#is it so I can use writing a fanfiction as an excuse to do more research on the Japanese pop music industry? yes

[echowithpain]

I just woke up so I'm still a little loopy and was scrolling through Tumblr and saw this post and it made me think of that time Maddie and Chim invited Buck and Josh to dinner at Chim's old apartment and Josh said if he didn't know any better, he'd think Maddie was setting them up. And honestly??? That actually would've been really fucking cute???

Can you imagine if Buck and Josh had started dating??? Buck going to the call center and using the excuse to see Maddie and take her to lunch only to "accidentally" run into his boyfriend and starting a happy flustered conversation with him before he has to go back to work. Oh my god I can actually see it so clearly:

Maddie’s typing away on her computer and glances up, looking over her monitor and seeing Buck in his civies walking through the door (cause he's all legs lol) and she stands up and goes over to him asking,

"Hey, what’s going on?"

And he's like "Nothing! I just thought I'd come by and treat you to some lunch." all while doing that thing he does with his hands and looking around the room trying to be casual about it.

And Maddie’s like, "Uh huh. So there's no other reason you could possibly think of that would bring you down here?"

And as Buck’s about to deny it then Josh walks over, having just finished a call and he sees him and is like, "Buck?"

And Buck perks up and turns to face him and is like, "Josh! Hey!"

And Josh is like, "Hey, good to see you. What are you doing here?"

And Buck starts explaining, "Oh, you know. I just came down here to see if... Maddie, wanted to grab some lunch with me. Y'know with the heatwave, people are probably going crazy out there." all while Maddie’s playfully rolling her eyes

And Josh of course finds this amusing and is playing along and starts telling him about a few calls they took, and Buck would be happily listening and nodding along and even giving a few comments here or there before Josh finally tells him, "Yeah, it's been a day. While it's finally slowed down, we're still a bit busy. But don't worry, I can cover for 'Maddie' until she gets back from her lunch break." While nodding at Maddie

And Buck would be like, "Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, I should uh, let you get back to work."

And Josh would go, "Yeah, probably. See you later, Buck." and give him a wink while walking off and taking another call all while Buck's watching him go with his big puppy eyes

And then Maddie would put her hand on his shoulder, getting his attention, and be like, "Hey. I know you're just using me as an excuse so you can come down here and talk to Josh in person, but I just want you know... I'm holding you to treating me to lunch today."

And Buck would be like, "Yeah yeah, okay." and give a final look at Josh while Maddie’s laughing and getting her things and then they leave.

CAN YOU IMAGINE????? 🤩💖🤩💖🤩

Oh my god this started out as a sleepy ramble that turned into writing fanfiction and me actually getting upset over what could've been. Seriously think about it!

Buck and Josh are already good friends. If they started dating we could've gotten:

more Buckley siblings interactions

more scenes of the call center

more Josh, Linda, and Sue

Eddie and Josh "conflict/rivalry" (im still tired so idk the right word but I'm talking about when Eddie worked at dispatch and took over the call with the speed reference and Josh stepped up afterwards with the "You're a guest in this house" and how Eddie threw that line back at him when the place caught fire. Ever since, I like to think they have unserious beef, every now and then trying to one-up each other lol)

Buck constantly using Maddie as an excuse to visit the call center to see Josh until he's able to work up the courage to go up to him on Maddie’s day off and ask him out on a date (this could've been so fucking cute holy shit)

It could show a bi man and a gay man going out with each other and having fun and good chemistry, but ultimately deciding to break up and still remain good friends afterwards

HELL!!! YOU COULD EVEN HAVE JOSH BE THE ONE TO POINT OUT THAT BUCK IS IN LOVE WITH EDDIE AND HELP HIM REALIZE HE ACTUALLY HAS FEELSINGS FOR HIS BEST FRIEND AND HOW TO SORT THOSE FEELINGS OUT!!!

Honestly, fuck Tommy for leaving Buck on their first date. Josh would've understood Buck’s panic because he's been in Buck's shoes. Also knowing Buck and Eddie’s relationship, and how based on Buck’s reaction could piece together that he's not out to him yet, Josh could've played along and had a bit of banter with Eddie, and then reassure Buck that they would go at his pace, and NOT LEAVE HIM STANDING ALONE ON A STREET CORNER BECAUSE HE PANICKED WHEN HE SAW HIS BEST FRIEND WHILE OUT ON HIS FIRST DATE WITH A GUY!!!!

Damn, now I'm actually getting mad.

I've said before that I didn't like Tommy's character but accepted him as a way for the GA to get used to the idea of Buck being bi, but now I can't even say that anymore. Their scenes feel so awkward except for when they're making out, and they've only kissed twice, both kisses only to be establishing something. The first was to show the GA Buck was bi by having a guy kiss him and him liking it, and the second was to show the other characters he was bi by kissing a guy and getting soot on his mouth from it.

While I know they were gonna do the bi Buck storyline this season, I do think Tommy was shoehored in it. They originally said the person flying the helicopter to find the cruise ship was gonna be Lucy (miss her) but they couldn't get her actress because of scheduling conflicts or something, so they got Tommy and made him a pilot instead. I'm almost certain if they were able to get Lucy's character to fly the helicopter, Tommy wouldn't be here.

Josh actually would've been a great bi realization for Buck as well as a great first boyfriend. I've already listed reasons above but here's some more:

The GA already knows who Josh is and know that he's gay

He's an established character people already like

He's actually nice and funny but can be firm when he needs to be

He's really smart and is skilled at what he does (need I remind you of when Sue got hit by that car and he lead the police through a freaking maze with no helicopter support. bro's a badass!)

He's shown to be friends with the main cast (they all know and like him (except maybe Eddie lmao))

We already know part of his backstory (why he joined the call center and how he met Sue)

He can be vulnerable and cares about his friends

He's not above pulling pranks/getting pranked (when Linda and Maddie tried to make his schedule crazy cause he kept giving himself time off whenever there was a full moon, and he found out but let them think he didn't know until he tricked them into confessing)

Josh deserves to go on a date with a guy without getting beat up halfway through (still pissed about that storyline)

I could go on and on but I'd get even more upset and I've got shit to do today. So I'll leave you with this:

Fuck Tommy, Josh would've been a better choice

Oh, one more thing. For the people who are inevitably gonna bring up Carson or whoever it was and say Josh is dating him, we don't know for a fact if they're dating or not. Josh asked Sue if they do background checks for people working for them (again fuck that storyline) and when she said yes he went over to the ambulance and they have a small talk. We never see him again lmao. For all we know, they could've dated and broken up by now, or Josh could've asked him out and he kindly turns him down. We don't know cause we haven't seen him, and I'm not gonna argue with people who's main complaint is "What about that one guy Josh liked in season 5 that we haven't seen since that one episode?"

Shush and think about how cute Buck and Josh would be.

#911 abc #911 on abc #911 show #911 season 7 #911 s7 #echos essays #but only technically #im tired #911 josh #911 buck #josh russo #bi evan buck buckley #bi evan buckley #evan buckley #bi buck #911 maddie #maddie buckley han #maddie buckley #911 eddie #eddie diaz #josh wouldve been better #it shouldve been josh #fuck tommy #911 #buck x josh #not me actually jumping on this ship #lmao

[biromanticbookbabe]

A new term has begun. Time for Turn of the Century and WWI Brit Lit! 

And then there’s Ulysses ready to end my literary career before I’ve even started.

#in the first week #it's only one chapter thank God or else how and what #dubliners was not bad will I get dragged to hell if I say I like Virginia Woolf more? #pretty sure Woolf did NOT like Joyce if I remember correctly #I'm going to do something with Well of Loneliness if I'm allowed since it's the right time period #I used some of Virginia Woolf's writing in my last major paper so I wanted to do something else #also after reading the back of WoL I realize that it probably looks like I'm writing bad Radcylffe Hall fanfiction during my NaNoWriMo #because apparently butch feral horsegirl was a Victorian archetype that has been lost to time #can we bring that back? #and it's an excuse to read about more historic lesbians #because I already have some articles to use #grad school #I read Well of Loneliness in 2012 when I read solidly just LGBT novels aside from my class work #so it's been a while #and I'm pretty sure it's going to be depressing as hell #but maybe I'll come up with something interesting to say #james Joyce #modern brit lit #Irish lit #WWI lit #early 20th century #currently reading #bookblr #books

[myfandomrealitea]

With my recent Harry Potter posts gaining traction, I just want to make an important note:

You are not a bad person for having enjoyed Harry Potter. You are not a bad person for finding it hard to let go of something so ingrained into your life. You are not a bad person for enjoying the overall story of Harry Potter despite the bigotry JK Rowling managed to smatter into it.

Nobody should be telling you that you are. Your past relationship with Harry Potter is not the issue.

The issue is what you and we all do moving forward with the new information and facts that we know.

And the facts are that JK Rowling is a rampant and proud bigot who is hellbent on using the fortune Harry Potter made her to actively pursue the entire trans community with hostile intent.

And she does not care. She is happy that she is doing it. She is happy that people oppose her because it gives her an excuse to play victim and paint trans people who oppose her as violent, aggressive and evil.

This is not about how you engaged with Harry Potter in the past. Or even how you engage with it privately. This is about whether or not you choose to contribute toward her mission and towards the persecution of trans people right now.

Because when you buy that licensed merch in the store, she gets part of the profit. When you go to Harry Potter World, she gets part of the profit. When you buy the Harry Potter game, she gets part of the profit.

And all of those things result in three consequences:

It shows the marketing departments that Harry Potter is still a cashcow.

It shows JK Rowling that she can say and do whatever the hell she wants and nothing is going to stop that money rolling in.

She is given a steady cashflow which she uses to bankroll anti-trans movements and spokespeople and government petitions.

That is the reality of your choice from here on out. That is why people are asking you to set aside what you once had with Harry Potter and to stand with the people she has made it her life's mission to destroy.

You don't even have to let go of it completely. Just let go of the interactions that directly fund JK Rowling. Just cut off the cashflow she's using to ruin the lives of people she's never even met.

Buy fanmade merchandise or learn how to make your own. If you're cosplaying? Buy unofficial cosplays or buy second-hand off resale websites. Same with other merchandise.

If you want to watch Harry Potter, there are hundreds of non-licensed steaming websites showing it which do not contribute royalty income to JK Rowling.

If you're writing Harry Potter fanfiction, use a site like AO3 which will defend you tooth and claw if she gets desperate and starts coming after fan creators.

Harry Potter might be the comforting memories of your childhood, but JK Rowling is an active threat to the literal livelihood of trans people. People who could lose legal rights and protections simply because of one vicious woman with a bigoted agenda and deep pockets.

All we're asking is that you compare your reasons for enjoying Harry Potter with the facts of why you should make a few simple, easy choices to avoid bankrolling her and determine which is more important.

Or rather, which one should be more important.

And make the right choice.

#myfandomrealitea #sephiroth speaks #reality #proship #proshipping #harry potter #anti harry potter #jk rowling #anti jk rowling #trans rights #queer rights #lgbt

[naomihatake]

In search of freedom (Ch. 1)

1. They're bad news

Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa. This chapter follows the events of the first episode.

Warnings for this chapter: physical violence (fights), mentions of deaths, fluff, some cursing, mentions of tarot and palm readings

Word count: 3,6k

Theme song: “Loreley” by Blackmore's Night (click on the link)

A/N: This is the first part of a fanfiction I was thinking of since first watching One Piece Live Action. I started the anime too and I'm around episode 64 already. I'm using the OPLA course of action for now and I have no idea for an ending, but enough scenarios to write and share. I don't know how far this will go, but I'll have fun writing it and considering how much I like Zoro (born anime and LA), I'm using both of them as inspiration. Sorry for the lack of interaction between reader and Zoro, but I promise things will change.

The reader will be referred to as "Witch" especially in the next chapter, because I have no intentions of using "Y/N". There will be more information revealed about her past and abilities in the next chapter.

I'm open for comments and opinions <3

"Excuse me," she smiled sweetly while swaying away from someone who was standing right in front of her and a table she had to serve for. "Here," she carefully let the plates down.

She received a large smile coming from the young man with dark curls and a straw hat hanging around his neck. His pink haired companion seemed very shy, barely glancing at her before looking back at his plate, thanking in a small voice.

The tavern buzzed with a peaceful energy in the late hours of morning, the big windows letting the warm rays of sun in, lighting up the place. There were men sitting at a few tables, no sign of any other woman except for her and the very owner of that place, who just finished cooking something — were those cookies? It smelled divine.

Her dress fluttered around her knees as she moved away from their table to take other orders, a strand of her hair falling against her cheek after running around for so long. When she finally stopped in her tracks by the bar, intense eyes searched for anyone else who might've needed something. Lucky for her, she could finally breathe for a few seconds, resting her hips against the bar.

However, her eyes fell on the tall figure who just chugged down his throat a shot of alcohol. His green hair made her frown to herself, looking away before she could get caught ogling some stranger. After a few seconds, she looked at him again, this time at the three swords resting against his hip.

Three swords? What can someone do with three swords?

Everyone probably had the same question whenever they saw him for the first time. However, he felt somehow familiar, as if she's heard of someone like that before. A pirate? No, wait, a pirate hunter? The owner told her of so many things and so many people it was impossible to remember each one of them, but she was pretty sure she mentioned some pirate hunter only a few days ago.

Her thought process was interrupted when a man with blonde hair and suit walked by in front of her. Considering the men dressed in white uniforms who entered with him, they must be marines and he was probably their superior — he was walking like he owned the entire port.

She held back from rolling her eyes in annoyance. Her thoughts ran back to what her friend said about pirates last time, the way they argued back and forth about how pirates aren't good. However, she had her own reasons for claiming that not all pirates were ruthless monsters, without elaborating.

She flinched lightly when she heard the thud of a metal plate falling on the floor, snapping her head towards a little girl who was stuttering apologies to the blonde man. Her eyebrows were pulled together at his angry and loud voice mocking the child who had tears in her eyes, fear seeping through her very bones at the exaggerated reaction.

Apparently, they knocked into each other. Oh, there were two cookies on the floor. One of them got crushed under the man's foot.

She smoothly made her way by the side of the little girl, smiling at her as she crouched down to her level.

"Is everything alright, little one? Did you apologize?" the woman's hand squeezed the girl's shoulder warmly.

Rika's only response was a nod.

"Good job. It's alright, I'll help you clean up. Why don't you bring me a broom, hm?" she coaxed the girl with a gentle voice.

Once the girl walked away, she stood up straight again, arching her eyebrow questionably at the arrogant man by her side.

"Is there anything else I could help you with?"

"What, are you working here? If the answer's positive, then you better teach those stupid kids some manners," he huffed.

"You should teach yourself how to behave," she commented right back, her sharp gaze sizing him up and down.

"Take that back. Next time I won't be so nice," the blonde marine grinned.

Oh, and what an ugly grin it was on that fucker's face.

"You dropped my food," a low voice from behind interrupted.

The young woman turned her head towards the voice, confusion written on her face as she made a few steps back, out of his way. It was the green haired man she noticed earlier, now sitting on one of his knees on the cold floor.

Rika came back with a broom almost twice her size, the object quickly taken from her hold by the woman who smiled at her again. While they exchanged glances, the pirate hunter let himself down on one of his knees, taking some of the crushed cookie into his palm.

A sly smile tugged at the woman's lips. A pirate hunter or not, he had more dignity than a marine even in that kneeling position. She was more satisfied to see the little one smiling.

"Your turn," the green-haired man lowered his voice, a dark glare thrown at the astonished marine.

The pirate hunter raised back up and placed the metal plate on the bat, his intimidating height against the arrogant blonde monkey in front of him telling enough.

"Apologize to the girl," he demanded in a relaxed tone.

"Me? It was her fault for bumping into me. The lady should apologize for disrespecting me."

Apologize, my ass, she thought to herself, one step away from bursting out laughing. What did he take her for?

"Do you want a fight or what?" he drew his sword out, a knowing grin curled on his face. "I don't need three swords to fight."

The woman looked down at the little girl who was still by her side, ruffling her hair.

"Why don't you go to your mother, hm? And stay there until I call you back."

Her stern voice didn't give space for arguing; Rika complied, going to the kitchen.

She heard some muttering and next thing she knew, both of the men in front of her had drawn their swords out. Apparently, the green-haired one decided to advance closer to the marine, in an attempt to keep the fight away from the lady.

Hmph. Swordsmen and their unusual gentlemanly behavior.

Squeezing the broom in between her fingers, she moved away, furrowing her eyebrows in a scowl.

"No fights in here, you jerks!" she scoffed.

Expertly, while the other marines attacked one man — how unethical of them — and swords clashed against each other after sharp whistling noises, the woman swept away the cookies on the floor. She faked doing her own duties, like the good employee that she was, throwing careful glances at the fight happening right next to her. If she wasn't careful enough, she could get sliced in two.

"I advise you to get out of the way," she heard the swordsman's voice growling right after he threw a chair into three men, making them fall to the floor.

"You'll destroy the entire place if I do."

Right after saying those words, without anyone noticing in that damned agitation, with a quick movement of the broom, she made one of the marines trip.

Just like the idiots that they were.

"Oh my god, you should be more careful!" she placed a hand over her lips, fake surprise and fear coloring her features.

Who would believe such an innocent being was capable of such malicious actions?

With a strong creak followed by a thud, one marine was thrown into a table that turned the both of them upside down, groans filled with pain vibrating through the tavern.

She was right about them destroying the place.

However, the commotion didn't cause too much distress to the woman still moving the broom around, acting as if she had business with that newly found weapon. It might not be lethal, but she couldn't be spotted while she was intentionally making the marines' jobs harder. In the month she's been working there, she saw more than just one fight and used everything that she saw fit to stop it — be it a broom or a kitchen knife.

Now that she analyzed the fight better, it seemed like the pirate hunter barely even had to draw his sword out of its scabbard, at some point knocking someone's head into the bar. He used his raw strength and the objects surrounding him, thankfully without destroying any of them. The can he threw into another man's stomach seemed so effortless.

That must've hurt, though.

The blonde marine was quickly pulled by the back of his collar, back colliding with the bar, and an angry swordsman towering over him. She didn't hear anything nor paid attention anymore, eyes focused on the tavern that was ruined only half way through.

She sighed after watching both of the men walking out of there, biting her lower lip to hold back a fit of laughter at the marine who stumbled while being dragged by the bounty hunter.

"Why do men always fight in this tavern?" she talked to herself, raising one of the chairs and putting it back in place. "One day of peace is all I want in this port, only one day, and I can't get even that."

She sighed again, only for that long exhale to get stuck in her throat once her eyes fell on the table that was almost sitting in the opposite way rather than how it should be. Once she approached it, stepping by the marine who was trying to get up.

She would never help someone who had less dignity than a dog following some orders from a brainless monkey. Heck, even those animals were smarter.

Instead, she tried to move the table back in its place. Her fingers were so close to gripping at one side of the table before someone appeared at the opposite side. The young man with a straw hat and a square smile she served only a few minutes ago raised the table by himself, carefully arranging it until he was satisfied with its position.

"Thank you so much for the help," she smiled at him. "Be careful where you step, I think a glass also broke."

There were some shreds on the floor somewhere close to the table the young man sat at earlier.

"Thank you for your concern," he smiled just like the first time.

Gosh, has she ever seen such a beautiful soul? His eyes sparkled and the happiness suited him like it did to a little child who has no clue of the harsh world. However, he didn't seem phased or scared by what happened earlier — his hands weren't shaking at all and there was no fear lingering in his stare.

She turned to take the broom and came closer to his companion, who was sitting under the table. She bent her torso to give him a hand, helping him get back to his feet.

"Careful with the glass, check your hands," she warned again.

"I saw what you did there."

She turned towards the straw hat guy, blinking owlishly at him.

"I don't really get what you mean."

She started sweeping the shred of broken glass, not paying attention to the curious and insistent gaze she was receiving.

"You surely do. I'm Monkey D. Luffy and I'm gonna be King of the Pirates!"

Her eyes widened at the second part of his speech, snapping her head back at him. Without even realizing, her fingers were squeezing the broom quite harshly, fingertips going white.

"That's—" she started in a small voice, blinking like an idiot and staring at him.

She's heard that before. She's heard the same dream before and it brought so much suffering.

"That's dangerous," she finally got the courage to continue, still hesitant.

"You're brave for interfering with their fight."

Luffy looked into her eyes as if he could guess the thoughts running through her head, as if he could read her very soul, drinking in her features and reaction.

"You must've seen wrong," she let out a light chuckle, getting a grip on herself. "I'm just clumsy sometimes."

She was thankful she stopped herself from cussing out the Marines, because in less than a second after she finished her sentence, a few other men dressed in white uniforms appeared to help their comrades back to the base. She casted a skeptical eye at each one of them, like silent warnings.

They were pathetic, some of them still stumbling while trying to get up, their swords thrown around carelessly. After they all disappeared from her sight, her shoulders obviously relaxed again.

"I have to admit I hated each second of staying so much with these idiots around," she huffed quietly. "That spoiled child who takes advantage of his father's status was getting on my nerves."

"That's why you helped that swordsman, right?"

Luffy continued with his supposition, not letting go of what he thought he saw — it was the truth, but it would be dangerous to admit.

"I didn't help anyone, really. That was unintentional."

"Don't press it too much, Luffy," his companion's voice trembled.

"Koby, I know what I saw," Luffy pulled his lips into a straight line.

She resumed what she was doing, sweeping at the pieces of glass, seeing almost each one of them in the light seeping through the window.

"If you want to become King of the Pirates, I suppose you also want to get the One Piece, right?"

She was foolish. She was stupid for asking, for getting herself in such business that somehow always ended with too many deaths, with broken dreams. However, something was nagging in her gut. Deep down, it felt so right to ask.

"Yes! I need the Grand Line map for that and I intend on getting from the Marine Base here."

"You're insane, kid," her shoulders shook with her light laughter.

It was a sour sound.

She stopped, leaning her weight into the broom, looking down at the glass in front of her. She shouldn't help them. She should stay in her place if she wanted those young men to survive. What they were trying to do was basically suicide, they just didn't know. Koby seemed to be more fearful, hesitant and so, so shy. Luffy didn't say "us"; he said "I" — the pink-haired guy was not really part of the plan.

Against better judgment, she raised her head at him, promises sparkling in her eyes just like the shreds of glass.

"You can't just ask for that map and I hope you know that. What you want to get yourself into isn't just dangerous, it's like jumping into a suicide mission," her voice strained, pouring all of her hope in her next words: "However, I can help you get inside. Be careful, you have to make sure no one catches you."

"So I was right about you!" Luffy beamed.

"Right about what?"

"That you're brave."

Her lips opened, but no sound came from between them. It was pointless to deny it when he seemed so stubborn about what he saw and believed.

"I think this is a lot to say about someone who's helping you steal secret maps," the side of her mouth curled upwards.

Koby was left astonished. Stealing from the Marines was suicide.

"Listen here, kid," she lowered her voice, stepping closer to whisper. She set her gaze on Luffy's. "You have to get out of there alive, no matter what. Lie if you have to, but I have a feeling you're very bad at that, so be careful. That isn't a place to fool around in. You could get yourself killed in a blink. The Marines are very sneaky."

"There are good Marines and bad Marines," he shrugged. "Maybe I'll meet someone who's willing to help."

"I like your enthusiasm, but that unit base doesn't fit," she shook her head. "Both Captain Morgan and his son aren't the good kind of people."

She squeezed the broom in between her fingers again, an ugly feeling clawing at her throat. She didn't want a kid to die for following his dreams, but freedom was something she always craved.

"I'll tell you a way to get inside the base from underneath. You have to keep your lips sealed — I don't worry about myself, but about the owner and her daughter. I don't want word spreading around."

"You can count on me!" he placed his hand on his heart, as if he sealed the promise there. "Who are you? I want to know who's helping me."

Damned be his sincerity.

"I'll give you my name after you get out of there alive."

She smiled, eyes sparkling with delicious mischief.

"That is a promise. I'll be around the Marine Base and I'll tell you my name after I see you get out of there alive."

That seemed to stir something in Luffy's soul, inhaling with pride. A man of his word, indeed, just like she thought.

"Deal.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

Her name left the lips of a scolding mother, even if it wasn't her mom.

"I saw you." The second time she heard tthat same phrase in one day.

Annie patted the tip of her shoe against the floor repeatedly.

"I was just lucky enough not to get myself in trouble," she shrugged.

However, her eyes fell on the floor, guilty about getting caught like a deer in the light.

"You could've gotten yourself in big trouble!" the owner of the tavern raised her voice.

Rika pouted up at her mother, trying to sweeten her reaction.

"She just wanted to help, just like—"

"Rika," this time, the scolded one firmly spoke her name. "Don't take me as an idol. It's true that something could have happened."

The little girl shouldn't worry about such a bloody world just yet and she wanted to help it for as long as possible. Being stubborn was a death sentence, even if she would always get herself into trouble if it meant to stick to her principles.

She'd rather die on her feet than live on her knees.

"Just because this time everything was fine, it doesn't mean next time will be the same," Annie exhaled loudly, frowning.

"There won't be a next time," the young woman sank her chin in her chest. "I should leave these days. Soon enough, word will spread out about my tarot and palm readings. I don't want to cause you any more trouble."

"You little witch," the usual scolding was replaced with a warm nickname.

She raised her head again, struggling to smile. Leaving after she got attached always hurt.

"That man was Roronoa Zoro, wasn't it?" Annie asked, her body suddenly tensing.

"Most probably," she shrugged. "Three swords, three earrings. He put on quite a show, to be honest," the words were followed by a chuckle.

"I see the way your eyes are sparkling. Don't even think about getting into some conversation with such a troublesome person."

"What could do some adventure to a poor soul like me?" she teased.

"It could bring you six feet under."

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

"I'm no witch, you idiots!" she struggled against the harsh grip the two men had on her arms.

She hissed when one of them sank his fingertips in her upper arms, glaring at him.

Shithead marines.

She continued writhing and struggling, stomping her feet into the ground in an awful attempt to stop them. She intended on keeping her promise after she helped the straw hat sneak into their base. She waited for as long as it was necessary after she gathered her things in a bag that hung around her shoulders. She was supposed to leave that place after she made sure the kid was alright and alive.

"God dammit!" she shouted. "How many times do I have to explain I'm not doing anything wrong?!"

"You're lying to people and receiving money, filthy witch. You're a thief," one of the men commented as they continued walking her away from the port.

"I didn't steal shit!" she snapped.

"Watch out!" she heard a familiar voice.

Instantly, she bent her torso down. The man on her right was punched in the face with so much force he released her grip on her and stumbled into the marine on her left, both of them now on the ground.

She didn't even get enough time to process what was happening, something curling around her waist carefully, but so fast. A yelp left her lips when she realized she was being lifted off the ground, turning her head towards the source.

It was the straw hat's arm. He ate a devil fruit, didn't he?

He was on a boat that was sailing a few meters away in the sea and she was being pulled towards him. She also recognized the pirate hunter from earlier and a woman with orange hair, both of them far too relaxed for what was happening.

That guy was made of rubber!

She recognized Koby who just got to his feet after she got past him, her feet finally touching something solid again. She blinked confused at the straw hat.

"You can't bring everyone that you like on this ship," the swordsman let out a hopeless sigh.

She busted out laughing like a maniac, the colorful and rich sound filling the air. Her shoulders shook and she had to place her hand over her stomach, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. Obviously, her reaction was met with an especially questionable look coming from the swordsman, who most probably thought he got on a ship with another insane human.

"You're insane, kid," she wiped the tears in her eyes with her fingers, still smiling widely.

She hasn't felt such relief in years.

"I guess I gotta fulfill a promise, right?"

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

#naomiwrites #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa #opla zoro x reader #opla zoro #opla #one piece #op zoro #one piece live action #op x reader #opla x reader #one piece x reader #i have to reread this tomorrow and make sure there aren't mistakes #I'm so tired and i should go to sleep #is search of freedom

[readychilledwine]

Hello, i just wanted to to start off saying i love your work!!!!! And I was wondering if i could request a Tamlin x Feyre's twin sister like there at a meeting with the high lords and Rhysand and Feyre decide to bring her and then her and tamlin lock eyes and the mating bond snaps into place for them, or something like that, the rest is up for you to decide! :) :)

Do you all remember the olden days of Twilight fanfiction where the oc/reader was Bella's twin and Jacob's imprint, but Jake didn't find out for quite sometime and then was like, "This explains it. It explains why I wanted Bella so badly. It wasn't Bella, it was you (insert Italian name)."

Aka I fucking loved this idea and dropped everything I was working on to write it. It's an angsty little piece.

Lost Bonds

Warnings - Told mainly from Tamlin's view of reader, angst, mentions of trauma, mentions of sex, unrequited love, one-sided mating bond

A/N - I can totally see myself doing something with this and making it a mini series.

Tamlin felt his jaw twitch.

You were an unexpected liability.

An foreseen circumstance.

A blessing and curse all at the same time.

And so fucking beautiful.

You were the most unique of your sisters, and it immediately told him which one you were. Y/n Archeron, Feyre's younger sister and twin. You stood out from her and Nesta, yet were flawless in your own right.

Long dark hair he knew would have came from your father was done so delicately, falling to above your hips in soft waves. A face that damn near was the identical match to your sister's, only yours held more freckles that seemed to dance like paint splatters landing in all the right places. You shared those blue eyes, though. Elain having been the only one to inherit the doe brown of your father.

Rhysand had dressed you immaculately. He had allowed you to wear a jewel toned blue gown. No doubt to ensure you matched Azriel, just as Nesta's jewelry matched Cassian. The dress was tight, clinging to your torso and accentuating your breasts perfectly to be on display each time to bend over to whisper into Azriel's ear.

His jaw tightened again, looking away from the two of you as it happened again. A shadow then curled your shoulders, your arm, through your fingers. Your gorgeous long fingers he knew were trained to play piano.

He knew damn near everything about you already.

And you only knew the worst of him.

He didn't know if you had felt it, but the second you two locked eyes after his third started insult towards your twin, he felt the sentence dying on his tongue, chest aching.

Rhysand had begun to smirk, settling into his seat while looking at Feyre, who's face fell before looking at her younger mirror image.

You'll never have her, a soft feminine voice rang in his mind. You will never fucking touch her.

Azriel stood, taking your hand as you cocked your head and removed you from the room. He one of his hands placed around your waist, resting softly on your hip as you leaned into him. "Excuse my dear sister," Rhysand purred, eyes locked on Tamlin. "She still exhausts easily after being stripped of her mortality."

"But what a gift," Nesta's eyes drilled into Tamlin. "To be blessed with beauty and immortality." The words were a stab in his heart. Sitting in his chest.

Words he had previously used to belittle your trauma.

The trauma his High Priestess, and in turn he, had caused you.

He would not lay eyes on you again until the war. Where he watched Azriel take you to his bed nightly. Where he heard Azriel pulling you apart, whispering to you his love and praise, and you returning it tenfold.

He watched you two pack after everything was over together. He watched as those scarred hands touched your flawless ones. He watched every joke Azriel would make land. He watched you be chased by him like a child. He watched each soft kiss.

"They're in love," Rhysand appeared next to him. "True, genuine, chosen love. Don't fucking ruin this for her. You've done enough." The High Lord of Night walked away. Joining Azriel in teasing the youngest sister and kissing the top of her head softly, eyes glaring directly into Tamlin's soul.

You'll never have her.

Those words rang in his head over and over becoming a mantra shattering even his heart of stone.

You'll never have her.

You will never have her.

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers

#acotar #acotar x reader #send asks #send anons #send requests #tamlin x reader #tamlin x you #tamlin x y/n #azriel x reader #tamlin acotar

[darlingofvalyria]

❝I am not a Valyrian Sex God.❞

part 03 | pucker up, buttercup

chapter summary:

[ The line of friendship dances in uncertain waters when you and Aemond play the fake dating game a little too well. Helaena reveals much more than meets the eye to Aegon, and vice versa. Oh, and Alys. Hi Alys! ]

[ 5,399 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,

contains— mostly fluff, a wee bit angsty, a little smutty - profanity, i swear a lot sorry too shhshs - no use of y/n - no gods, no kings, no betas.

a/n— thank you so much for the love this little fic is getting so far!! it truly warms my heart that you people enjoy my twisty, crackpot humour and my version of a modern au for these characters!! as much as i am grateful for george for making these characters and these stories, i have to say what propelled me to write is the beautiful community i found. truly, from the bottom of my heart. ❥ fandom is built on community. i would not have had the courage to start writing fanfiction again if not for ya'll. so thank you so much. for the consumers and the creators. you, us, are the beating heart of fandom. please take care of each other. + comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡

"Please tell me I haven't inhaled so much drugs in my system that I am hallucinating our— and I say this with a lot love, okay you know what? No. Our Nasty Little Bitch of A Grudge Holder we call, lovingly, a brother, is not dating the hottest friend you have? Hel? The hottest friend you told me if I ever came anywhere near, you'd rip me a new asshole? How is Aemond's asshole still intact?? Or does our brother just have a gaping fun-house slide down there? Hello? Hellooo, pay attention to meee. This is so rude, why didn't I call Daeron?"

"Because Daeron knows nothing and I know everything?" Hel snorts, finishing up re-naming Aemond's contact from CURRENT DUMB BRO to NASTY LITTLE BITCH OF A GRUDGE HOLDER, before turning to Aegon on her laptop.

Like she predicted, Aegon is already pouting, leaning back on what Helaena remembers is their grandfather's rum-coloured leather office chair. In his office. In Oldtown.

After a quick stint in Ibiza, it seems Helaena's brother had found himself back in the country, and worse— back in their grandfather's office. Without him in it.

"Grandpa's going to kill you." Helaena snorts. "How'd you even get inside his house?"

"This is not the first time I have been faced with a locked door, baby sister."

"You broke a window didn't you?"

"I really, really had to piss."

She rolls her eyes. Hard. "You are a boy. You can literally just pee anywhere."

Aegon flutters a gasp and a hand over his chest. "Excuse me? I may have a penis, but that does not mean I have to be uncouth. For shame, Helaena. Also disgusting. But that's not why I called." He steeples his fingers as he leans forward, pressing his elbows against the nice mahogany desk. "What the fuck is happening over there? I'll be there by tomorrow and I'd like to know what the fuck is happening before I start—" he wiggles his eyebrows salaciously, " — shaking things up."

A dark look crosses Helaena's usually amiable pretty face that has Aegon leaning back. "If you do anything— and I mean anything — to ruin what I have going on, Mother may help you for I certainly won't. The Stranger will look like an old friend, Egg, don't you fucking dare."

"What the fuck," Aegon exhales, wide-eyed and horrified. "Have you been watching M. Night Shyamalan movies again?"

"No," she lies. "I'm doing this for my OTP."

 "Oh my god, you're the one who roped them together?" Aegon strangles a sigh. "Lae-lae, we've talked about this. No matter how much you think they're cute, Aemond—"

"— Aemond and Alys broke up."

"Then they'll be together again before the weekend's out." Aegon rolls his eyes. "It's Aemond."

"Not like this." Hel shakes her head. "I got her to agree, Egg. And they're like... Gods, the pictures don't do them justice. They're magnetic. They make plans at the apartment, Aemond is there all the time— my OTP is happening."

"You are playing god between two people you care about."

"What else am I supposed to do?! They're obviously so hot for each other, and now that Alys is out of the picture, and she's there, right in front of him, Egg, you should see how it is between them. The energy. It's crackling. They have inside jokes, they're so comfortable with each other, and I will have the most beautiful nephew and niece—"

"—Helaena Targaryen," Aegon admonishes with finality. Hel quiets. Often times, the siblings forget Aegon is quintessentially the oldest sibling. They had never been close to their father's actual firstborn— the age gap is wide and there's just... too much complicated family fissures in between that it feels awkward, even when they're relationship is okay, to interact or consider Rhaenyra anything past a cousin you see every other holiday because you have to, much less now that their father's dead — so Aegon is their big brother.

And though they see it in bits, in flung comet pieces that you see preciously once every few hundred years— the vibe of big brother grasps the edges and reminds the younger siblings.

Sure, he's a dick. Sure, he's a whore. Sure, he's their mother's least and most favourite headache— but Aegon is their big brother.

"You cannot play puppeteer like this. This can blow up in their faces. And they care for each other. Their friends. If this blows up in their faces, it is going to hurt."

"I know that," Helaena says quietly, pout pinched but face mostly cleared. "You don't think I don't know?"

"I think you've already outweighed your chances and your choosing a possibility."

Helaena looks truly scolded at that point, and it juts a guilt down Aegon's stomach. But Aegon likes you. Maybe not like in the way that his brother likes you— in that intense, possessive way he gets with people and things he care about because there are so few of them — but he likes you. And he loves Aemond on a bad day, and likes him on a good one.

And Aegon knows, as a superior power about crashing and burning, that this is going to hurt both of you in ways that he truly doesn't think Helaena understands.

Because he isn't blind (as his brother) (bad joke?) (probably) to what he sees in Aemond's gaze when it looks at you. Sure it's possessive, sure it's the same way he looks at most people he keeps close to his heart.

But he was the one who saw how Aemond looked at you before Alys came into the picture. Before it morphed into nothing but platonic; morphed close to how he looks at Helaena. In that soft, I'm So Glad This Person Exists I Would Kill Literally Everyone For Them.

Aegon always thought he looked at you like he wanted to devour you. Etch you into his skin until your shape is in red marks across white plane. He looked at you like I Would Kill Myself If You Asked.

It was the possibility of devotion dipped in insanity. Aemond had so few things, much less people, who so vocally, physically, and emotionally cared for him without addendums.

The only real reason he never did anything before was because you were Helaena's best friend. Helaena loved you. And he couldn't destroy that alongside the fact that you might leave his side.

And then Alys happened and that focal point moved.

Aegon knew his brother. Not as intensely, and maybe that's the reason he could see it. To see clearly past the intensity and recognise its edges. Aegon knew his brother in his marrow.

"When this crashes and burns—"

"If!" Helaena quips stubbornly. "If it crashes and burns. Come home. You'll see, Egg. Aemond just needs to see."

"And what if she doesn't reciprocate, Lae-lae? She's not hard to love, and this is Aemond." Even Helaena knows his feelings, once taken root in whatever form, can blossom.

Helaena smiles softly. "Come home. You'll see. I can see it. I've seen it. The possibility of them, and it's so pretty, Egg."

It's really not all that pretty, fake dating.

Maybe it could be, but Aemond Targaryen is such an ass.

"This is not like The Devil Wears Prada fashion montage," you grumble, pinching off the big, 60s, yellow sunglasses off your nose to glare pointedly at the man sat on lounge chair. "All the zippers and tugging— this is not as pretty! And I look ridiculous! I don't wear dresses like these, Aemy!"

"You don't look ridiculous, you look like my girlfriend." He makes his emphasis with an inch raised eyebrow and pouty lips twitching not to laugh. "That's the point, is it not?"

You make a drawl huff. It's not just that his words were right— that's what the past hour has been, roaming around all these big named fashion brands where the staff just knows Aemond Targaryen, if not just by him sauntering in with all the swagger of an asshole you'd walk the other side of the street to ignore, then by the flash of his black card (or three, 'cause what the fuck is money to Targaryens holy shit) — but the way he's sitting as he appraises every look he's chosen for you.

He's lax, as could be in his usually perfect posture, with his hips in the middle, and one leg braced down whilst the other is raised to his other thigh. A confident man's sitting position, with an arm over the length of the sofa, balancing a champagne a trying-to-suppress-her-giddiness staff gave him.

At your disapproved glare— down on your nose at him because you're standing over him, lording over him, as he's sitting down — and he's smirking up at you. As if the power dynamics don't shift by whoever is looming over the other.

Aemond doesn't need to stand to make you feel all fluttery with a smirk and a strong gaze against your body. His eyes gaze from the bottom of your heeled toes, slow, slow, slow, until it reached the top of your head.

Surely you've only imagined his gaze lingering on certain parts of you that now felt hot and tingly.

Surely.

"Plus," he continues with a hum. A sip of champagne. "Isn't this your idea?"

"Yes, but—"

"Didn't you tell me that I should prepare the kind of outfits that Aemond Targaryen's girlfriend would wear—"

 "Yes, but I—"

He leans forward, taking pleasure in arguing with you, as he settles his elbows on his knees, pressing both of his feet flat on the tile. He's looking up, still, but his eyes are intense and the corner of his mouth is twitching from a grin he's trying to fight.

"And even when I told you that didn't matter, that whatever you wore would be fine, you insisted?"

"Because I thought it'd be fun!" you growl and he falls in faint, amused laughter. His eye is sparkling and there's a joy to him that makes you giddy. You truly have missed Aemond as you know him. "Because I wanted a fun dress-up montage, but nothing about this is fun! Why are you choosing so many goddamned zippers, and they're all so fucking tight?"

You plop beside him, stealing his champagne. Staff look away, trying not to ogle too much between you two. As you take sips of his drink, his hand, still over the sofa's arm, begin drawing idle circles on your exposed shoulders. It warms you and calms you down, melting further in the seat beside him.

"I liked the dresses," he finally murmurs. "The ones before this. The flowy fabric ones."

"Those are summer dresses," you say though don't know why.

"Hm," he hums. "You look pretty in them."

You look up at him and he's looking at you, a small smile on his face. The proximity is too near to be proper but not near enough if you're fake dating. You study his silver lashes and the scarred flesh.

"Thanks."

"We'll get them. Is that alright with you?"

You snort softly. "You're paying, Aemy. You can do whatever you want. Can't believe this is how your dates with Alys usually went."

Hatching plans meant unloading information about his former relationship with her. Going through their relationship so you could understand it better, better proportioned the good and the bad, and secretly, make him see the red flags that should jump out in clear, plastic red.

"Not at first." He's looking away now, but his finger is still drawing circles. There's a wistful tone to his voice, like seeing through a dream and a memory. "But when it got... bad, it seemed like the only time we weren't fighting was when we were in public. Almost subconsciously, whenever things got tensed, I'd offer to take us out. Do anything outside of our bubble. Money isn't an issue, and before Alys said she felt like a... cheap whore than a girlfriend, buying things for her, spending time looking through things to wear, to match almost, was safe."

"Gift Giving," you mutter with a nod. He turns.

"What was that?"

"A love language." He cocks his head. You sigh. "I mean it's stupid and not really theoretically accurate, but for fun, there's five types of love languages. People do this test thing and sort of box up the kind of love language you want to receive and what you give— but truly, in my opinion, a true kind of love demands all five for it to work."

He hums, intrigued. "And what are the five?"

"Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Physical Touch, Acts of Service, Gift Giving. But, you know, all of those should be given by a partner, in increments they can do for you. There shouldn't be a boxed fixture of what your relationship could be."

You shrug, standing up and stretching. You don't see him looking at you in the way that he has been for the past few days, and he doesn't know the tingles and feelings you keep between a smile and a sigh.

"Love looks different for everyone but it should have the same concept."

"And what concept is that?"

You turn to him, smiling. "That if you truly love someone, you can try anything. Love doesn't demand things that you do for the simple reason that you love the person enough."

"Love can be complicated," he says, and he's not arguing, not really. He isn't begging for you to understand. He is simply saying.

"Love can," you agree. "As most things are complicated. But it doesn't have to hurt."

It's a boundary line, the way he blinks, remembering why you're here together, why he gets to touch you in intimate ways, why he gets to pay for clothes, why you spend this time with him. A jolt. A shock.

You don't press and he doesn't retreat. The line exists not just to remind, but to stabilise any projections. Any dangerous tones.

You simply smile, nodding at the time. "Dinner date, babycakes. We can't be late for reservations."

"We can be late for a few minutes," he says, remembering echoes of how Alys sometimes got late. It isn't really her fault; there are days when she's too busy at the law firm, too busy with a meeting or two, or still finishing up her makeup because she doesn't like going to dinner in her work clothes.

"Sure, but we're here together and I know how much you hate being late." You snort.

"I don't hate it."

"Sure, but you got that eye twitch you do when you're annoyed," you tease, tapping your own eye before you wink at him and skip away.

For the past few days since the bar incident, by your suggestion, you and Aemond had pour out the intricacies of how Aemond and Alys' relationship worked whilst hiding your true intention of making him see its faults and corners, and at the same time, continue on with the charade of dating him.

It's been a packed week or so, going to your shifts at the bar, meeting with Cregan once and a while (boy had been busy, and he found the entire thing with Aemond incredibly hilarious).

You answered no question mark in regards on who the hand was, only sent a winky face or a kiss blowing emoji. You continue to post minute representations of your no-longer-single status in brief intervals, making sure that you never name him. You never publicly give him a recognisable body.

But for those that knew, knew.

It really wasn't that hard. There were only so much pale, toned hands, so much body builds you can hide with your hand covering his general face that you can hide without people making smart guesses. There wasn't a lot of pale, toned people around you after all.

But in your refusal to name him, the question continues, and so does Alys silent observation of every post. The only story she had liked had been the very first one.

You often wonder what she thinks, before your mind is devoured once again with everything else.

To be fair, as often as you had both been seeing each other lately— and it has been the most often you have been seeing of him — there were still things outside of Aemond and Helaena plans. And Aemond still had UNI to focus on.

"You know, I often forget you're still in university," you say now, comfortably warm in Aemond's car. All fresh leather seat and crisp new car smell despite knowing that Aemond's had this unit now for at least a year. He maybe rich, but he knew what he liked and took care of them.

He shoots you a quizzical look before looking back at the road. The city is bathed in a gorgeous stream of oranges and pinks, tie-dying glass buildings and bustle of city roads. When you look at him, you smile softly at how pretty the light hits him.

"Why is that? Do I look that young?"

"Your vibe is so old man on a nine to three, cigar breaks by four, and whiskey sours by seven pm."

He makes a disgruntled sound at the back of his throat. You laugh. "I would like to think it's my altruistic classicism. A timeless endeavour."

"Sure, old man," you tease then sigh. "Reality is, I'm so much older than you. I'm hanging out with a child. On my free day. Is this what it means to reach low status?"

"I am not a child." His reply is sharp, cutting, almost offended.

"You're in college."

"And of legal age? You're only four years older."

"Oh, right."

"What?"

You smirk at his dark look. "You like 'em way older."

His face, much like his gaze, heats up. You're imaging it when the ride turns red, the car slows to a stop, and he is looking at your lips. Surely it was, because you got transfixed with the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips. A slow, tantalising movement.

It feels like an eternity stretched within three seconds. The light turns green and both of you turn away.

Well, there's been that. A few times. But it doesn't mean anything. Aemond is in that transition of trying to rid himself of bad habits, of being freshly single once again, and you know he and Alys get in on frequently. This had been a conversation a few days back, on a couch, smell of grease and pizza around the room while Murder She Wrote played in the background.

"Wait, wait, wait." You sat up, folding your legs underneath your butt, and giving Aemond your full attention with a little 'o' in your mouth.

"Wait!" Helaena calls playfully from her sway to the bathroom. "Imma pee!"

"Take care, my beloved!" you call back, before turning to Aemond with a big, Cheshire grin.

"Can we not dwell on it?" He's flustered but is trying not to show it, looking back to the TV as if he understood why there's a body on the plane.

But wine has been had, spilled and shared, and it's enough for you to grab that fluster and the topic, and smirked.

"No, no, we will talk about it. We shall! We must! Do you mean to tell me that by the end of it, most of the time, you two were just boning? Is Aemy, one of my favourite people in the world, a Valyrian Sex God?? Oh my god??"

"I am not a Valyrian Sex God."

"Okay, girly pop, please." You raised a hand in a 'talk to the hand' motion and he was smiling at you, entranced and frustrated. "Women talk, Aemy!"

There was a flush and Helaena came back. Wine did things to Helaena, and she was stumbling and giggling as she flopped behind you, turning around and encasing you in a koala hug.

"Women talk, baby bro." Helaena nodded sagely. "Even I try not to listen, they talk, alas."

"And Alys has said those hips—"  You pointed a j'accuse finger at his hips, then his mouth. "—and that tongue has done things that can make the Maiden blush."

Helaena groaned behind you're back, a slew of 'ew's escaping her mouth. And you were still being playful, teasing, but Aemond was looking at you, though scarlet, with a deepened expression.

And at that moment, both of you were thinking the same thing.

His chin brushing your thighs, your sighs like music to his ears, and his tongue making you scream.

Warmth pooled, twin expressions share a gaze. Hunger, desire, shame.

The connection was destroyed when Helaena abruptly jolted and fell down the carpet. Because she was holding onto you, you got pulled with her.

"Are you okay??" Aemond asked.

Hel gasped. "I thought I saw Bobby. I think I squished Bobby."

You shook your head. "You didn't. Bobby is spry. Bobby knows to move away."

Aemond's confused face peered down at both of you. "Who's Bobby?"

"The local spider that lives here."

"Of course." And he smiled.

You smiled back.

Helaena giggled beside you but when you ask her, she only shook her head.

And the silence that lulls in the car is like both of you reaching the very same memory and having to sit through the stifle of that drunken interaction about his sex life. He coughs, you let out a breathy giggle.

"I should admit something," he says, parking the car in front of the restaurant. Dusk is settling, sunset in bright red and orange turning to a cool blue and pretty lavender— and when you turn to him after getting out of the car, coddling your jacket close to your body, he looks nervy. Apologetic, almost.

"What? What'd you do?"

He bites his bottom lip. "I know something about this restaurant."

"I would assume. You chose it." Your eyes narrow, giving the black-out floor to ceiling windows a look. The Painted Table is lit up in a scrawled font on top of it.

You step inside, not bothering to turn to his call of your name, and is submerged by the restaurant's vibe. It's a darkened place with meaningful lighting but a casual air, a bar on the side, and an upbeat jazzy music dancing in the air — it looks good. The place smelled delicious.

Nothing about it sparked familiarity to you, but the anticipation from that look of guilt on his face brought you to a high-strung, so when he calls your name again, just behind you, you turn.

"Is this where you had your first date with Alys?"

He shakes his head. "No. No, but—"

"Aemond?"

The voice is familiar, and you don't stop enough to think before you're turning to the low, clear voice that's just a hint of husky, and Alys' green eyes go wide at your appearance.

She's dressed nice, dressed to go out in a black dress dipping low and fabric tangled around her body to show off her curves. Her inky hair was swept to one side and her mouth was bloodred.

Alys Rivers, owner of Aemond's firsts. The woman he seemingly can't let go off.

You smile. It feels fake. "Oh. Hi Alys."

Her shock staves off into a genuine smile that makes you guilty. "Hi, my love. I see you two are together. Always attached at the hip. Dinner?"

Before you nod— or maybe strangle Aemond — he comes forward, taking your hand in the process and lacing it. He's looking at her as if he's setting a challenge when Alys' eyes fall on your intertwined hands.

"Yes," he says. "We are."

"Well... that's good. This place is great. I—" Someone calls her name, she turns back. You shoot Aemond a withering glare you hope conveys how much you're going to beat his ass after this. She turns back, smiling still. There's a pinch between her eyes but it's gone by the third blink. "Well, I have to go. I'll see you both soon, okay?" She turns to you, stepping forward, not minding the Targaryen beside you. "Especially you. We haven't hung out in a while."

"That's true, I've missed you, you crazy witch." And she laughs and you smile, because you genuinely consider Alys to be one of your friends. Not maybe as deeply as Helaena's, or as close, but Alys was an amazing person and you enjoy her company.

Plus, right now the one you're angry about it solely the man holding your hand.

Alys turns to Aemond, and he stiffens. Between them is a complicated look. So many things unsaid, before her smirk softens. "It's nice to see you too, Aemond."

And she turns away, walking back to her table, to her date, when you tug him with you to the bar. As you order a dry martini, he speaks. Calm and soft.

"You're mad at me."

"You knew she was going to be here." You turn to him, arching an eyebrow, hating the way your chest pangs. "You stalked her and brought us here because you wanted to use me."

He shifts, face crumples at the word 'use' and calls your name in a plead. "It's not like that."

You snort, taking a sip of your drink when it arrives. "Don't lie."

"Okay. Yes, I did. I... I made an impulsive decision because I wanted to see how she could go on a date as if we were nothing." Bitterness cripples his words, the smirk on his lips is ironic and darkened in hurt. Your heart hurts for him, but you can't give him a pass just like that. He hurt you too.

"You could've told me."

He raises an eyebrow. "You would be okay with this?"

Your own smile is ironic and darkened by hurt. "You're already using me, Aemy. That was the deal I agreed, for Hel. It would at least lick the wound to have been in the know, and not, you know, got shot in the face with it."

At the first part of your tirade, he looked like he wanted to argue with the using part, but the realisation weighs him because it is true. To him, he is using you. And it's a cheap shot on your part because you were also doing this for him, out of your own free will.

You sigh when he turns away, guilt dipping low.

"You're such a dumbass."

He hums in agreement.

You're aware of a gaze from the tables, somewhere in the ocean of jazz music and chatter, Alys is looking, and you kinda wanna make this good for him. You were already here after all.

Your hand reaches his jaw, sliding across his neck until you reach his nape and fingers tangle with the baby hairs there. His hair had been wrapped into a bun. Sleek and fluffy.

He turns to you, to your touch, in shock. "What are you—"

"Try not to look so surprised," you whisper, stepping close to him until your noses are bumping. "We're supposed to be dating."

And then you slant your mouth against his.

TAGGED: @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr @astroswift @queenofshinigamis @helaenaluvr @kaetastic @jxdegodfrey @laniii-on-your-left @watercolorskyy @snowprincesa1 @gemini-mama

#aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond fluff #aemond smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond x reader #hotd x reader #hotd smut #hotd fluff #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒 #hotd fanfic #aemond one eye #tshbft ༊*·˚ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ

[littledata]

what are these "best fics youve ever read that barely have any hits" you mentioned? can you give us a top 5 or sonething?

Oh God, you've really shamed me here because I read a LOT of random fics from fandoms I'm not even part of and the stories I was referring to largely come from there.

However, in the interest of practising what I preach, I sat down today and read a bunch of Warrior Nun fics I'd never read before so I could rec you some. To be totally clear, these aren't necessarily going to have "hardly any hits" but are fics that I think could use more love in general.

In no particular order:

I was seeing black and white (and now I'm living in color) by gayestcatra - 1281 words, a beautifully soft fic set in Switzerland with gorgeous description. By the same author I also enjoyed (your life was) my life's best part, an angsty Mary/Shannon exploring Mary's (heartbreaking) grief after Shannon's death.

Cat’s Cradle security checkpoint logs by @jtl07 - 518 words, have I raved enough on tumblr yet about how much I love their writing? No? Oh okay I'll do it again then. JT is one of my favourite writers in the fandom and I love this series of fics they did giving creative looks into the characters - this particular one is the contents of their bags but the whole series is worth checking out (and everything else they write too, obviously).

Lauds by @sisterdivinium - 3152 words, Mother Superion/Jillian Salvius. WE LOVE A RAREPAIR. Gorgeously written fic where you feel the weight of every single action. The author has a TON of fics if you liked this one too.

you're my best friend (in a world we must defend) by @daisychainsandbowties - 3980 words, avatrice and Pokemon. Beatrice's characterisation in this drives me insane. I MUST know more. If you know nothing about pokemon here's your primer: they're funny little guys you catch and make fight, exactly like the Catholic church did to Ava. There, now you've got no excuse not to read it.

Dead People Don't Shiver by waterintheshadows - 2068 words, avatrice soulmate AU set in a morgue FUCK YEAH. This is the kind of shit I live for. Great concept, great execution.

Where The River Bends by @itchyouchyz - 100,750 words, avatrice 1960s midwife AU. Full disclosure - it's 100k - I haven't finished it yet. But I LOVE what I've read so far, tender and lovely. Check the tags for trigger warnings on this one!

keep me in your mirror (but don't take your eyes off the road) by minutetuna - 26,343 words, avatrice season 2 road trip au. It made me feel this precise emotion: hnnnnnnghhhhh. There is a particular style of writing which is just bouncy and pacy and still draws you into every single emotion and this author has it in spades. LOVE.

This was so much fun! If anyone else wants to hit me up with some recs I'd love to hear them - even if (especially if) they're your fics. It's a long weekend, might as well spend it reading fanfiction.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #fic recs #i'm also writing fanfiction update is coming i swear #not really a good rec list just a list of my opinions #i wrote this post as I was reading and you can see me getting steadily more excited by all the awesome fics as I go #asks

[wordstome]

now that we don't talk

I cannot be your friend, so I pay the price of what I lost And what it cost Now that we don't talk

alpha colonel König x beta ex-lover reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, reader's callsign is Eden, reader speaks French, omegaverse, exes to lovers, fraternization

2.2k words

tw: none

I swear to God one day I'll write something that doesn't involve that big hooded freak. But today is not that day.

Shoutout to loganlermanstanaccount here on Tumblr, who I won't tag. The bullet point headcanons with written parts interspersed format is from their excellent college roommate Miguel O'Hara post, which became their fic Rigor Mortis. I highly recommend both!

Also, excuse the absolutely butchered military content. I'm sure none of this is how it works in real life, but alas, this is fanfiction, not a research paper. Reader serves a Laswell-like role, but I refrained from labeling her as CIA even though I do call her a station chief. For the purposes of this fic, she's the voice in the operatives' ear during ops. We're playing a bit fast and loose with the terminology here.

You’re a highly skilled intelligence agent and operative handler.

You’ve spent most of your life dedicated to your career: moving through the ranks, proving yourself, refusing to let anything stand in the way of your ambitions.

You’ve done some things you aren’t proud of, but always for the right reason. Or the reason that made the most cold, logical sense. Even when your heart tells you otherwise. Nobody in this line of work has clean hands, after all.

You’ve always done what needs to be done. For everyone’s best interest.

Today marks the first day of your collaboration with a PMC called KorTac. You’re hunting down a homegrown cult turned out-of-control terrorist cell.

You haven’t had much experience working with mercenaries, but in terms of hardened war criminals, KorTac’s people are quite well mannered.

Not that you had expected them to be rude and discourteous, but, well. You are an outsider. They haven’t necessarily embraced you, but their reception was nice enough.

You’ve got a meeting with their commander, but you can’t quite find the room you’re supposed to be meeting in. Not a great first impression to make, but luckily, someone takes pity on you.

He introduces himself. Korean. Callsign Horangi.

“You’ll get used to the layout of the base,” he says as you follow him through winding hallways.

“I hope so,” you reply. “I’ll be here for a while." You study the walls, the signs and numbers on the doors, trying your best to memorize everything.

"Do you know your commander well?" you ask. You're not the world's biggest fan of small talk, but you may as well know what you're walking into.

"König? Yeah, we've been close ever since he joined up." Horangi says, leading you into a long hallway. "He's a good guy. A little intense, but don't let that get to you. He's just getting the job done."

"We'll get along if he's competent." You can respect a man who forgoes pleasantries for making sure the shit gets shoveled.

"You don't have to worry about that." Horangi stops and holds the door open for you. "After you."

You study him for just a moment before entering the room. He's curt and to the point. Not bad-looking, either. Hopefully you'll get more chances to—

Your heart nearly stops.

KorTac's commander is facing away from the doorway, shuffling through some papers by the looks of it. But you would know him from any angle. The set of his shoulders, the way his stance is at ease but never truly relaxed, the way his hair curls at the nape of his neck.

You have to force yourself to step into the room. And when you do, he turns around.

You're vaguely aware of Horangi stepping around you to get into the room, but that's happening somewhere far away from the headspace you occupy right now. By the way König's eyes widen as they meet yours, he's in the same place too.

He hasn't aged so much as he's gotten more tired. He never did sleep enough, but now he looks like he hasn't gotten a sound night's rest in a long time. He's put-together, but there's a haggardness to him that probably wouldn't be noticeable to anybody but you. Someone who knew him when he was younger, and in the prime of his life. Someone who used to know every scar on his body, every crease of his brow, and now hasn't seen him in more than a decade.

The man who broke your heart stands on the other end of the room, staring at you as if he's seen a ghost.

The two of you stand there for a while before Horangi's voice shakes you back to reality. "Brought the station chief, sir."

"I...see." König—you suppose that's what he calls himself nowadays, the arrogant prick—clears his throat. "Thank you, Hong-jin."

"No problem." Horangi takes a seat. "The others will be in soon."

Horangi seems like a perceptive enough guy. Can he tell that the room feels several degrees colder? You pull a chair out, the furthest one from König's position possible, and ignore the hurt that briefly flashes across his face as you sit down.

The meeting goes well. It's just an opportunity for you to formally introduce yourself to the KorTac operators you'll primarily be working with for the next few months.

You can tell they're a close knit group by the easy way they interact with each other: they've worked together for a while.

König, too, is part of them, which must be how they pick up on the chilly dynamic between the two of you. Some of them are just puzzled. For most of them, it raises their hackles.

It doesn't matter to you. You can barely focus on getting through the meeting without feeling like you're going to faint.

It's absurd. You're not some delicate Regency-era lady. You're a hardened military officer. But it makes no difference.

It doesn't matter how long it's been, it seems. He's still the only one who can make you feel like this.

You can't get out of there fast enough after the meeting has concluded. Not only are the others shooting you suspicious looks, but you've spent too long in his presence. Any longer, and you don't know how you're going to keep your composure.

But you can't escape him. Of course not. Why did you ever think otherwise? You hear him call for you, and you walk faster. But it's futile.

This hallway is smaller, narrower, less open. Nobody's around to watch when he slams you against the wall to stop your hasty retreat. Nobody's around to see the way you sway in his hold, overwhelmed by the smell of him all around you. You're bathed in it, the overpowering presence of him.

"We need to talk." he demands.

"We just did. Meeting's over," you shoot back, making a paltry attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. He loosens his hold on you, but you're still trapped between him and the wall. No exit.

"I didn't plan this, in case you're wondering."

"That much was obvious." He's let his hair grow out longer, you notice at the most inopportune time possible. It suits him, you think.

He sighs in frustration. "If we're going to work together, we have to be civil."

"Don't worry. I wouldn't expose how much of a scoundrel you are in front of your precious squad," you bite.

You feel a twinge of smug satisfaction as regret settles into his expression. Too little, too late.

"I don't want it to be like this, either," he murmurs. "Ignoring and avoiding each other."

"You don't get to tell me how to act."

"You're right. But it's been a long time. Can't we try to get along? Not for my sake, but...yours."

"Well that's not condescending at all."

"That's not what I meant. I know my team. If you're walking around resenting me openly like that, they won't trust you. And they need to, if you're working with us."

He's right, and you know it. But there's that deep instinct inside you, older than your bloodline, waking up after a long slumber. It wants him, snapping at the bit to give into him and do whatever he asks of you. The urge will consume you if you don't fight it every step of the way.

You glare up at him, hoping you come off as brimming with resentment instead of desire. "As long as you and your team stay professional, I can too."

He's not satisfied with that answer, but it's all you're going to give him.

"Fine." He steps away from you, and you pour all your willpower into commanding your body to stay still. To not chase after his closeness. You sway on the spot, dizzy with his scent after having gone so long without it.

"This hallway is a dead end, by the way."

You try, you really do. But it's hard to be around him without feeling the urge to touch him, to press yourself against him and inhale him like the most destructive drug possible.

Your only recourse is to stay as physically far away from him as possible.

You do your best to ingratiate yourself with the other operators. You and Calisto are fast friends: she's got a breezy confidence to her that's quite refreshing. It also doesn't hurt that you speak French, as well. There's a bit of kinship felt whenever the two of you are holding a conversation none of the others can understand.

Horangi's a different story, though. The initial courtesy he showed you is a bit more clipped, now that it's clear something is up between you and König.

You can't believe you missed it the first time, the way König's smell is all over him. It really has been too long.

The two of them must be pretty close. You give up trying not to fixate on the idea.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop on them, but you were curious. Even more curious when you hear your name mentioned.

"It's pretty clear you and Eden know each other. None of us are stupid."

You freeze in your tracks. The door is closed, but you can hear Horangi's voice, loud and clear in the room behind it.

"It's not relevant. She's just here to do a job."

"I think it's pretty relevant that she gets up and leaves whenever you enter a room, regardless of what she's doing. She can't get away from you fast enough."

You give a surreptitious look at your surroundings, then lean down slightly, pressing your ear to the door.

"You're not going to give this up, are you?"

"Hell fucking no."

You hear König sigh. "Fine. We knew each other before I joined KorTac. Back when I was in the Jagdkommando."

Do you want to hear this? Your painful history, relayed to a near stranger? Horangi's not a stranger to him, that's for sure.

"And?"

"We were...involved."

"You and a beta? Never took you for the type."

"Well, neither did I. But she was...special. Smart, pretty, deadeye with a knife. Wouldn't give me the time of day, of course. I was obsessed with her."

"Naturally."

"Give me a fucking break, okay?"

"Can't wait to hear how this ended."

"Not...great. I was a total dick."

You can say that again, you think.

"I was young. Real dumbass who thought he was hot shit."

"You still aren't."

"Shut the fuck up." Something twinges inside you at the hearty laughter the two of them share. You missed that laugh.

"Despite everything, it was the most stable relationship I've ever been in. We looked out for each other. She knew me better than some of my family does."

"How did you fuck that up, then?"

"I got too comfortable. Started thinking I could do better. God, what a fucking idiot I was. I loved her like crazy, but I didn't realize how good I had it until it was gone."

"She left you?"

"No. I was the one who ended things. In the worst way possible, too. I told her the relationship wasn't going to go anywhere, that we were never going to be a serious thing."

"Ouch. Why not?"

You squeeze your eyes shut. You remember that night, like a shard of glass buried in your chest. As hard as you tried to forget, you'll never forget the way you felt. Like the world was ending.

You'll never forget the decision you had to make.

"I told her I couldn't see myself with a beta long-term."

"...that's fucked up."

"I know. I know. I was too caught up in that shitty macho alpha mindset. I was fucking ravenous back then, and I thought only an omega could give me what I needed."

"I get it now. If I were her, I would have quit on the spot seeing you in that meeting room."

"Yeah. She's a better person than I can ever imagine being."

Well. It's nice to know he regrets it, you think. Not that it does you much good now. Quiet as a mouse, you make a quick exit before you can get caught.

You make it back to the the room you've been assigned to. They were nice enough to give you your own private quarters, something you deeply appreciate when you need to be alone with your own thoughts. Like right now.

It's a strange feeling, to sort of get closure like this. Not at the end, but at the beginning of something new. You still have to see each other. Does it help that you know how he feels? Maybe, but it doesn't ease your own guilt. In fact, it makes it worse.

You're not mad at him for telling Horangi. You're glad he did, actually. There are some secrets that cause more harm to keep than not.

You open a drawer and pull out the pill bottle, hidden underneath your other possessions, and stare at the label.

WARNING - SUPPRESSANTS. NOT TO BE USED BY ALPHAS. ONLY CONSUME UNDER PHYSICIAN SUPERVISION.

You would know.

BOOM! There you have it. (In case it wasn't clear, the suppressants are for omegas.)

@sprout-fics's omegaverse 141 headcanons series inspired me to write something based off the idea of an omega disguising themselves as a beta in the military. Please check out her series, it's great.

I was really into exploring how omegaverse dynamics can make complicated relationships even messier. I did consider writing this story without the omegaverse, but I think now it's kind of an essential element. (I also just. Want them to have crazy nasty omegaverse sex. Sue me) I can't picture König ever breaking up with someone he deeply loved and was obsessed with, unless he had a reason like that. Still not a great reason, but a little bit understandable. Eden being a disguised omega also adds a bit of spice to the exes-to-lovers arc, too: she could have just come out and told him she's not actually a beta, but she chose not to for the sake of her career. Oof. Ruthless judgement calls were made on both sides.

I put this out because this idea had me in a STRANGLEHOLD, and I just had to get it out before I burst. Hopefully my writing's still up to par 😅 As for Kingdom Come, part iii may take a little while longer because a lot is going to happen in it, so I hope this can tide you guys over until then.

As usual, comments and feedback are always appreciated! I would love to talk about this au more. And again, if you'd like to be tagged, drop a reply. And if you're in the taglist and would like to be removed/only tagged for Kingdom Come, please let me know!

@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria

#könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #konig x you #könig x reader #könig x you #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #konig mw2 #könig mw2 #fic: now that we don't talk

[that-sweet-jester]

The BenchTrio pt.1

I've been inspired yet again, background below, enjoy my ramblings

excuse my english, it's been some time since i wrote anything in it

-TOMMY-

Full Name: Tommy Innit (not yet Craft) but in the stage of becoming so. Voluntarliy. But not really. As always, the Syndicate trio looked at this child and said mine now. Tommy had to comply.

Alias: Just as with Siren, I didn't really wanna go with the most popular choice and come up with something myself, but after some searching I settled on Theseus anyway. LOOK. Tommy always wanted to be a hero, the good guy who can really change stuff and help the others. That's why he settled on the name of one of the greek's most popular heroes. He was the BIG GUY, THE BESTEST OF THE BEST, THE ONLY MAN EVER. However, the real reason was, that because of his powers, he was mostly confined to the healing quarters, he couldn't really prove himself on the field. The name was supposed to lift his spirit, pretend that if he could get a chance he could live up to it. THINGS CHANGED, when one day he was exceptionally let on a mission and stumbled upon a hurt Syndicate member (cough cliché cough) Perses(Techno). In the myth, Asclepius was the god of medicine, he was such a good healer, he started bringing people back to life. Now, the gods didn't like that, mostly because people were supposed to die and to not change their nature, but we'll ignore that and implement my story. The Commission wanted the villains gone and suddenly some guy is helping and healing them?? Nope. That's why they wanted the guy who was the cause gone. Just like in the myth Aeslepius was killed for his actions, so The Commission declared Tommy their enemy after they found out it's him. THEY KILLED HIS HERO STATUS. But he was reborn into a vigilante Asclepius, just like Asclepius in the myth was ressurected and became a god. Of course it was the Syndicate that came up with the name. 💥💥💥💥

Powers: I also thought about different powers, but after I came up with the stuff above, it all just fell into place.

So in my incomplete lore, when Tommy somehow meets Siren for the first time, when he's still a hero, they start fighting. Normally Wilbur would just start using his voice, BUT Tommy is quicker and more agile and manages to touch Wilbur.

One of his powers is emotion manipulation, he touches someone, he can alter what they feel. So when he puts his hand on Wil, he's able to do just that. (warning - my half-assed attempt at writing a fanfiction snippet)

Wilbur suddenly falls on his knees, hands shooting up to clutch his face which morphs into a horror filled expression. Trembling, unable to use his own powers, he looks up to Tommy.

"W-what did you do?!"

Tommy, shocked himself, stands still hovering over Siren. Looking at the image of the powerful villain crumbling before him, he slowly comes to his senses and starts to grab his compromised opponent. Yet, as he's about to do just that, in the last effort of self perseverance Siren lashes out at him, knocking him over, then while still trembling, runs away. When Tommy's able to pick himself up from the sudden attack, the villain is gone.

When he's part of the BenchTrio and an unofficial Syndicate member, he helps Wilbur and Techno with their emotions, that come with their powers. Wil, with his emotional stability, because let's be real, if you could command people to do whatever you want you could go a lil crazy with the power, and Techno, with his bloodlust state and sensory overload that the voices cause.

I think healing powers are kinda self explanatory. Touch, wound go brr and disappears. The bigger the damage the more energy it takes.

Additional info: His suit is not as proffesional as the others, because he has not yet been fully involved with The Syndicate. Therefore it's mostly scraps from his old costume and homemade parts. The others have proffesional gear made by The Syndicate.

-TUBBO-

Full Name: Tubbo Underscore

Alias: Atom, due his powers, no real story here. He was deemed by The Commission as too dangerous, his power too unstable and cast away to "retirement". He didn't want to fully join The Syndicate, but decided to work with them and became a vigilante. He was named Hephaestus.

"As a smithing god, Hephaestus made all the weapons of the gods in Olympus. He served as the blacksmith of the gods, and was worshipped in the manufacturing and industrial centres of Greece, particularly Athens."

Tubbo created weapons for The Syndicate.

Powers: He's able to create nuclear brusts that deal grave damage, but he tries to use this power as rarely as possible as not to destroy too much, opting to small blasts from his hands. However, he must be careful because his power is also linked to his emotions and if angered, distraught or scared he can lash out and burst with energy creating big explosion around him. That was the reason why The Commission feared him and wanted to get rid of him. They also didn't provide any useful ways of dealing with said powers, that's why he was unable to fully control them. HERE COMES TOMMAE with his powers, dudes helping bros.

Enhanced intelligence - my boy's a teenager and can build complex weapons - here's why.

FUN FACT: -that i came up with after coloring the drawing. Tubbo's costume is black and yellow, that's why Tommy calls him Beeboy.

Also, his suit was partily supposed to resemble those yellow hazmat suits (at least the hood).

-RANBOO-

Full Name: Ranboo Beloved

Alias: Due to his powers he was named Spectre. The Commission never fully trusted him, because of his memory problems and thought he might spill their beans. He convinced Tubbo to leave The Commission after him. He was named Lethe. "The shades of the dead were required to drink the waters of the Lethe in order to forget their earthly life. [..] Virgil writes that it is only when the dead have had their memories erased by the Lethe that they may be reincarnated." Ranboo was tasked with convincing and recruiting new members of The Syndicate. In a way he was the threshold between their old and new life.

Powers: Standard teleportation. Enhanced reflexes came form the idea that when Endermen are angered they become really fast :p. Also, the mask he's wearing works as a noctovisor. Where did that idea come from? Endermen canonically see the world in inverted colors which kinda looks like as if you used nightvision. Also he should probably see where he is teleporting.

BENCHTRIO LORE: The name BenchTrio, in this case, was made up as a joke, that all three of them were often benched while still working in The Commission. Tommy, because of healing powers, Tubbo because of his instability and Ranboo because of his memory problems.

If you've made it through the whole text ily <3

damn i love using greek mythology as a reference for this stuff it makes my brain go brrr.

As always I'm listing some of the fics that inspired me the most:

The Oath of Hippocrates by Melatonin_High

tommyinnit’s clinic for supervillains by bonesandthebees (bonesandcacti)

Welcome Home Theseus by SoulfirePhoenix

Give them the love they deserve!!

Now I'm onto finishing a little strip of comic for this universe >:333

Also enjoy my bff's reaction to me writing all that shit to her at 4 am:

#FYI this was created in September. #Yes. #it took me that long to finish this first bc of art block then bc of finals #dsmp #dsmp fanart #dream smp #dream smp fanart #mcyt #my art #fan art #bench trio #bench trio fanart #tommyinnit #tommyinit fanart #tubbo underscore #tubbo #tubbo fanart #ranboo fanart #ranboo #superhero au #vigilante bench trio #mcyt fanart #tommyinnits clinic for supervillains #villain sbi au #villain sbi #sj villain sbi au

[ikemen-trifecta]

A Date With Death ~ Making Grim Blush

“I’m not gonna write fanfiction or headcanons about him,” I thought to myself last night before going to bed, my head absolutely brimming with ideas. Ahem. Anyway. I took inspiration from HuniCast shenanigans and the CGs from the game. If you’d like to see more of Grim, feel free to submit a request to our Tumblr with more scenarios (not taking NSFW)! Please refrain from using his real name in comments and reblogs, as it is a major spoiler. Thank you for reading! –Edi

⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️

🌻 The quickest way to make him blush is by resting your chin on his shoulder and murmuring “Oh, Grimmy~” 🌻 It’ll irritate him that you're not using his real name, but the close proximity will get him flustered regardless. 🌻 He’ll turn around and say “P-please stop doing that,” trying to obscure his face with the back of one hand.

🌻 Another way to make him blush quickly is to press your face into his chest (or make contact with his torso in any way). It's very sensitive, and he absolutely hates the fact that you use it against him. 🌻 You can run a finger down his back and render him a sputtering, red mess. 🌻 He tries to get you back by biting your neck (gently), but you are either very resistant to tickles or just don't care if you get flustered. It irritates him more.

🌻 Something more tame that you do that makes him blush is starting to grow a garden of sunflowers from the seeds of the bouquet he gave you. 🌻 He won’t say it, but he’ll be very touched that you decided to do that. 🌻 Every time he passes by the garden, his face will automatically become flushed at least a little thinking of you. It may even make him tear up a little.

🌻 Seeing you spend time with your pet will also make him blush. He won’t admit it, but you look very cute like that. When you aren’t talking, that is.

🌻 You also ordered your own axolotl plush to match his. He didn’t like sharing at first, but he couldn’t say anything when he found you in your apartment one night, all snuggled up in bed with Raphael. You had named the plushie after the angel of safe travels in preparation for the journey of your soul (Raphael is also seen as an angel of matchmaking and healing).

🌻 Speaking of sharing, he’ll…eventually…let you touch his hair. You enjoy having him sit against your bed or resting his head on your lap in order to braid his precious locks. If you look into his eyes while you’re at it, he’ll blush and avert them slightly. 🌻 To top it all off, you’ll either make a flower crown out of the blooms from your garden or weave them into the braids. He really is the prettiest grim reaper you’ve ever seen.

🌻 You’ll sometimes correct his typos, to which he’ll mutter the same thing again and again: “I do not type correctly…” 🌻 You always try to phrase it gently, but he’s still hard on himself regardless. He’ll blush and ask you about the proper grammar before disconnecting the call.

🌻 He still blushes when you mention the nonsense that is soul babies. 🌻 “You’re on about that again?” he’ll say. You respond by pushing him onto your bed. 🌻 “You. Me. Soul baby.” 🌻 “E-excuse me?!” 🌻 He’ll barely get those words out before you playfully hug him. 🌻 “You’re so easy to tease, Grimmy.”

🌻 He’ll try various things and finally pin you to the wall as a last resort and growl in your ear. 🌻 “I’ve got you now, Sunshine.” 🌻 You just smirk before stunning him with a quick kiss. He doesn't even know what happened, poor soul. You take this opportunity to taunt him. 🌻 “I’m the one with the most ‘rizz,’ my little reaper.” This mention of his previous cringey word usage will snap him out of it. 🌻 “Cease.” 🌻 “I don't think I will,” you’d respond, giggling. 🌻 This makes him pout— not that he notices. You bury your face in his chest again. He lets out a surprised squeak before just giving up and hugging you. 🌻 …still blushing from his chin to the tips of his ears.

#a date with death #a date with death vn #adwd #a date with death fanfiction #adwd fanfiction #a date with death grim #mild spoilers #just a little spicy #gender neutral reader #fluff #imagines #headcanons

[nartml]

To Pimp a Butterfly and 1989: a rant

Listen here, three things about me are that I'm a) white as snow, b) Greek, c) still a minor.

What does this mean? It means that I obviously wasn't raised with hip-hop, and I got into Kendrick Lamar's music pretty late.

As in, early this year.

I've known of him for some time, and the moment I found out he had a Pulitzer prize at some point in late-ish 2023, I decided I had to sit my ass down and pull out Spotify.

Now, as an avid reader of both fanfiction (ao3 raised me) and books [I feel the immense need to clarify that I don't associate myself with mainstream booktok. Capitalism's consumerism has overrun that shit and all I see are the same 20 books being recycled and recommended (a substantial amount of those are Colleen Hoover and her variants). Tropes and spice* are officially the defining factors of whether a book is worth it (*your porn addiction ain't cute) and quantity is heavily prioritized at the expense of quality. Also, diversity who?], I was, for a lack of a better word, hyped.

A Pulitzer prize is nothing to scoff at in general, more so in music, more so in hip-hop.

(Edit: Upon quick reflection, I realize that putting emphasis on hip-hop can come across as coded.

I am in no way, shape, or form trying to undermine hip-hop or say that it's somehow less 'sophisticated' than, for example, classical music. I'm very aware of the amount of skill and technique one needs to write a masterful hip-hop album, and I'm not doubting that there are hip-hop artists out there who are also incredibly deserving of such a prize. I meant it in the sense that I've unfortunately never heard of another hip-hop artist who won a Pulitzer before, which is quite telling.)

That's some huge shit, and I'd be a fool not to be intrigued.

Admittedly, I didn't get on that immediately. For a while I procrastinated, because I wasn't in the mood to hyper-fixate on anything new just yet.

Which of course meant I ended up forgetting about it for a few months, because of course I did.

But then I came across a TikTok that talked about how it was insane that '1989' won the Grammy when To Pimp a Butterfly was right there.

Now, a fourth thing about me is that I don't fuck with Taylor Swift.

And a fifth thing about me is that I'm not baseless in anything that I do, say or feel, and that includes annoyance.

Her immature understanding of activism and feminism leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The way she built up her fan base around this portrayal of her as a relatable girl's girl, her refusal to accept criticism, and always making a victim out of herself (even now when she's in her thirties and is a fucking billionaire) while never using her position of power and privilege for good are all reasons that serve to fuel my dispassionate dislike.

And before any Swifties get on my ass, no, I don't think that "But she's a singer! Why are you expecting so much out of her, she isn't even qualified to speak on XYZ—" is a good enough excuse.

She has always been rich, and now she's a billionaire. There are no ethical billionaires, and that includes her.

Fame is influence is power. Uncle Ben said it all: With great power comes great responsibility.

And let me tell you, I don't see her owning up to that responsibility, especially after all that talk about how she supports women, supports the LGBTQ community, and supports the BLM movement. Has she ever actually put her abundant money where her mouth is?

I've never seen her speak about anything that doesn't immediately concern her.

Don't get me wrong. She's not the only celebrity like this out there. I'm sure there are worse cases. I know it for a fact.

To wrap this segment up before I get even more sidetracked, I'll outright state that I don't hate her, because hating her would by definition mean that I, in some way, actually care about her, and that just sounds exhausting.

Best way to describe me is indifferent, leaning towards distasteful.

She's annoying.

And that's how I feel about both her as a person and her as an artist.

I'm not denying her talent, nor her impact on the industry, nor the fact that she does have good songs that even I like.

A select few, of course, but still.

Apart from those...what? Ten songs? I have never, ever been able to listen to any other song of her's all the way through.

I get bored. They do nothing for me. They sound empty. Hollow. Plastic. Repetitive.

Her lyrics, that are praised by fans for being deep and complex, sound pretty surface level to me.

Not all of them. But I'm a sucker for analysis. A literature nerd. Greek is my native language. I can tell when something's deep and when something wants to be deep.

(Not necessarily including Folklore and Evermore in that category. Her storytelling ability is actually great.)

Her music largely sounds like it wants to be deep.

Most recent example being her latest release, The Tortured Poets Department.

Anyway, back to Kendrick.

My initial plan was to listen to 'DAMN.' first, because that's what he won the Pulitzer for in the first place.

There was a change of plans after that TikTok.

I decided to compare the opening tacks.

I put on Welcome to New York, and predictably, I felt nothing.

The rhythm is dance-y, I suppose. But there's nothing substantial about it. There's nothing exciting about it.

The lyrics are juvenile, and I get it, it's a pop song and she was in her twenties.

Nobody is expecting Shakespeare (no matter how much you scream or kick your feet, the only reason Shakespeare couldn't write Taylor Swift is because he's in another league entirely) or Odysseus Elytis. Nobody is expecting mind-blowing lyricism.

But it's the opening track to an apparently Grammy-worthy album. The very least I'd expect from it would be some additional levels of artistry.

Am I being harsh? Probably. Do I care? No.

Disappointed but unsurprised, I put on Wesley's Theory.

I ascended within the first minute.

Don't get it twisted, I barely understood shit.

Not only am I white, I am also entirely removed from America and its culture as a whole. I don't know what's going on there in y'all's daily lives.

And this was baby's first proper introduction to hip-hop as a whole.

My untrained, white-ass ear barely caught two references. I got what the gist of the song was about, and that's about it.

I had to look up analyses of the track to fully grasp what Kendrick was on about, and even then, there was obviously still a disconnect.

And I expected all of that.

I didn't expect to get hooked on that song within the first listen.

I swear to fuck, the beat is addictive. I swear to fuck, even when I was fighting to understand what the lyrics were referencing, I was having the time of my life.

Even I, an amateur in every sense of the word, could tell that there was depth and there was quality and there was intentional meaning in every line of that song.

It didn't matter that I couldn't understand it. It mattered that I knew it was there. Not because someone told me that was the case. But because it was audible.

I listened to the next track. And the one after that. And the one after that. I had listened to all of the tracks, before I knew it.

And the evident permeance of quality, of substance, carried on throughout the whole album.

It had exactly the type of lyricism I'd expect a Grammy-worthy album to have. It had exactly the amount of artistry I expected a Grammy-worthy album to have.

Even better, it had all the ingredients I expected a timeless album to have.

The poetry Taylor Swift fans insist hides in her discography, I found in plain sight within Kendrick Lamar's.

After meticulously reading the lyrics, I watched video essay after video essay, searched for analysis after analysis on this album, each time understanding the meanings behind it a little better.

Needless to say that the Grammy's are rigged and I love Kendrick Lamar.

Hip-hop is gorgeous.

#tpab #to pimp a butterfly #kendrick lamar #he's awesome #hip hop #1989 #taylor swift #just to be safe #anti taylor swift

[thestreamdreampony]

Me adding my two cents is probably not gonna do much, but here I go, I guess:

I want to preface this with saying that Wilbur's content and Lovejoy have been incredibly important to me and I've put a lot of time, effort and money into supporting Lovejoy especially. So finding out about this, before finding out about the details, I had originally reacted with incredulous derision of twitter stans. And then erring on the side of caution about how things developed.

At this point there's almost no question that it's Wilbur, for the simple reason that Shubble would have cleared up his name if it wasn't. There's no way she would throw someone innocent under the bus, if she knew somebody else was guilty. Additionally, not a single person in Wilbur's surroundings has disputed any claims and have only narrowed it down further towards Wilbur. At this point it is incredibly unlikely she is talking about anybody else.

I do want to take a moment to comdemn those (mostly on twitter) who used this opportunity to dig into both Shubble and Wilbur's private lives, trying to construct a narrative of her abuse and in some cases going so far as doxxing Wilbur. It is entirely possible to support Shelby and condemn her abuser, without invading their privacy and endangering people's lives. Shelby's goal was to warn people and to make them more aware of the signs of abuse. As well as make it as clear as possible, who she's talking about without saying who it is directly, for a meriad of possible reasons. It was not an invitation to write abuse fanfiction about her private life.

That being said, the way I will feel about this in the long run will depend heavily on how Wilbur deals with this situation. I will definitely distance myself either way (slowly but surely), but his reaction to this will influence how I will act moving forward.

Should he stay silent or respond with insincerity/derision/defensiveness/etc., then that's it for me. Fuck him.

But should he come forward, own up to it, apologize and prove that he is working on himself, then I might be able to find it in myself to give him a second chance over time. I just don't believe that doing bad things makes you irredeemable forever and ever and ever.

We know for a fact that Wilbur has been struggling with mental health problems for most of his teen and adult life and from his solo music we are also aware that he is incredibly aware of the fact that he is the problem in his relationships. Expressing dark thoughts in music, does not automatically mean somebody is abusive. In fact, creating dark art is an excellent way to deal with harmful thoughts and impulses. I have literally never taken his lyrics to mean that.

However, his lyrics in YCGMA and MSR have always been incredibly autobiographical and do show that he is acutely aware that he's the unhealthy element in his unhealthy relationships.

We also know directly from him, that he has distanced himself from most of his social circle and sought out therapy as recently as 2 weeks ago in an effort to improve his mental health.

This does not excuse his actions whatsoever. Mentally ill people are still responsible for the harm that they cause and Shelby is unbelievably brave to tell their story. I hope they finds peace, I hope she has all the support she could ever need and I hope she has achieved her goal of making people more aware of how people end up in situations like this. She is an inspiration for standing up for herself like this.

But I also think that, should Wilbur come forward, admit to his wrongdoings and prove over time that he is working on becoming a better person, friend and partner, that he does not have to be shunned forever and ever and ever. He has a long life in front of him and I hope both for him and all his future friends and partners that he manages to find a healthy, happy way of living. This can happen, even while he never bothers Shelby, or the other people he hurt, again.

This is a best case scenario. I do think he is allowed to take some time to formulate a response. A hasty response to situations like this have never helped anyone ever, neither the victim, nor the accused. Taking his time to come to terms with the situation, which surely came as a shock, and to really think about how he wants to deal with this situation is much better than him writing a twitlonger as soon as he finds out.

Either way, I will distance myself from him and Lovejoy, slowly but surely. I won't get rid of the merch clothing I own because it was quite expensive and throwing it away is a waste of perfectly good clothing, but I won't find the joy I once felt wearing them. (I am salty about me being gone from home for a few months and having ordered Lovejoy merch, which had been waiting for me for weeks and then finding out about this literally the day I travelled back. It definitely felt weird as hell to unpack that stupid NORMAL longsleeve with his fucking face on it, while being hurt and confused and angry.)

Listening to Lovejoy's music, likewise, will never feel as euphoric as it once did, even if I go back to it. Which really sucks cuz they genuinly hit my sweet spot in music taste. YCGMA and SISV specifically, have been so, so important to me and removing them from my listening rotation i going to Hurt.

Interestingly, I don't feel quite as terrible as last time I had to suddenly cut a content creator out of my life. So I guess practice makes perfect lmao.

I don't know if me writing and posting this had any point. I guess I just wanted to get it off my chest and maybe it resonates with somebody.

Anyway, take care of yourselves. Take it easy and try to focus on other things, if this hit you hard (ideally offline). Try to meet with friends, maybe play some boardgames (or video games), go for a walk,read a book, have a coffee with a loved one. There's joy in the world, despite it all.

#wilbur soot

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Ukefication Of Stolas

Just as many people said that Vivziepop's writing is kind of like the worst of fanfiction tropes, I think one trope in particular is being invoked with Stolas is the Ukefication. It's a term where a character is devolved into a vulnerable and emotional character so they can be submissive to their partner and look more pitiful so you can feel sympathy for them and that they seek comfort in his significant other. A trait that can be seen with Stolas as the show goes on.

Let's go back to the pilot where although he's obsessed with Blitzo, he also can make demands of him and presents himself as someone who has his own agenda other than sex. He actually lives up to the persona of a demon lord and is unapologetic about his depravity. He's a guy who feels like he could be an antagonist if Blitzo gets on his bad side. The guy is truly someone who you should have a bit of fear for.

In the first episode, we do still see him more softer in voice but at the same time there is hint of that devious manipulator who can use Blitzo's situation to exchange more sex out of him. Noticeably, this would be the last time we see hints of his pilot immorality here. Mostly because of the questionable consent of the relationship. But again showing how he holds the cards in the relationship and Blitzo has to navigate his way to say in his favors.

Even though Stolas called in for protection from imp, it was merely an excuse to get close to Blitzo and he showed what he was capable of taking care of himself. It again shows that Stolas is a being capable of doing stuff himself but enjoys Blitzo's company due to his lusting over him.

Seriously, "Truth Seekers" we blatantly see Stolas being the one calling the shots and chaining Blitzo up. trying to show us that he feels trapped in this relationship even if later it would be shown he was the one who got it in Stolas' head they were a item. But again this demonstrates how unequal it feels and how everything seems to be out of his hand

In that same episode, we also see how much of a monster Stolas can be and that even though he's just a prince he still outmatches DHORKS who are slaughtered without any mercy.

I think where the shift happens is in the "Circus" where the established backstory of them being childhood friends was shown and we get more bad slash fanfiction tropes at us. He's also made way younger from an ancient demon who was a fallen angel to just a millennial parent in hell years. And we got this scene where Blitzo plays dominant seducer in order to get the book. We see Stolas be reluctant to sleep with him but gradually gets more into it when he misinterprets his move as being sexually enthusiastic. This is contrast as said before how Blitzo felt trapped when in reality he was the one who got the ball rolling and it shaves off the feeling of domination he previously was tormented by. A

Also the "Circus" finally confirmed Stella had always been abusive and still was in his life because she wanted to torment him. And even though it would have been interesting for her character showing she was always bad, the way they portray it is just so boing that it feels more like derailed characterization in a fanfiction rather than any smart writing. And again it feels like the childhood friend thing just to make Stolas more sympathetic and woobify him due to fans noticing how crappy he comes off as. It's also made to make Stolitz look better in comparison and make him into this sad owl man who just needs someone like Blitzo to finally accept him.

This ukefication can also be seen in how in "Seeing Stars" he mentions how weak he is in the human world when we previously saw him practically at full power without the grimoire and it comes off more of an excuse to make him seem less of a powerhouse and more of a vulnerable person to "relate" to and for him to fawn over Blitzo as he does stuff.

Again in Western Energy they pull out any bs excuse in order to make him be in danger from Striker. This gets annoying that even if he's not one hundred percent based the actual Stolas it again is annoying see someone named after a demon lord be such a wimp in order to damsel him in the episode. And again even more embarrassing it's from one of the lower class demands like an imp. I know they said it's' blessed ropes but you would think that imp would be affected handling that as well if they weren't careful. And even then it should be more difficult taking on a goetia which are said to be very dangerous demons in demonology.

Finally we get Stolas in the last scene after being badly hurt by Striker he has numerous injuries from being stabbed and beaten up. Again he really looks not like the Demon Lord in the pilot but more like those slash doujins you see online. He really was wussified for this ship and to make him into this big teddy bear the fans can feel sorry for even though we know he's capable. And again make Blitzo feel sorry for not being there when was kidnapped.

Overall, as season two has gone on we really see how wussified/ukeficated Stolas has become. He not only has that air of being a great demon to not mess with, but just this more pitiful puppy that is pampered by the creator because of their favored ship. She wants to sell this by making Stolas this poor baby that can't do wrong and is weaker and vulnerable than he looks. It really is sad how a character with so much character is taken down to indulge in an obnoxious romance.

#stolas #stella goetia #stolas goetia #loona #blitzo #helluva boss #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #helluva boss critical #vivziepop #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticsim #vivziepop critique #anti-vivziepop #stolitz #pilot stolas #helluva stolas #anti-stolitz #striker

[grollow]

What are your opinions on the pale king?

Oh boy. Uhm. This feels like a massively loaded question considering that I know that Pale King-related discourse is very common in this fandom but I'm feeling brave today so let's go. Prepare for a long reply, anon, hope you're ready for Ashe to actually write their headcanons on main.

Well first off, I think the fandom does the character a grievous injustice the majority of the time, which is exceedingly frustrating considering that he’s one of the few characters in the game to have any nuance at all. The majority of the fandom either goes out of their way to demonize him (by far the most common sentiment, which is infuriating), or they make him way too sympathetic and/or try to excuse/write off/defend/redeem him for the horrible things that he’s done in the events of the game. Both of these stances ignore that the character is layered like an onion and deserves to be treated as such.

I’m gonna address the demonizing thing first, because it’s more common in fanfiction which is where the majority of my followers found me, and is also where the mass of my experience can be found. Demonizing PK as “ruthless, evil baby killer” ignores the fact that he was put into a no-win situation as king of a kingdom that was entirely reliant upon him (whether by his choice or not is unclear, canon makes it obvious people are inclined to follow wyrms but we do not know for sure if this is something he wanted or just incidental). His own dialogue and actions show us that everything he did, he did with a heavy heart. He did not do these things to be cruel, he did not do these things thoughtlessly, and he certainly did not do these things and forget about them.

PK in essence was presented with next to no options to defeat an enemy that was willing to stop at nothing to get what she wanted; she was willing to kill countless people, with no thought for what all she harmed and damaged along the way. He was king and responsible for those people’s lives. He had to do something.

We don’t know what he knew going into the vessel plan. Based on Monomon’s studies, and the Pale King’s own, we can assume that he probably tried other options. We have wingmoulds and kingsmoulds to show us that he absolutely was experimenting with void before he reached the conclusion of sacrificing his own children. He had to have come to the conclusion that this was the only option that he had. Based on the seal on the Abyss, it’s one that he regretted, found disgusting, and if you take his death in White Palace to be from guilt (which I do), it’s one that he never forgave himself for. “No cost too great.”

Vessels by design are supposed to be empty. I do not think this design choice was to be cruel. I think he tried to design them not to feel not only to protect them from Radi but also to protect them from experiencing what he was asking of them. And I truly, 100% believe that by the end, he realized he’d failed. That Hollow was not empty. He just had no other option, his grand be-all end-all plan was relying on their success.

(Note: My headcanon is that World Sense is PK’s apology to Hollow, in his own way. I also headcanon that PK foresaw Hallownest being saved in one of / all of the endings, and all of them involved Hollow having to be sacrificed. I believe that he died of guilt for doing what he thought he had to.)

So with all of this in mind, though: How can you demonize him for a choice that he made, that was a no-win situation? Is it a wrong choice? Probably. Were there better options? We’ll never know. What we do know is it is not one he made lightly. He knew his acts were monstrous. He did not go into these decisions thinking himself a hero. He locked himself away afterwards and it ate away at him slowly. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. He lost everything in an attempt to save his kingdom from dying to the Radiance. Whether you like him or not, you have to acknowledge the fact that he did think that his plan would save his people. That his end goal was a good one.

(And I will not get into arguments about colonizing / conquering / etc. I do not think this is usually a source of discourse, but when it does come up, it’s usually in defense of the Radiance, who is as guilty as he is of the same damn shit. @ruthlesslistener wrote a post on that subject that I’m sure I’ve reblogged. There’s no point in me repeating it.)

So with that in mind, you might be asking yourself, “So are you not a PK apologist?” And the answer is no. He’s done fucking horrible shit and I am not sorry at all for him. I do not pity him. I do not think he deserves forgiveness. I do not think he deserves to be redeemed. There’s a big difference between understanding the reason a character does something and agreeing with it. Most of the time, when people try to redeem him, it is either erasing the whole baby pit thing (either by time travel or just simply saying it Never Happened), or altering Hollow’s perception of that act (as if they are the only one who was hurt by that act). In the case of the former, you are no longer writing the Pale King. You are writing a wyrm shaped guy. The choices he made exist for a reason. Wiping them out, without good cause, drastically alters his character. I understand people think he has a cool design/character motif, he does. But that’s not even the tip of the iceberg of what makes him an interesting character.

He isn’t a villain.

He isn’t a hero.

And he would not want you to redeem him. He sure as fuck didn’t try to redeem himself.

Let him be morally gray. That’s what makes him a fun character to write and an excellent plot device to include. Let him be complicated. He deserves at least that much.

#asks: answered #anon #headcanons #hollow knight #the pale king #look at me being brave #and sharing an unpopular opinion on main

[ddejavvu]

Yay for 20k! Love ya!

How abt it's finger lickin' good. With miscommunication trope? Where Chrissy is your best friend but Eddie Munson’s been hanging around you two more and more. A lot more with Chrissy though. And even though he’s nice, you can’t help but feel a little jealous, like why should he get to steal your best friend away from you? Why is chrissy not even spilling deets abt what she and him get up to.

And then one time you’re alone with Eddie you start to let out your frustrations just a tiny bit abt this. Even tho he’s nice and hasn’t done anything wrong. Until Eddie kisses you and tells you actually he’s uh well super into you. And has been asking Chrissy for advice this entire time. Maybe you realise the jealousy of Chrissy and Eddie hanging out actually went both ways. And yeah it wasn’t the perfect way Eddie wanted to ask you out, but he wasn’t perfect either

join my 20K celebration!

'it's finger lickin' good.' - send me a request for a baby blurb! give me a character, and a plotline, and i'll write you a little fanfiction :)

--

"You don't like me," Eddie observes, and your cheeks heat where you're facing away from him at the door to your locker. You'd been waiting for Chrissy, but so had he, of course, so you'd been forced into proximity with the guy.

It's not exactly the truth; you don't dislike him. You dislike what he's doing, how he's stealing your best friend away, but he's more than that. What more he's got, you're not sure, but you feel like it's a little unfair to dislike him just for that.

"That's not true," You mutter, shutting your locker with a soft crunch of metal on metal, "I don't even know you."

"Yeah, you run away every time I come by," He snorts, "How do you expect to get to know me?"

"I 'run away' because you'd just ask me to leave anyways," You glare at him from the corner of your eye as you turn to leave, "You and Chrissy are always alone together now. I'm not an idiot, I know when I'm not wanted."

"You- oh god, you are an idiot," His eyebrows shoot towards his hairline at your confession, and yours scrunch down the opposite direction.

"Excuse me?"

"I've been cornering her to ask about you," His brazen nature comes in handy here, even if he'd been preparing a more formal discussion about the matter. He sees Chrissy round the hallway, but you don't, and he shoos her away with a wide-eyed expression. It goes unnoticed by you, and she ducks back around the corner to give him space.

"I wanted to ask you out, so I asked her how to," He pushes off of the wall he'd been leaning against, sneakers hitting the squeaky hallway flooring as he makes his way over to where you're lingering curiously by your locker.

It takes you a moment to speak up, but you finally do with a skeptical glare, "And she told you to call me an idiot?"

"No!" He laughs, "No, that was all me."

"You're an awful flirt," You crack a cautious smile, one that he returns tenfold, "Maybe you should ask her where to take me this Saturday at five, too. Just in case you fuck it up."

"I... will do that," He draws the first word out, stunned that his terrible tactics had any sort of positive effect on you, "Uh, should I also ask to borrow her car? Or are you okay with my van?"

"Clear out the weed smell," You decide, "And I'll get in."

"Perfect," He grins, though you're not sure how he's going to fumigate the thing, you can practically smell it from inside, "Uh, I'm gonna go ask her where to take you."

"See you Saturday," You call after him, watching as he tries and fails to walk at a normal pace, "And ask her to help you regulate your cologne usage!"

"Too little?" He glances at you over his shoulder, concern mottling his features as he sniffs hesitantly at his shoulder.

"Too much," You laugh, "Hey, you can use that to cover up the weed smell in your van!"

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson one-shot #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson hc #eddie munson hcs #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson dialogue #eddie munson fluff

[olderthannetfic]

I have a question. I’m new to the discourse around fanfiction & censorship, so I was curious about what the general consensus regarding fic about underaged characters in live action media was. Underage is my biggest squick, but I feel pretty neutral about how people write/draw smut of cartoon characters, as they barely register as human for me. Characters played by actual child actors though… I guess I’m just wondering what’s going through the heads of people who write that stuff? Or minor rpf for that matter. What is appealing about it? I’m willing suspend my disbelief & accept that they don’t actually want to abuse kids, but like, what is fulfilling about that fantasy? I’m not in favor of censorship or arresting anyone over a fictional story, but I just can’t wrap my head around it.

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That's quite a failure of imagination there, anon.

Other people are not you, and they don't necessarily have this squick. That's the main answer.

From people who don't try to problematize this, there isn't really any discourse. Fiction is fiction.

Cartoon characters register as people to plenty of viewers. (And moron antis think cartoon characters count just as much as live action ones when it comes to screaming about problematicness.) Actors playing teenagers are often in their 20s. Coming of age novels dealing with sexuality have been normal all over the world since forever.

--

But let's start with some low hanging fruit:

If you're 17 years + 364 days, you're below the age of consent lots of places. Do you, anon, honestly think it's weird to be into someone one day before their 18th birthday but not the day after? What if you live somewhere where the age of consent is 16? Is it still weird to be into 17-year-olds from places where the age of consent is 18?

Most people remember being teenagers. They may feel nostalgic. They may want to imagine the nice teenage experiences they never got to have.

Lots of fic writers are currently teenagers. Not as many as ageist online spaces think, but still quite a lot. Is it weirder for a 15-year-old to have a crush on a 15-year-old than a 40-year-old?

"They looked 18, Your Honor" is a weak-ass excuse for fucking underage people in real life, but that's not the same as finding characters on your tv hot. Not only are the actors usually above 18 because filming underage actors is a fucking nightmare logistically due to work constraints, but a lot of younger actors are often made up in ways that make them look like they could be way older. People also vary widely in how they look at various ages.

If you can accept that lust exists and is valid, you can accept that lots of people will see some teen and think they're hot. There isn't some specific categorical difference in how all teenagers look and how all 20-somethings look.

Doing something about it in real life and doing something about it in fiction are different.

--

Now, as for "child actors", that term is used for a wide variety of ages, but let's assume you mean Stranger Things wank, like most people moaning about underage actor RPF do, so we're talking about tweens who genuinely do look pretty young to grown-ass adults.

The first thing I have to ask you is why the fuck you would imagine that writers identify with some adult fucking these kids? It's far, far more likely that they identify with the characters themselves or the actors.

Why would they identify with them? It could be anything from working through their own trauma at a similar age to just liking the vibe of a character because of how the show is written.

Lots of people's brains barf out dark scenarios 24/7 without them ever having experienced any major trauma and without it meaning anything much. Some people channel that into fiction.

If you are a boring person who has both a vanilla brain and no imagination, this might seem surprising to you, but it shouldn't.

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Moreover, your ask implies that underage fic is highly sexual or maybe coercive or something, but you haven't actually stated that. Are we talking about rapefic of 5-year-olds or about someone writing the Stranger Things characters holding hands?

Are you just not sexual at all, anon? Personally, I went from zero to MEGA HORNY at thirteen and a half. It was like a switch flipped. Sure, I wasn't getting any action because I was a zit-covered and socially incompetent 13-year-old, but I was definitely interested.

It's not strange that an artist or author of whatever sort would explore puberty in their art. It's not strange that they'd remember their own sexual awakening or that this awakening would be long before age 18.

It's also not strange if people write super dark shit about small children because it being extreme and taboo and horrible is often the point of art.

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You're "willing to suspend disbelief"? How magnanimous! How generous!

Seriously, anon?!

The way you've phrased this question makes it sound like you have a brain the size of a walnut.

Would you ask such a stupid question in such an offensively loaded manner about all the coming of age novels that are considered Great Literature™? Would you ask why YA exists?

And if you wouldn't, why is it that amateur writing by women and sexual minorities makes you nervous when mainstream-approved things don't?