#it would have been hideous to try and put it in the post

[ateliersss]

He Is Here

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: After Akail freed himself and then you from your captors, you both had only one thing on your mind — to return home where his father and your mate was waiting for you. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 4.768 Part 1: here

⇨ I started making it, tried my best, had a break down, then I listened to Lana Del Rey and my brain started working again. This is the result. I hope I didn't fail your expectations and you like it anyway.

⇨ Also, did you ever actually listen to their clicking/purring noises? Because I DID!

Fresh air, the rustling of leaves on the surrounding trees, the moonlight, even the hooting of an owl — you never thought you would appreciate these things the way you did right now.

Especially now as your son was holding you tightly in his arms, running away, leaving the facility site behind. You had already put quite a distance between here and there and yet you could still hear the blaring alarm of their security system.

To distract yourself, you focused on the safe embrace of Akail's strong arms, watched the surroundings passing by, and listened to the sounds he made. He tried to calm you down, but since you couldn't understand any of his words, this attempt failed.

The one thing you didn’t want to focus on was the blood.

The alarm went off while you were still stuck in this awful white room with that strange woman, announcing that your son had broken free. Immediately you were yanked out of the room and into the corridor, not caring that moving was difficult for you. The woman had tried to persuade the two men to be more careful, but they just ignored her and didn't stop dragging you roughly with them.

The grip they had on you was painful, the flickering lights and the alarm agitated you even more, and the fact that you didn't know what they were going to do to you, now that an angry alien was on the loose, frightened you.

You thought about the consequences of what you were about to do. Since you couldn't imagine anything worse than what you had already experienced, you just did it. You screamed. You screamed for your son in hopes he would hear you.

One of the men holding you pulled your thrashing body towards him to have a better hold on you, to silence you. You didn't stop fighting and even bit his fingers to stop him from restraining your voice.

You both stopped struggling with each other when suddenly a bloodcurdling roar erupted from behind you.

The small group turned around and encountered the looming figure of Akail. He had found you, like the clever boy he was.

Admittedly, it had been quite a sight. His body trembled with fury, his back arched and his mandibles flared. The armor and equipment that had been taken from him was now back in his possession and on his body. Even from this distance you could see the blood as if he had bathed in it.

Blood, that was now also on the hideous white suit you were wearing.

Out of fear, and maybe it really just had been a reflex, the man holding you pushed you away.

Luckily — more or less, depending if you were either the big, enraged alien or the tiny, terrified human — you landed on your knees and the hand outstretched trying to catch you, the other hand wrapped around your swollen belly as an instinctive protective mechanism. The impact hurt, but at least your pup remained unharmed.

It had been the wrong thing do, really. Watching someone hurt you and thus possibly his unborn brother drove him feral. All it took was one tearful look from you and he charged for your captors.

You scrambled to the wall and out of his attack zone. Closing your eyes, you only listened as one by one died in one painful way or another.

You were used to the most obscure, disgusting, and repulsive corpses as you and your mate occasionally went on hunting trips at home. However, the whole situation — from you being captured, the imprisonment, you not knowing what had happened to your son and how he was doing, to the present moment — had pushed yourself to your limit.

When the helpless pleas and painful screams finally died down, you felt two big hands picking you up. You buried your face into his strong chest, preventing you from catching even a second's glimpse of the bloody masses around you.

It was over, you tried to compose yourself.

Akail was still running, not faltering once. His mind was set on one thing and one thing only — getting you to the safety of your Scout Ship.

Soon you reached a familiar river and a clearing. Your tensed shoulders relaxed when you saw the huge outline of it. The human may have said that they had found the ship, but it was still there where you had left it. Apparently they had made no move yet to transport it to their base.

You sighed happily. It meant one step closer to home.

Although you were now in safe surroundings, Akail did not put you down and carried you until you reached the belly of the ship where he kept his weapons and gear such as his masks and armor. You smiled up at him when he seated you on top of the huge work bench occupying the middle of the room where he normally repaired or worked on his equipment. The glass surface cooled your adrenaline-heated skin.

Akail exited the room while you settled into a more comfortable position, legs dangling slightly as you looked down at your baby bump and stroked it. You closed your eyes and listened to your inner voice. There was no pain, no other feeling close to discomfort that should worry you. In fact, you felt your sweetling kick against your hand.

You heard the well-known clicks of Akail, announcing you weren’t alone anymore. He was back, holding familiar gadgets in his hands. One of them were two earpieces that translated every spoken word of a Yautja in real time. They were created especially for you and practically disappeared when you wore them, making your ears appear perfectly normal as if they weren't even there. The other gadget was a tight fitting necklace made out of black metal with silver accents that translated your words into the Yautja language.

Their technology did wonders. The way both things worked was way beyond your comprehension.

The moment the earpieces were in your ears and the necklace was around your neck, Akail asked, “Mother, how you feeling?”

Thanks to the work bench, you were more or less at eye level so you could put a hand on his cheek, your thumb stroking the scale-like skin, as he nuzzled into it. “I’m fine, my little warrior.” You reassured him.

You felt his clawed hand gently press against your stomach.

You chuckled. “Yes, your little mei’hswei is fine, too.” As if to confirm your words, your pup started to kick against his brother's hand. “See?”

Akail shook his head, the clicking sounds growing urgent.

You sighed. “I promise, as soon as we arrive home I will go to Cahrein. He will survey me to confirm that everything is fine.”

That seemed to soothe him as he nodded. “Good.”

You smiled up at him, cupped his cheeks to pull him closer so you could reach his forehead to place a gentle kiss there. He immediately started making a purring noise. You had to suppress a laugh at that reaction. Instead, the smile on your lips widened.

No matter how many trophies he owned, demonstrating he was a killing machine, no matter that he was the son of a clan leader, no matter that he was Blooded, showing his level of maturity — he was still your little boy who sometimes longed for the comfortable and safe embrace of his mother’s arms.

At this moment, Akail felt like he was set back into the time when he was just a pup. It actually happened every time when his mother showered him with affections.

When he was a Youngling, barely reaching your hip, some of the Un-Blooded — all still immature and not yet careful with their words like teenagers in their puberty on Earth — had harassed him about his non-Yautja part even though he was the pure image of his father, no indicator that he was partly human.

Already in his young years he had developed a need to protect you. As soon as even one of them mentioned either your name or the word ooman, he landed the first punch which had degenerated into a fight which he mostly lost with his smaller size and his little combat experience compared to theirs. He lied to you about how he got the injuries when you tended to them. He didn’t want to worry you, didn’t want to tell you how those stupid, thoughtless Un-Blooded had disrespected you.

As he grew older and bigger, his father training him hard, the harassment stopped and turned into more friendly, harmless teasing coming from his friends and those with whom he had trained for the initiation hunt. They didn’t dare to treat you any other way than the mate of the Clan Leader deserved to be treated — with respect, obedience, acceptance and appreciation. You were who you were, but with the things you've done in your years since arriving on Yautja Prime, you'd proven yourself.

From his friends he had learned that Yautja mother’s stopped pampering their pups the second they touched a weapon to train to be hunters.

“Too much coddling and spoiling love made you soft.”

That’s what every Youngling grew up with, but here he was. He was one of the strongest, one of the most determined, and one of the most promising Yautja in his clan, maybe even on his planet. Expectations were high considering who his father was and he would one day be following in his huge (figurative) footsteps, which he hoped to eventually fill.

And all that with a human who never stopped showing him her motherly love since the day he was born.

He was proud you were his mother, thankful, never ashamed. He would never dare to feel any different about you, not when you had stood against all odds to carry him in your belly and fought against death to give birth to him. That made you stronger than any other Yautja mother and he would never think about trading you to be pureblooded.

While his father forged him into a great and powerful fighter, showed him to be strong-willed, hard-working and brave — the typical journey for Yautja to become hunters and respectable members of a clan — you had taught him mercy, thoughtfulness, and compassion. You tried to teach him at least a few things that were of great value on Earth, things that demonstrated that his mixed genetic heritage made him much more diverse than others.

“I’m going to contact your father to tell him we will be home soon.” You suddenly said.

Akail stepped aside to make room for you to get off the working bench. He offered you a hand when you started to struggle with the height of it and gently helped you to get your feet on the solid metal ground of the ship. While you waddled to your quarters, he turned to the door leading to the cockpit to start the engines and finally get off this damn planet.

The ship was built in such a way that you didn't even feel it take off a few seconds later while you pressed the right buttons to reach your mate. With one hand on your stomach, you turned around and encountered the holographic image of Mi'ytiar being projected into the center of the room by a device built into the ceiling.

You let out a shaky but happy breath. “My love.” You greeted him with a relieved smile as he reached out to place his large hand on the side of your face, the palm on your cheek and his clawed fingers in your hair.

Normally you would lean into his touch, but since that hand was only a projection, you kept your head still to at least give him the illusion that you were standing in front of him.

You wished you were standing in front of him. You longed for him. You missed him so, so much.

You watched his beautiful eyes dart over your face and then to the strange cloth you were wearing, looking for any signs that indicated the blood on it was yours.

“Yawne, what happened?” He demanded, his voice hard but concerned.

You bit your lower lip, already anticipating his reaction.

Mi'ytiar was calm and composed when it came to sticky situations, but his temper quickly overwhelmed him when it came to you. Last time he had challenged an Elder of all people who simply had handled you with more strength than necessary, completely forgetting that humans were far frailer than his kind. It had been merely an accident, but it had turned into a disaster.

So the first thing you wanted to do was to reassure him as you said, “I’m fine.”

His mandibles flared, a hiss escaping his lips. “What happened?”

You sighed. “Humans. They captured Akail.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “They used the control on his arm to find the ship.” You paused for a moment and sighed. “I left it for some fresh air. They found me outside and brought me to the same facility they took our son to.”

Predicting his answer, you forestalled him before he could even open his mouth. “No! Don’t say it.” You hissed.

Mi'ytiar straightened his slightly bent position towards you in surprise. He looked at you with his head cocked to his side, not breaking the intense eye contact.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally relented and lowered his head. The gesture always made you feel powerful. It meant submission; only with you, never others.

Proud of yourself, you squared your shoulders and held your head high.

Sometimes there were small disagreements between you and your mate, but instead of arguing, you both only looked at each other while a silent battle was fought between your gazes. Mi'ytiar always backed down first, secretly loving your dominance, but also cursing your stubbornness.

You were his Life Mate, the human female he treated as his equal. Completely fascinated and smitten by your softness and loving nature, he was wrapped around your finger and would bend to your will. You had a certain power over him and you loved it, knowing that a being like him was capable of acting this way.

“I know I should have listened to you. You told me to stay within the safety of the ship and I should have listened to you. But I didn’t and I put our pup in danger. I’m sorry, tanhì.” You admitted, looking up at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Akail?”

“He freed himself and then me.” You answered, before adding in a whisper, “He killed everyone.”

His mandibles clicking, he said, “Good.” before eyeing the suit sullenly.

Mi'ytiar didn’t mind seeing you bloody. In fact, there had been times when the prey the two of you had been hunting together had bled all over you, which had aroused him to a point where he had just grabbed you and fucked you on the forest floor.

But he didn’t like this, not at all. The color wasn’t right. It was too red, too human. The possibility that it could be yours worried him far too much.

But it wasn’t yours. You had told him so and deep down he knew that, but it made him feel unsettled nonetheless.

In the meantime, you watched him and the hardly noticeable change in his eyes. He was very caring, something you loved the most about him, so you planned on putting him on ease when you reached behind you to open the suit. The light fabric slipped down your body and gathered at your feet. You stepped out of it and kicked it away with your foot.

Now you stood in front of him in all your naked glory. Your plan must have worked, because he didn’t hesitate to step forward and engulf your now much more visible stomach with his clawed hand. His infatuation with your pregnant body was beyond you.

Three months into your first pregnancy, a neighboring clan visited yours for feasts and a hunt. There you got to know a woman named Vulpine, the first human you ever met on Yautja Prime. She was soon to be mated with her Yautja who had only recently decided to commit himself fully to her, thus renouncing any sexual or even romantic relationship with other females. That’s how the concept of being Life Mates worked, after all.

You pestered her with questions. Not only how long she had been here, how she was coping with life on this strange planet and who her Yautja was, but also how he treated her in a pregnant state. Turns out, the only Yautja who was that infatuated with his mate being pregnant was Mi'ytiar.

Another thing was that he had been over the moon when you had finally voiced out your wish to carry his pup. He had taken such great care of you during your pregnancy, coddling you, literally hovering over you, not letting you out of his sight.

You had always wondered why he had been acting this way — maybe it was due to the fact that you were human and therefore you and your body were just different — but you never thought it was necessary to actually question him about it.

After a while you said, “We’ll be home soon, my love.”

“Good.” Mi'ytiar replied, nodding. “I will await you.”

And that’s what he did.

As soon as the ship landed, the ramp extended and the door opened, you saw Mi'ytiar standing there, waiting. You didn’t even hesitate to rush to him. He responded with lowering himself to one knee and reaching out to you, catching you when you threw yourself into his arms.

His mandibles clicked happily when he finally could touch you again and feel his unborn pup. He had missed you both so dearly. To be closer to his little one, he made himself even smaller, almost sitting on the floor, and pressed his forehead on your stomach while one hand rested on your hip and the other on the back of your thigh. Purring, he enjoyed the familiar closeness to his sweetling.

You were a mess, bursting with emotions — those goddamn pregnancy hormones — as you ran your fingers through his dreadlocks, felt their warmth and fleshy texture, and played with one of the golden rings Mi'ytiar used to style it, as you liked to call it.

While the two of you were completely engaged with each other, not caring what happened around you, you hadn't noticed how your son had also eventually left the ship to join the both of you.

“Father.” Akail greeted, announcing his presence.

Mi'ytiar lifted his head before pulling away from you to stand up. As was customary for Yautja, he placed a hand on Akail's shoulder in greeting and shook it slightly. Then he grabbed his son’s upper arms with his hands, Akail did the same, and they both put their foreheads together. They stayed like that for a moment before pulling away to talk.

You didn’t feel like you had to listen to them, so you didn’t, but you watched them with a smile. There stood your favorite people in the universe, your family, your whole world.

Soon, Mi'ytiar turned around and made his way back to you. Before you could say anything, he put one arm under your armpits and one under your knees, lifting you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you away, knowing him to Cahrein, the healer.

You liked Cahrein and the feeling was mutual. He was responsible for tending to the wounded and sick, helped the females during their pregnancies and birth, provided ingredients and maintained tools for the Medicomp when Yautja went on off-world hunts.

He was rather serious and professional, but you could see the curious excitement when Mi'ytiar first had brought you to him. You were a whole different species to him, something new he could learn about.

It was nothing unusual for your mate to accompany you on your check-ups, so Cahrein thankfully didn’t ask any questions, only saying a word when he confirmed what you had already told both, father and brother of the pup — everything was fine.

That was all Mi'ytiar needed to know before he dragged you away and to your home where he shed you of your clothes and fucked you like a wild animal that was starved of your touch, sating his needs.

It felt like hours had passed when your sweaty and naked body slumped back against Mi'ytiar's torso, exhausted and fully satisfied. Mi'ytiar nuzzled into the hair on the back of your head.

While you were still trying to catch your breath, he regarded the bite mark he had left on your shoulder out of the corner of his eye. The sharp tips of his mandibles had broken into the skin on the front and back of your upper arm, your shoulder blade, and the spot of your chest where your heart was still beating frantically. Meanwhile, his teeth had dug into the edge of your shoulder, making it bleed.

You squirmed in his lap when he licked the dried blood to clean you.

When he was done, he gently took a hold of your hair to put it over your shoulder and out of the way. His eyes fixed on the second bite mark. This one he had placed on the nape of your neck. When he was done cleaning you there too, he chattered happily, proud that he had so evidently marked you as his own.

You tilted your head back to look at him. “What?”

“It never was able with other female.” He said, “Marking.”

You tensed at that before you lowered your head with your lips pressed together. You knew you were acting like child when he placed his index and middle finger on your cheek to turn your head to look at him, but you stubbornly refused to do so. You even leaned forward to break the skin contact between your back and his torso. You had to bite your bottom lip to stifle a moan as his cock was still inside you, keeping his seed where it belonged. Even in its now soft state it was still able to send pleasure down your spine.

Although you knew that only some Yautja were permanently bonded to each other and most of them had several mating partners, you had totally forgotten that he, of course, had been with other females before you. In fact, you had never really thought about it. The thought had never occurred to you as he had always been completely devoted to you.

Irrational jealousy took hold of you. Of course, it was completely normal for one’s partner to have been with others before you. That's how it worked on Earth, too. Nothing special, nothing unusual, and yet you hated it.

You had been 26 when Mi'ytiar took you with him. A year earlier you had broken up with a boy you had been dating for two years, and you had a few one night stands before and after that. You had never cared about their former partners.

Now you did.

“What is it, yawne?”

“Nothing.” You mumbled, your lips twisted into a defiant pout. “It’s just… I never thought about other females having you like this.” You were still facing away from him as you continued, “It makes my blood boil knowing someone else has had you before me.”

A strange possessive feeling surged through you as you turned around to look him straight into the eye. “You are mine, only mine.” You said before turning back around, resulting in you not noticing him almost bursting with pride.

You were lost in your thoughts, completely missing his low, rumbling laugh. He thought you were adorable like this, secretly wallowing in your possessiveness. It made him happy, knowing he was able to elicit such feelings from you.

The next thought you voiced out was one you had back in the days when you still felt unworthy as the Life Mate of the great Mi'ytiar. “It makes me question why you chose me of all people to be bound to you forever and to bear you pups, something I never even thought would be possible. They easily could have given them to you.”

Now that you said it out loud, you realized one thing in horror — pups.

Pups with other females. His pups with other females. His pups with someone that wasn’t you. How did you never thought about that too?! He never had mentioned them, not that you knew, but if…

“They could not.” Mi'ytiar interrupted your panicking thoughts.

“What?” You turned your upper body to look at him, his honest eyes looking back.

With his help, you fully turned around in his lap to face him without losing the closest, most intimate connection you both still had; between your legs. He placed his hands on your waist to pull you as close as your stomach would allow.

“I provide for clan in many ways. I am leader. I lead, I protect and I care for them. It is honorable to strengthen clan with pups. Only my seed never took. No female carried my pup. It was shameful to not provide clan with pups. Especially as leader.”

He paused to play with a loose strand of your hair. His fascination with it wasn’t something you couldn’t quite understand, but you didn’t mind.

“When you and I met, you was what I wanted. Objections were made when I dedicated my being to you, but I did not care. I could not provide with pups anyway.” He told you. “I forgot about them. I only wanted you, yawne.”

“I only wanted you, too.” You replied, smiling up at him. “Do you remember when we became Life Mates and you introduced me to a group of females so they could teach me more about the planet, the clan, the dynamics in it, and such? They taught me all the things the mate of a clan leader needed to know.”

One of those had been the mating act. You laughed quietly when you thought back to your reaction as they told you that fighting for submission was something like foreplay to them. First the male had to succeed before the mating act could start. It certainly explained why Mi'ytiar had been confused the first time you had sex.

The affection and trust you had for him had been finally big enough that you decided to get involved with him in a more intimate way. Until then he had waited for you to give him permission to mate with you. You would never have credited him with such patience, but you hadn’t been the only one who had learned about his kind. While you took your time to get used to your new life, he had also learned about humans.

Not enough apparently because he had looked at you in astonishment, like you were broken, when you had just let him take off your clothes — clothing that was based on the Yautja style, made of leather, fur and, after a short trip back to Earth, thankfully also soft cotton — and you let him manhandle you.

But you did snap at him when he had been too rough and you had needed more time to get used to this new feeling. After your first time together it was your turn to teach a Yautja about you; about the female body and what it needed before he could ravish you, how he could pleasure it and take care of it.

“One of the females was pregnant at that time.” You continued, “And I wanted that, too. I wanted to carry your pup.”

“And you did, yawne.” Mi'ytiar purred. “Made me so happy when you told me you wanted my pup.” He turned your body to sit sideways on his lap, so he could pull you in with one hand for a cuddle while the other rested on your belly. “You gave what no female could. Proof I am not failure.” He nuzzled into the side of your head. “You are parul, my miracle.”

You opened your mouth to tell him that of course he wasn't a failure, but you closed it again, deciding to let him have his moment. Instead, you put your hand on the back of his head and pulled him closer to you.

You both fell into a comfortable silence, only his purring filled the air.

continue with the third part He Shan't Lose

#predator #predator x you #predator x reader #predator x human #yautja x you #yautja x reader #yautja x human

[dangoren]

⚠️ WARNING: LONG POST (no complete works)

Yo look at what I found sitting on my computer. Drew this half a year ago and never bothered to finish.

Hi guys, I don’t usually write a lot (nor post that frequently), but I just wanted to let you guys know I’m constantly drawing even when I don’t post a lot.

For every finished drawing, there’s at least 3 unfinished/abandoned ones, or stuff I just didn’t post.

(There are many more, but I’m too embarrassed to show them)

I’ve been experiencing burnout and I wanted to give my unfinished projects a chance to see the light of day.

If this post gets enough notes or enough feedback, I will give some of these projects another go, so please tell me which ones you like.

Or if you don’t like any of them, if you have any ideas in mind you want to see, please make a request. I would love to try them out.

I want to thank the people that have stuck with me for these past 50+ posts over the span of 4 years 😅. I also want to thank the people that left likes and comments. Your feedback and support is much appreciated and motivates me to push forward.

I hope my drawings can put a smile on your face, and I hope you have an awesome day.

Myself: Hey! You haven’t posted any new clone wars stuff lately, only yugioh crap. And now the only clone wars related thing you post are half baked ideas and loose sketches??? You have no shame. And this post is hideous.

Me:

I’m working on it!

#commander cody #cc 2224 #obi wan kenobi #clone wars #unfinished

[cbk1000]

I'm bored and feeling slightly under the weather, so I decided to post some of the almost 15,000 words I have of a luxury train holiday fic that I started after learning that luxury train holidays were a thing. Why did I write a fic about such a random thing? Because I fell down a rabbit hole of luxury travel videos, discovered luxury trains, and naturally turned those videos into a Merthur fic.

Waverly Station, not to put too fine a point on it, was the most wretched hive of scum and villainy ever to be stolen by the British Empire; though possibly this was because Edinburgh had rained on Arthur, rather prodigiously, whilst he was legging it for the station; possibly because he had been woken, at the hour of No, to catch a train into Scotland; and possibly because he was carrying everything which Morgana owned, over every limb he owned; and consequently hated everyone. The sad fate of the baggage mule was his own: to be flogged, viciously, by a master too precious to carry their own bloody rubbish, through the most wretched of conditions (mizzle), with as little thanks as can be given by a creature throated to give it: and with that especial garnish, which was that he was being hit by Morgana’s voice, rather than a nice little crop, which would have only broken his flesh, and not his spirit.

He was trying to decide in which order to kill them both when he spotted, at the other end of the station, the sculpted dark head, modelled in the image of a wave; though the wave would have blushed to hear it. And beside it, a head similarly coloured, if not similarly coiffed; though he had got it into some order, and not an entirely hideous one. Gwaine nodded; and then Merlin turned round, and showed Arthur the smile he hadn’t seen in two weeks. And he felt it call up from the depths of him an answering smile, though he still hated, in the following order, Morgana; the weather; everyone.

“Should have asked me and Gwaine to carry your stuff. Arthur’s clearly crumbling under the weight of being overestimated,” Merlin said, exchanging cheek kisses with Morgana.

“I just love how funny you are,” Arthur replied, chucking off the various pieces of baggage, and letting them land where they landed.

“Don’t throw my stuff, you absolute knob.”

“Then carry it yourself!” Arthur snapped. “Did you remember your suit?” he asked Merlin, who in a blazer and shirt which appeared, miraculously, not to have got his breakfast, blood, or tea on it, was so uncharacteristically smart that probably he considered himself to be entirely done improving on himself. “You’ll have to wear a proper suit for the formal dinners.” He paused, squinting at him. “Do you have product in your hair?”

Merlin wiggled his eyebrows. “Gwaine helped me with it. Don’t worry; I won’t embarrass you on your posh train.”

“You embarrass me on the Tube.”

“I think that’s just because you feel a heightened sense of shame at having to ride public transportation with the plebian class.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Where are Gwen and Lancelot?”

“Gwen’s in the loo; Lancelot’s gone to look for something to eat. He’s worried the train’s going to serve tiny rich people portions.” Merlin pocketed his hands in his trousers. “Want a coffee?”

“Sure; I could use one, having got up at the arse crack of time this morning,” Arthur said, glaring at Morgana, who as usual was perfectly untroubled by her conduct. He gave Merlin a little slap on the shoulder, and then draped his arm round it, steering him toward Caffé Nero before he could do something unforgivable, like choose Costa. He had enhanced the blazer and hair product with a little aftershave, so that as they were walking, Arthur caught a whiff of something not entirely abhorrent; though his manners, doubtless, would make up for it. If they got him on the train, in the blazer, and no one was very much harmed in the process, that was the most which feeble humanity could expect of God’s capricious mercy. “How’s work?”

“Like arse,” Merlin said, paying for their coffees, and handing Arthur his. “I think they would have asked me to push off my holiday, except they know I’m a biter. And not just the sexy kind.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Just something to consider, a luxury train holiday with a spa and 24 hour steward service might be the place to consider not being a totally classless knob who talks about his sexual preferences in public.”

“The train has a spa?!”

Arthur ignored that. “You didn’t answer about the suit.”

“Yes, I packed the suit we FaceTimed about.”

“Nice to know you can occasionally conjure up enough sense to listen to me,” Arthur said, sipping from his coffee, and looking across the platforms to where Gwen had now joined Morgana and Gwaine, and the women were talking with their heads close together, and laughing, whilst Gwaine arranged himself for the admiring masses. 

“Sometimes I wish he weren’t so straight,” Merlin said, cocking his head a little to one side, and drinking from his coffee. “Just a little bit gay; that’s all I’m asking for.”

“Gwaine?” Arthur sputtered, choking on his coffee. “Why on earth?”

“Because he’s the fittest man I know.”

“Of everyone you know, Gwaine is the fittest.”

“No, I didn’t say everyone, I said of the men I know. I would never say fittest of everyone I know, when Morgana’s right there.”

Arthur stepped on his foot, and got the maddening dimples which told him that Merlin was being trying for the sheer and unadulterated pleasure of it; though he made up for it, marginally, by stepping out from underneath Arthur’s arm, so that he could have a proper look at him, the measuring appraisal of a (not terribly) discerning bisexual, who was not so simple, at least, as to not notice that Arthur was practically the pinnacle of attractiveness, in regular shirt and trousers; and in a proper jacket was planting his flag at the peak of it. “You look ok, though,” Merlin said, tweaking one of his lapels a little.

Arthur cuffed him across the back of the head. “Ok.”

“Yeah. For a total arsehole.”

Lancelot had returned, and Arthur and Merlin were cordially punching one another, when the Royal Scotsman arrived, and Gwen gave a little squeal, and leapt up holding two very reasonable bags, whilst Morgana and entourage looked at Arthur expectantly.

“I am not hauling all that on the bloody train. You could have asked yourself at any point, ‘Do I need my entire closet for a week-long holiday?’ and come to a sane conclusion, but you didn’t,” Arthur said; and so having stated his piece, hauled his own rucksack over his shoulder, forsaking hers.

They were piped aboard the train, a rather troublesome portent, Arthur felt; all week people would be making noise which they felt to be music, whilst he was trying to work or read or bathe; whilst it was his right to exist with the Highlands of Scotland, doing their piece to be stunning, whilst he did his. He had his luggage taken, and was shown through into the Observation Car, which was kitted out like a lounge with armchairs and sofas, and a small balcony for watching the stars. Merlin, true to his complete lack of noticeable decorum, said, “Holy shit.” There was a decent carpet underfoot, the colour of wine; and the wood panelling was the same as he had seen in hotels of distinction. There was the bar at the end of the car, which he would need, once Morgana boarded with the Luggage, having got Gwaine to do the hauling for her, and still feeling that Arthur owed her his time and lumbar spine.

“Why did you book us a double, you weirdo?” Merlin asked when they were taken to their cabin, having shouldered ahead of Arthur, to get a look at it first, before Arthur could spoil his first impressions, by being, as Merlin put it, ‘a poncey indifferent bastard.’

“I didn’t. It’s a twin.”

“Looks like a double bed to me.”

“What?” Arthur cried, and pushed him out of the doorway. 

Merlin, contrary to all that was sane, or expected, was right: there was the one lone bed, lovely but singular. They had made it up with a little tartan duvet in the spirit of their culture, as if that would make up for the insult. “We’re supposed to have a twin room.”

“I’m sorry, sir, this is the room.” This from the liveried employee who had shown them to the cabin, and was now realising he had done something, inadvertently, to anger the kind of patron who could drop twenty-six thousand pounds on an eight-day holiday. Merlin pinched him. “It’s fine,” he reassured the man, dimpling at him. 

“It’s not fine!” Arthur cried.

“Yes, it is. If you don’t have any other rooms, and I’m assuming you don’t, otherwise you would have said so immediately, as soon as he started turning all red in the face, we can manage. He’s not the worst thing I’ve woken up to,” Merlin said, and dimpled again, this time in a way that made Arthur coincidentally sweat.

“You didn’t have to be a knob to him,” Merlin said when the man had left, tossing his blazer over the armchair. 

“I wasn’t a knob to him, he mucked up my booking!”

“He didn’t muck up your booking, and put your tits back on. I think we can survive sharing a double bed for a week. I don’t know what you’re complaining about, anyway. You’re the one who snores.”

“I do not snore,” Arthur said, outraged. “You’ll have to sleep in the armchair.”

“I’m not sleeping in the armchair.”

“Well--on the floor, then. I’m sure there’s extra bedding to be got.”

“I’m not sleeping in the armchair, or on the floor; if you’ve got a problem sharing, you’re free to kip on either one,” Merlin said, as if it were settled; and now began, with every appearance of serenity, to begin unloading his bag, into the loo, and all over the writing table and bed, as if he were entitled to the calm dispersal of his belongings, whilst Arthur was stood in the centre of the cabin, clutching at his bag, and staring. The bed was an ordinary double; no giant of its kind, but a mere representative, with no girth but the girth to accommodate them, just. Doubles were for couples who didn’t mind mingling their breath and their limbs and their--other limbs. And now he would have to share, with Merlin’s aftershave and thighs, the romantic space in the spirit of platonicness. Already Merlin had sprawled out on it, demonstrating how it was to be, for seven nights, for Arthur’s personal bubble. Already he had taken off his shoes and blazer, and put his fitted trousers all over Arthur’s bed, as if it were decent, or sensible, or respectable, to take off any clothes whatsoever, in that close, warm space in which they would have to violate the edicts of platonic accord.

“So all week, I’m to have your elbow in my ribs, and just deal with it?” Arthur demanded, still clutching at the bag on his shoulder.

“Yeah, and probably my morning wood too, but I wouldn’t worry about it; if our friendship can get past your personality, it can get past anything.”

Gwen poked her head in the door. “Hello! They’re serving afternoon tea soon.” She stopped, and looked at Merlin on the bed, and looked at Arthur, not on the bed, because he was in possession of common decency. “Why have you got a double?”

“I dunno. Apparently Arthur and I are on our honeymoon,” Merlin said, scrolling through his mobile with his thumb without looking up.

“I booked a twin,” Arthur repeated, loudly but uselessly, in the face of Merlin’s indifference, and Gwen’s eyebrow. She was giving him a Look, very capitalised. It was Arthur’s unfortunate but not unexpected cross to bear; he was one of those unlucky blokes who had got some miscreants, instead of those decent, ordinary folk of common friendship; though he had expected better from Gwen. 

“Anyway,” she said, still giving him the odd Look, “are you coming down for tea? We’re in the first dining car.”

“In a minute,” Arthur said, unloading his bag, by the satisfactory method of smacking Merlin in the face with it.

“Ow!”

“Arthur,” Gwen scolded gently, and was gone, leaving him in that strange shrunken space, where before had existed a normal-sized room; even a rather kingly one, for a train. He felt there was a sort of odd pressure round him. He felt already that he had the awareness of Merlin, before he had Merlin--his close, stifling body, in the bed, that was--the close, stifling presence, offensive if not downright repulsive; anyway, he was quite plagued, quite unsurprisingly, as he had been, all their long and troublesome friendship. 

“Get up; we’re going for tea,” he said, poking Merlin in the side, and getting a yelp out of him. 

They watched Edinburgh and the Castle vanishing beyond the windows from the dining car, whilst Lancelot ate an alarming number of canapes, and Gwen warned him, in the roundabout way of innuendo, by someone who actually knew how to make it, that he oughtn't to be too full, for the sake of--of dinner.

“And dessert,” Merlin said, in a dining car full of blazers and cocktail dresses, in a tone which specified, clearly and resoundingly, that he was not referring to a nice little jelly or sorbet.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to embarrass me on my posh train?” Arthur asked, kicking him in the shin. 

“Technically I embarrassed Gwen,” Merlin pointed out, shovelling one of the canapes into his mouth. “What are we doing tonight?” he asked, like an animal, through the canape, rather than after it.

“Drinking, I think,” Gwaine replied.

“There aren’t any excursions today,” Morgana said. “We’re getting off tomorrow at Glenfinnan, but tonight you’re free to do whatever you like, till dinner. Have some drinks, watch the scenery, break in your double bed.” She smirked at him.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “For the last time, I. Booked. A Twin.”

“He just missed me, is all,” Merlin said, turning on him a smirk almost as bothersome as Morgana’s.

“I don’t see how,” she said, sipping her tea. “I’m sure he has a little doll made of your hair that he sleeps with every night.”

“Yeah, but it just can’t live up to the real thing,” Merlin replied, ruffling it.

“I wish you’d never met. Or been born,” Arthur said pleasantly.

“Merlin, why don’t you give your bride a proper seeing-to in your double bed? He’s getting tetchy again.”

“Piss off,” Arthur said, and went to find, in the arms of some champagne, solace from the bitter reality of his genetics.

#featuring: and there was only one bed #fic #merthur #preview #writing

[divine-donna]

polymorphing gone wrong

pairing: gale dekarios x gn! reader

word count: 365 words

notes: based off of my bg3 would you love me if i was a worm post. because yes. gale would in fact polymorph you to prove that he loves you if you were a worm. and it's almost october so in honor of heidi klum's halloween costume from 2022 i wrote this.

"Gale! What did you do!"

"I just performed a little spell. Albeit it seems something went...well, wrong."

"Wrong how? Gale, what do you mean something went wrong!"

"This wasn't how I would picture it to go."

You couldn't really feel any of your limbs. That was to be expected, when turned into a worm. But something felt slightly off and you were intent on finding out what exactly was wrong. "What do you mean?"

"If it comforts you, I still love you." Gale smiles that particularly charming smile of his. He picks you up gently and holds you in the palm of his hand. "I will always love you. Even if you were like this."

"Aww. Gale." You smile.

"What is that racket? We're trying to rest here." A smooth, suave voice interrupts them.

"Ah, Astarion. You're...here." The Wizard seems a bit nervous now that your private moment was no longer private.

"I am. And you're creating a racket." Astarion stops, looking down at Gale's hand. "...What did you do?"

"I didn't...do anything."

"Did you actually turn (Y/N) into a worm? Like with magic and everything!"

"...Yes."

"And even though you're the Wizard, even though you rub into our faces that you're studied in magic and trained in the Weave, you failed to polymorph them completely!"

"What!" You exclaim. If you could turn your head, you would. "Gale!"

"Darling, just so you know, you are hideous, to say the least." Astarion leaves for a moment before coming back. He puts the mirror in front of you.

"...Gale!" You were a worm, yes. But your face was...sort of etched onto the worm. It was like your face has been transferred to the body of a worm but your face was textured like the worm's body. You had eyes, a nose, and a mouth. And Hells, Astarion was right. "Turn me back! Turn me back! You proved your point! I get it!"

"I think first, we should show the rest of the camp. So we all know how bad at magic you really are."

"You're a piece of shit you know that." Gale huffs.

"The most handsome piece of shit you know you will never have."

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x reader #x reader #male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader #gale x tav

[buckychristwrites]

Idk if you take requests outside of the prompt lists you’re doing right now, but I had a concept I feel like you would write AMAZINGLY so I just had to tell you, feel free to ignore if you don’t vibe with it! So, reader and Jamie in a relationship, he’s trying to take things slow and not be as focused on the physical like he was in past relationships. Meanwhile however reader is aware of his reputation, and starts to feel undesirable, like there’s something wrong with them because of how slow things are going, and starts feeling insecure that they aren’t good enough for Jamie to want ‘like that’. Angst and accidental miscommunication abound! But obviously things are explained and there’s a happy ending

This made me think of the idea that @imfalling-inlove sent me that i posted about a few days ago. So i’m gonna kind of combine the ideas a little bit, i hope the both of you don’t mind!

-

The night hadn’t been a particularly pleasant one. Not for you, anyway.

The hotel mirror casted your reflection back at you. You stared, turning and poking at yourself. Could this be smaller? Could that be bigger? With every second that passed, another bullet point was added to the list of things you’d change about yourself if given the chance. And the list was already quite long before you started tonight’s excursion.

“What’re ya doin’?”

You didn’t immediately answer, instead just continuing to push your abdomen inwards, as if the extra squish would just dissipate into your skin and stay there.

Jamie Tartt’s reflection appeared behind yours, his eyebrows knitted together as he watched you.

“Oi,” He said, putting a hand on your shoulder. Instinct made you pull away.

“Do you think I’m ugly?” You asked him. He jerked his head to the side.

“What?”

“Is that why you won’t touch me? Is it because i’m hideous?”

You felt hysterical as the emotions continued to well up in your chest and pour out of your mouth, but you didn’t care. Everything was hurting. Your head. Your chest. Your heart. You felt like you were bleeding. Jamie continued to stare.

“Who said-“

“You literally had your dream girl,” You continued as if he didn’t speak. “You had Keeley’s poster on your wall as a kid. And now you’re settling for stupid, ugly, fat fucking me.”

And it wasn’t just Keeley you thought of. It was all of the beautiful women who had come in and out of Jamie’s very public life over the years. While you claimed his larger than life body count didn’t bother you, it was hard to ignore that there was something about you that made you an outlier comparatively to the rest.

“What the fuck are you on about?” Jamie said defensively. You turned to face him, your back towards the mirror. It was easier to speak to him through the glass, though. Now your eyes welled with more tears.

“There has to be an explanation to why you would force yourself to be with me when you could have anyone, Jamie,” You said flatly. He shook his head.

“I don’t fuckin’ want just anyone.”

“Then how come you can sleep with them but not me?”

“‘Cos you’re fuckin’ different!” He was raising his voice, which made you realize that you had already raised yours.

“Different as in a rest stop until you find another destination to head to?”

“Different as in I wanna fuckin’ marry ya!”

The argumentative attitude fled your body like a criminal on the run. Jamie’s chest was heaving up and down.

“Wh-“

“I see my future in your fuckin’ eyes,” He hissed, taking a step closer. “You’re different ‘cos I wanna watch ya walk down the aisle in a white dress. You’re different ‘cos I wanna have ten kids with ya. Or no kids with ya. But any kids I have, they better fuckin’ be yours. You’re different ‘cos I wanna be in me 80’s, slow dancin’ with ya in the kitchen. And you’re different ‘cos I wanted to take this slow so you didn’t think I was just fuckin’ ‘round!”

He ran his hands through his hair as you watched, dead silent.

“Keeley may have been a girl I dreamt about but you are literally the woman of my dreams. I couldn’t’ve invented ya if I tried.”

Carefully, he took another step closer, putting his hands on your sides and pulling you forward so your forehead was against his cheek.

“As for the rest…” He said quietly, shaking his head against your skin. “I’ll spend the rest of me life provin’ that you are the most beautiful, sexy, incredible woman I’ve ever laid me eyes on if I have to.”

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt headcanon #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fanfiction #anonymous #answered

[femdomliterature]

FemLit 0589 - How to train a male slave & How to get trained as a male slave?

Credits: https://sanaslave.tumblr.com/ I thought I had overcome this feeling, but lately, I’ve been again disheartened with FLR stuff online. I recently saw a post with over 32k+ notes on Tumblr on “How to train your slave?” That post mentioned stuff like:

It is absolutely mandatory to lock your man in a cage. Chastity cage is an absolute necessity.

Humiliate him. Make sure you degrade him. This way he will strive for better. Additionally, it will affirm your superiority.

Tease and Deny him. Unless you tease him, you aren’t doing it right.

Ruined Orgasms. All his orgasms must be ruined. If he will have orgasms, he will not feel submissive and he will take 2 weeks to get back into his zone.

Emasculate him.

Make him feel used

And on and on and on…..

Now, imagine a newbie sub trying to learn about Female Led Relationships

and explore his kinks. He will look at such articles and these articles will feed his brain about his training process. He is going to get conditioned in such a way that the only way for him to submit would be when his kinks are satisfied. He will develop expectations from his future Dom that she is going to train him by undertaking similar measures as mentioned above.

He will develop a mental image of how his FLR is going to look like. When he does not experience this mental image in real life, he is going to put pressure on his girlfriend/wife to be a “good dom”. According to him, a good Dom would be one who caters to his kinks and fetishes. FLR would be revolving around his kinks instead of Her needs. No wonder why so many men “Top from the Bottom”.

Another reason for massive widespread BS is that the majority of the audience of these blogs and articles is Men, Horny Men, who are looking forward to reading erotic Femdom stuff in the name of “Educational articles”. These men would just read stuff that will seem erotic to them, they are not going to stick to articles that are sensible.

These men then share these articles to their wives or partners in the name of “Femdom Education” and women get freaked out! We women think rationally. We imagine why a man would need to be trained based on kinks? Why his submission is contingent on fantasies? If I can dominate without sex in the picture, why can’t a man submit without it?

Just like “Unconditional Love”, why has no one talked about “Unconditional  Submission”?

Below I’m going to mention stuff that actually leads to the training of a slave. These are the things that I have implemented in my Female Led Relationship and these are an absolute necessity:

Communication – No relationship, whether FLR or vanilla, can exist without proper communication. I have specifically ordered my slave to keep an open communication with me. I am not going to tolerate any hideous signals in his conversations. Whatever he feels should be expressed. I have also made sure to never judge him and always support him. No one is a mind reader.

Respecting boundaries.

Adapting to each other – Just like he has to adapt to my ways of leading the relationship, I also had to tweak my training methods to train him. One approach cannot fit all. This adds to my point using kinks as training tool. How can this approach be appropriate for training all submissive men in the world? You need to communicate and adapt. My slave himself told me his thought process and how he analyses things. He gave me insights into his mind to make my work easy.

Setting the right expectations – I already talked a little about this above. My slave also began his journey by reading BS articles but luckily he was intellectual enough to unlearn stuff and start focussing on just sensible things.

Taking feedbacks – Absolute necessity for both – Doms and subs. You aren’t going to be the perfect Dom and he isn’t going to be the perfect sub if you both don’t talk about the shortcomings of each other.

Supporting each other – Our first scene was not perfect. I was a bit nervous. But he supported me because he knew my mental stage. Similarily, His first nailpaint session was not perfect because he had never held a nailpaint before. But I was supportive. Being supportive instead of discouraging goes a long way.

Psychological conditioning and behavioural modification – I have already talked about it detail here.

These are the things that I believe are absolutely necessary for training a Long Term Male Slave. Kinks are a part of FLR and can definitely be used as bait, but they are surely not permanent tools for training.

Additonal Thoughts :

I want my slave’s submission to be as natural as his love for me. Just like his love is not dependent on my weight (whether I’m fat or thin), the way I look (dolled up or in baggy clothes) etc; his submission should also not be dependent on how I dress, tease and denial, sexual fantasies, chastity etc.

If he cannot serve me without a chastity cage or if he cannot serve me after a full orgasm, is he even actually submissive? Is his submission so fragile that it would go away with such petty things? His submission should be foundational. He should want to serve me because he wants to see me as a Goddess. He should serve me because he wants to make my life easier. He should submit because he actually is submissive and not just because of some submissive fantasies.

When I would encounter his heartfelt and true submission, I myself would want to reward him and cater to his kinky fantasies. I myself would want to tease and deny him. Since he would keep me so happy and satisfied, I myself would want to return to him and treat him the way he wants to be treated.

Since he has already told me his fantasies and weaknesses, I would use them as bait to train him. I would misuse (consensually) them to make him a better person, a better partner and a better slave.

I’m sure that only a minority will read this post till the end and it is not going to get as much reach as kinky articles, but I’m not going to stop spreading positivity and awareness about Female Led Relationships.

Until next time :)

#female led relationship #femlit

[waklman]

hey! It’s my birthday today! I was wondering if you could write a small blurb about Bradley doing something special for babybear on her birthday? No worries if you aren’t able to! I love the series! <3

Birthday Suit

first off, happy freaking birthday!!!!! of course i’ll write something for you!!!! thank you for enjoying my series, i have on my party hat for you right as we speak B) i wanted to get this posted on the day of your birthday so sorry if it’s not as polished >.> (also maybe because i wrote this on the shaky bus..so that too haha)

warnings: fluff, 18+ blog in general, minors dni.

word count: 900

something ‘bout you masterlist.

“Shit–she’s not here yet, right?” Bradley asks frantically, nudging the door open with his foot—hands clumsy handling a cake.

He’s yet to look up from the very costly decorated birthday cake, trying to balance it with sweaty fingers. You’ve been raving over the local bakery’s designs lately—showing Bradley their custom made desserts to an endless degree.

Which only meant that—he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t splurge on a cake. Especially one that was shaped like the head of a bear. When he finally arrived at the bakery for pickup, in his scramble to show up on time—Bradley couldn’t even be mad that one of the bear’s eyeballs were slipping off the edge, because you’d like it.

It would make you laugh, and that’s all Bradley needed to know before stuffing a fat twenty dollar bill in the tip jar—rendering the teenage girl at the register speechless.

As he sets the cake down, Bradley stretches his neck to face the group of usually chatty aviators surrounding the kitchen island.

His eyes are already narrowed into slits, staring at them through his eyebrows with a warning look.

There’s only silence between him and the group, who all have their mouths parted in shock. Hangman’s mouth is parted the widest, making the paper party horn slip from his teeth—which annoys Bradley even more.

Bob is the only one who can’t face Bradley, blinking down at the cake nervously—trying his hardest to ignore his choice of apparel.

“Don’t say a thing,” he grits, watching Jake collect his thoughts, lips puckering together—a clear sign that he does in fact—has something to say.

To no one’s surprise, he’s the first to speak up. “What the—What the fuck is on your face?” Jake sputters, lips curling inside his mouth to let out a hideous laugh.

He says exactly what everyone’s thinking, causing most of the pilots to double over in laughter. Though some of them—well just Coyote, accidentally spits up in his own hand, from holding in his amusement.

“What the fuck is on his face?!” Natasha yells the question at Jake. “Don’t you mean—What the fuck is he wearing?” Natasha puts forth, tugging on the pink tutu around his waist.

“Hey. Hands off woman, this took forever to put on.” Bradley grunts, turning his hip away from her hands.

It’s not like Bradley isn’t aware of how ridiculous he looks. There’s a full shaving cream beard ringing around his mouth for God's sake. Not to mention the bright pink tulle around his jeans—paired with a matching princess tiara sitting on his curls, of course.

He’s actually very aware that he looks like he’s been dressed by a group of six year old girls given free reign—also known as the collective who runs your brain. You’d have a hoot at this.

Before anyone else can get another word in—the front door of your apartment jiggles, and Fanboy quickly hushes everyone. The make fun of Rooster convention is put to an end as everyone scatters to a nearby hiding spot. If it’s one thing the group is good at—it’s knowing how to act quickly.

Right as you walk in, you almost fall over from being greeted with loud screams of “Suprise!” and “Happy Birthday!” and even one “I love you more than Rooster!” coming from Hangman.

Clutching your chest, your mouth stretches into a wide smile—heart full of joy at the surprise. “W-What? Oh my god,” you catch sight of Bradley first.

Completely dropping your stuff onto the floor, you go running at the flushed pilot, throwing yourself into his arms. Bradley stumbles back with a shy look on his face, “How do I look honey?”

You place a searing kiss to his mouth, letting the shaving cream stamp your own face—matching Bradley. “So freaking cute, I love the tiara,” you laugh, taking it for yourself.

Jake’s already starting, “See, I don’t know—it looks fine on her but on Rooster it’s kinda—” Natasha jabs him in the ribs with her elbow, not wanting him to ruin the moment. Jake groans, catching the hint.

Bradley finally drops you, hands still on your waist as you slip back onto the wooden tiles. You get distracted, playing with Bradley’s skirt as he grins down at you, “How’d they get this in your size? I tried checking before but—”

“Ahem.” Payback cuts in, knowing you and Bradley tend to get lost in your own little world.

You both turn to face the noise, and everyone’s surrounding the cake, waiting for you to notice it.

“No. No you didn’t!” You gape, hands coming to your mouth—smearing your new white beard.

Your eyes start to actually well up watching everyone make excited gestures at you—happy that you got your dream cake. Hangman flaps his hands around the cake, with an open smile.

Unable to contain your tears, your fingers stretch over your eyes, covering your face completely. “Baby—wait hey are you crying?” Bradley worriedly leans down, trying to pry your hands off.

You fall foward into his chest, and he catches you. “It’s s’cute. The ugly little eyeball—I can't,” you muffle into your palms.

“Thought you’d like that,” he laughs, glad they’re just happy tears. Placing a kiss onto your hairline, he whispers, “Happy birthday babybear.”

“Babybear!” All the pilots shout in unison, some even tearing up themselves. In a flash, everyone's throwing themselves at you both, turning it into a group hug. Hangman is the last to join, wrapping his arms around everyone, sniffling.

You just cry harder at the sentiment, this is the best birthday ever.

note: as always, thank you for reading and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

tags for this series: @wkndwlff @sammyrenae68 @stark3ys @roosterbruiser @gracelyn-writes @zombiedeathsworld @blueoorchid @averyhotchnerr

join my taglist for this series here or follow @waklman-library and turn on notifs to get notified when i post !

#waklman blurbs #happy birthday nonny #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley rooster x y/n #bradley rooster x reader #bradly rooster bradshaw #rooster fluff #tgm fic #tgm imagine #tgm fluff #sbu #sbu blurbs

[stinkythehutt]

an AU idea that i’ve been thinking about lately but i’m not sure i’d ever write is: sidious tries to clone a better version of anakin (without his knowledge) from DNA and matter taken from his severed limbs post-mustafar battle. but, with the sustained damage to the limbs and without the help or technology of kamino, none of it takes very well. only one of the clones actually survives and when tested at around age 3-4 it comes out that he isn’t force sensitive. and, also, he’s inherited a lot of anakin’s more disagreeable traits to the extreme, due to genetic changes and the impact of being raised as an almost-not-quite-dark-lord-of-the-sith from birth.

sidious, in a moment of sidious-like dark humor (and rage at the boy for not being what he wanted), arranges for the boy to be sent to tatooine to live under the ‘care’ of the hutts. this goes as you’d expect until, 7 or so years later, this 10-11 y/o furious, messed-up, came-back-wrong-but-somehow-even-worse, unaware he’s a clone of anakin, kid runs into… obi-wan kenobi, hot off the press of the events of the OWK series.

and obi-wan is like, no. nope. i’m not raising this kid. i don’t know how this happened or what the fuck the galaxy has against me now but no. i’ll figure out a way to free him and i’ll send him to live with the lars but i won’t raise him. so he gets anakin2 freed and they have the galaxy’s most hideous road trip out to the lars’ and they get on terribly and this kid is traumatisingly so like all of the worst parts of anakin with none of the redeeming features. he breaks obi-wan’s landspeeder trying to enhance it and he’s disagreeable and irritable and ungrateful and ungenerous and he isn’t even force sensitive or the chosen one. so obi-wan is straight up just putting up with him out of love for his old friend, who is now literally evil and just recently tried to kill him (again).

only obviously over the few days of their journey they warm to each other just a little. and obi-wan goes to leave 2anakin2skywalker with the lars’ and the kid is furious and hurt and they’re trying to comfort him all wrong and obi-wan is like “wait no he hates when you-“ and realises, fuck. i have to look after this kid. i want to look after this kid. there is nothing actually tying me here and no benefit beyond i kind of care about the little shit now. and i want him to be safe and happy in the same way i wanted anakin to be and i don’t know if i’m good enough to give him that but i have to try. because he needs me.

that, like, exploration of ‘what does this relationship boil down to?’ after all the situational ties are stripped away, all the promises and prophecies and shared histories and goals are gone and instead of in TPM where these two people are bound together by fate, now they are simply bound together by chance and choice and care and love. and how does obi-wan choose to navigate that differently. and how do they both grow and process their own histories. obviously spoiler alert they figure it out and the kid grows up tumultuously happy in the end as a sort of bounty-hunter-rebel type figure and he lives somewhat well on tatooine inciting slave rebellions and getting himself into various troubles and adventures. and he’s never force sensitive and he never joins the official rebellion or learns what happened to old ben who raised him til luke happens to run into him and tell him much later. and there’s no big “wow i’m anakin skywalker! i’m secretly magical and amazing!” moment or anything. he’s just a dude who lives a decent somewhat crazy life out in the sand and fondly recalls the father figure who looked after him when no one else would. the end

#teddy talks #anakin #obiwan

[crushedgraham]

Widowmaker x younger gf headcanons pls

Widowmaker x Younger gf HC's

probably made her ooc but i think these are funny

she's, to put it lightly, a boomer...

ik she's only in her 30's but girlie lives in an isolated castle and spends her days journaling.

literally doesn't understand memes nowadays

will stare blankly or side eye you when you show her tiktoks

when you two are driving together, she's always reluctant to give you aux bc new music is just...unappealing to her

(she secretly listens to kali uchis, nicki minaj and lady gaga when she thinks she's alone. olivia sent you a video from the cameras of her rapping along to chun-li and you've never been the same.)

ANYWAYS...speaking of driving. she almost always drives bc she wants to give you that passenger princess treatment but girl strap in bc...her road rage is literally so bad- 💀

ITS WORSE BC SHES FRENCH TOO

will literally weave through lanes while cursing in french about how slow these ppl are

she tries to keep up her mysterious aura around you by acting uninterested when you watch tv but you know she's secretly having the time of her life hearing that drama

if you like k-dramas? she'll laugh at those dramatic scenes where the main girl's doing those ugly scream-cries (NO HATE IM KOREAN)

i feel like the age/generational gap lowkey makes her sad sometimes

like she'll see the banter/connection you have with your friends and she'll feel a dull ache in her chest because she knows she'll never have that with you

not only that but a large part of her also worries that as she ages more than you, you won't find her as attractive (she won't ever admit this but after her skin turned blue, she felt hideous. it was just a reminder of the monster she had turned into)

she spends her days meticulously meal planning nutritionally rich food and skin care routines that help with wrinkles

you always try your best to reassure her that you'll always find her beautiful, no matter how she ages

and those nights where she let's her guard down to talk about her insecurities? your hand will rest against her cheek as tears run down her face and she'll turn her face to kiss the palm of your hand

she won't say much but you can tell that's how she expresses her gratitude

amelie's funny in her own way too!

she'll just do the most random shit like making a dirty face at a dog that wants a little too much attention from you and you'll laugh while kissing her cheek

or when she sees you in an outfit that highlights your body just right she'll go "Oh là là!" while smirking and you just start laughing bc that phrase is just so silly and it caught you off gaurd

if you post pictures of yourself on social media, amelie will definitely make one of her own just to patrol the comments every now and then to make sure no one's getting too friendly with you

(someone commented "😈💦💦" one time and the look on her face was priceless "I do Not like the insinuations of these tiny images. would you like me to kill them 😠" "babe they're just emojis-")

#widowmaker x reader #widowmaker #overwatch x reader #overwatch #amelie lacroix #amelie lacroix x reader

[mikesfangames]

HELLO SPINOFF NATION!

I'm Micheal, and I'm super excited to announce my very first OFF FANGAME: WHAT

WHAT is a small fangame about Zone Umbra, a newborn world created by a being only known as The Nameless One. You play as Judas, a young doctor, who's just trying to get back to work. Can you save your family and confront the Mad God? What kind of trials oppose your kind fellowship? Will there be cake at the Birthday Party??

It's still crazy to me that these are actual screenshots I took of an actual game that I made with my own two hands!

These teaser images are subject to change, of course, but WHAT is about 3/4ths of the way done! Hopefully soon, WHAT can put a smile on your face, or maybe some other hideous expression.

In all seriousness, WHAT is just a small project I undertook to learn the basics of RPGM2K3. Needless to say, I was hooked! I had no idea how much fun making and designing games would be.

WHAT uses preexisting original characters, and has graphics, music, and sound effects graciously loaned from the files of Sincere Deceit. In fact, the original project file for WHAT was literally just a gutted copy of Sindec I had just lying around my computer... Needless to say, without SinDec, WHAT would not exist, so I extend a huge thank you to everyone on Sincere Deceit's dev team who kindly allowed me to use their assets. It also has beautiful art and sprites made by the incredibly talented @thequirkysystem , which I am beyond thankful for. Watching their sprites bounce across my screen is endlessly inspiring.

As for content, WHAT is a simple game. I set out with the intention of making something that would cover all of the basics of RPGmaker, so I would one day be able to make an even bigger, cooler OFF fangame. I'd say for a first ever attempt, WHAT is looking pretty decent! I just hope that it doesn't smell too strongly of amateurish charm.

WHAT should be released in the relatively near future. I'd say the game is maybe a little more than halfway done, give or take some time for extra polishing (and any last minute major plot changes, haha), and I'm really looking forward to sharing my work with the community. Once WHAT has been released, I'll be posting a bit of commentary and scrapped content, so if you end up liking the game, you can look forward to that! Then, I'll be moving right along to another project!

Anyways, if you've read this far, thank you very much, and have a wonderful day!

#WHAT (OffFangame) #WHAT (SpinOFF) #off fangame #spinoff #rpgmaker2k3 #rpgmaker

[cerealboxlore]

Late Night Pride Post (T4T Billy and Cissie Edition)

Yo what up, I have overdue assignments and overdue fanfictions to post, but hear me out:

Captain Marvel is found out to be Billy Batson, twelve year old orphan kid from Fawcett city, AKA, the Champion of Magic, AKA, the kid who hid his age and identity from the JL for over four years. :D fun

Yeah the JL didn't like that. However, due to his position as one of the heaviest hitters on the League, and his good reputation, Billy was not kicked out from the JL, instead being put on a probationary/suspension period, where he would be observed by a JL member to oversee his ability to be a hero.

Who is it overseeing Billy's JL suspension, Y'all ask? Well, y'all gonna find out~

Now, cut to a week later

Cissie and Billy going out on a cute little date and having a nice time together.

Going on a picnic in the park, taking a lovely stroll through the city gardens to appreciate Cissie's flora knowledge, touring the museum district together to hear Billy go wild about the exhibits~ They're just two youngsters in love who are having a very nice first date <3

Nothing can go wrong~

...

Except it's the Batson luck to always have something go wrong.

Just as Cissie and Billy are touring through the museum district and enjoying a rest for a root beer float to share, a loud and whailing screech booms from down the street. The Shockwave sent rubble and debris flying through the air, sending Fawcett citizens running for their lives at this new attack on their city.

Wanting to check out the scene but also needing to protect Cissie, Billy grabbed hold of her hand with a blushing face and ran outside, needing to see just a glimpse of what he was going to be up against soon before he sent Cissie to safety.

It was just a second.

A split second before his stomach sank to hell and dread filled his heart.

Down the street he could see it....

The green glow of a power ring and the ginger hair of the one superhero he hated the most; Guy Gardner.

And oh yeah there was an alien monster there, too 😒

Of all days, of all the superheroes to bring a fight down into HIS city, it had to have been Guy Gardner during his first date with Cissie. Oh that was just fantastic! Billy just had a hunch that Guy steered the fight into Fawcett on purpose.

Unable to transform into Captain Marvel due to the crowd around him, Billy had to let Guy Gardner handle this fight with a grunt.

When the dust settled and the crowd cheered for the the Green Lantern, Billy tried to escape with Cissie to leave Guy behind, but as luck would have it, Billy ended up getting followed by the annoying man.

Now, Billy wasn't only getting irritating advice from the man about being a hero when he was Captain Marvel, no, NOW he was carrying a third wheel on his date 🙄 who was constantly trying to give Billy not so subtle dating advice (child version advice, but still embarrassing coming from an adult regardless).

Guy Gardner: Hey, kid! A foot apart from the girl. Don't get any funny ideas about holding hands on the first date, hahaha!

Billy: (*｀Д´)ノ！！！

Cissie thought it was funny.

Billy just wanted to punch Guy to the moon.

TLDR: Billy's first date with Cissie ends up interrupted by a hideous creature that came from space, and an alien, too.

Don't worry, in the end, Guy makes it up to Billy for embarrassing him on his first date and helps to impress Cissie with a little fly through the air for them both.

#billy batson #dc captain marvel #shazam #cissie sommerly #t4t ship #cute headcanons #guy gardner #green lantern #Writing #Guy as a wingman would be terrible #Billy and Cissie were going to go to the Planetarium after the museum but couldn't #So Guy helped #For once #Man was teasing Billy so much #billy has beef with grown adults twice his size #This has been my 2AM post #Beware of spelling errors #Guy tells the JL about Billy's first date and now everyone is teasing him #This kid can't catch a break hahaha

[hxlyhoax]

Paralyzed

Based off of Paralyzed by Big Time Rush

Rowan Laslow x Reader

warning(s): I hate the ending. semi proof read. all mistakes are mine. if I need to add anything else let me know :)

━━━━━ © hxlyhoax 2023 do not steal, post on third party sites or translate my work. I do not own the rights to Wednesday or any of the canon characters mentioned.

You walked with Enid right by your side. You were new to Nevermore and she was showing you around while also keeping you up with the latest gossip around the school or in the next town over that was named Jericho.

“Dude” Xavier frowned at his roommate, hitting his arm. “Huh” the dazed boy let out, looking at the long haired boy. “You weren’t listening?”

Rowan shook his head, guilt clear in his features. “I got distracted.” he frowned, watching as Xavier furrowed his eyebrows and looked to where the shorter boy nodded his head. “Oh, They’re new.”

Rowan only nodded, biting his lip. You’d never notice him. He knew it. Xavier knew it. Hell, Enid probably already knew it.

The next time he saw you was when you were going against Bianca in fencing. He watched intensely as you and the siren went after each other, smiling once he realized you had won the match.

“Nice moves.” Bianca smiled, staring you down. “Thank you.” you nodded, smiling back before looking over to another student who wanted to go against you.

“You should talk to them.” Xavier whispered in the boys ear, smiling softly. “I- I can’t-” Rowan shook his head, taking a short breath. “And why is that?” the long haired boy frowned, tilting his head. “They’re out of my league. And i’ll make a fool out of myself if I do.” the boy frowned, looking to his roommate with a look similar to a wounded puppy. “Would you like me to talk to them for you?”

“You would do that?” Rowan asked, confused as why the boy who seemed to careless about him would help. “Yeah” Xavier nodded, looking towards you again, waving slightly when he noticed you were looking in their direction.

You waved back with a smile on your face. A smile that made Rowan melt. Oh, how he loved you.

The third time he saw you was at the carnival. You were accompanied by Xavier who was hopefully putting in a good word for him.

“So how are you liking Nevermore?” Xavier asked, smile on his face. “It’s alright” you shrugged, “Kind of like every other private school i’ve been to, just with more outcasts and I actually like the uniform.”

“You like the uniform?” the tall boy cringed, watching as you chuckled lightly and nodded. “Way better than my last ones. Those were hideous.”

“Do you like anyone?”

You stared at him for moment, head tilted. “I like a lot of people.”

“No, like like.”

“like like ?”

“like like.” Xavier nodded his head, trying to laugh at thought of you two just repeating two words. “Well, I don’t know. I don’t think I know anyone that much to “like like” them.” you shrugged, “But I am curious about someone.”

“Oh? do tell.”

“This boy. He wears glasses. He’s-”

“Rowan. His name is Rowan. He’s my roommate actually.”

“Oh- Did I do something wrong? Because it seems like he’s always avoiding me.” you frowned, placing your hands in your pockets.

“Oh, no. I can promise you, you did nothing wrong. He’s just really awkward that’s all. But, if you liked to meet him I can set something up.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” you shook your head, smiling softly. “But, thanks though.”

“No. I insist. He’s right over there actually.” Xavier pointed to a boy who was sitting alone at a bench. The same boy you had been curious about for weeks. The same boy you may have developed a little crush on. The same boy who-

“Well?”

“Uh, sure. Yeah, let’s go.” you nodded, missing the way he inaudibly chuckled to himself.

“Rowan” Xavier called out as the both of you walked over, watching as he turned his head, eyes going wide at the sight of you. “Oh, hi.” the boy smiled, pushing his glasses up, doing his best to control his breathing, keeping a tight fist on his inhaler that was in his pocket. “Rowan this is Yn. Yn this is Rowan.”

“Hi, Yn.” Rowan nodded, staring at you for a few seconds before looking to the ground again. “Hi, Rowan. It’s nice to finally meet you. Heard a lot of good things actually.”

“Good things?” he asked, looking up, cheeks going red as Xavier winked at him. He really was playing wingman. And he’d forever be in debt to the psychic. “Yeah. You’ve got yourself a good wingman over here.” you chuckled, sitting across from him.

“Oh- Uhm- Wingman? No-”

You stared at him as he used his inhaler, frowning slightly. “Do I make you nervous?”

The boy in the glasses looked at you, swallowing silently. “Not in a bad way.”

“In a good way then?”

“He likes you.” Xavier cut off the awkward encounter. “Xav-”

“I like you too.”

Both boys looked over at you. Xavier smiling in triumph and Rowan in shock. “You do?” Rowan began to smile, setting his inhaler down, controlling his breaths once again. “I do.”

#rowan laslow #rowan laslow x reader #rowan laslow x you #hxlyhoax #hxlyhoax wednesday

[comradekatara]

reply to this post from @silverknight338 that i wanted to respond to more thoroughly:

To go into sokka’s retreat, it’s because he tried to mold himself into the man/warrior of the village. He didn’t have any mentor there, so he based it on myths and idealizations, putting up a front in order to project safety, even if it’s not much of a disguise. I doubt the older women of the south believed he could save them, but they were still grateful he would try, and would never tell him it wasn’t helpful because it was a way for him to redirect his mourning. He can push the mourning back if he has enough to do, and worry about, and protect. He was just a scared kid, but he tried. And now he’s still on this incredibly exhausting journey, there’s barely any time to truly process what’s going on past the bare minimum let alone old memories and scars. Katara throwing it in his face that he doesn’t love Kya the way she did, because he maybe never showed his mourning, never openly spoke or wielded it the way she did, because if he did, it wasn’t how the warrior he wanted, needed to be, acted. So maybe even in that episode, he still pushes aside that old grief, that he wasn’t smart enough to see around the fire nation’s goal, wasn’t fast enough to get there in time, but he knows on a deeper level how seeking revenge won’t help him. It’s been a really long time since i’ve watched the series in whole, but i think he blames himself. For katara’s anger, i think it’s because she doesn’t busy herself the way sokka did. She reflects and has seen the cause and effect of her father’s absence. Because her father left, her brother became annoying, uptight, and could barely see past his nose (sokka grew up to try to take responsibility, but to katara this is her brother playing, he can’t fill that role). Because of the fire nation, her father left to fight. Because of the fire nation, her mother died. She emotionally connects with people, and empathizes with them, she’s been through a lot, losing her parents in one way or another to the fire nation, and seeing the devastating effects it has on everyone. She has a strong sense of morals, and add in the emotional aspect, that’s a dam waiting to burst. Whereas sokka has a more detached take on it, he empathizes with people, but he has a “mine first” mentality that katara doesn’t. Because we the viewers have seen Katara be the empathetic and caring one, it is quite the contrast to see her lash out, especially with loved ones. because she is so empathetic, she typically calls people out, but this word whipping, it hurts and it is true, is rare as she usually tries to understand. this is such an old deep hurt, something she has had time to stew about. This isnt the first time she’s thought this.

right. what's important to understand is that sokka was told that "being a man is knowing where [he's] needed the most, and that's protecting [his] sister." he also knows his mother died to protect her. he knows she's special in a way no one else is. he knows that the raids will never truly end as long as the fire nation has power, as they have had for a century. to sokka, being a man isn't just fighting for a cause, it's dying for one. in his mind, he was all but told in explicit terms that it is his destiny to lay down his life to protect katara. and the only person who would ever try to dispel that notion is katara herself, but being her protector also means being unable to confide in her (that's not what men do, plus she's his little sister, he doesn't want to upset her in a real way, only in a teasing older brother way) so he's just... distant. distant where it counts, at least. i think if he actually ever spilled forth the contents, the truly hideous depths of his psyche to his sister she would never accuse him of being heartless or arrogant or delusional again. but he never will. he will take those feelings to the grave. perhaps when they're much, much older, or if she gets him really drunk. but even then, i doubt it. i don't think he's self-aware enough to know what exactly he would even say if it came down to it.

i do think there is a part of him that blames himself for what happened that day, because he just always blames himself. although i think he's smart enough to realize that no matter what, he couldn't have killed yon rha, or have gotten to hakoda in time, i think he probably feels like if he had gone to his house instead of trying to fight, he could've done what kya did instead. which is obviously crazy, because kya would not have let him, but he also thinks that it's his fault that yue became the moon, so like. he's not exactly rational when it comes to his guilt complex. but he also doesn't want revenge. sokka is always thinking big picture, not to mention that his mother died at the hands of the fire nation, but she didn't die for him. so to him, kya's killer is just a faceless cog in the imperialist machine. he never saw yon rha's face, looked into his eyes, like katara did. his mother's death wasn't personal the way it is for katara. and he knows that, so he doesn't say anything. yes, she was his mother too, but he didn't grieve her like katara did. he's probably never wondered what yon rha was like the way katara has, he only knows that the flag of the raiders was sea ravens because he has an incredible memory (which makes it even more tragic that he can't remember kya's face, a deliberate act of repression to cope that he now seemingly regrets), it's not like he ever contemplated revenge. clearly katara has. i definitely think she's had fantasies of avenging her mother's death in a heroic fashion long before zuko offered her the opportunity. which is why the banality of the moment when she stares into yon rha's eyes once more and sees his humanity and the futility of what she is about to do is so important. she was always too caught up in trying to be a hero that she neglected her personhood. sokka also neglected his personhood, but in a far less valorizing way. "the boiling rock" and "the southern raiders" is about both of them accepting nuance and humanity into their perceptions of themselves and their respective roles, but in different ways to suit their different needs. but i digress.

i think the fact that katara considers what sokka is doing "playing soldier" to be super interesting. when you hear that line in the pilot, you assume that she's right because she's the narrator and the hero and she's special and immediately likable, so of course she's right about sokka, who so far has only complained and been a dick. but he isn't playing. by the next episode we begin to see that. to him this is a matter of life or death. he was told by his father, by his mother's sacrifice, by his family and his village that it is his duty to protect katara by whatever means necessary. so he's preparing for that day and is trying to use his extremely limited resources to be strong enough to protect her and their village or die trying. i think katara considers it playing because she's in total denial of sokka's worldview. like she just doesn't accept that sokka is okay with sacrificing himself, so to her he's like this because of ego and not because everyone in the village and their father is somehow fine with the idea that he is just a sacrificial lamb in her honor. like that must be so horrifying for her to consider that she just refuses to think about it. it's way easier to rationalize sokka's behavior as annoying useless sexist brother who can't even wash his own socks. don't interrogate why he's depressed and paranoid and hopeless if he's obnoxious. focus on the little things, the small antagonisms and petty arguments, and you don't have to think about how concerning your relationship is! i love when katara says "from now on, you're on your own!" because it's such a ridiculous thing to say. katara, honey, he would follow you to the ends of the earth. (and he does.)

katara's righteous anger thrums through her at the very core of who she is. her inability to tolerate even the slightest injustice (both real and perceived) is why she is so compassionate and kind and helpful but also so quick to snap. sokka doesn't have that. he's also kind and helpful and brave, of course, but he doesn't have this optimistic view of the world where he sees the best in the people and has a beautiful vision for what the world can be. his worldview is very bleak, very cynical. i wouldn't necessarily call it a "mine first" mentality so much as he just tries to approach every situation logically. and in episodes such as "the painted lady," it's not that he doesn't care about jang hui, it's not that he thinks the pollution and oppression and poverty is fine, but he's focused on defeating the firelord, and to him, once that happens, they can work on helping all the people who have been oppressed by the fire nation, not just one village. katara sees someone in need directly in front of her and immediately goes to help them, whereas sokka considers the bigger picture and how to best improve lives overall. it can seem like a callous approach to someone like katara, but they do have the same end goal, which is to help others. (and if she thinks he's callous, he thinks she's myopic. and they're both kind of right, to an extent, but they also both want the same thing, and are both extremely brilliant, so there's also that.) and of course his "logical" priorities also fly out the window when it comes to katara. like he does want to be practical but he cares about katara and his loved ones more. in moments when he is truly challenged it's clear that he feels and loves far more deeply than he lets on.

katara does lash out quite often, not only at sokka but also at toph, zuko, even aang once (although she immediately apologizes, which is unique to aang. she does not apologize to anyone else when she yells at them, not even to toph after mocking her blindness on like the second day of knowing her!) but in "the southern raiders" it's clear that her feelings, coming from a place of grief and rage and buried guilt, are even more volatile than usual (and she's already quite an emotionally volatile person). i think what she says to aang, that she knew he wouldn't understand, comes off very tone deaf because he obviously can empathize with her grief and guilt and rage, but because she's always placed him on a pedestal, she can't imagine him having these dark and messy emotions that she is contending with. even though he does, and she should know that better than anyone considering that she is his primary confidante and best friend, but i think she's too caught up in her own rage to realize in the moment that other people know her pain and yet can choose to react differently. she and zuko process things very similarly and they're really enabling each other in this episode, but their grief also comes from a place of guilt because their mothers sacrificed themselves for them, and they feel like they need to honor their memories and no one else understands that burden. but of course, aang and sokka do understand, aang is plagued by guilt for "abandoning" his people, and sokka feels guilt over... everything basically. but katara and zuko lash out because they're saying things they don't want to hear, and yeah, they've had a lot of time to stew in those feelings.

sokka doesn't resent hakoda at all, because he is simply too insecure for that, but katara feels like hakoda abandoned her, and that's a really complicated well of deep resentment that adds another really fascinating layer to her character (in terms of recontextualization, it really reframes why katara was so willing to let sokka go see their father while she stayed behind in ba sing se. katara is very compassionate and helpful and empathetic, but she is not selfless). katara also feels like sokka abandoned her, at least emotionally. like obviously sokka is physically present for her at all times, but he does not communicate with her, he isn't actually honest about his feelings with her. katara craves people with whom she can have honest discussions about their emotions, and sokka just can't do that. it runs counter to his entire modus operandi of repression and masking his true feelings and being the brother katara needs but not the brother she wants. and she resents him for that. she implies he acts heartless in "the painted lady" because he is admittedly quite callous upon witnessing suffering (although he obviously can empathize with the jang hui villagers in the same way katara can, they grew up in the same tiny, decimated village; his dismissiveness is a combination of "logical detachment" and being nervous about staying on schedule for the upcoming invasion). and i understand where katara is coming from, because if he was my older brother, his condescension would also get on my nerves and i would also point out every single one of his flaws, however minor, to "knock him down a peg" (of course, his ego/self esteem is already underground, he's not condescending because he thinks he's better than anyone, so her tactic is ultimately futile lmfao). but she hears him open up to toph, confide something about his true feelings regarding katara and their mother that he's never actually told katara. the fact that he won't communicate with her must be infuriating. and then again, she's also right. they do see kya differently. and they both know it.

this conflict between them – the mother gap, if you will – is not one that i think could ever be fully resolved, unless somehow sokka learned how to be truly honest and vulnerable with katara, and katara learned how to apologize to sokka. but those are things neither of them will ever actually do, in all likelihood. so they will continue to be codependent as fuck, two halves of the same whole, while simultaneously letting this rift exist between them, perpetually unbridged due to a fundamental lack of communication. but at the end of the day, it doesn't really matter. their love for each other transcends their unspoken gaps in understanding.

#considered putting this under a readmore but fuck it #katara&sokka #katara #sokka #not tagging anyone else Its All About THEM Babeyyy #analysis #silverknight338 #hey did u know. that they are so important. and their relationship makes me insane. did u know that. did u

[free-for-all-fics]

Stupid, silly Namor or Attuma fic ideas. Don’t think too hard about these they’re just funny little ideas. Pls tag me if you write or get inspired by any of these. Like always, there are no rules:

1. The reader is labeled as the village idiot because she likes to sing with her head underwater to "sing to the mermaids". The village ridicules her for it. One day, she is swept out in a riptide, and no one is willing to come to her aid—no one from the village, that is.

2. Reader is full of bad puns and dad jokes, much to the chagrin of Namor/Attuma. "Why are seagulls called seagulls?"

“Stop now.”

“Because if they flew over bays, they'd be bagels! Oh hey, What did one wave say to the other?"

“I swear, if you make one more ocean related pun, I will murder you on this island and tell everyone you died in a shipwreck."

"...well, someone's salty."

3. You put a message in a bottle and set it out to sea in the hopes it’ll reach Namor/Attuma so you can be pen pals. “Oh my god I love you but you’re so stupid.” They say because you have no idea that’s not how mail works.

4. You’re in love with Namor/Attuma, but you’re also obsessed with monsters and cryptids so you keep asking them questions like “Is the Kraken real?? What about 6 headed hydras? Have you seen Nessie?? Are they friendly? Darling tell meeeeeee”

5. Reader does that stupid prank thing where she pretends to do a magic trick with an egg and a bottle of water. She’s like “Ok now look inside” and squeezes the bottle, spraying water in Attuma/Namor’s face and runs away cackling.

6. You introduce Namor/Attuma to a wonderful human invention - Water beds. They are less than amused. Reader, consider your sexy time privileges revoked😑

7. Attuma/Namor trying to teach reader combat and how to fight like a Talokanil but reader keeps making it sexy and Namor/Attuma is like “Ok maybe we should stop. You’re not even listening to me or learning anything properly!” And reader is like “Oh I’m learning all the right techniques perfectly. 😏😘”

8. Those videos from EVNautilus of the people in a submarine coming across a dumbo octopus and a googly eyed stubby squid but instead it’s scientist reader being shown Talokan by Attuma or Namor and fawning over the sea creatures because they’re just little guys. Sweet underwater babies. And reader being like “it’s just a baby can I adopt it pls” 🥺 and Namor or Attuma being like “pay attention. Remember why we’re here.”

9. “Your child brings home a raccoon, mistaking it for a cat and begs to keep it” trope but instead it’s Namor/Attuma and their child has brought home an anglerfish or some other hideous abomination of the sea. It’s surprisingly docile and follows the child around like a pet anyway so can we keep it??? Please father 🥺

10. Namor and Jeff the Land Shark crossover. That’s it. That’s the post. Reader wants to adopt Jeff as their child. He’s just a baby 🥺

11. Peter Pan “They were just having a bit of fun, weren’t you, girls?”

“We were only trying to drown her” Mermaid Lagoon AU

12. “General, I’ve brought the cartographer into the war meeting today. I believe you owe her an apology for ruining all her maps when you stab them to dramatically mark a location.” (What if the “cartographer” is actually Attuma’s small daughter or sister drawing doodles of maps and playing pretend/mirroring what her dad or brother does because she wants to help and it’s all in jest hehe)

13. 2 days ago you went to an animal shelter and adopted the most adorable cat. What you don’t know is, he’s the reincarnation of an Aztec god. Your food offerings are unacceptable and that ugly small box that feels like it’s made from scratchy carpet will not do. No. He’ll be sleeping in your bed with you. Don’t try to lock him out; he’ll just scream and sing the songs of his people until you let him back in. (Or maybe through a magic mishap Namor has been accidentally transformed into a cat. Yeah Namor as a cat AU. I told you these ideas were silly.)

14. “Would you still love me if I was a worm” meme With Namor or Attuma but instead it’s “Would you still love me if I was a sea cucumber” or something ocean related

15. Namor or Attuma are taking their daughter trick or treating this year and ask what she wants to be for Halloween. A superhero, a mermaid, a princess? No. She wants to be a horseshoe crab. Possible Modern AU.

16. Reader goes to the beach often and befriends the seagulls/pelicans. So they start to bring her gifts like shells, rocks, etc. Except one day they bring you a golden bracelet, beaded necklace, or jade earrings (your choice of which). It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. A few days later, Namor shows up at the beach, looking very annoyed as he asks for his necklace/bracelet/or earrings back.

17. You and Namor or Attuma meet on the beach in your special spot. You don’t get to be with him often considering he’s kept away by his responsibilities and loyalty to Talokan, and you’re human. It’s usually your only chance to have time where you can just quietly love each other. Except a stupid fucking seagull or pelican has been following you to both the beach and your home; squawking incessantly, wreaking havoc and basically cockblocking you. Untitled Goose Game AU but it’s a seagull/pelican.

#namor x reader #attuma x reader #namor imagine #namor x you #namor x y/n #namor fic #don’t examine these too closely #Dumb thoughts and ideas for silly time #sort of crack!fic ideas if you will #fic ideas

[topguncortez]

I thought that this detox/hiatus/whatever the fuck would last longer, but I'm a glutton for punishment and can't stay away from this hellsite no matter how hard I try. might be my abandonment issues. . . anyway, conversation for my therapist

thank you all for the nice asks, messages, reblogs, comments. I read them all, I promise you that! I know that the good out ways the bad, and I should've just been the bigger more mature person and not post that anon, but it just struck something with me.

I know that I can sometimes come across as a bitch or blunt, I know that believe me. I can be cold and heartless. It's a trauma response, but not an excuse. I have been working on myself for years with the help of medication, several types of therapies, support groups, you name it, I've probably tried it. I am a work in progress. If I have ever offended you, or pissed you off, or said something that hurt you, I truly, truly apologize. From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry.

The internet is a truly glorious and hideous place. I have met some many people that I would give up my whole savings account to meet. . . and I have met some that I would love to build a Time Machine and avoid.

I love that the TG fandom has made me friends, literally, all around the world. I love that TG has gotten me back into writing. I love it, I really do. . .But things need to change.

The vile, nasty hate that not have I been subjected to, but so have many others on here, needs to stop. It's truly alarming the things that you are saying to other human beings. It is not normal, it is not right, and I truly hope that you seek out professional help. If you are praying for nasty, vile, awful things to happen to another human, you need to be seeking professional help.

And to that anon, I really, really hope that you are having a better day/night/whatever than you were when you decided to come into my inbox and be mean. You don't know my story, and I don't know yours. So maybe, you were having a bad day, and needed to lash out at someone. I have bad days too, I know the feeling. But what you said was not okay, and I hope you know that. I hope that you know deep, down in your heart that what you said was wrong and gross, and you are getting help and having a better day.

as for me coming back and writing again. . . I really don't know. Like I said, I got abandonment issues so I can't say "no I'm done" or "yes I'm back". I have been wanting to step away for a bit and just slow down on my writing. I feel like everything I have put out lately has been total shit, so I'm gonna take this time to just write and not worry about posting. I am almost done with this semester from hell, and I can taste the summer air. Maybe once I'm done with school, I'll throw a party and get back into the swing of things.

I really would love this summer to be like last summer. Where the dash was full of us thirsting over lil fictional pilots flying lil planes. I hate seeing drama. I hate seeing hate. I hate seeing writers and creators beg and plead for reblogs and interactions. I hate it and I hope things change heading into the summer.

alright, enough, rambling.

long story short, I'll be around, lurking in the shadows like I usually am.

I love you all,

-Grace:)

[respectthepetty]

Hi, *shuffles feet* I know you said no talking about creepy Krit…Buuut, your latest epic colour post reminded me of a thought I had when he turned up wearing that blue checkered outfit that co-ordinated with Gun’s outfit rather too well. You see, I’m thinking, what if the creep is a chameleon and that’s why he’s stealing King’s blue. He’s trying to “fit in” with the office group and match King so that people let down their guard, taking on King’s colours in order to try and attract Uea…

@thewayofsubtext, okay, alright. Sure. I'll write about that crusty s.o.b. because all roads lead to King, but let me warn the people in the room - put on the earmuffs and use the blindfolds because the language is about to get ugly.

@wen-kexing-apologist and @sliceduplife commented on my "latest epic colour post" that they both believe Krit is trying to steal King's color and blend in with the group, so they will let their guards down.

An Anon sent an ask worried that the introduction of Krit would cause Uea to spiral into self-loathing and make him believe he, himself, is the root of all his problems since all of these evil motherfuckers cling to Uea.

I’m actually worried Uea has a complex now and will think all the bad is his fault because I’m sorry poor baby was abused by his mum, SA and abused by his step dad, SA by his Ex and now being stalked and a possible SA from the new boss. The show should have been called Ueas Trauma!!!!!

As much as Uea's stepfather and his mom are hideous demons and cause Uea tremendous trauma, they haven't directly been a source of conflict for King.

Which is why we need this busted-ass-basic-bitch:

King's personal conflict is his mother's agenda to get him hitched. Uea's personal conflict is his fucked up family. But both men have yet to face an enemy together beyond how to label their feelings and relationship. So...

They need Krit.

He serves as the perfect antagonist. Not just because we already hate this bastard and he will test the now fragile bond that is beginning to crumble between Uea and King, but because he is mimicking King, through his actions and his colors.

When we first meet Krit, he is wearing black. So is King. Krit stares at Uea. So does King. Krit approaches Uea after the meeting blocking Uea from leaving. King did this as well in the first episode.

The next time we see Krit, he is trying to buy Uea coffee. King brought Uea coffee in the hallway in the first episode, and got an elbow to the stomach for it. Krit tries again to approach Uea to ask him for dinner recommendations. King tried to scheme his way into Uea's car when they had their office dinner. When King interferes with both of Krit's interactions, both are wearing black. Also, King always plants himself between Krit and Uea.

Krit then calls Uea to his office. He asks again about dinner, BUT he also touches Uea. King finessed his way into a dinner date with Uea after their tests. However, no matter how many times King bothered Uea, he NEVER touched Uea. Krit does even when he visits Uea at his desk in front of others. Krit touches Uea several times. Both Krit and King are wearing blue.

The last confrontation occurs when Krit meets Gun and Uea in front of the elevator. As you mentioned, Krit and Gun are both wearing patterns, so Krit sees his way into Uea's information and continues to question GUN.

Krit tries to figure out where Uea lives. King, before the tests, picked Uea up at a bus stop, but publicly embarrassed Uea into accepting the ride. The only reason King figured out where Uea lived was because of that ride since he took Uea back home. During this elevator scene, both are wearing blue, even though it conflicts with the office's colors.

If you're pissed about the comparison between the two, let me make up for it now. Looking at the outfits, King is always a solid color. Krit isn't. He doesn't fully commit to the color because those aren't his true colors. He is copying King's every move, but we all know a copy isn't as good as the original and his true intention to possess Uea keeps sprouting up through his touches and color.

King is a Green Flag while Krit is a Red Flag. Even though both of them have acted the same way to get Uea's attention, the power dynamic (boss/employee vs. coworkers) doesn't exist between King and Uea, and King doesn't cross lines with Uea, physically or figuratively. Krit, in his position of authority, doesn't have to stay within the lines.

Next week, we see Krit shows up to Uea's house in all black, but he matches the stepdad this time, and we all know how fucked up the stepdad is.

Krit can't match King on any level. Not through colors or actions, but he is matching the stepdad through colors and actions in this scene.

King's treatment of Uea compared to all these other trash ass men is unmatched. Uea doesn't need this reminder. We, the audience, do. Krit does "fit in" with all the other toxic men; that's the point. Krit, in his outfits would fit into the office group, easily; it's because he is trying to match King that makes his outfit off when compared to King because King always stands out. King doesn't align with the group, not at work, and not with these bullshitty men.

We need Krit and his fucked up colors to come between Uea and King.

So they can actually be together.

#Bed Friend #Uea x King #Krit is the antagonist we need #King has to step up #And Uea has to push back #But they have to do it together