" y/n groaned from behind her palms.

There was only silence for a moment, before she heard him shift across from her. When she lifted her head his wand was resting on the table between them. He was pissed, beyond apprehension. But he had softened at her shattered appearance, the blood on her knee. Which she had now unknowingly painted on her cheek.

"Thank you," y/n sighed in relief, half expecting to have to fight for it. She worked quickly, sealing up the gash and cleansing the blood, pine needles, and dirt from her skin. Finishing by stitching her stockings together again. When she finally glanced back up, Theodore was frowning. His eyes sweeping her body up and down as she finished her work. He looked up from the closing threads of her stockings as they meshed around her knee, one eyebrow raised.

"Have something you'd like to say?" y/n grumbled, holding his wand out for him to take. He wasn't a fan of that question, or her attitude. His expression soured once again, all past concern pushed away. y/n brushed more pine needles off of her skirt, too tired and sore to care. She was spent, so completely crushed from the past two days. The knowledge that she had no choice but to continue until she succeeded wasn't helping.

"Have you always behaved like this, or do you just enjoying making me worry insufferably?" Theo leaned forward, and took the wand from her outstretched hand. His fingertips gently brushing her grazed knuckles.

"It's nice to see you too, Teddy," y/n laughed tiredly, shedding more pine needles as she picked them from her stockings. If she shut her eyes now, she worried they were so heavy she might fall asleep sitting up.

"Where have you been? I searched the whole train up and down for you. You missed the Sorting Ceremony," Theo hissed.

"It's a good thing we already know what house I'm in then, isn't it?"

"That's not funny y/n." He scolded, the concern in his voice thinly veiled by the frown he was wearing. She had no idea what it had been like for him, these past few hours especially.

"I need a cigarette before we get into it," y/n sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Everything was aching, she would find solace in a smoke or two. He didn't move. "Please?"

"It's late."

"You're awake," she countered, a hopeful look on her face that he knew he wouldn't be able to dissapoint.

"Because of you," he grumbled, running his hands through his messy curls.

"I'll take that as a yes, be right back," and she was off, disappearing into the dormitories.

"Do as you please, you always do," Theodore huffed under his breath.

He needed one too if he was honest. He felt as though he'd aged a few decades from the fear he'd been wearing all evening while he fretted over her disappearance.

She reappeared a minute or so later, the heavy overcoat he'd brought her for her birthday last year hanging off of her shoulders. The pair took their usual route until they found themselves at the top of the hill just outside the grounds, overlooking Hagrid's hut. y/n stood, overlooking the moonlit valley beneath them. The peace quickly disintegrating into swearing as the wind prevented her from sparking up. Theo had been hanging behind slightly, still not having forgiven her. But upon hearing the quiet curses falling from her lips, he couldn't help but walk over.

"You shield, I'll light it," he instructed, y/n doing as she was told and holding the sides of her coat up.

He closed the open space with his chest in two gentle steps. His thumb running over the flint of the lighter as the wind went quiet and y/n's face grew warm. He brought it to her lips, unable to keep himself from looking as he lit the cigarette between them. She took a relieved drag as the flame took. Theo got out his own cigarette, leaning down to press its tip to hers. He inhaled, spreading the flame between them. The grass was dewey beneath them as they smoked. Theo looked over to y/n, trailing over her body just to make sure.

"You've got pine needles in your hair, by the way," Theo murmured as he took another drag. His eyes flickering from hers, to the ground as he tapped his cigarette.

"Oh for fuck's sake," y/n heaved, tilting her head back in exasperation. She began ripping the hair ties from her two braids and brushing her fingers through them to shake the needles loose. Balancing her cigarette between her lips as she did.

"Still there," Theo mused, studying her with an amused expression as her frustration grew.

She passed him her cigarette wordlessly, which he took. She'd have rather not set herself alight on top of everything today. Then tipped her head forward, carelessly dragging her fingertips through it to rid herself of them. Once she was done, she flung her hair back. Raising an eyebrow in Theo's direction. He only gave her a saccharine smile as he took a drag from her cigarette, keeping it lit.

"Still?" y/n asked in disbelief, taking her cigarette from his lips and placing it between her own.

"Come here, sit," He shook his head, as though she was the most useless creature he'd ever seen. Theo walked over to the steps nearby, sitting on the top one. She followed suit, tucking her coat beneath her and taking a seat two steps down. She dipped her head back, leaning on her elbows. Her head resting between his knees. Theo couldn't help but admire the way her hair fell, even in its current mess.

Pressing the nub of his cigarette into the grass after one final drag, Theo brushed his hands off. His fingers quickly lacing through her hair in gentle streams as he dragged out the remaining pine needles. Christ there were a lot of them. He ran his fingers through it again, carefully to ensure he didn't snag anything. He did it again, and again. The pine needles were long gone. But her breathing had grown steady, and her shoulders relaxed. And that mattered far more to him than some pine needles.

"All clear?" She whispered sleepily, her head falling all the way back to meet his eyes.

"All clear," Theo echoed, the dried blood beneath her eye making him wince. "You missed this though," he reached out, pressing his thumb to his tongue and running it under her eye to brush the blood away.

"Ew," y/n gasped, but if she was honest, she was too tired to care. She swatted his hand away gently. Taking another drag from her cigarette which had been resting beneath her knuckles.

"Need I remind you that you once sneezed in my mouth?" Theo chimed, knowing it was his trump card, and likely would be for eternity.

"That was literally in First Year and it was an accident," she mumbled.

"Still stands." He shrugged.

"You loved it, don't lie." That got a smile out of him, however unwillingly.

"You're foul. Now tell me why you came in several hours late, looking like a troll dragged you through a bush backwards."

y/n's eyes widened slightly at his statement, choking on the dregs of her cigarette in disbelief. His smile vanished, eyes flickering between her own as he gauged her reaction. His jaw clenched as she sat up swiftly.

"Tell me you're joking."

"I think it's bedtime," y/n breathed, going to push herself up and off of the steps. But Theo's hand found her wrist like a vice, pulling her back down before she had a chance. He leant forward as she stumbled closer to him from the force. She just managed to catch herself from falling straight into him.

"I don't think so. What was that?" He said lowly, staring into her eyes. She was eternally fucked now. He could always tell when she lied, and he never tolerated it.

"Just leave it Theo, please," she pleaded, not having the energy.

"I left it all Summer. All of your disappearances, all of your little quests. You promised me it would be done by the end of the Summer. I have it in fucking writing, so don't tell me to leave it. What is going on?" He seethed, and y/n found herself unable to meet his eyes.

"Teddy, you know I can't-"

"God I'm so sick of hearing that." He laughed, a cruel sound, not his usual light-hearted teasing. "The Professors have you off, running around like some toy soldier, but you're not allowed to tell me what for. Then they're not even there to help you when things go wrong?"

"It's-"

"Despicable is what it is."

"Would you listen to me?"

"I would, but it's not like you'd be able to tell me anything, is it?"

The words left y/n silent, because they were true. She wished so terribly that they weren't. That she hadn't done it.

"I've always told you everything, y/n. I don't understand why-"

"I made the unbreakable vow."

The words rushed out of her as though she were going to be sick. The silence that followed her confession only made it more probable. Theo's features had darkened as her confession sunk in. He let go of her wrist, his hand wound into a fist as he looked out at the treeline of the forbidden forest. He stayed that way for a few moments as y/n stood before him, silently begging him to say something.

"Dumbledore," he breathed out finally, his voice straining with the effort of evenness, "you made the unbreakable vow, with Dumbledore?"

"I had to Theo, it was too important. They can't take any risks. Not until everything is done. I wanted to tell you, more than anything. I still want to-"

"Do you suppose he's ever made Potter make one?" Theo turned to her, looking as though he was about to set them both alight.

Her explanations fell dead on her tongue. They both knew he hadn't. Both knew what Dumbledore was scared of when it came to her.

"I didn't think so either," Theo conceded to her silence, his voice turning hollow. y/n felt something within her crack at the truth of his words. He was wrong, or at least she wanted him to be.

"It's different."

"I'm not sure it is," Theo countered, and he knew he was right in saying it.

Because it wasn't any different. The difference was trust. They were using her up and once they were done they would spit her out, or worse. He wasn't going to be able to sleep easily now.

"You should get to bed, I'll see you at practice tomorrow," he huffed, staring out to the forest again.

y/n stood there for a moment, hoping she could think of something to make it better. But as Theo lit another cigarette, the only thing she felt was tired.

[g1rlr0b1n]

Yet another commission by the amazingly talented @ookamihanta!!! Go check out their page to see more art!!! Their commissions are still open so go check that out as well!!! I highly recommend them!!! 👹

Gods and Demons (Preview)

Damian's preparations for departure were almost complete when Superman hailed him down. For a moment, Damian considered pretending he had not seen him, but ultimately rose to meet the two men who had now landed gracefully beside him and Goliath. He was familiar with the man known as Superman, but the second man was a stranger to him. He was tall with wavy dark locks framing a sharp jawline and piercing steely grey-blue eyes, he bore a resemblance to the other man. He had a pretty good idea now of who he might be. The man's attire was peculiar though, causing Damian to wrinkle his nose slightly in disapproval. He wore a black suit adorned with shimmering silver stars, his deep crimson colored cloak billowing behind him. The most unnerving part of his uniform however, was the obvious missing "S" shield in the center of his chest, leaving the skin underneath exposed for all to see. Damian quickly averted his gaze, focusing back on Superman. “What’s this?” Damian's features contorted in suspicion as Superman extended a piece of paper towards him.

“An olive branch” he replied calmly, then motioned to the tall figure standing next to him, Kal-El cleared his throat, “this is my son, Zod-El. He will be stationed in Tibet with you for the foreseeable future.” There was a moment of tense silence as if to allow for Damian to process the information. Then, Superman spoke again, breaking the stillness. "Consider him an ambassador of good faith," he said firmly.

Damian scoffed, crossing his arms, “Tt. More like a spy to make sure I behave," he retorted with a sharp edge to his voice. The Justice League's true intentions were clear, they had their own agenda, but he intended to manipulate it to his advantage. Despite their lack of trust in Damian's ability to change the League of Assassins, it gave them an excuse to keep him under observation and under their protection. They needed to keep Damian alive regardless of his intentions because the absolute worst case scenario for them would be for him to lose control. It was an obvious choice, he was the only option with ties to the Justice League and a genuine desire to make the world better, even if his methods had not been received well by them. He could only stand to benefit from such a relationship, nonetheless, he’d make them work for it.

Superman let out a weary sigh, his broad shoulders slumping in exhaustion, “you agreed to observation after the attempts on your life," he reminded Damian sternly. The mention of those close calls made Damian flinch slightly, the memories still fresh and painful. Ever since his grandfather’s passing things had not gone as smoothly as anticipated, with everyone with even the slightest of claims coming out of the woodworks, but he survived and he’d continue to do so. Of course, some extra protection would be prudent, even though he had managed to reunite his family giving him the most claim, the attacks still occurred. His mother had even begun to express concern, certain that there was a rat among his inner circle. Damian didn’t want to consider that, the notion that the people he cared for most wanted him dead. Although it was a reality that he hated to admit, he could probably benefit from an impartial set of eyes and ears. Yet, Damian was proud if nothing else and he refused to allow anyone to think him weak.

"That may be," Damian huffed, "but I never agreed to an indefinite placement and certainly not from one of your B-list cast offs." His lip curled teasingly as he surveyed the man clad in black in front of him. He was curious to see how he would react.

The man grit his teeth and extended a hand with a forced smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Dam-”

Damian interrupted firmly, his piercing gaze fixed on the man's face. “You may call me The Demon’s Head.”

The man chuckled nervously as he pushed back some unruly curls from his forehead. “No offense but...” he hesitated before continuing, “I’d rather call you anything else.”

Damian's lips curled into a menacing smile, his pearly whites barred behind a mask of feigned politeness. "Then, may I have the pleasure of calling you Jonathan?" The man remained silent, his expression guarded. Damian pressed on. "surprised that I know your other name?"

He cleared his throat, his voice betraying forced calmness as he responded, "Not really...and it's just Jon."

The smile fell from Damian's face, replaced by a look of disdain, "I'd rather call you anything else." The lack of push back from his opponent was slightly off-putting, it was simply no fun if they just stood there and took it. But then again, what did he really expect from the son of the Big Blue Boy Scout, always so righteous and obedient.

The tension between them hung heavy in the air, like a thick fog that refused to dissipate. Goliath finally broke the awkward silence with a restless shift, his large frame causing the ground to tremble beneath him. "I see there's no point in arguing with you," he grumbled, casting a patronizing look at Jon. "If Super Slut is ready to depart, then we shall." With the grace of a seasoned rider, Damian pulled himself up and swung himself onto his fiery red companion, feeling the heat emanating from its powerful body. Beside him, Jon effortlessly lifted himself off the ground and into the air. The bat dragon spread its massive wings and with a few strong flaps they ascended into the sky.

[oakbuggy]

Liar, Liar chapter 1

Recom!Neteyam x female OC

Summary : Tala of the Tawkami gets captured by a familiar face and to both of their misfortune, they are trapped together due to circumstance. They are extremely vexed by this and each other and also very horny.

Warnings: Minors DNI, non-con+dub-con, explicit smut, dirty talk, authority, power struggle, mentions+depictions of blood, minor violence, character death, marking, biting, scenting

!! Each chapter will have images throughout the chapter, only the AO3 will have the NSFW-uncensored versions. Please keep this in mind as you read !!

Chapter 1 (NSFW) ~5.2k words

AO3 Link Here!

Prev Chapter / Next Chapter

Tala grimaced every time a bullet was fired, noisily ripping through the greenery no matter where it was aimed.

She stayed huddled in a thicket, eyes darting through the leaves and flowers and rain.

Everything had gone so wrong so quickly. They were supposed to be the scouting party, that’s it, it wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. But the tawtute sterile and foul scents proved otherwise.

The sudden downpour helped to mask all individual Navi scents, but it also made it harder to know where anyone was. Seeing a cluster of roots with just enough space for her smaller body to fit, Tala slid into the safety of the crevice, disturbing only blades of grass.

At least, that’s what she hoped.

And she was glad her years of alchemy training didn’t fail her because through the blood, ash, and mist, she smelled a much less offensive sterile scent. The rain was dampening it, but the odor of tawtute fabric stuck to their skin. Just her luck to have a dream walker hovering so close to her, but better her than another. She was technically a warrior, as all alchemists of the Tawkami went through the same rites of passage, but she honestly barely qualified as a fighter. Tala would’ve wildly preferred being someone’s pretty mate and just experiment all day for new recipes and poultices.

Tala stayed absolutely still, her green eyes glued to the entrance of the roots. She looked down at her hands, her entire body folded into the smallest ball she could be, frowning a bit at the scars and scuffles. She could imagine her friend scolding her for paying attention to such things when she was being actively pursued-

A gun’s barrel burst through the entrance of the roots and shot through her hair.

Tala screamed and thrashed, kicking the gun out of the way she forced her body outside of the root’s crevice. She reached into her satchel on her hip and flung coarse powder into the assailant’s face. The rain solidified on the soldier’s face and she scrambled away through the jungle.

The RDA soldier coughed and hissed behind her, empty-handed save for one of the pink flowers that were decorated throughout Tala’s hair. He crushed it and gave chase, abandoning the gun. He didn’t need it.

Tala jumped through all manner of branches and foliage. If she had time to think, Tala would be praying to Eywa now to save her, air burning her lungs.

The dream walker was insufferably graceful, talented at keeping his eyes on her. Tala dared a look back and gasped. She didn’t realize until too late that her foot stepped on only air beyond the edge of a steep glade.

“N-Netey-OOf!” The soldier fully pounced on Tala, which only sent them toppling. Large hands clawed into her sides as the two of them rolled down, slowly coming to a painful stop of groans and blooming bruises on their heads and limbs. Immediately the soldier got to his feet while his target was violently backing away, clawing through the grass. It couldn’t be him, he’s been dead for years now. It was a trick of the light, the rain entered her eye, she was being delusional, desperate.

As if a cruel trick of Eywa’s, Tala found herself back in the start, she had burrowed into a large and hollow tree trunk and was again trapped inside it. From the darkness outside, a hand burst through the entrance and clawed at her hair, impartial as to whether it wanted to pull her out or claw its way inside.

She was slapping, thrashing, the soldier’s large gloved hands were searching for her neck through her thick, loose curls. Her nails caught on the soldier’s green military headband, ripping it off to reveal a large, star-shaped scar on the left side of his forehead. He snarled but now so close, Tala froze.

Sunlillies and tree bark. A nostalgic smell.

She stopped, letting the soldier squeeze her neck, as her wide green eyes blinked upwards, staring at his face.

“Neteyam? Is it really…?” Tala started to whisper, she felt around at his hands. Four fingers, not a dream walker. She kept trembling eyes on his face, it looked so much like him. Even the way his forehead wrinkled when his brow raised in perplexity, now a large scar resting right above it. Yellow eyes met green and all the terror-induced adrenaline Tala had pumping through her was now going straight to her heart.

The soldier had also long stopped, stunned. Stunned by her scent, of spiced honey and rose, scents that he attributed to the environment than to her. The hammering pain he felt in his skull, from his scar, had dissipated drastically. He realized who he was holding.

“Tala.” His voice was low, uncharacteristically unsure.

She wanted to open her mouth and ask all the right questions, the smartest ones, but her mouth stayed silent. The soldier slowly loosened his grip. She looked at the name tag on his uniform. ’T. Sully’.

He allowed some minute bit of space between them, their breaths warming each other up from the cold of the constant rainfall. Tala eyed his scar, blackened and old.

“You’ve been poisoned.” Her throat was dry and her heart was pounding. As if simply saying something was enough, the RDA soldier lunged back into her, his face in her hair and arms encompassing her. She made a strangled, distressed noise.

“N-Neteyam! What are you-“

“Shut up.” It felt like a shadow covered her body, snuffing Eywa’s light on her. The voice, low, husked into the shell of her ears. Cold. It was very cold. The usual comfort she’d feel hearing his voice was missing.

When Tala tried to pull back, Neteyam’s hands tightened painfully around her body, squeezing her impossibly closer. His head hasn’t felt this at peace since he ‘awoke’. The headache was mercifully lessened each time he breathed in the Tawkami girl’s scent. Months felt like decades of torture, something for him to shoulder with each waking moment. Everything hurt his head, it was constant and numbing but somehow, with her…

A whine cried out of her throat, her breath felt constricted. Tala tried to scramble her fingers around the sleeves of his black shirt, clawing at the fabric and trying to push him away but to no avail. His tactical harnesses, both on his chest and around his legs, dug into her skin painfully.

“Let go of me.” Tala weakly hissed into his hair even though her arms, though tense, felt so weak. Brittle.

Neteyam hissed.

“Just stay still. Don’t you understand how easy it is for me to kill you?” 

Tala stilled, confused. She was used to being admonished, by many people, yet she’s never known the Omaticayan to waste time for a kill. She noticed though the shallow pressure of his broad chest against hers, the lowest and quietest inhale. 

He was smelling her.

This na’vi may no longer be Neteyam, a shadow that shared his name, but still, something stirred in Tala when she realized this. Stupid feelings she thought were buried and dead.

“Killing me by smelling me then, are you?” She mumbled, taking the gamble. No matter how overpoweringly soothing her scent was, Neteyam felt irritation rise at her words. That’s right, she’s always been sort of a pain to talk to… They’ve met twice before and both times left him feeling embarrassment and indignation. For what exactly, he couldn’t recall.

Still, his tail swished irritably now. He sat up to see her face to catch a glimpse of those green eyes that constantly taunted whoever had their attention.

Great mother, he wished he didn’t remember her so the thought that she’d only gotten prettier wouldn’t enter his head.

“Don’t push me, Tawkami. How haven’t you changed at all?” He snarled, venom dripping from his maw. Tala frowned and sunk her claws into his uncovered bicep, earning a small hiss. His hands curled again around the column of her neck, lightly squeezing.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she started seeing spots in her vision. Somehow, the universe both gave her a gift and a curse. Eywa returned his body to her, but not his mind. No more gentle hands, no kind eyes, no bashful expressions, or the comfort of his silhouette. She felt so entirely bitter to have hoped at all.

“Maybe I’ve not changed at all…” Tala felt like the headband in her hand was suddenly too heavy, she didn’t want it.

“But you’ve changed too much.” She finished, her stare was acidic.

“I died. And now I’m back and I’m forced to bear the consequences of it.” His voice was stern but quiet. Tala’s brows furrowed. Then her eyes went back to his large scar. From her studies, it truly looked poisoned, festering, and painful but the skin on top was healed. She was confused, na’vi were not the type to hide scars.

Tala reached around and placed his headband slowly back around his forehead. Delicate fingertips felt like burns along his skin and Neteyam was ready to crack her neck at any sign of force.

“The poison?”

No response. She scowled.

“Poison’s made you a bore too?” Tala let out a loud gag when his large thumbs momentarily dug into her throat.

“Still so foolish and mouthy.” The soldier growled. ‘Poisoned’ was a strange way to call his ever-present migraine, but seemed close enough. Unfortunately, the cure to that headache was another one in the form of an incredibly annoying woman. His patience was thinning.

“But you still find me so pretty, don’t you? Otherwise, what’s taking so long, hmm?” Her tone and smile were sickly sweet, just the way he always hated it.

The consequences were immediate, Neteyam nearly buried Tala into the ground, knocking whatever little breath she had left. He forced her legs around him in the struggle and went for her neck to suck and bite. She yelped when rough fingers clenched at her hair and pulled her closer to him.

Her words incensed him and now he knew that Eywa cursed him, why did this loathsome woman have to smell so good, and have to smile so lovely and be so soft?

“You’ve always been so fucking-“

She could feel Neteyam’s tongue and fangs scrape over her neck. Her strangled yelps stopped when Neteyam roughly pushed the stiff tent of his pants against her thigh.

“Annoying, so fucking full of yourself-“

She saw only a flash of golden eyes glaring at her before she felt lips crash onto hers. Fangs clashed against each other and Neteyam stuck his tongue into her mouth. Tala was mortified when she could immediately feel a heat pool in her belly. The musk of his arousal was so dizzying even through the thick camo fabric.

She wanted to say she struggled heroically but in shame, Tala’s will crumbled quickly. The kiss was just so bruising, so angry, she stopped struggling to focus on twisting his tongue and stealing his air.

Neteyam didn’t break the kiss as he ripped the gloves off his calloused hands, now feeling desperate to lose himself in her smell and her softness. He groped at her waist and squeezed the roundness of her hips, now her smell was intoxicating, tinged with her desire. He moaned at the contact, practically rutting his clothed cock against her. Tala could feel slick gather underneath her tewng, she knew for sure a wet spot was already leaking through it.

His hand stilled and Tala could finally look at him, tense. Neteyam seemed only to revel in it, his pupils enlarging further, brows furrowed, he looked near enraged. With him or with her, Tala figured it was probably both. 

“What are you doing, Neteyam?” She rasped, conflicted and now hot and bothered. Her only answer was him sucking her clavicle hard, hands now groping at her tits wantonly.

Sense returned to Tala’s head and she started kicking at him, kicking around his much larger, muscular waist.

“Get away-oh!” She screeched when suddenly he was picking her up, making her back bend uncomfortably around the roof of the hollow tree, she was practically sitting on his shoulders now. His head was between her thighs and the wet muscle of his tongue was digging through her tewng, getting her wetter and wetter. She smelled divine here and he licked a long strip over the thin cloth, he could feel her heat on his tongue.

Unable to keep her balance she gripped the back of his head, his neck, the slope of his back, just anything so she wouldn’t topple over. Squeezing her thighs around his face only seemed to goad him on further.

“Neteyam!” Tala said, choking on her drool as the heat of her core rose exponentially with Neteyam’s sudden worshipping.

“I’m going to taste you. Don’t stop me.” 

The announcement makes her cunt clench around nothing and she stills. Her face is on fire, she is so conflicted by the way he was squeezing her ass and how completely and uncomfortably drenched her cunt was- Neteyam pushed the tight fabric of her tewng to the side and started lapping at her pussy lips.

“Ooohh, oh, fuck!” She moaned, feeling just so filthy. His rough and wet tongue pressed against her hole, licked long strips against it and he dug for deeper, more of her juices. The more those juices dripped down his face, the more he lapped it up hungrily. He was just fucking gone, nothing hurt anymore and only extreme pleasure was left in his wake. His ego preened as he listened to her muffled whimpers like a favored song, she was not so annoying when his tongue was deep in her cunt like this. He thinks he prefers her like this, hanging onto him desperately, legs wide for him.

Neteyam felt like he could cum from just the sound of her desperate whines alone. 

“Net-Nete…” She whispered his name harshly but could barely form it. The coil of heat in her belly was tightening oh so much, and when Neteyam’s nose burrowed further onto her clit, her eyes glazed over in pure ecstasy.

He sucked at her clit and groaned at the sweetness that exploded on his tongue. In his mind, it was his private feast and the satisfaction he got from making this irritable woman melt in his hands was simply an appetizer.

Her eyes rolled back, the spring snapped and she closed her legs impossibly tight around his face as she came so hard she saw white. Her body stiffened, even her tail squeezed tightly around Neteyam’s bicep, and after agonizingly long seconds, her body went limp.

To her vague surprise, he was still completely supporting her despite her relaxing her whole weight over him.

To the extreme surprise of her nerves, he was still swallowing all her excess liquids, now sucking over her reddened and puffy cunt for just a bit more savory sweetness.

“N-nete- I-came…” She said in broken mewls and weakly pawed at his back, eyes starting to water from the overstimulation. He, of course, didn’t stop, he didn’t even hear her. “It’s too much, stop…” She said a bit louder and dug her nails deeper into his back, but still Neteyam didn’t budge.

He basked in massaging her twitching, sticky cunt, the way it pulsated around his tongue, and flinched at every light scrape of his teeth. He only wished he had enough space to soak his fingers in her until she was hiccuping and the pads of his fingers were pruney.

Tala felt another orgasm crash through her and this time she wailed, body staying limp, hair cascading over her and over Neteyam’s back. Her cunt was now hurting and she was struggling to keep conscious.

She blinked at the distance, seeing the flash of yellow plastic. The Compass. She had pressed random buttons in the struggle, trying to get the dog tags or his uniform name as she knew the device could record nature, likenesses. Tala continued trying to blink away tears but before she knew it, her eyes clamped shut and everything went dark to the constantly stinging and tingling texture of Neteyam’s tongue.

It was maybe 20 minutes before the RDA na’vi noticed her noises were considerably muted and her body felt boneless. He swallowed the rest of his fill, he had practically licked her clean before he let her body completely relax on the jungle floor.

He stared down at her figure and took another deep breath, his migraines truly were gone.

She had said that he was poisoned. Neteyam clicked his tongue as he readjusted her coverings and hoisted her over his shoulder.

To the detriment of both of them, she seemed to be the only cure he had for now.

–

When Tala came to, it was as violent as she had never hoped it to be.

She screamed, static coursing through her entire body and when an RDA soldier shut it off, her whole body felt numb. She could barely see the bright white linoleum floor as two combat boots came into view.

A large hand forcefully tilted her head up and she grimaced.

“Well, outta all the biters you could’ve brought back, you chose a pretty one.” The dream walker said, his face was aged and his hair was cut extremely short. He had a square jaw and aged features, along with thick eyebrows. He let Tala’s face fall carelessly as he stood back up straight.

“That better not be the only reason you chose her, Corporal Tom.” His voice was hard. Tala was vaguely aware of her body being strapped vertically onto a table and only able to move around her neck, though she barely had the energy to lift it anyway.

“No, sir, Colonel Quaritch, sir.” It was Neteyam. Voice cold and unfeeling, just like how he had first talked to her. No sunlight, no warmth. “She is of the Tawkami clan and has knowledge of all of Pandora’s natural resources as an alchemist and healer. She will be of use in identifying plants still undiscovered.”

Quaritch simply stared hard at Neteyam, or, Corporal Tom, and grumbled quietly. The Phoenix II reconditioning program had worked almost miraculously well, but the older soldier still had his suspicions. He was somewhat aware of the change he himself was facing since the Skirmish at the Three Brothers years ago, so he had to keep a close eye on the former Sully boy.

It’s been a fast year since his reawakening, and to Quaritch’s knowledge, he was pretty sure the kid spent his ruts alone and barely interacted with those outside of the Recombinant Squad if even them. The… experience left him angry, which was great on the battlefield. Not for making sure his head was all there even in downtime though.

The colonel kneeled low to look at Tala’s face clearly, her head still hanging. Easy on the eyes at least, would it be so bad for him to have his own little fucktoy? It wasn’t regulated, but some prisoners became favored partners of the Recoms or other reawakened Na’vi, if at least to help with their monthly biological needs.

“I know you can understand me doll face, most of the Tawkami does by now.” He started with a cold hostility in his tone. Tala kept silent, trying to steel herself. She didn’t want to die, but she’d welcome any return to Eywa with open arms before helping these demons.

“To make everything crystal clear, I’m going to say this once. You make a peep of trouble, we shoot you. You fuck up, we shoot you. We’re not animals mind you, you play by our rules and you can live a reasonable life of use to us. Just don’t give us a reason to kill, and we won’t, sweetheart.” His seethe ended in a cruelly humored smile and Tala was feeling her blood run cold looking at him.

Quaritch rolled his eyes emphatically when she stayed silent.

“Gonna need to hear that you understand, doll face.” He rumbled and she pursed her lips. She nodded.

“…yes. I do.” Tala said, English heavily accented but understandable all the same. Quaritch stood to his full height, carelessly letting go of her face.

He turned to Neteyam with a scowl.

“Well, you got your fucktoy, Corporal Tom. Enjoy it.” He meanly snarled, getting close to Neteyam. The younger didn’t flinch, both of them staring intensely into the other’s glowing eyes. Maintaining eye contact, Quaritch waved his hand and another blast of shock scorched Tala’s body, making her scream in pain. Tala balled her hands and felt tears burn down her face as pain shocked through every bone in her spine.

Quaritch searched Neteyam’s face for any ounce of care, even the faintest inclination to help her. The colonel didn’t want any emotional bullshit conflict, he had his own to deal with.

Not even a flicker towards her figure, despite her screams getting shriller. Quaritch sent the operator a glance and finally, Tala was given a break from the torture. Her whole body sunk, the restraints digging into her skin, though she couldn’t feel it. Tala breathed hard, her body still twitching from the pain. It felt like her eyes and ears were bleeding, she wanted to vomit.

The older soldier smiled lightheartedly.

“Just a little welcome present,” Quaritch said, then passed by the younger and clapped his shoulder. “Look alive, soldier. Get her ready and cuffed. I’ll ask the eggheads which lab needs a hand. Don’t take too long.

When he left the room, Neteyam nodded his head at the operator to also make his exit.

Now they were alone. His footsteps towards her were silent, she only knew he was so close because his shoes came into view.

Tala twisted her head to at least be able to peer up at his face. She was aching thoroughly, but the soreness of her crotch especially made her sport quite a mirthful smile.

“Did you like the taste enough to keep me?”

Neteyam scowled then smirked.

“Almost as much as you liked creaming on my tongue.” He taunted back and his smirk grew as he saw Tala’s pretty smile get wiped off her face instantly.

A surprisingly soft grip supported her chin, and she raised her head to meet his eyes. While he still wore the harness and cargo pants, he was no longer wearing his tactical vest. She could clearly see the broadness of his shoulders, how sculpted and wide his chest was under the tight black shirt. Eywa really picked favorites.

Neteyam’s nose twitched, as it usually did with irritation.

“Be thankful I didn’t kill you. At least now you can be of use.” His voice had a sharper edge that made Tala glare at him. The stale light of fluorescent bulbs didn’t seem to suit either of them.

“Of use? Like you are to the vrrteps(demons), kavukte(traitor)?” Tala hissed, green eyes flashing with indignation. She wanted to bite his fingers off. Neteyam’s jaw tensed.

“What are you planning, Neteyam? What do you want?” She pushed, her voice much more hoarse than she thought it would be.

“I’m saving this planet by ending the Na’vi people’s resistance, Tawkami. They are being manipulated by Eywa, it’s not their fault, but they refuse to listen. Eywa keeps the People from growing, and she is the reason they suffer now. The humans will save us.” Neteyam said with such finality and clarity that it unsettled her, like lines practiced over and over again.

“Eywa keeps the balance, Neteyam, the vrrteps are selfish, they take and take. You know this, I know you do.” Her voice was pleading now, nerves heightened. She wanted desperately for him to listen to her and see reason.

“Then even this is part of Eywa’s plan, no? To let the sky people take and take. It was the sky people that saved me, not Her.” He said with a growl.

Tala couldn’t bear to listen anymore and ripped her face away from his grip, squeezing her eyes shut.

Wretched words, cruel thoughts that didn’t sound truly like his.

“The vrrteps did not save you, Neteyam. They were the ones that killed you! Lo’ak-.” Four fingers clamped her mouth shut and the amber pool of his eyes seared into hers.

“I remember everything. And my life was over far before Lo’ak’s stupidity got me shot.” He seethed, pupils in threatening and aggressive slits. Tala scowled, ears pinned to the side of her head.

“What are you talking about?”

“Jake. He ended my life long before that battle. Then replaced me before my body even turned cold, and now I live every single day in torture!” His words suddenly erupted in anger, violently surfacing above. Resentment emanated from every word and his hurt was suffocating. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get through to him, she was not the person he needed now. He needed Kiri or Tuk, he needed his family.

Tala was suddenly reminded of how small a part of his life she really embodied. At most a week’s worth of memories, years stretched in between. Barely any history. 

She wanted to entertain that maybe it was her good looks and charming personality that made her memorable, but Tala wasn’t completely dumb. Neteyam had always been surrounded by attractive, talented navi, better yet, members of his own clan he could court.

Those infuriatingly beautiful eyes, making her think unnecessary things right then. Because that time was over, and these feelings didn’t matter. They never have.

“So your life is over, and now you’re ‘Corporal Tom’. Why does the Corporal want me?” Tala wondered out loud, biding for time as she scanned the room. White, eye-achingly so, metallic, plastic, unnatural, sterile, cold.

His waw tensed as he didn’t answer.

“Honestly, it’s looking like you’re obsessed with me.” Tala said with an entirely syrupy sweet and contemptuous smile. A fire started growing in her mind.

He lived every day in pain. And the scar looked blackened; poisoned and now hidden. Navi don’t hide scars. And suddenly he’s smelling her and eating her out as if she was his ambrosia. 

Tala crinkled her eyes and batted her eyelashes at him.

“Oh, does being around me help with the hurt, poor sky demon warrior?”

When Tala saw his tail swishing in angry large strokes, she knew her answer, unable to contain how pleased she was now. It was laughable, for both of them, truly! She went through her mental alchemy compendium, considering what and how effected him. Relief through her scent, then arousal? Or minor dosage of comfort through scent then a substantial through oral consumption?

Tala sighed internally, this would have been a wonderful opportunity to experiment with the effects of this mind poison if it wasn’t for all the guns and threats and torture.

Neteyam suddenly and wordlessly stripped off her floral top.

“Neteyam!” She screeched, though his eyes just wandered along her chest, tits soft and dotted with dark pink nipples. Tala flinched violently away when large fingers pinched at her flesh, but still they continued to play and bruise the sensitive buds without care. Tala strangled a mewl in her throat, mortified. He had stayed too silent all this time, she should have known something was boiling in him.

And indeed there was, he hated her insolence and her overactive brain, how she pieced things together so damningly quickly.

“Nothing will get you to shut up, will it.” Neteyam mused out loud, rolling her nipple between his thumb and index finger. He pinched it hard and Tala yelped.

“Remind yourself that you have no power here, Tawkami. At most, you’re a stress toy.” He said in a deceptively simplistic manner. As if to make the point stick he stuck thick gloved fingers in her mouth, pushing teeth and tongue. Neteyam stared, daring her to bite him. She didn’t.

“Smart toy, good toy.” He mumbled then, eyes narrowing in self-satisfaction. Tala’s face went hot but she kept compliant.

“Stay good, and I won’t break that thin neck.” Neteyam said, pushing his fingers in her mouth deeper. She gagged and Neteyam felt a familiar throbbing in his pants.

He stopped and then leaned over her like a predator, almost growling.

“I can smell how bad you want me. If you’re good, I’ll fuck the brat out of you until you’ve had your fill.”

Tala closed her eyes, just so completely humiliated yet so aroused, it made her fume. Neteyam smiled smugly when he saw her expression. He liked seeing her when she was too frustrated to do anything else but let her face turn red.

Tala grumbled something under her breath. His ears caught something about him being a horny psychotic asshole. So he proved her point.

“AH!” Sharp fangs sunk into the crook of her neck. He was-he was biting her, marking her! Neteyam was nearly crushing her small shoulders still as he bit down, blood beading and staining her skin.

“Great Mother, what is wrong with you?!” Tala was screaming, now jerking her body this way and that. She didn’t care that it made it more painful, she didn’t care that flecks of her blood were landing on his face and the rest of her body.

But neither did he, he let his fangs stay sunk into her skin, he seemed to be enjoying her struggling, the fucking asshole-

When Neteyam finally stood up, there were thin dribbles of saliva and blood running down his chin and he wiped it off with the heel of his glove carelessly.

Tala was breathing hard, confused and so horribly aroused, she didn’t even want to know how much of a mess she looked then. Her skin was on fire, she was barely aware of the tears running down her cheeks, tears of anger.

Her green eyes shined brighter in her shock, pink lips parted in terrible confusion. Her hair was a mess, braids no longer neat and curls in her face, sticking to her cheeks with her tears. And now the side of her neck, bitten into and punctured, like a pearl necklace of blood.

Neteyam thought it was the prettiest he’d ever seen her. And by Eywa his head felt the most relieved it’s been by far.

“A horny, psychotic asshole, right?” He said smugly, daring any more rebellion from her in his tone and she glared viciously at him. Neteyam merely kept his head raised and roughly pulled up her top.

He turned away and left once the doors slid open, whispering something to the tawtute waiting outside. He didn’t take any look back, he didn’t need to.

Tala felt hostility bubble in her gut, marking was for mates, not whatever the hell this was. Not from whatever he was!

The scientist walked in and pulled out a needle, making her ears pin to the back of her head. The injection went in so quickly, Tala could only remember those yellow eyes, searing into her.

It made her want to gag.

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pls lmk if u want on/off the tag list!

[justfandomwritings]

An essay on why I won’t be watching next season.

1. Obviously actors have to promote their shows and hype them up. But the interactions between Nicola and Luke during the press tour were, in retrospect, clearly also acting performances, and it is rare to see acting within the press tour to the degree that those two put on while grossly exaggerating things like how sexy this season would be or how much Polin we would get. I don’t blame them. It’s clearly what they were told to do. And it’s fine to hype a show, but I think a lot of people felt genuinely lied to with the WAY this season was hyped.

2. The casting has been color conscious and inclusive in a way I greatly admire. But they have not been inclusive in other ways. And that’s not to say they should have to be. One show shouldn’t bear the responsibility of being inclusive to everyone and making up for an industries worth of exclusion. But we have exactly one size inclusive character in this whole show, and I’m not even demanding more, but to butcher the season of the only size inclusive person in this show this badly and in these ways sends me a clear message of what the writers thought they could get away with with a curvy actress and how they saw her.

3. The wait times for this season and next season are just too long. The hype dies down too much between seasons such that we care less and less each time we get a new one, especially when you only give eight episodes, regardless of their length. You know who also gave us a season in 2022 and then an eight episode season this year? house of the dragon. And they have to CGI a fuck ton of dragons. Yall were sitting on this season being done filming for over a year and for what? What did you do in post? A bee? And then to have the audacity to do it in two parts? Fuck off.

4. Add to that. The costumes and new sets looked so much cheaper this season than previous seasons. Where did the budget go.

5. The plot is too crowded. Maybe you thought a curvy girl couldn’t carry a season. Maybe it was bad writing. Obviously you needed Cressida and Eloise to have decent amounts of screen time but you also did half of Francesca’s story and set one up for Violet and Benedict that collectively took the majority of the screen time and left us with very little Pen and Colin. Which was a disservice you never gave Anthony or Daphne’s seasons and was why they were good. We got enough crumbs of the others to tell us what was happening but not enough to make them feel like main characters or to make it feel like an ensemble show. There were leads in season 1 and 2. This season it was an ensemble with too many moving parts. But everyone’s said that. It’s not surprising.

6. My biggest problem is the tone. The blame. Admittedly I’m a woman who relates strongly to Penelope so I’m not impartial here. But for a character who spends her entire life being abused by every single person in this show, who is pushed to her absolute breaking point before finally giving her mother and the tonne a taste of their own medicine. For that character to receive no grace, no understanding, no respect, for the vast majority of the season hurt. To not only have zero understanding of her situation but to frame the entire plot of the show around the fact that SHE alone should be sorry. To have minimal to no groveling from Colin over what he said last season, to have no acknowledgment of how he treated her as a safety net, to humanize Cressida who made her life hell with minimal acknowledgment of that fact, to have Eloise get ONE comment from Cressida of all people about her friendship with Penelope but no real reflection from Eloise or acknowledgment on her part or apologies for what a truly SHIT friend she was for DECADES. That hurt. Because the message is that sure, they can push you to your fucking limit, you can break after years of being bullied for your weight and your looks and your status. Your own mother and sisters hands can be filthy with insults and abuse. Your friends can treat you like utter garbage for years. They can befriend your bullies. Your soon to be husband can, very recently, insult you to his friends behind your back. But you owe them the apology for breaking after years of abuse. It’s not that the tonne couldn’t be angry or that they all should’ve fallen at Pen’s feet. It’s that those arguments never happen at all because once again, just like when she was being used and abused by everyone, everything was put on Penelope. And the cycle continues.

7. Colin should’ve groveled more. I know I said that in the previous point but it really ruined things for me so I want to emphasize it. I wanted that man on his knees the whole season, and I should’ve known I wasn’t gonna get that when y’all dropped the list of songs and there wasn’t any of the A List Yearners on the list. But I’m still mad.

8. Actually that’s a good point. Did anyone else think the songs didn’t go as hard this year? Except Pitbull were we excited about any of them?

9. You did the Pride and Prejudice ballroom trick with the dancing alone thing and you didn’t nail it. If you’re gonna do that trick it has to fucking HIT. (And it has to be enemies to lovers.) And you did it half assed. You should be ashamed.

10. There was a two second window there when Cressida asked the maid for help where I thought they were gonna swap lives and the maid would go with her aunt and Cressida would become a maid and I was like “holy fuck is Cressida gonna become Bennys love interest?” and that would’ve been better than what y’all did I think. And it would’ve justified her excessive screen time.

11. I love gender swapping Michaela and making Francesca bi. We love it. But why was Francesca immediately interested. Once again the writers don’t understand pining. Michaela is PINING for Francesca and can do nothing but love her from afar. Francesca loved John completely and whole heartedly. Michaela was a beautiful love story for her but was also a second chance. She loved John completely. She would never have an emotional affair on him. How did you immediately ruin such a beautiful second chance romance?

12. Where was Pen’s friendship with Anthony or Lady Danbury? Why wasn’t Colin proud of Pen the way he was in the book? To make her even more alone? To emphasize that she was alone and at fault and helpless? Fuck off.

I just don’t have it in me to watch this show deteriorate further.

[writingsbychlo]

okay but the world needs a how would the 🐍 boys react to a taylor swift concert (and if you categorized them by album i would also not be mad)

😘💋

for you, my love? anything 😌

slytherin boys + taylor swift concert/albums

draco: draco is impartial. it’s not his typical music taste but he will hum to songs when you play them, he knows you like them. he hires someone to make sure he gets really good tickets and says you can take anyone when he surprises you with them. when you say you want to take him, he fucking loves it. he doesn’t show it, but knowing you’d share something so special with him, it makes him so happy. would wear a basic fit, lets be real. would pay someone to custom make your outfit for your favourite album, though. also, he bought tickets to a tour spot of a place you’ve always wanted to visit and he makes it a whole vacation. splashes cash for extra packages. rich boy vibes. he’d never admit it to anyone but he has listened to All Too Well (10 min version) when he’s in his emo moments.

he’s giving Red, though, and would make the effort to sing along to any songs he knows enough of just to see you smile. like tell me he isn’t giving the youthful innocence of 22 but also I Knew You Were Trouble, like???

mattheo: has an alarm set for tickets and tries to get them so eagerly with you. again, not his usual music taste, but his has been known to scream-sing Shake It Off when drunk. would wear a toned down outfit to match whatever you’re wearing and would absolutely wear any bracelets you make him. holds all your belongings so you don’t have to worry about anything. holds your hand the whole time and sings with you. you’d stay in a fancy hotel overnight the day before and after, he wanted to make it special. buys matching tour hoodies with you.

he’s giving Fearless, like lets be real, The Way I Loved You was written for him. he isn’t ashamed to admit he loves that album, though. that dedication of slightly toxic but mostly just obsessed love, sweet and adorable first love feelings, y’know?

theo: asked if you’d seen there was a tour coming up and chuckled at your excitement when you screamed yes. gets tickets when you don’t manage to and makes a joke like ‘how many boyfriend points did this just earn me?’ spoiler: it’s a lot. wears all your bracelets that you make on one arm and helps you make trades with people. researches the set list to make sure he knows all the lyrics to any possible songs that might play so he can sing with you, but already knows quite a lot. not ashamed to listen to her if he’s with you or missing you. buys you any merch you want, has so many bags to be taken home.

his album is Folklore, just because I think the hazy indie suit him. august is friends-to-lovers with him after spending the summer with his family in italy. change my mind, you can’t.

enzo: baby boy goes all out for this. he’s so lover coded, but he knows all the albums very well. listens to her music with or without you and is proud of it. you sat together to book tickets and try to double your chances and it worked. not only wears and trades bracelets but makes them with you, makes his own set to swap with people too. looks for celebrities and gets to excited when he spots them. he’s the kinda guy to propose during Love Story. matching outfits, matching merch. you guys both have lost your voices the next day and he can’t stop grinning about it. is convinced taylor made eye contact with him. would wear a custom outfit with you, too.

his album is Lover. no doubt. he’s a cutie pie and he’s so pastel-sunshine-sparkles-love. Paper Rings? he belts that. You Need To Calm Down? he bodies it with so much sass just to see you giggle. London Boy? I don’t even need to say.

tom: hears you didn’t get tickets and starts pulling strings to get them for you because you were sad. tries to be casual and just leave them on your desk one day, but can’t help his smile when you burst into his dorm at 11pm and kiss him stupid for it. is willing to let you pick his outfit as long as you make it ‘normal’. you guys match but in a subtle way. like mattheo, books a hotel for before and after, and also will hold your things. doesn’t sing along but he’s not a buzzkill, y’know? stands with his arms wrapped around your waist the whole time, sways slightly to the music for you. he will spin you occasionally. so defensive when you’re looking at merch, growls at someone to fuck off while they still have teeth for telling you to hurry up and pick. gets a hoodie when you tell him it would look good on him and actually wears it for you. also buys the special packages like sound checks etc.

Reputation. you’re gonna look me in my eyes and tell me Look What You Made Me Do isn’t his anthem? if he had a gun to his head he would name that as his favourite song.

bonus for you bc we’re talking abt him right now: all I’m gonna say is reggie + enchanted. that’s it, that’s all.

[maxdibert]

Actually yes if you'd call someone a misogynistic slur, even while experiencing trauma, you would be misogynistic. Because that comes from your subconcious. Severus was a victim and the reason he joined the death eaters was due to his social and economic victimization, however he was not a complete mindless idiot who didn't understand anything. He was clearly anti muggle (and although yes his prejudice was influenced by his horrible father and home he still encountered normal muggles so he didn't only have negative experiences with muggles, he could clearly see that some of them are not violent. He was an intelligent man I believe his brain could work this out.) And even when he's a big victim it doesn't mean he is entirely blameless of his words and actions and what they say about his morals. Him calling Lily a mudblood is a clear indication that he doesn't view muggleborns the same way he does other wizards and has clear prejudice. He did not only use that word once but many times - according to Lily. I'm not denying your other claims, you just seem to talk about Severus as if he wasn't an asshole who held bad views, because he was victimized. Do you think he was a good person in a bad situation? Not at all. It is fine to criticize his actions and morals while still taking into consideration that he was a victim and a lot of his decisions were a result of that.

I don't see it that way, but this is a matter of perspective. I might have internalized misogyny or internalized racism, but literally everyone has this, absolutely everyone. It's not the same as, at some point, saying a misogynistic slur to a friend in a moment when I'm about to lose my mind, versus constantly doing it. There's a difference between having a generalized attitude and letting something slip at a specific moment. And if we’re going to start categorizing people or characters based on something they say at a particular moment, then I’m sorry, but we should accuse everyone because there’s no one, absolutely no one in this society, who, even if they are very conscious and deconstructed, hasn’t made problematic comments or used harmful adjectives at some point.

I don’t deny that Severus had prejudices against Muggles, but his prejudices stem from a completely different basis than the prejudices Lucius, for example, might have had. Severus’ prejudices come from his own negative experiences with Muggles, from the fact that the Muggles he’s known were literally awful. Is it wrong for him to have prejudices against an entire population because of that? Yes, but it’s also understandable that he has them. I mean, I spend my life insulting cis-hetero men because they’re the types I have sex-affective relationships with, and I’ve had countless bad experiences with them. Could I be labeled as misandrist? Probably. Am I a bad person? I don’t think so. The problem with these issues is that people tend to see things in black and white, but real life is very diverse. You shouldn’t focus on the tree but on the forest. But well, that’s just my personal opinion.

Deep down, I’m very critical of Snape, even though it might not seem like it. What I don’t like is when people make arguments without considering the context and criminalize him without exploring the reasons for his actions. Was it wrong for him to call Lily a Mudblood? Yes, but we must take into account the context of when he did it, and the fact that it was an isolated incident, not a constant. It’s likely that what he wanted was to hurt her, just like when I call my friend a slut, and sometimes you say things to people because you know it will hurt them, not because you genuinely think that way. Anyway, I would be more critical if it were someone else, but in Lily’s case, it’s hard for me to be completely impartial because she ended up marrying an unpleasant, bullying, abusive person, and honestly, I think Severus fell short. If I had seen my supposed best friend half-smiling at my bully, I would have punched her in the face. I swear, I would have destroyed her and then publicly humiliated her, making her wish she had never been born. But as I’ve said before, I’m a very resentfully aggressive person xD.

[dagnab]

ur so right abt Viktor's seasons 1 vs. season 2 characterization!

after re-watching season 1 tho the framing of Viktor's earliest private forays into body modification are framed/"shot" like they're a dangerous, taboo transgression. as a disabled person that really irks me because the writers/narrative like to pretend they're impartial but they're really really not. like people can be like well the hexcore/arcane was dangerous and it was reckless but that was of approaching narrative analysis completely sidesteps the fact that everything about the world was a choice made by writers/artists and probably shaped by execs. idk it just leaves a bad taste in my mouth because he's doing it because his body is getting in his way at a time when time is of the absolute essence and he really is one of the few people capable of making massive change in Zaun with his work. Feel like people's kneejerk to that is he could've left it to Jace, he didn't have to live to see the fruits of his labour but Jayce has shown him he cant be fully trusted to stay the path.

anyway sorry for jumping into ur inbox and rambling. i just wanna see more discussion around Viktor from disabled ppl because he's rotating like a microwave hotpocket in my mind atm

No seriously thank you for reading my rant and chatting up my inbox!! I need to converse with people about this or ill go stir crazy 🙏 anyone's always welcome to drop in. This activated another long ass manifesto from me so I'll put it under a cut.

On your point about Arcane's disability narrative- I totally agree. Looking back at season 1 I'm struck by how much better characterized Viktor is, but I agree that the disability metaphor isn't well thought out.

I can tell they course-corrected on purpose for season 2. Viktor's story became very much an anti-eugenics, "you were never broken" thing, and I appreciate that sentiment. But that misses the mark too in many ways. Many people have already posted about this, but isn't it reasonable for Viktor to want reprieve from his chronic illness, which was a result of his childhood poverty? In a world where people can replace limbs, doesn't it make sense for him to want to alleviate the pain of his bad leg and back with mechanical augments? It's pretty clear in s1 that Viktor isn't motivated exclusively by shame, he just doesn't want to die. Super reasonable goal, as you mention!

IMO they just kind of wrote themselves into a hole that couldn't be thematically tied up all that well. And not to be a preachy OG machine Viktor purist.. but I do think this started in season 1 when they decided to make the hexcore like an evil manipulaty magicy entity. IMO it should have stayed just an unthinking tool, like a hammer, able to do good or hurt depending on the will of the wielder. They even set that up here, in this scene:

This is just like, so much more interesting. These are devices explicitly made to help the working class.. but it's so obvious that they will one day be misappropriated as weapons. Heimerdinger's warning about the arcane corrupting it's users still applies even if Hextech isn't all inherently evil. Power will do that on its own. Viktor and Jayce want to use hextech to help the people, Piltover elites want to use it as a weapon. I think they should have just stuck with that core conflict. No need to twist hextech into an ontological evil. It majorly distracts from the class divide, which used to be THE overarching plot of Arcane.

In general, making the hexcore all sinister is one of those super common cop-out writing choices where the "villain" is obviously right so they need to find some way to "complicate" things. The hextech-evilification was also what led to Sky getting fridged, another meh writing choice they tried to roll back in s2. When I think about it, all of my (few) complaints with the first season's writing are a result of the hexcore turning purple! That deviation from the original lore ended up compounding in the long run, leaving us with a messy Viktor arc, political narratives being sidelined. etc.

I think the Viktor self-surgery scenes SHOULD have been dark and scary and full of shame and resentment, but NOT because "hexcore taboo". Instead the emphasis should have been placed on Viktor having to try to treat himself all alone, isolated in his lack of support. No need for Sky to get dusted, it's tragic enough that Viktor is resorting to playing solitaire operation. The finger of blame should point at Piltover, not at one disabled guy trying to survive.

Imagine you grew up next to a chemical plant and every other kid in your city had incurable lung disease and nobody in power was interested in researching the one possible treatment, they only want to develop it as weaponry. I'd become the machine herald too.

[hrizantemy]

Day 11 of ACOTAR Games: This or That

Who should have reacted more strongly?

Thesan: For Night insulting his authority in his court by attacking other High Lord, Lady and heirs, breaking the no-offence contract (Thesan was just a witness there while Feyre and Rhysand played court)

Helion: For Feyre asking invasive questions about his affairs and relationship with Lady of Autumn five minutes after meeting him

Your contenders: @achaotichuman @litnerdwrites @positivelyruined @yaralulu @umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken

On penalty: @fenrysmoonbeamswife @gwandas

Thesan’s reaction to the events in the court was incredibly subdued, which stands out as a major oversight given the gravity of the situation. Feyre and Rhysand certainly took the spotlight in their diplomatic dance, but Thesan was practically a bystander while the no-offense contract was broken by Night, allowing Feyre to launch a full-on assault on another High Lord, Lady, and their heirs. The fact that this wasn’t met with more immediate outrage is baffling, especially considering that Thesan was not only a witness but a representative of his court in that room. Feyre’s actions were far from a simple misunderstanding—they were an open insult to Thesan’s authority. Thesan, as a High Lord, should have demanded accountability for the breach of conduct. Instead, the tension was barely acknowledged, leaving the supposed unity of the courts to look more like a fragile, paper-thin arrangement.

It’s even more jarring when you look at Feyre’s earlier speeches, where she talked about showing the world their “real” selves and the importance of forging strong alliances based on honesty and respect. But then, in the same breath, she burns the Lady of Autumn, humiliates herself by having to serve wine in to Azriel in a situation that should have been beneath her, and leaves the actual court negotiations to Nesta, who was already dealing with her own set of challenges. Feyre’s impulsive actions should have had consequences. Thesan, as an impartial leader, could have stepped up to reinforce the integrity of the gathering, but instead, he allowed the insult to slide. This missed opportunity not only made Thesan appear weak but also undermined the purpose of the whole meeting—forming an alliance. Instead of upholding his court’s dignity, Thesan allowed Feyre and Rhysand to play at diplomacy while sidelining the very essence of respect between High Lords.

Thesan definitely should have reacted more strongly. His failure to challenge Feyre’s actions casts doubt on his leadership and sets a concerning precedent for how the courts handle disrespect. Had he held Feyre accountable, it might have shifted the entire dynamic of the meeting and made the other courts take the diplomacy seriously. Instead, his passive stance made it all too easy for Feyre to walk away without consequence.

Thesan should have absolutely banned Feyre and Rhysand from ever stepping foot in his court again. I mean, we’re talking about the literal breach of a contract, not to mention the disrespect they showed with Feyre just casually attacking another Lady, like she was playing a game of “Who Wants to Offend a Royal?”

Oh, and don’t even get me started on Feyre’s half-assed apology to the Lady of Autumn. Like, seriously? Feyre, after causing an international diplomatic incident by attacking the Lady and her heirs, has the nerve to throw out some half-hearted, “Oh, I’m sorry about the whole… thing,” like she accidentally knocked over a glass of wine, not, you know, starting a war.

There’s no remorse. No real acknowledgment of how much she just trashed any chance of maintaining good relations with Autumn Court. It’s like she thought a little, “Oops, my bad,” was going to fix everything. Feyre just sort of side-steps the gravity of the situation, tossing in a few “I didn’t mean to” comments as if the Lady of Autumn was going to just forget she was publicly humiliated by some half-baked apology and magically decide, “Oh, okay, that clears everything up. No hard feelings!”

The Lady of Autumn, meanwhile, is probably standing there, blinking in disbelief. She probably expected Feyre to at least pretend to understand the magnitude of what just went down. But instead, Feyre delivers an apology so weak it makes you wonder if she even knows how much damage she’s done. It’s like Feyre was so focused on her “real self” tour, she forgot to be a decent person to the people she was supposed to be building alliances with. I mean, imagine: “Hey, sorry I just ruined everything you’ve worked for, but here’s my apology. I’m not going to actually explain what I did wrong, but I hope this makes it all okay. Thanks for understanding!”

Feyre, you can’t just throw an apology like it’s some kind of magic fix-all when you’ve just offended an entire court. A little more effort would’ve gone a long way, but no, Feyre just handed out the bare minimum and expected it to be enough. What a move. What a move.

Omg, I’m so sorry I missed the deadline, life just got a little out of hand 🙈 Anyway, here’s a fun fact about me that literally no one knows: I have a bunch of half-siblings! Like, seriously, y’all, I could actually field a football team with all of them. I’ve lost count, but it’s definitely more than enough to make my family reunions chaotic 😂 Just thought I’d share that little tidbit since I’ve been a little MIA. Hope y’all are doing great!

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

The Competition - A Pedrotober Drabble

Day Two of Pedrotober: Kieran Bromance Pedrotober Hosted by @norththelemon and @alyssamariag. View the full prompt list HERE and view my entire Pedrotober drabble catalog HERE. Pairing: Mr. Ben x f!reader

Rating: G for Genuinely this will melt you into a puddle.

Word Count: 1752

a/n: I love Mr. Ben. I have no idea why I didn't write for him sooner, but when I realized I'd have to come up with not only a new OC played by Kieran in a Pedroverse role and a situation in which the two could face off, there was no other logical choice. Fancams at the ready!

It's your favorite time of the year. It's not because of the cozy vibes or the pumpkin spice lattes. Not for the crisp breeze greeting you each morning or the horror movies watched late into the night. It's not even because of the hilariously massive skeletons in your neighbor's front yard, changing daily with morally questionable positions.

No, autumn is your favorite for one reason and one reason alone: the wall competition.

It's unclear why it originally started, but a list of winners dates back to the 1950s. The original challenge concept was simple: whichever teacher could create the best display on the wall outside their classroom each fall won, and somewhere along the line it had become engrained in the culture of your high school.

As you stroll through the front doors of the school you cast a glance at Nancy, the high school secretary. She jumps up from her desk, hurrying around the counter to join you as you head toward your classroom. "Do you think they've started?" she questions breathlessly as her heels click double time to yours.

You nod. "Of course they've started. There's absolutely no way they haven't." You make a quick stop at your classroom to drop your bag and jacket before rejoining Nancy in the hallway, the two of you changing course to the science wing. "Do you think they'll have themes again this year?"

"When don't they?" Nancy chuckles. "I heard Noah invested in a smell machine this year," she informs you, and your eyebrows raise in surprise. Not that it should surprise you. The competition grows more elaborate every year.

"There's no way it can beat the fog machine," you point out, referring to Ben's science-focused addition of a class-made fog element to his graveyard-inspired display last year. The entire thing had been his response to Noah's cookies from the previous autumn, an experiment for his class that showcased the practical applications of chemistry. Both instances were just the beginning of a growing list of insane attempts at one-upping each other, which had started with Ben creating an incredibly artistic wall that incorporated real fall leaves in his first year. You found out later that he'd had to climb the first tree that turned to carefully collect each of the hundreds of leaves, but the effort had been worth it. Of course, it also jumpstarted a legendary rivalry that was the highlight of the competition each year.

The sound of staplers echoes as you approach the science hall, and you arrive to find a colorful array of paper lining the floor. On one side is Ben, his patterned tie long discarded and the top buttons of his shirt popped open to combat the thick air in the hall. On the other wall is Noah, his hair disheveled like he's been running his hands through it as he stares at the canvas in front of him.

You and Nancy pause, crossing your arms as you watch the two of them focus intently on their individual projects. "Getting a head start?"

Ben turns immediately, the corners of his lips turning up the second he spots you. Noah turns too, rolling his eyes as his adversary moves to press a kiss to your forehead. "I still don't think it's fair that your girlfriend is one of the judges," he quips before turning back to his display and stapling up a thick piece of black paper.

"Listen, I couldn't convince her to be impartial if I tried," Ben returns from beside you, his arm slinging around your waist as he pulls you closer. "Unless I can change that this year?" he whispers against your ear.

You push him back toward his wall playfully, "try again, Mr. Ben." Nancy giggles from beside you as your boyfriend returns to his display. Neither wall is easy to picture this early on, especially since their mess cluttering the hallway looks like an equal mix of spooky scary and aesthetic autumn, but you know already that this year's competition is shaping up to be one for the record books.

You barely see your boyfriend as the week progresses, not that you expected to. In the week leading up to judging, Ben always spent every last second in the hallway outside his classroom. You missed having him across from you at dinner and in your bed more often than not, but if there was one thing that you were serious about, it was maintaining your unbiased opinion in the yearly competition. Even if it did mean that the two of you had to pause your rewatch of Succession.

Friday comes quickly though, and as you walk the halls with your fellow judges, a group of faculty and selected students, there are a wealth of competitors to consider. Not that they really stood a chance.

The history wing went with their usual theme of an Egyptian display inspired by The Mummy, and your fellow English teachers swapped out their standard Edgar Allen Poe inspired display for one featuring Hamlet. Even the music department had gotten involved this time around, putting together a show-stopping creation that belted out numbers from Little Shop of Horrors as a life-like Audrey II took center stage.

But as you walk toward the science hallway, you can already smell the sweet scent of pumpkin as it wafts in your direction. You assume it's part of Noah's display, per Nancy's note about a smell-machine, but it turns out that Ben has butchered the pumpkins he's started with his class that spring and turned them all into pie, which is being handed out piece by piece to eager students. The pumpkins he'd guttered surround him, and a 3D scarecrow on the wall defends the patch from little mobiles of crows hanging from the ceiling tiles above. His face lights up when he sees you, and you can't help but laugh at the David Pumpkins tie he's wearing to complete the theme.

However, across the hall, Noah has foregone his attempt at filling the hall with delightful scents and has instead created what appears to be an actual demogorgon outside his classroom. He's standing alongside his proud students, who apparently created the oozing slime that's covering the deformed body. It runs down the wall and is collected, somehow, and recycled to run through the display again. It's unlike anything you've ever seen, unless you count the terrifying Alien audio-animatronic they used to have at Disney World.

A quick glance at your fellow judges confirms what you already know. Ben has lost. As delicious as the pumpkin pie looks, there's no way he can compete with the literal monster that Noah has developed. You offer your boyfriend a soft smile, trying to convey to him the undesirable outcome of the competition for him this year, but he doesn't seem to miss a beat as he continues to hand out pie.

The official judging process takes only a few minutes because you always save the science wing for last, and then you're back, decorated pumpkin trophy in hand. You wait as everyone gathers around you to announce the winner. Ben and Noah stand side by side in the lineup of teachers, playfully elbowing each other until Noah's name falls from your lips.

He rushes toward you, accepting the pumpkin from your hands and immediately turning to give his customary acceptance speech. "First off, I'd like to thank my incredible students, who put just as much time and thought into the wall as I did this year. I couldn't have done it without you. And second, I'd just like to say suck it, Ben."

Everyone laughs, and you have half a mind to remind your colleague that you should be setting a good example for the kids surrounding you, but everyone knows it's in good fun, and the chemistry teacher immediately moves to shake hands with Ben.

The crowd begins to disperse, some of them going to grab pie, others to take a selfie with the demogorgon, but you stand and study your boyfriend for a moment, tilting your head as you try to read his expression. For someone who just lost the most important competition of his year, he still seems rather...happy.

"You seem oddly accepting of Noah's triumph this year," you note as you make your way over to him.

"All is fair in love and autumn wall competitions. He really created a masterpiece this time," Ben admits, his arms winding around you in a much more public display of affection than you're used to from him. You itch to pull away as you start to imagine the fancams being filmed of the two of you right now, but he holds you tight against him. "Plus, he managed to do what I asked him to."

"What?" you ask quickly, looking up at him with confusion laced in your eyes. "What do you mean?"

Ben grins. "I asked him to come up with something so distracting that you wouldn't fully look at my wall until after judging was finished.

Your eyes fall back on the pumpkins lining the wall behind him. Some of them are carved, and for the first time you notice the shapes he's sculpted into them. Under your breath, you start to spell out the words.

"W. I. L. L. Y. O. U. M. A."

You stop.

"Ben?" you look up at him, voice quiet, and you're aware now more than ever that cameras are definitely trained on you.

He moves swiftly, dropping to a knee in front of you as he pulls a ring from his pocket. "What do you say, sweetheart? Care to design walls with me for the rest of our lives?"

The crowd that's gathered around you is filled with excited chatter, and you just barely catch Noah's smile from near his classroom. When your eyes land back on Ben, you start to cry, some kind of gut reaction that has you pulling him up to wrap your arms around his neck as you press a kiss to his lips. Fancams be damned.

"Is that a yes?" he asks when you finally let him go.

"It's a yes. And Nancy?" you ask, turning to the secretary who is crying harder than you are, "I think I'm going to have to resign as a judge." Ben guides you to look back at him as he slips the ring on your finger. "After all," you whisper so only he can hear, "something tells me I won't be impartial much longer."

[roo-bastmoon]

The Great Radio Debate: Roo's (limited) Understanding of this Issue UPDATED

Disclaimer: Sensitive topics are discussed below the cut; please do not incite drama, speak hate, or engage in bullying. This is a collection of my thoughts about what is currently happening with regard to Jungkook's single SEVEN and the implications it could mean for Jikook and ARMY. If you click below this cut, you are assuming responsibility for your own behavior and agreeing to engage with my blog and others respectfully, or you will be blocked.

We now by know that Jimin's music was not promoted to radio. We know this because when we went to request it from various major radio stations, it was not an option in the drop-downs; we had to manually type it in. Being "sent / promoted / serviced to radio" means a compressed file is sent from the company to radio stations so DJs can play high-def spins that are universally compatible with their station's set up.

None of Jimin's songs for Face were serviced:

The airplay audience was the lowest for any song this decade:

The controversy around Jungkook's SEVEN began last week when one DJ tweeted the following:

As we now know, "serviced to radio" means they sent a compressed file (which they SHOULD have done for Like Crazy English Version, but didn't). They did service to radio for Butter and Dynamite and it was a huge help. Even Yet to Come was serviced, so it cracked Top 50 on the charts, but none of Face's songs were sent, which makes zero business sense any achievement on that chart amazing.

Because even when serviced, it doesn't guarantee spins... "Add" means they hope radio stations will add the song to rotation:

But then the DJ had to go and say this:

So they have already sent SEVEN to the radios, hoping for spins. And now one person is publicly saying the song absolutely will get spins immediately. This heavily implies payola, because why else would a song without demand or requests immediately spin multiple times on everyone's shows the second it was released?

I feel (I, Roo Bastmoon, personally think and feel) Seven is being pushed this way for two reasons:

Billboard's recent changes around what kind of sales (physical, digital, bundled) will counts on the charts puts songs without radio play at an extreme, nigh-insurmountable disadvantage; even with excellent streams (which are heavily culled and filtered), it will be hard to break into the top 50.

Additionally, Taylor Swift's Speak Now re-release has dropped this week and will be gunning for the charts next week when Jungkook debuts, and that is a personal problem for Scooter Braun.

For those not familiar (as I surely wasn't; I live under a rock), Taylor Swift felt compelled to leave her old management company back in 2018. To do so, she had to abandon the rights to any original music she made with them. They kept her masters and sold them off to Scooter Braun.

Each time someone wanted to play one of her original songs, they had to ask his permission and pony up money for a license fee. Scooter Braun also managed Kanye, and I'm sure everyone knows the Beyoncé is the Greatest of All Time award show fiasco that led to some bad blood between those two artists, so it added insult to injury for Taylor.

Taylor has now re-recorded everything and released Speak Now: Taylor's Version. Of COURSE her fans are motivated to support her and get every single song they can into the highest position on the Hot 100 for as long as possible... and frankly, I am not a Swiftie but I can't blame them because if someone did that to BTS, I'd make it my life's mission to chart them as a big Fuck You, too.

But it does put a lot of pressure on Jungkook's single, because now it's very likely been weaponized in a personal dick-measuring contest where Scooter is concerned. Not sure if I mentioned it but I truly hate that man so I'm not sure I can be impartial when talking about him but I will try.

So Jungkook's single has been set up so far with pre-orders on iTunes and compressed files to radio, which is a first for any member's solo work. He also has a debut stage on Good Morning America, which has a huge range beyond k-pop.

So far, none of this is foul play. It is a company doing its best to represent and set up the best conditions for its artist under changed circumstances. You can make a case for favoritism, clearly, but at the end of the day, companies are about making profits and sometimes they grossly underestimate what has potential and what the market wants.

The issues fans are facing now around Seven lie in:

1) the neglect around Jimin's Like Crazy English Version, which is still so stable that it could be smashing charts if only it would get radio play so this just seems to make zero business sense and be more of a slight than anything else, so Jikookers are left wondering what that means for the relationship and,

2) the fear that Hybe America under Scooter Braun has abandoned BTS' founding values and taken the easy way out by paying to play on radio, which would severely damage credibility that BTS worked so hard to build as an organic, fan-driven success.

I think we'll have to wait to see how many sales, streams, and spins Jungkook gets to figure out if payola was likely. Maybe that one DJ was tweeting his own assumptions like they were facts. Or maybe Hybe has now decided to do payola. If that is so... not gonna lie, I will be extremely disappointed. I will need to take a break and figure out what this means for me as a fan.

The next question is how much did Jungkook know about all this? There seems to be two camps of thought here: one says the boys are involved in every step of the way and choose everything that happened around their releases.

(I know Jimin is very humble but I HIGHLY doubt he ever said to his company "Please rush my release in between other releases so I get physically sick trying to keep up with it; please never restock my physicals in WeVerse and don't send a file for the English song I studied for to US radios; and please also never post about my world record nor celebrate my albums' success in any way; yes, I worked 10+ months on this very personal opus but I absolutely don't want any of that." I very, very much doubt the ways Face was handled after Hot 100 #1 was Jimin's choice. This also makes me doubt if all the ways Seven will be handled will be Jungkook's choice.)

The second camp of thought is that the artists have absolutely no say in the marketing and promotion styles of their work, and that they are kept out of sales matters altogether. And here's the limit of my understanding, because I've not seen or read much on Hybe / BigHit's strategic plans around distribution for either BTS' group or solo works.

(Side Note: I have seen them set up TXT for a Billboard Top Ten, only for their collab to come in at #135, which shows a gross misunderstanding of their market right now--as well as disregard for their artists' feelings and reputations. My heart goes out to those boys; they worked hard.)

But drawing on my own experience decades ago when I used to work in entertainment out in LA, I can tell you, even as Chief Editor, plenty of my media content was changed without anyone informing me--back-cover blurbs, cover designs, release dates, shelf talkers, pop ups, print runs, print houses, store placements, advertising, interview articles--at some point in my former career, all of those things got changed around and I found out after the fact, on my own projects. Which pissed me off but I'd signed NDAs and couldn't do a single thing about it. And the authors / creators didn't know until *I* had the hard job of informing them. And they couldn't do anything about it because they were under contract.

So I think the level of members' involvement in solo works is somewhere in between. I think as artists and performers, BTS members can have a great deal of say in their look, styles, lyrics, choreo, merch, and venues. But not total say. Definitely not deciding-factor say.

I think the company can make them water down their lyrics, change up the choreo, and flat-out tell them no when it comes to music videos, performance venues, pretty much anything budget-related. They don't even have to explain why; it's their budget and their bottom-line. (In the old days, it seems like the members could freely express opinions around the works and even challenge management when it came to creative content. Maybe that is still true.)

As far as Jungkook's involvement in Seven's style, we have a stylist going on record about how some of the options were their ideas and that Jungkook had a lot of input on the look and feel, so it was a mixture:

For this reason alone, the fact that things like mud were added to clean pants or spikes to a jacket after Jungkook had input makes me truly feel this was his way of honoring Jimin and Face. It just seems like something our Jungkook would do--he may not always say it, but he's always watching Jimin-ssi.

As for sales and marketing strategies? The boys may never get looped in. Or they may be told the plans, but not invited to give input. Or they may sit down and plan it all out to the last detail with each department. I genuinely don't know. And because I don't know, I will not be assuming the worst of Jungkook or any member until I have all the facts. That is anti behavior, in my mind, and I just cannot stomach it. I can never bring myself to believe the worst of anyone until they fully and consistently show me that's who they are.

We've spent ten years with these guys. They are flawed human beings, yes, but not cheats, not assholes. I think they omit plenty of details but I don't think they straight-up lie to us. I don't think Jungkook would ever look his staff and executives in the eye and say "Yes, I want you to illegally pay money under the table so this single will top the charts." Jungkook is competitive, but also a stickler for fair play. You spend any amount of time watching Run, and the only time he "cheats" is when he wants to be with Jimin (lol) and he's pretty endearingly obvious about it; guy has almost no game face.

Okay but joking aside, I'm honestly very worried for JK. It sort of feels like he's being set up. Many questions have arisen over the stylistic choices for Seven. There's the fan frenzy around having a hot female protagonist in his video. And now the question about how much radio play Seven will get, and why. That's a lot of controversy to hang on a young man's shoulders. Especially in light of the recent book that's come out, in which it's clear now that the company and the artists are aware of hate-trending hashtags in English. GOD THAT MAKES ME SICK TO MY STOMACH.

To me, it feels (it feels--as in, my gut is telling me this; I have no receipts) like the company is using JK to experiment with a different way of doing business--a way that may stray from their founding values.

And there's so much potential for this to blow up in JK's face. There are solos who will insist he's stealing Jimin's style. Antis who will insist he's cheated on the charts. Insecure shippers who will lose their minds if anything flirty goes down with Han So-hee on screen. K-poppies, Swifties, and local racists all insisting on undermining his creativity, talent, and character because they fear the competition.

This release on Friday has the potential to be a blood bath. And I just don't trust the company to have his back and take ownership of their part in this, if so. From everything I've seen about Jungkook, he deserves the benefit of the doubt.

My biggest question mark is how Jimin will respond to all of this. If he comes on live one day and says in a flat tone something like: "I was really surprised to see how similar Jungkookie's concept was to my own." or "How interesting that Seven got sent to radio--good for him, good for him. I wonder how that happens?" Then I'll take that to mean Jimin wasn't looped in on JK's plans and he doesn't feel great about it; that won't sit well with me.

Then again, if Jimin raves about Seven and plays it on live or joins JK in New York and mentions how flattered he was that they share the same style, how they click, how proud he is of JK's hard work and asks please ARMY give it a lot of love? Then I'll infer he was definitely looped in, this is a homage, and JK's actions were always above board. I will assume that because I will never doubt Jimin's integrity. If Jimin approves, I will approve. Jimin has earned my complete trust.

So this week is a very tense one (for me at least). But it does provide quite the distraction from the stress tests and specialist consults I have lined up, I'll give you that. Never a dull moment. (I am so ready for this fandom to have some dull moments.)

In the end, I'm going to chose to believe in the very best of our members until there's solid evidence to think otherwise. As of now? I think the only dirty cheater in the mix is the music industry at large. I know the entertainment world is corrupt, but Jesus, they are so blatant about it all.

Anyway, we may not get radio data for several days or weeks after the initial drop date, so I'm prepared to hang in there for a good bit. And if there is evidence of payola and JK knew about it... I'm gonna need time to process that and figure out where I go from there, as a Jikooker, as an ARMY. I will honestly be shocked.

One thing you'll never see me do is spout hatred for human beings. I will likely rant about the company. And there are plenty of people Scooter Braun that I viscerally dislike. But I'm making a commitment now not to spread dehumanizing hate speech on the timeline.

That's not what BTS or Jimin would ever want. That's not what I want for myself, especially if my days in this life are limited. I don't need that kind of toxicity or karma.

Am I furious about all the crap that's gone down for Jimin (and other members too, to a lesser degree)? You bet your buttons, as my Nana used to say. I could rage and froth all day about it.

But I also remember who came online over and over to say Jimin's name, play Jimin's songs, mimic Jimin's interviews, giggle at Jimin's video clips, and invite Jimin into his life.

And based on moved lamps and dog scratches and Jimin bulking up, it's likely Jimin has accepted those invitations.

Whenever we do get to glimpse Jimin with Jungkook, he seems as endeared and besotted as he always has.

I trust Jimin to know if someone did him dirty, and to act accordingly. I do not believe any aspect of the Jikook relationship is performance.

For those reasons, I'm gonna be withholding judgement until all info around Seven comes in.

I hope you will too, but I understand if you feel differently and I'm not on this Earth to judge other people's viewpoints or experiences. I just ask that if you want to be friends with me here, you try to be civil in your words and actions, even in the sway of big feelings. Every person behind the screen is a work in progress; we are all fighting invisible battles; there are many sides to each story.

All any of us can do is our best with what we are given. Let's wait and see what Jungkook (and Jimin, and the company) give us.

If you made it this far through my ramblings, kudos! I welcome ideas, so feel free to comment--but just remember, rudeness will be removed. There's no space for meanness on my blog.

Love and deep respect to you all,

Roo

UPDATED:

So, it would seem the DJ who is hyping JK's Seven is also open to playing Like Crazy. This would imply it's been sent to some radio because before I remember he tweeted that he needed the compressed file in order to play it on his station (I am sorry I didn't save that link but he was talking about Hobi and Jimin if I recall, back at the time!).

UPDATE 2:

The radio stations that took requests (including the one mentioned above) back at that time were playing the music video version available to the public, not a compressed file sent by the company:

And when I check on this linktree of top radio stations in the US, Like Crazy does not come up as any option in rotation. I have to manually request still, after four months of being stable on the charts.

So if Jungkook gets immediate spins and requests immediately come up in rotation... is that because radio stations really love Jungkook? Or is this a company "networking" deal? (And in any case, would JK be involved in that aspect?) Everything still remains to be seen. Let's be patient and try our best not to assume the worst.

Many thanks for JMDBJK for mentioning in the comments the likelihood that a title track would be sent out, which prompted me to go look soon as I could get to my computer. I really do value anyone willing to take the time to help me learn more info about this industry!

[ragbabies]

have a silly little kaebedo regression drabble, all kaeya knows is that this helps albedo feel better, and absolutely nothing about the age stuff other than “oh he acts a little like klee”

if this gets, like, 10 or more notes, i’ll write it properly into a fic, but for now? enjoy :D

\\ Albedo hadn't wanted to go to the angel's share to be entirely honest. But he also knew that if Kaeya knew he was closer to 9 years old than 21, he wouldn't have even suggested it. He supposed it was his fault they were there, so he was content with it. Abesntmindedly chewing on his lip, they entered the tavern, and made their way straight to the bar.

After greeting Diluc, Kaeya began to order his drink, death in the afternoon(?) as usual, and when Diluc turned to him for his own order, Albedo paused. he hadn't actually been in the angel's share without drinking, and wasn't sure what to get.

Kaeya began talking for him at least, "He won't drink right now, what non-alcoholic options do you have?"

He looked slightly to the side feeling Diluc's eyes on him, watching him, as for a reason as to why he wasn't drinking. Kaeya saw the glance from Diluc and answered for him, a simple response.

"He's fine, just doesn't like drinking while under the refre-regression? I think it's called a regression?"

Diluc quirked an eyebrow, "Age regression?"

Albedo was shocked that the redhead had heard of it, and quickly turned back to face Diluc, jaw slightly agape. Before he could respond, Diluc was continuing, "Yes, I’m slightly familiar with it.” Answering Albedo’s unspoken question, before rounding on his brother. “Kaeya, why are you drinking if you're aware of his regression?"

He recovered from his shock, meekly interrupting the accusation aimed at his boyfriend, "No- um, he doesn't know. Not fully. It's okay Master Diluc."

Making eye contact with Diluc, he smiled weakly, obviously not expecting his secret to be exposed so openly. Diluc's eyes softened ever so slightly, and there was a silent agreement of "I won't ask any questions if you won't" shared between them. It wasn't long before Kaeya had caught onto what they had been saying, interrupting their moment with a loud outburst.

"Hey! I don't know what?"

"Oh it's nothing. Albedo, we have a selection of juices, is there any in particular you'd like?"

“Wh- Diluc! What do you both know that I don’t?!”

Albedo smiled at the dramatics of Kaeya, watching them bicker back and forth.

“I’m impartial to any drink. Is there any you’d recommend?” He questioned, trusting Diluc to make something he’d like.

“More to annoy Kaeya than anything else, how does grape juice with a small mix of strawberry, and pineapple juice sound? On Kaeya’s ever growing tab, of course.”

“Eugh,” Kaeya made a grimacing face, “you and your fucking grape juice.”

“That sounds amazing, Thank you.”

After a short while of Diluc making their drinks, and listening to Kaeya’s pestering about the situation, Diluc had still refused to elaborate other than a “Why don’t you ask Albedo yourself?” They were pushed across the bar, with a piece of paper and a pencil next to Albedo’s. He looked up at Diluc, silently questioning why he had been given those.

“You seem to draw and write a lot. While I have a few of Klee’s books here, I don’t think that’s something you’d like right now. At least not here.” Diluc answered, and Albedo just nodded, mouthing thank you before tucking into his drink. It had been served to him in a tankard instead of a glass, one wide enough for him to get both hands around to keep it steady, but not so heavy he struggled to hold it. The tankard also wasn’t clear, which Albedo thought was a smart decision so he would be able to lie about what drink he had, but was enjoying the juice so much he decided that would be his regular order from now on.

It didn’t take long for the fuzz in his brain to increase, especially when Kaeya started bickering with Diluc again, so he sat back snickering, watching and doodled them arguing while he enjoyed his juice.

[meganechan05]

Someone on Twitter has been feeding to the fire that is my Evil Clone KingOhger idea 😂

Specifically the HimeRita portion so I'll probably be talking more about their clones in this post.

I'll start off with the guys first to get them out of the way.

Gira's Tyrant Shtick is real for his Clone. He actually uses it against Gira in a far more threatening way that scares him as it would remind him of Racles's tyranny. He also makes Gira question why he even continues using his Tyrant Persona when the people of Shugoddom already know he's a good guy.

Evil!Yanma takes his yankii personality to a whole other level and actually takes his "I'm the Best" as is by stepping over everyone compared to Yanma who views his people and fellow Kings as equals. He finds joy tormenting Shiokara and the Hacker Gang since he finds them inferior to him, taunting Yanma in the process at how his goals and views on others contradict each other ("I'm the Best" vs no social hierarchy in his country).

Kaguragi's Clone is much more terrifying to him on a deeper level. He's more open about his manipulation and will more often than not call Kaguragi out on his. "You'd say you'd dirty your hands for your people. Yet you were so willing to put your sister in possible danger by having her in Shugoddom soil for your plans? ...You say she wholeheartedly agrees, but would a loving brother who would take sole responsibility for the safety of his country drag his dear little sister into the fray?" (Think Iroki's taunt in the movie but at a much more deeper level. The Clones do know about the originals' deepest insecurities so...)

Jeramie's Clone would have way too much fun taunting Jeramie. He would put on theatrics when explaining all of Jeramie's insecurities to him. How he was only just a boy when his mother died and his powers sealed, giving him more survivor's guilt than he already does. How his vision for a bright future clouded his judgment which caused his writing to cause the 2000 year long misunderstanding. How such clouded judgement makes him unaware of the issues of those around him. How he has finally made friends with the Kings but know he will only outlive them due to his biology.

Evil!Himeno currently seems very cut and dry when it comes to how she takes Himeno's selfishness to a dangerous level. But I know for a fact that she would very much use it against Himeno. "If you were truly selfish. If you really are the best doctor in world. Wouldn't you have done it? Bring Mama and Papa back? Have your family back in your life? If you can heal people, why not try to resurrect the dead? A much better version than what Grodie can do. Wouldn't that be nice?" Or in a situation where she does kidnap Rita and turn them into a doll. "I can turn them into a puppet, you know? They're so stubborn. Wouldn't it be easier if you could just control them so you don't have to use word games to get them to agree?"

Evil!Rita is just outright terrifying (at least to me). Not bounded by Absolute Neutrality while having the memories and thoughts of the original. Not held back by the idea of "the law protects the people" or providing fairness even in a fight. Fighting style can also use underhanded tactics befitting of a country of (ex-)convicts. They call Rita a hypocrite for being impartial but holds bias for Moffun. Being impartial yet open themself up to Morfonia and their fellow Kings (especially Himeno). Question why they're so willing to be selfless when no one has ever reached a hand out to them for 15 years. Question why they endure suffering alone for the sake of Neutrality and the safety of others when no one would bat an eye for their efforts. Why Karras took the risk of making a mere child her retainer and heir. Why Karras and Shiron would make them King without thinking about the consequences of the effects it would have on the child's mental health with no support system ("perhaps they just didn't care as much as you think"). Why they always push their feelings aside to help the others when it's clear they were suffering inside yet never show it.

Stuff like that...

Now for HimeRita, I feel like if their friendship ever turns into a relationship, this story would only make the issue with the Clones worse.

Evil!Rita is emotive to a point where you can't really tell if it really is Rita's clone or just what people think Rita would be if they weren't bound by Absolute Neutrality. So it wouldn't be a surprise if they took advantage of hidden feelings. Same for Evil!Himeno.

There could be a point where the two would drop hints of HimeRita's feelings for one another and taunt them for it once the two have a look on their faces that point they've put the pieces together.

"Oh? You never noticed? How sad. Well. Not like it would ever get anywhere considering how Rittan over there is."

"Doubt they even know they even have those feelings in the first place."

The two would try to talk about it later in private which makes it very awkward and confusing for the both of them as neither even realized their feelings were more than just friendship. They would have a heart-to-heart discussion about it and even discuss their worries for anything that would happen in the future once they can talk more easily without the fear of the clones intercepting.

Only once they were able to agree on that, the two are captured and taken to different locations by the other's clone (according to said clones' plans). Both having extremely unsettling 1-on-1 conversations to mock and drive wedges between them or give them heartbreak. Maybe even have Evil!Rita tempt Himeno with the opportunity of being able to show Rita requited affection through the clone by taunting her of how Rita would never allow themself to return her feelings for the sake of work. Evil!Himeno would taunt Rita by mocking them and putting on the waterworks, questioning why they're so picky on making exceptions to Neutrality when others before them had no problems breaking Neutrality for love.

Putting the two in a tight spot with no one to help them.

...yeah...