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#I want to tag the characters but I don’t want to annoy people
songofthesibyl · 3 days
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Just saw yet another post where Tamlin is listed as being worse than Amarantha, and I’m truly getting tired.
The uneven application of morals and logic—not even in the books, but within the fandom—is so blatant, so over-the-top, that I would say it’s trolling, but it’s not been just people stalking the -anti tags to troll people, it’s within original posts, and friendly reblogs as well. Being annoyed that they would be judged, that people would dismiss their trauma and experiences for liking or not liking a character. And then turning around and saying, about people who like Tamlin or Nesta, that they must not know what real love is, that they must have been abused and liked it, questioning their morals, that they are “abuser apologists,” that they should be studied, should go choke, be shamed, that they would be the kind of people to defend Harvey Weinstein, over and over and over. And then these same people get annoyed when people don’t like Rhysand or the IC, and say people take these books too seriously, that it’s just faerie smut, that they are just fictional characters and it’s silly to see them as more than that. Then pulling Tamlin out of the narrative so he is a real human man and not a fictional 500+ year old faerie. Tamlin’s magic exploding is akin to a real world situation. Rhysand’s magic exploding is fantasy violence. There is no objective truth here. This is all based on people’s opinions. Canon is canon, but everyone has a slightly different version of that canon character because they are made-up characters, and not real people. It’s all in someone’s head. And whatever is not on the page is open to interpretation unless it later gets defined in canon. But it never stays limited to literary critique, or character analysis. It always goes to judgment, bullying, mocking, and harassment of actual people. Every time. It’s been like this since I started being in this fandom, and it remains incredibly pervasive, and I simply don’t get what’s so attractive about it, what’s fun about it, why this is the particular form of wasting time that people prefer. And I don’t know why it still bothers me when I know it’s going to happen every time I enter a social space.
I am deeply frustrated by Rhysand as a character right now, but I don’t hate him. I don’t wish he had stayed dead, I don’t want to write fanfic of him suffering. I actually thought I might like ACOMAF the most out of the first three books for awhile even though I didn’t hate Tamlin. I felt for Feyre in her panic attack in ACOMAF, I felt for Tamlin in ACOFAS. I think his and Rhysand’s history is one of the most interesting unexplored parts of the story. I love the image of them standing facing each other as newly-made High Lords, the blood of each other’s families on their hands, one wreathed in shadow, the other crowned in light. It’s a great image. But all this bullshit just really makes me not want to participate anymore.
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dreamingofthewild · 1 month
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After that post, I got thinking about Bloodweave again. Specifically the way Gale loves and how he would be just as a good fit for Astarion as Karlach, Wyll, or Halsin.
Gale's devotion to his loved one is absolute. He's a kind-hearted soul— the very reason he could summon Tara. He's willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good. In an origin run, he proclaims, "...one wizard for the whole of Faerun seems like a fair trade to me."
Gale may not be your typical storybook prince or hero, but his hopeless romanticism shines through a belief in altruism and selflessness. This is a man who says things like "you put the stars to shame" and "with you, I forget my goddess." His devotion transcends physicality, even embracing a romanced, illithid-infected Tav. No mere 'gosh' escapes him when facing the reality of Durge's Bhaalspawn heritage.
Gale approves of helping people, and two of his mini-romance scenes are after you have saved someone. He can only be manipulated into joining you in an evil playthrough because of the orb in his chest. He is a good man, a good man who cried because he accidentally burnt a neighbours rose bush when he was 8.
His love is rooted in personality, not appearances. Gale values commitment, believing sex is an act of profound connection between body and soul. He's the antithesis of the shallow encounters Astarion's was forced to endure. Gale's steadfastness would have made him an unlikely victim for Astarion's seductions. A fact that annoys me in a Gale origin run, as you should be able to say that you can't have sex like you can in a Karlach origin run.
Astarion would find Gale's authenticity refreshing. He doesn't need to put on an act in front of Gale. In fact, Gale prefers the truth. Gale, ever kind, would even offer to help kill Cazador without asking for anything in return. That's simply who he is.
Astarion needs someone selfless, patient, and understanding – qualities Gale possesses in abundance. A romanced Astarion, in turn, deeply cares for his partner once his masked as slipped, and he realises that he is in love (albeit I haven't played his romance out yet).
He repeatedly encourages Gale to think independently ("Where is Gale's will?") and challenges his self-sacrificial tendencies.
Their bond grows over books and shared interests. Contrary to belief, a romanced Astarion would not want Gale to ascend to Godhood. A romanced Astarion would selfishly want Gale to himself.
I'm convinced Gale offers a fulfilling romance for any companion.
Gale and Wyll are not too different. If one is a good fit for Astarion, then so is the other. And if Astarion is a good fit for one, then he is a good fit for the other.
Saying that Gale is too easily corruptible or morally ambiguous to be "good enough" for Astarion is really doing an injustice to Gale. Gale is kind-hearted and morally sound enough to encourage Astarion to be a better person. Gale is neutral good, just like Wyll is. Gale's actions always have good intentions behind them.
Also, I'm not saying people have to like Bloodweave, but I just understand that there are often deeper reasons people like the ship.
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My controversial opinion about The Bear is that Sydney and Carmy have one of those character dynamics where them being in a romantic relationship/having romantic feelings for each other is the least interesting option, and I’m not just saying that because Carmy gives me aro vibes
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2000snotebook · 11 months
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Ok, some Punksette headcanon! 💀📼
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For starters, both are bi! Faith is a masc bi sapphic with a complicated relationship with gender and Portia is a fem bi sapphic!
📼 Portia is a bit of an escapist who likes to remove herself from the world around her
💀 Faith is someone who constantly wants to live in the moment without looking back (sound familiar?)
📼 Portia met Faith while she was working at Dumptys and Faith happened to be in Powell Lake for a gig.
💀 Although Faith was only meant to stay in Powell Lake for the weekend, she ended up prolonging her stay just to hang around Dumptys for an excuse to talk to Portia
📼 Portia makes customized cassette tapes for friends and people she has a crush sometimes.
💀 Faith has Portia’s name etched into her bass guitar with a little heart next to it. (She calls her Porsche! 😂 I just think her romantic partners in general would call her Porsche)
📼 Portia always writes to her dad about the people and places she sees, so he knows all about Faith. (it’d be hypocritical of him to be wary of his daughter dating a traveling musician lol)
💀 Faith lets Portia ride on her motorcycle to explore nightlife with her.
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mirchoff · 3 months
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was very annoying to friends about this episode and now i feel really bad because i can’t just give people space and let them breathe, i always have to shove stuff down their throat :/
i’m just lame and don’t have great priorities when it comes to getting happiness
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white-weasel · 1 year
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I love and hate both canon and fanon at the same time. I am very complex
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itspileofgoodthings · 2 years
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To add on to @thelonelybrilliance’s articulate and concise post about fandom, but in a new post so hers doesn’t get cluttered—sometimes your feelings get hurt by the beats of a story as understood through fandom. I know mine have —deeply. And untangling that can feel almost impossible and Herculean. The reason I hate love triangles in an ongoing piece of media (I don’t) is purely because of fandom, because people INSIST on making into a war or contest of some kind. And no I’m not just talking about the worst kind of fandom shipping wars where insults or death threats are exchanged and people just lose their minds etc. I’m talking about that base assumption among “reasonable” fans that a love story is a prize to be won, for a character and for the fans of said character. And that “losing” this battle can only bring shame and misery. Therefore, if the losing happens it CANNOT be accepted or lived with because it’s the ultimate failure. And the only thing to do in that light is to say “well clearly the story is wrong.”
TV show writers/modern writers of popular entertainment do love to bait fans using emotional manipulation. it’s baked into our storytelling on some level and I hate it and I hate to see it. And it’s why generally, on principle, I won’t engage with a tv show or movie seriously until it’s finished. So that I can make sense of it as a whole on its own merits and not in the context of television ratings or the shipping wars/opinions that are often intentionally stoked to drive those ratings.
but the thing I have learned (only extremely recently) from the times where I can’t help it and I do get swept up into a story that is ongoing is that I do have the power to step away from not only a fandom but that fandom mindset that makes things into petty little wars and snide attacks and understand that romantic relationships are not prizes to be won, that this is about understanding who these people are, what they want, and how they fit together. And in that light I don’t have to do the thing that fandom makes me feel I do have to do—lose, or, worse, throw somebody away as the loser. Cut them off from my love and just let them die.
if a story is well written enough, or even sometimes if it isn’t but the truth of character is still there anyways, there will always be a way to resolve those things that hurt and push and pull at me on a deep level because the truth of the story will set me free. I have learned that I can’t do that in a public space or while I feel I’m being watched or even with a whole group of people. I have to do it one on one. And it doesn’t mean there aren’t things I have to let go of—my own pride, the feelings that come from the sunk cost effect, even just wanting things to be the way I wanted them to be just because I wanted it. Because I’m attached to my own views. But if I can, if I can try to trust that the story is worth it, it’s so much safer and more satisfying to see the story from that vantage point and love it and appreciate it and have fun with it without those fandom fears hurting me or clouding my vision.
#anyway the thing about jancy that I didn’t want to face#was that sickening feeling that a) I’d been wrong but also b) that I would have to throw away Jonathan#that somehow that would mean I was wrong to have loved him as deeply as I did and I would just have to throw him away!#and it’s like. I DON’t.#the way I read him now (with Emma) is very funny#and just part of the shared meme language#and it’s hard to share because it’s so personally intertwined with all of the inside jokes that exist#But all of that aside it became easy to see that neither he nor Nancy made each other happy or gave each other what they needed#and yes the writers did some real stupid things gross things to them in season 2 but there is I think an actual divide in character#that makes them not happy together. and it’s just very simple and clear#So letting go is letting both of them be happy#and you know what??? I am reading absolutely 0 fandom takes right now I never go on my dash I see nothing#And the fandom attitude STILL pervades sometimes—people reblogging pro Steve things with snide tags @ Jonathan#or the assumption showing up in reblogs that I am ‘on their side now’ in the shipping war#and it’s so annoying!!!!!! It is. SO. ANNOYING .#the clearest reminder to me to keep my distance to protect my heart!!!#anyway I read Emma’s post and it put things so clearly that it made this post easier to see and then write#so I thought I would!#fandom#shipping wars#my thoughts#all personal thoughts re: specific fandoms kept in the tags
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spookyfbi · 2 years
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It’s not just the fact that there’s no Dave, it’s that we didn’t get any follow up to what they did in season 2 at all. Am I really to understand that Dave’s encounter with Klaus had zero affect on his life? Am I to understand that Dave was told the exact date and place of his death and when he found himself on hill 689 on February 21st he did absolutely nothing different? Am I to understand that as a soldier Dave was told the outcome of the war he was fighting and did nothing about it? I mean sure, you could argue he didn’t believe it, but we don’t even get to see whether or not he struggled or had any doubts?
And while I’m on the subject, it also makes me wonder what about Ray? As a civil rights activist knowing everything Allison told him, did it change anything about his life or his choices?
Did Diego telling that therapist that the president was going to be assassinated and then the president being assassinated have any affect on his life?
Did Klaus’ cult have any affect on the timeline?
It just felt like they were putting so many dominoes into place in season 2 and all of them were forgotten except for one.
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mazojo · 2 years
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Were we ever in doubt that Toudou was gonna be my favorite? No, no we weren’t
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augustsails · 4 months
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Me: eh, I’m just not that into playing Honkai: Star Rail. It started becoming a chore and way too demanding
Also me: Sampo??! Sampo Koski is going to get more time in the upcoming story?? …I may have to keep playing
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twigwing · 5 months
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once again pondering my complicated relationship to STH shipping. i say complicated i feel like it just boils down to “i participate in it because it’s unavoidable”
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gremlingottoosilly · 6 months
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I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)
Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3
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“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin. 
You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm. 
You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after. 
So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well. 
— I’ll find something to eat, alright? 
He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged. 
— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you. 
— Ah…your father is at home? 
You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was. 
— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you. 
— You didn’t tell him about me? 
Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly. 
— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…
An apathetic dad, huh. 
You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart. 
— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home. 
He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed. 
You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen. 
*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid. 
König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished. 
With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel. 
Scheisse
Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…
The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son. 
You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl. 
— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it? 
You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years. 
You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like. 
— Ja. You can have it. 
He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it. 
— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you. 
You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him. 
Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home. 
— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you. 
You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom. 
He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you. 
— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet. 
— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz. 
You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce. 
— What do you mean by this, sir? 
You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally. 
Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid. 
He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship. 
The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you. 
König is. 
— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you. 
You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man. 
Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this. 
König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father. 
Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too. 
— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir. 
“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing. 
You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all. 
König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks. 
God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies. 
He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right? 
You look like a good candidate. 
— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz. 
He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left. 
— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here. 
You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body. 
— You want to see the bedroom then?
Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him. 
— Sir, this is very…
He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is. 
— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.
You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway. 
Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all. 
— I don’t want to break his heart. 
— He doesn’t have one. 
You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…
God, you feel like a slut, and you like it. 
Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted. 
You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game. 
— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later. 
“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum. 
You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please” 
König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable. 
— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later. 
He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before. 
He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people. 
He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right. 
— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore. 
— N…not a whore, please…
He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid. 
— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…
— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…
— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.
He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second. 
It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this. 
It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…
You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it. 
Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed. 
König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good. 
So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father. 
— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it? 
— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul. 
— I’ll tell him. 
— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck. 
— I need to return to my dorm. 
— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja? 
He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right. 
He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen. 
Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked. 
— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are. 
— She’ll make a good step mom, ja? 
You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes. 
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Hey guys, can I be honest? I don’t much care for the lesbians from Willow (2022)
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chastiefoul · 1 year
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stood up.
characters: ayato & alhaitham
summary:
Your boyfriend promised a long overdue date on the winter season—albeit how busy he was.
But as you waited and waited for him on the agreed spot, why does it look like he’s not coming?
tags: a lil angsty, comfort would be on part 2
Alhaitham
You were giddy as you woke up, immediately getting ready for the long awaited date you both have today. Amidst the research he’s been busy working with at the time, he finally managed to take a brief break and told you he missed you wanted to spend time with you which you couldn’t possibly refuse since you missed him just as much.
It was heavily snowing outside—you took a mental note as you pick a warm outfit for today. You were very excited about the date that you had arrived fifteen minutes early, silently hoping maybe your boyfriend would come a little early too since it’s been a while that you both spend a quality time.
“I need coffee,” Alhaitham groaned as he went out from his room, completely exhausted and sleep-deprived. Kaveh who coincidentally was in the dining room just stared at him as if saying ‘then pour it yourself tf?’. Alhaitham made a cup for himself and took a sip. “It’s noon, and you’re just waking up?” the blond said disapprovingly while the grey-haired man only sighed. “It can’t be helped that I needed to sleep late every day for the past week. Also mind your own business, don’t you have that presentation you’ve deemed all week as important today?” He asked, annoyed. “Huh? That was yesterday.” Kaveh said, confused. Alhaitham widened his eyes. “What?” Panic rises inside Alhaitham’s chest as he asked.
“What date is it today?” His stomach dropped, refusing to believe that he had mixed up such an important date only because he was dwelled to deep on his research, even though he promised to meet you. He looked at the clock, 12 p.m, you both agreed to meet at 9 a.m.
 “Seventeenth.” Kaveh confirmed, quickly snapping Alhaitham’s useless idle thought.
The scribe cursed out loud then went to grab the first coat he saw and swiftly go out.
Please still be there, please still be there.
He ran full speed at the agreed spot. He so wanted you to still be there but perhaps it would be too cruel at your side since you’d be standing still at the same spot waiting in the cold for three whole hours.
Then he saw you there, standing as you had your hands deep on your pocket, your nose red from the cold.
“(y/n)!” Alhaitham called out, but you didn’t budge at the noise. He approached you, overwhelmed with guilt. “I’m sor-“
“I told you before that we didn’t have to meet if you’re busy, I told you I could wait.” You said, uncharacteristically slow that it was unnerving. “But I didn’t mean it like this,” you whispered, finally losing it. Alhaitham’s heart broke at the tone, but he knew he didn’t have the right. “Waiting here for three whole hours that people from shop nearby talked to me and said I should warm myself up for a moment and I stupidly refuse, scared that you’d come while I was gone and you’d think I forgot about today..” you paused.
“I looked like a fool—no, I was an utter fool.”
“Please. I can explain-“
“Gosh what an interesting way to apologize,” your eyes hot with tears that were threatening to spill. “Seeing you now, clearly just waking up with no effort whatsoever to get yourself ready.. just how pathetic do you want me to feel, Alhaitham?” you sniffled, feeling uncomfortable and heartbroken. The fact that you were looking forward to today for days and he did not even bother to remember. That fact cuts deep.
The man’s heart ached more by the sudden call of his full name, not the usual endearing nickname of ‘haitham’.
You walked away, wiping your tears. Alhaitham who witness your back getting smaller as you take a step after another could only stand still, quietly searching for the words he could find to first and foremost apologize, then to find a way to make it all up to you.
Ayato
It was definitely not easy, being by Ayato’s side, but you made it work—you always do. And Ayato couldn’t hope for more of an understanding partner—and he didn’t let you forget that, but this made you reluctant to voice your worries, scared that he would picture you as this selfish person. But if you were given a wish, perhaps you’d want to be able to spend a little more time with your boyfriend. Just a little.
When there’s patience, there’s too, a limit.
You’re currently waiting for Ayato at the meeting spot you both agreed on the day before. You wouldn’t mind a ten or fifteen minutes tardiness, anyone could’ve make such mistake, but feeling how stiff your fingers were and seeing the sun position, it’s safe to say you’ve been waiting for more than four hours. There are strangers who passed by earlier, and when the same people witnessed you still glued in the same spot they saw you, you couldn’t help but look down.
A quiet but incisive sense of shame overwhelmed you, that you had such faith in this man that you were willing to wait even hours on such weather, not even knowing that if Ayato had felt the same anticipation—clearly not, since him or even his retainer that usually gave you news about his well-being was nowhere in sight. You couldn’t help but laugh self-deprecatingly at your foolishness as you finally decided to give up and go home, not even thinking about the reason why he had forgotten about the date. The bottom line was that he stood you up, whether it was unintentional at the end of the day, you were hurt. And it was finally time to tell him that he would not get away with it.
The next day, your body had to pay up the price of waiting on such a snowy weather that you caught a fever. It wasn’t worth it in the slightest but at least this way you don’t have to face him for a while, since you don’t really have anything nice to say if forced to see his face.
That thought was short-lived however, seeing that Ayato had decided to come, on a day where you both didn’t agree to meet up on. You were laying down, even with the thick layers of clothing you still felt somewhat cold.
“You didn’t come this morning as you usually do, so I got worried,” he explained the sudden visit. Your head hurt, but truly it was incomparable to the ache you’re experiencing on your chest. Ayato seemed to had completely forgotten the fact that he was supposed to meet you yesterday. “What were you doing that you’ve become this ill, love?” There was nothing but pure concern in his voice but this made you more spiteful, more infuriated.
“I was waiting for someone for hours out in the cold yesterday.” You said, still burying yourself in the blanket, not bothering to make eye contact with the man. At this he was thinking back that perhaps you had tell him about this engagement, but his expression quickly drop, as he remembered. You wanted to laugh at it since you’ve never seen such face on him, but that was a luxury you had to postpone until a later date where you had felt a little better.
“Sweethe-“ He quickly said but you cut him off. “Don’t call me that. And don’t even think about touching me.” You said sternly, as he swiftly retracted the hand that was about to touch your head.
“(y/n), I apologize but I-“
And you’ve had about enough of his exuses—no matter how important, you don’t even care anymore, you just wanted Ayato out of your sight.
“It’s always something with you, isn’t it? I’m tired, Ayato.” You said meekly, truly exhausted by the way he always had something to say, a ­­way to get out of being berated, reasons that you had to understand even though it was the same as saying that he had put you second—or maybe below that yet again. “I don’t want to understand it anymore, I give up.” You finally said, and only at this point Ayato had realized just how much he had hurt you over the course of you dating him.
“I’m done being your loyal dog that you can treat however you please, Ayato. Leave.”
“(y/n)-“
“I said, leave.” You repeated.
Ayato could only stand up and got out as guilt was eating him away slowly. It wouldn’t be an understatement to say that he had taken advantage of your kindness and took you for granted. The regrets tasted bitter on his tongue. As he went out from your haven there was only one thing running through his mind. How could he possibly fix this?
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randomshipperhere · 2 years
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I hate twitter I hate twitter I hate twitter
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jazzyoranges · 6 months
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Saw you take requests!! Can you do a fluffy Wednesday x Shape shifter!Reader (no smut please) where it's Wednesday's writing time but she can't think of ideas so reader turns into a cat and curls up on Wednesday's lap? Basically helping Wednesday by making sure Wednesday can't get up until she writes a chapter. Thanks!
Orange kitty - drabble
Wednesday Addams x fem!reader
Words: 0.8k
A/n: i feel like we as a fandom haven’t been putting the orange cat x black cat trope in enough fics. this is me advocating for orange cat!r
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“I feel your eyes on me, (Y/n).”
“I’m not allowed to look at my friend anymore?”
“It’s distracting. You’re inhibiting me from writing.” Wednesday isn’t fully lying. She just doesn’t add how you give her an odd feeling. An odd feeling she doesn’t like.
“Aww, do I make you nervous, Wens?” You laugh, deciding to ignore the glare she sends your way
“Keep talking and I’ll remove your voice box.”
“Please, I think you’d miss me too much” You roll your eyes, stretching on Wednesday’s bed
You turn into a cat as per Thing’s request, and you two start to play tag around Wednesday and Enid’s shared room. Thing happily bragged that you and him were better friends once. His hubris only resulted in Wednesday taking away his favorite lotions for an entire week.
The Addams girl huffs when she, yet again, makes a mistake on her typewriter. This was unlike her. The tiny trash can under her desk was nearing being full only after one or two hours of her failed attempts at writing. Wednesday put her hands in her lap after she realized her words only became futile
The abrupt stop of clacking keys makes you turn your head, giving Thing the perfect opportunity to tag you back on Enid’s bed. You quickly turn human again with almost a cartoon-ish pop, and ask Thing if Wednesday was allergic to cats
“She’s not, why do you ask?” He signs
“Do you think she’d kill me if I sat on her lap?” You sign back, not wanting Wednesday to hear
“As a human, most definitely. But if you were a cat maybe she’d tolerate you. No promises, though” Thing somehow shrugs using his thumb and pinkie finger as arms. God, you loved the weird appendage
“I can hear you two talking. I’d prefer if you’d leave me in silence.”
“Writers block?”
“No, I’m merely thinking of the correct words to use.”
“Maybe you should ask Enid for help. The woman can reach over the Twitter character limit in like… three seconds. Two if she’s really excited”
“Recommend such a horrid idea again and I’ll release you in my pen of hellhounds.”
“We both know I’d win” You cockily smirk, again ignoring what looks to be annoyance on Wednesday’s face. Then again, she always looked annoyed
“Your hubris is laughable. Let’s see how you suffice when your digestive system is ripped open.”
“Tempting, but I’d rather stay here with you”
You can only assume Thing listens with watchful… fingers? You execute your plan to him, and a quick pinkie-promise indicates he gets to bury you if Wednesday decides to kill you after the stunt you’re about to pull
“Hey, Wens?” The Addams doesn’t show any form of talking but you decide to keep going
“Did you know people say cats can lessen anxiety?”
The Addams hums in acknowledgement, so you continue
“Well, I don’t exactly believe it”
“And why is that.” Wednesday sighs. Sometimes she wonders why she indulges in you
“I dunno, just seems fake. I was wondering if you’d do an experiment with me?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Great! Thanks, Wens” You give Thing a quick wink after turning into a cat and hopping up onto her desk. Turning your head to the side as if you were asking a question, you looked at Wednesday for an answer
You were crazy, but not crazy enough to do something to make Wednesday hate you
For some reason, the Addams girl doesn’t even have a second chance to think before scooting back her chair. You’re about to jump into her lap with a paw over the edge of her desk, but you glance up to make sure Wednesday was sure. You receive a small nod
The action is enough to make you whisper a small “thank you” but it only comes out as a small meow
You circle around her lap for a good area to lay, and you quickly take your spot with a tiny smile that makes your eyes close. Wednesday scoots her chair back in, and she has absolutely no idea what to do.
Only when you start to purr a shiver goes up her spine. The vibrations are light, and something about you happily laying on her lap makes you chip away at Wednesday’s walls the tiniest bit. She contemplates where to put her hands before Thing scurries on top of you to scratch behind your ear. Wednesday shoots him a deathly glare in return, but your favorite Addams (don’t tell Wednesday) stays put
As if showing Wednesday how to pet a cat, Thing gets off of your back and points a finger in your direction. Hesitantly, the Addams girl copies the actions Thing showed her
And you? You were having an amazing time. Wednesday’s fingers were cold but every stroke of her hand was calculated. She took note of which spots you purred louder, and continued her movements
Fuck you and your ability to get what you want, Wednesday thinks. Of course your smug ass knew cats lessened anxiety. Of course.
But Wednesday can’t help being addicted to your tiny purrs and vibrations
With her left hand fondling your ear and her right on her typewriter, she decides maybe a cat could be arranged in her novel.
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