#there are things you will have to lure me into and there are things you have to throw at me

[moonstruckme]

the sleepy remus drabble was everything but what about sleepy james x reader just cuddling on the couch with remus and sirius teasing them omfgg

Thanks for requesting lovely! I realized halfway through writing this that I wasn't sure if you meant rem and sirius were there platonically or not, but I hope this is alright <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 870 words

Even when you hear the voices, you pretend you don’t, too comfortable on the plush cushion of James’ hoodie. Opening your eyes isn’t worth the effort. 

“Is this what they do when we’re not home?” Sirius’ voice is low and ripe with faux outrage.

James hushes him, so he’s awake apparently. His thumb moves over your tummy, big hand tucked into the warmth between your sweatshirt and your bare skin. “You’ll wake her,” he says, voice still sticky with sleep.

“She ought to be awake, it’s five in the afternoon!” 

Remus’ voice is softer, skeptical. “I don’t see how either of you expect to sleep through the night if you nap like this during the day.”

“We manage,” James yawns. 

You hear Sirius huff. If the muscles in your face were more active you think you’d smile. “I thought we were going to Marlene’s thing tonight,” he complains. 

“Still planning on it.” James’ palm splays over your middle, warm and safe. “We’re resting up.” 

“This is how you prepare for Friday nights now? Fuck, we must be getting old.” 

You whine at his volume, nuzzling your face into James’ chest. 

“Oh, so she is awake. What, sweet thing, you don’t feel like saying hi?” 

This time James coos at your protesting sound. His hand slips from beneath your sweatshirt to wrap around your shoulders, shielding you from your pestering boyfriend. 

“Oh, let’s have a bit of sympathy,” Remus says, sounding amused, “she’s had a long, hard day of napping. She deserves a bit of rest.” 

You want to remind him it’s your day off, but speaking feels like giving into wakefulness, and that is something you are not inclined to do. Instead, you try to wriggle beneath the blanket halfway up James’ torso, curling in on yourself like a roly poly. He helps you out, pulling it up to cover your head and draping an arm over your balled-up form. 

“It’s her day off,” he says, your hero. “Why shouldn’t she get to rest?” 

“That’s fair enough,” Remus allows, “but why were you sleeping?”

James hesitates. “Well, I didn’t have anything to do after training and she…she lured me in.” 

It’s true. James after rugby training is like Remus after he spends all day reading; he’s all worn out and pliable, and you’d practically only had to open your arms for him to fall right into them and then a cuddle on the couch had turned into a two-hour nap. Terribly unfortunate. Certainly not your plan all along. 

You decide it’s your turn to protect James from the others, wriggling up on his chest and covering his head with the blanket. You see his smile through half-lidded eyes, and outside of your little cave, Remus chuckles. 

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” 

“I think we should get in bed and have a cuddle they’re not invited to,” says Sirius. “See how they like it.” 

“I’m not sure we can leave them in good conscience.” The sound of Remus' smile makes you smile, your cheek smushing into James’ chest. “She’s just taken Jamie. If we let her go on like this, she’ll have them both sleeping ‘til tomorrow.” 

That actually sounds rather appealing. 

“They’re jealous of us,” James whispers. You hum your agreement, and he kisses the crown of your head. 

“We could go to all their favorite things,” Sirius proposes. “Make them remember the benefits of leaving the couch.” 

“Like what? Watch sports?” 

“And eat pastries. She loves a sweet.” 

“Mm, yeah. I could fancy a sweet.” 

“From the shop on sixth? They should still be open, yeah?” 

“Stay strong, angel,” James whispers. “Don’t let them break you.” 

“They ought to be. Oh, and the pub down that way will be showing the Manchester match tonight. We could stop and see that.” 

“Sick and twisted!” James throws the blanket off, uncovering you in the process. “You never watch football with me.” 

“I have,” Remus hedges, “that one time.” 

“Last year! And you were reading your book on the other side of the pillow!” 

He turns sheepish. “Didn’t realize you’d noticed that.” 

“But now you’re going to watch it just to spite me?” 

“No,” Sirius admits. “We were never going to watch football, Jamie, sorry.” James deflates, and you squeeze him tight around the middle in a show of solidarity. 

“But we can go by the bakery on our way to Marlene’s thing,” Remus says, adding when you perk up, “if we leave soon enough. They make those danishes you like on Fridays, don’t they?” 

“Seriously?” you ask, your voice croaky and hopeful. 

“That’s me, babe,” Sirius teases, “and I’m down to stop by, but only if I get what I’m owed.” At your blank look, he raises a dark brow. “My welcome home kiss?” 

Oh. “You’re gonna have to come down here,” you mumble. He makes a show of rolling his eyes, but obliges you, bending at the waist to take your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours firmly. He does the same to James once you’re done, straightening with a satisfied look on his face. 

“Appeased?” Remus asks placidly. 

“Yes,” Sirius answers, “the evening may now continue. Up, you two. We’ve got places to be.” 

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x self insert #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders blurb #poly!marauders one shot #poly!marauders oneshot #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #the marauders #marauders era #hp marauders #marauders x reader

[onsomenewsht]

Helpless to the bass and faded light

About when she bribes you and you dance with her like a filled stadium isn't looking

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 words count: +1k

》 she took my arm / I don't know how it happened / we took the floor and she said

You don’t like football.

It’s quite a boring game if you stop to think about it for a moment. Two dozen and counting people running around a ball trying to kick it into a huge net.

Not something you look forward to sit through for almost two hours.

Despite your father’s best efforts, you being his only kid and his only hope to pass down his passion, the sport never managed to interest you long enough to care.

You even found yourself in the stands of your dad’s favourite club’s home more times than you’re able to remember, going beyond yourself and cheering when the other people around you did.

The things you do to make your parents proud.

How you managed to have the English captain wrapped around your finger, regardless of your well-known dislike for her biggest passion and purpose in life, is still a mystery for your families and friends.

“Pretty please, just this one”

“Oh, shut up!”, you hit her arm and push her off you, both still naked.

You can’t believe your girlfriend is actually trying to bribe you with sex, not even waiting for you to fully recover before asking to go to the game.

“No, you ruined the mood”, you state as the blonde tries to kiss you again.

The huge grin of her beautiful face is quite dangerous, she can win you over so easily and you both know it.

Leah rises off the bed to retrieve a warm cloth from the bathroom and a clean shirt from the closet. You accept her attention, she’s always caring when it comes to you, but you’re pretty sure the extra effort has a not-so-subtle second purpose.

“You can’t buy me so easily, Williamson”

She can.

“It’s a really important game, my love”

“For who?”

“For me?”, she tries as she slots herself under your open arm, a grin hidden between your neck and the pillow.

“I barely bear you playing”

“You love watching me play”

“I love you, period”

Leah knows how much you think the sport is boring, going way out of your comfort zone just to cheer her. She feels immensely supported when she finds your big smile in the stands, wrapped in one of her jerseys.

It’s not that difficult for you to sit and admire your girlfriend in her element, focusing more on her movements and attitude than paying attention to the actual game.

What you find quite annoying is enduring Arsenal’s men’s team.

The defender’s fingers on your side are slowly soothing you in a compromising position, too relaxed and smitten to keep denying her anything. You know she doesn’t need much more to lure you into her trap and, unfortunately for you, she’s perfectly aware too.

When the blonde’s lips find the particularly sensitive spot on the base of your neck, you’re doomed.

~

You’re glad your father is already dead or you’d have killed him as you take your seat in the Emirates Stadium, surrounded by the Gunners’ colours. Your girlfriend’s name on your back could be the final nail.

The things you do to make your lover happy.

“You know I love you, right?”

“You better never forget this”, you quip back.

The English captain has been looking forward to this game for weeks now, you couldn’t have been able to turn her down in spite of it all.

She doesn’t need to know though, that you didn’t accept to spend one of your date nights watching the North West London derby for free.

“Maybe you will enjoy it at the end”

Nice try, you will not.

“You know, my dad was a West Ham supporter”

“Could have been worse”, she smiles at you, reaching for your hand.

Talking about your father is getting easier as time finally moves forward and your grief keeps changing its shape. Compared to the abyssal black hole it felt like the first year and a half, of its progress.

Leah didn’t meet him, crushing in your life a couple of months after his passing, but she managed to find a space in your heart that keeps growing despite all your fears.

They could have hit so well, bonding over their shared passion for the sport and their never-ending determination to make you happy.

You told her some stories about him, mostly memories to make your girlfriend understand how stubborn and passionate he was about the thing he cared about.

The one thing you all have in common.

“Yeah, he used to gift me a West Ham jersey every year on Bobby Moore’s birthday”

Leah’s laugh managed to overcome the buzzing atmosphere of the stadium, making you feel like she was the reason all the people around you were cheering. You sure think so.

“He sounds like an incredible father”

“Football obsession aside, he was good”

When you turn to look at her, the blonde’s eyes are already on you and the smile on her face is enough to warm your heart.

~

The first goal coming within five minutes has you quite engaged in what’s happening on the pitch, you even drag your girlfriend in a kiss as you both rise from your seats to celebrate.

Your commitment declined quite easily after that, more entertained by Leah’s reactions than the actual game. You nod in amusement every time she tries to talk you through one of her analyses, placing a hand on her thigh to stop her from standing up every time the ball is somehow close to the box.

The second half is more eventual, at least that’s what you can understand by the excitement the defender and the people in the stands around you seem to radiate.

You’re not clueless, you’re perfectly aware a five-nil win against Chelsea is quite the result. You care enough to think you can’t wait to go home - Leah is always in the mood for a private celebration when her team triumphs, especially over another London club.

“Can we go now?”, you ask as soon as the referee whistles three times, declaring the end of your and the Blues’ torture.

Leah’s happiness is contagious, so you’re not mad when she drags you in her arms to join her cheers and enthusiastic dance. It takes you less than a second to indulge her, letting the blonde spin you around and matching her excitement.

When she dips you and seals the move with a kiss the laugh that rises out of you is genuine and loud.

At first, neither of you notice the stadium’s camera pointed in your direction, recording your little moment of pure bliss in each other’s arms.

Looking back at it, as all your friends sent you the viral video, you know Leah saw you two on the big screen and went along with her little cocky display of affection and excitement for the victory.

You’re sure your father could be laughing at it too, despite the colors you’re wearing.

fine.

#woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso community #lw6 #woso #here we are #short and sweet #i hope you enjoy it

[seat-safety-switch]

In some countries, it is allowed to live on a boat. These house boats are called "houseboats," and they are quite a bit different from our more conventional housedirts. For instance, there is an internal-combustion engine in the basement. Wait, that's not different from my place at all.

For as long as I could remember, I've always wanted to at least sleep on a houseboat. In my country, we have lots of water, but none of it is in the province where I live, which is a flat hellscape devoid of all features except for white supremacy and a guy who incessantly honks whenever a hockey team scores a goal. It's not clear where his allegiances lie, but that is not the point of this story. The point is: I wanted a houseboat. So I snuck onto the airport runway and hid in the landing gear bay of a 747, hoping that it would take me somewhere that boats are also very mildewy-smelling houses.

As I rode there, alternately taking huffs of oxygen to stay alive, and glugs of off-brand Sichuan-knockoff not-Huy-Fung to stay warm, I thought about the downsides of the floating home lifestyle. For one thing, you'd be constantly trying to deal with leaks, and those leaks are quite a bit more serious than "spray Flex Seal on it and stop thinking about it" in a conventional home. My mind wandered a bit as the oxygen started to deplete, and then it struck me. I realized to no small amount of horror that the problem with houseboats is that there's no garage. If you want to park your car at your house, you simply can't.

This disgusting, deviant lifestyle had lured me across the world, all for nothing. Things kept getting worse for houseboats the longer I thought about it. If there was no lawn, I couldn't park a car on the lawn. If I couldn't park a car on the lawn, I couldn't park forty cars on the lawn. What would even be the point of living?

It all worked out in the end, because once the plane landed, I got to spend some time in Dutch prison before my deportation. Besides being prettier and better appointed than my actual home, it was also a houseboat. Well, prisonboat. I got a chance to try out this new, interesting way of living, and I didn't have to give up even a single shitty car to do it. Plus, one of my fellow prisoners explained to me that you can park a whole lot of bicycles in a houseboat. He was arrested for trying to ramp a BMX off of the forehead of a police officer while demanding the government turn a major highway into a bike racetrack. I think we might be related.

[rainylana]

“Don’t cry.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: a spa session with your new boyfriend turns out to be both of your breaking points.

requested by anonymous! i hope you like it and that I did it justice! i kind of took it and ran. i made it much more deep than i initially planned, so i hope you like it!

warnings: talk of sexual abuse and rape, with both eddie and reader, angst and tears, language, mentions of drug dealing and absent parents. reader is struggling to connect with eddie and he doesn’t know why, kinda leaves in a cliffhanger??

Sometimes Eddie wondered if you liked him, because half the time it didn’t seem like you did. You’d become stand-offish, quiet, shrink in on yourself. His “Are you okay?” was always met with an “I’m fine.” and nothing more. It always seemed like you were protecting yourself. Not just from him, but from everyone. You loved his friends, but sometimes they scared you. You never knew who to trust. Would one of them hurt you, given the chance?

One thing was for sure though, you loved Wayne. He was like the father you never had growing up. From the way he talked, looked, his personality, it reminded you of a father. Eddie was extremely lucky to grow up with him while he did.

Eddie wasn’t stupid, however, he knew some of your behavior had to do with your upbringing. You’d shared some of it with him before, time and time again, here and there. You’d grown up pretty similarly to him. Dead beat parents that abused you, surrounded by their friends who eyed you like a piece of meat for them to chew on. When you grow up like that, you’re bound to be a little messed up. Eddie understood that. He was the same way.

But with you, it was different. He didn’t want you to feel that way around him. The relationship hadn’t been going on for that long and was still fairly fresh, but he wanted you to trust him. And even dating might have been a stretch, you were just very good friends who weren’t very good friends with anyone else.

You liked Eddie, maybe even loved him, but there was no lying when it came to the fact you were struggling to connect with him. Could you really trust him? Was he just like the men from your childhood? Would he fuck you and ultimately leave once he got his full satisfaction? You’d cried yourself to sleep many of times during the night at the thought.

Sometimes you didn’t feel safe. Not with him, not with his friends. You only ever felt truly safe with Wayne. You didn’t know why. You hated the way you felt. Eddie was a good man. He was good to you. He had yet to do anything that proved otherwise. But the dark corners of your mind lingered closer and closer to the edge, reminding you of what once was your reality on the daily. You hoped this time it was different.

“I like this color on you.” Eddie’s tongue was stuck out in concentration, one hand holding your foot, the other holding the brush of the pink nail polish bottle. “It’s cute.”

“Pink?” You smirked. “You like pink?”

“On you.” His lashes fluttered up to you briefly.

The gesture was cute, but anytime he did something sweet like this you couldn’t help but think if he was luring you into a trap. Your stomach was littered with jitters and nerves. Day by day your anxiety was staring to become more out of control. You thought about ending things with him. It wasn’t fair to him to not give the relationship your all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’d miss him dearly.

“Well, thanks.” You smiled softly. “I don’t like painting them by myself. The angle is too hard.”

He muttered a Mhm with his tongue out, blowing on your little toe so the pain would dry. “I used to paint my nails black when I was a teenager.” He said.

“Really?” You said amusedly. “Why’d you stop?”

“Got out of the habit, I guess.” He dipped the brush back in the bottle. “Plus, not that I cared, but kids at school were givin’ me shit about it.”

You knew Eddie had the same childhood you did, in some sense anyways. Eddie wouldn’t talk about it much, especially never about his mother. But his dad was something you knew struck a nerve. You should share your traumas together, that’s what you always told yourself. You knew you both could relate to one another, but the relationship was still too fresh. Maybe neither was ready for that.

“Want me to do your fingers?” Eddie asked, blowing on your last toe as he finished up his fine work. “I gotta say, babe, I did pretty good.”

You flexed your freshly painted toes and grinned at his work. “You did! Thank you.”

He put the bottle on the table and plopped down beside you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “So what now? What’s next on the spa list?” He smirked and you did the same, laughing breathily.

“I won’t make you succumb to all my girly stuff.” You laughed. “Anything I can do for you? Your hair looks like it needs brushed a little.”

“What?” He gave you an incredulous look. “I keep my hair very much maintained, thank you.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t, Eddie.” You rolled your eyes. “All I said was it needed brushed a little.”

You hopped up and got your plastic hairbrush from the bathroom, pointing at him with it when you returned. “Your turn to be pampered. Sit on the floor.”

He shook his head amusedly and sat down where you had, your legs falling at the sides of his shoulders as you gently began combing out his curls. He didn’t mean to, but he sighed in content.

“Feel good?” You gave a shit eating grin.

“You’re a-lot gentler than Wayne used to be.” He relaxed under your touch. “He always pulled at my hair and got it more ratted up than it already was. This feels good.”

You smiled at the mention of Wayne. “Well, I’ve got a woman’s touch, honey.”

“Yes, you do.”

It was quiet and peaceful for a while as you brushed his hair, the both of you content in the silence. When he touched your ankle, caressing it, your heart began to pound. You hadn’t had sex with him yet. You were too scared to. You knew it was time, it had been almost two months and you knew Eddie had long since been ready to sleep with you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You did. You fantasized about him just as much as he did you, but you were terrified of him leaving once you finally crossed that line. Out of instinct, you brought your legs up to you, sitting criss-cross like he was.

You heard him sigh and your stomach ached with guilt. You should give him what he wants.

“I’m sorry.” You say guiltily.

“You never let me touch you.” Eddie said flatly, staring at the ground as you continued to brush his hair. “And you won’t tell me why.”

Your eyes teared up and you stopped brushing, bringing it down to your lap. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s all you say.” He shook his head. “You don’t need to be sorry. You just need to tell me why I scare you so bad.”

“You don’t.” You denied, trying your hardest to convince him. When he said things like this, you felt foolish for thinking the way that you did. “It’s just- it’s- it’s just me.”

Eddie turned around, looking up at you to find you with tears in your face. “If it wasn’t true you wouldn’t be crying. Don’t I deserve the truth, Y/n? Have I don’t anything at all to make you scared of me?”

“No.” You sniffled, getting off the couch to go into the kitchen of his trailer. “You haven’t.”

Eddie watched you, becoming more and more anxious by the second. He sat there, waiting for his answer, anything but no. “Do you want to break up?”

“No!” You cried, shaking your head wildly. “No, that’s not what I want.”

“You don’t even like me, Y/n.” He scoffed to himself, closing in, becoming cold and shutting down. Something he hadn’t done in a long time. “You won’t open up to me. I can barely touch you. You look like you’re disgusted to be around me.”

“That’s not true!” You snapped, taking a step toward him. “Stop saying shit like that!”

“Then you say something for a change!” He argued back, not moving from his spot on the floor.

“But it’s so stupid!” You shook your head. “It’s ridiculous!”

He gave you a look. He was waiting and he wouldn’t back out this time. Either that, or he was going to break up with you. The thought made you want to vomit. Maybe you did care more deeply for him than you were letting on.

“We don’t talk about what happened when we were kids,” You sighed through tears, voice breaking. “We’re..both the same, but we don’t talk about it.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as you began, wondering after all, if he wanted to hear where you were going with this.

“Mom wasn’t around, so that left dad and his friends.” You stared at him, being as open and honest as you could now. There was no beating around the bush with this. “I…Jesus,” You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t know that it wasn’t normal at the time, but they’d…they’d use me.” You took a deep breath after the last word. No stopping now.

“They would play poker, touch me, rape me.” You weren’t crying anymore, talking mostly to yourself now at this point. “And I know you would never do that to me, Eddie, but sometimes I’m so afraid of it happening again and I just shut down.” You closed your eyes. “You touch me and I’m so afraid you’ll abandon me once we sleep together. That’s all anyone has ever done in my life.”

“Fuck me, then leave.” You sniffled. “That’s all they ever do.”

Eddie’s eyes were drooping, slightly narrowed and brows furrowed. He shook his head softly, you almost missed it, and you knew you’d made him at a loss for words.

He looked up to you briefly, licking his lips before he spoke. “There was this one guy my dad would deal for,” He began. “He was a big dude, almost seven foot. I was only thirteen. But dad would bring him into the house and he…would look at me. Just watch me wherever I went.” He stared at his hands, not daring to look at you.

“I think he payed dad.” His voice broke, but he refused to let any tears fall. “Because I screamed and screamed and he wouldn’t come.”

You let out an audibly gasp and covered your mask, your heart falling to the floor with a splat.

“Oh, god, Eddie,” You crawled to the floor and knelt beside him.

“It’s okay.” He stopped your apologies. “I didn’t tell you for you to be sorry for me. I told you because you need to know you’re not alone, and not everyone is out to get you. You’re safe with me. I want you to believe that.”

You let out a wet sob, tears rolling down your red face. “How do I stop being scared? I want to be with you.”

He smiled softly, a finger swiping at a tear. “We have all the time in the world for that, angel.”

You grabbed his arm and laid your head against his shoulder, sobbing like a broken child.

“Oh, baby,” He kissed your forehead. “Don’t cry.”

It would be a long road to recovery, but you could both do it together. Slowly, every day you would both open up to each other about what you went through, and day by day, it would get easier.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #requests #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb

[bitethedevil]

NSFW Raphael Headcanon: Ownership and Alienation

(It’s another Raphael headcanon, my dudes. It’s about themes that I have also explored in my fic ‘The Devil’s Dinner Party’ that I wrote recently, and which inspired this headcanon ʸᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ᵐᵉ ˢʰᵃᵐᵉˡᵉˢˢˡʸ ᵃᵈᵛᵉʳᵗⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵐʸ ᵒʷⁿ ᶠⁱᶜ, ˢᵘᵉ ᵐᵉ. I think Raphael would 100% alienate someone he wanted simply to redirect their full attention to him and, more importantly, to make them more dependent on him. My thoughts turn to the plaque in his archive that says something along the lines of “Turn your attentions toward to higher things. Turn them towards to me”. Raphael does not only want to own you, he also wants to be the center of your universe.)

TW: Abusive and manipulative relationships.

Raphael would make it into a sport to alienate you from all of your loved ones. Your friends, your family, your allies…And if you already have a partner whom you love very much? Oh, even better.

He would start small when it came to spreading chaos within your relationship. He would insist on meeting alone with you whenever you were with others, so that they would wonder about what was happening behind closed doors. He would make sure to be close to you whenever you met, so that you would smell of him when you returned to your partner. His greetings had started out as a kiss on your hand, and it had now evolved to a kiss on each cheek every time you saw each other. You naively let him go one step further with you each time, because you saw it as simple cordiality.

Raphael would plant doubt in your mind by using everything you ever revealed to him to his advantage. He would speak directly to all your insecurities. Because your partner seems like such a good person, why would they ever want to be with you? Would they really love you if they knew about all the terrible things you have done? They are not like him, of course, who would embrace it all with open arms. He who would accept all of you, sins and all.

He keeps going one step further with you and then one step further again. Had you asked him to stop or told him that he made you uncomfortable, he would comply…but you never did, did you? During one of your meetings, his arms wrap around your waist and he trails kisses up your neck. By the time he whispers in your ear ‘do you want me to stop, sweet mouse?’, you are already too wrapped up in it to tell him ‘no’.

When he finally lures you into his bed, he is not gentle with you. His brutality in the way he takes you is a stark contrast to the gentle and caring lovemaking you have been used to with your partner.

He would cruelly transform into his devil form without warning while inside you, leaving you to yelp and grasp the sheets as your body struggles to accommodate his size. His claws dig into your hips and his sharp teeth leave bloody marks all over your body. The scariest thought is that despite the brutality that is making your entire body ache, the sheer strength of his cambion form reminds you that he is being gentle with you. He could break you with ease if he so pleased.

He makes sure that you cannot move. His hands and tail are gripping around you tightly, making sure you are locked into place and spread open for him while he fucks you without mercy. Occasionally he moves a hand to pull your hair to force you to look at him, or he moves it to grip around your neck to leave you gasping for air.

Your body hurts, but it is also intoxicating. It should all be too much for you, but to your great shame, you find it arousing…cathartic even, to be treated how you think you deserve to be treated. A fact that Raphael is well-aware of and using to his advantage.

When he is done with you, your body has been painted red, blue, and purple. Scars, bruises, bite-marks…all part of the morbid painting Raphael has created on your body with his teeth and claws. While you can barely move from the aftermath of his brutal treatment, he admires his handiwork and the underlying meaning of the motif: His.

It is almost as good as the expression on your face, now that you have come down from your high. Raphael has successfully proven to you that what he was saying was right: You are a bad person. He sees the self-loathing, guilt, and regret starting to show in your eyes and he is feasting on it. The exact same feelings that will inevitably turn you towards him, and only him, once your partner sees the marks Raphael has left and leaves you.

Raphael will gladly remind you of his little lessons over and over again, should you ever forget: You are not a good person, you don’t deserve love, and no one but him will ever accept you for it.

#writing #raphael the cambion #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #baldur's gate 3 #bg3

[jimraisedmeup]

TICK // 5.1 - how soon is now?

Rating: mature (homophobia, angst, language, sexual content)

Word Count: 2700

☾

I am the son And the heir Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar I am the son and heir Of nothing in particular

☾

December 1983 - junior year

Stepping off of the school bus with Robin close behind you, you immediately began scanning the Hawkins High parking lot for Eddie and his beat up van.

And there he was.

Leaning casually against the side of his van, one leg propped up on the tire. It was hard to miss the unusual creature that called himself Eddie Munson.

You tugged on Robin's backpack strap. "See you later, yeah? Cover for me with Mom and Dad if I'm not back by dinner," thinking for a moment, you laughed. "Actually, maybe consider calling Hopper if I mysteriously disappear after this."

Robin chuckled, "He does have a legitimate kidnapper's van. But hey, maybe he'll try to lure you in with free candy or puppies."

Sticking out her pinky finger to you, your sister hooked it around yours before saying goodbye.

Normally, you would exit the school bus each morning and look around for Nancy, or maybe Chrissy Cunningham, who you were friends with briefly in middle school. You used to look for Barb, too, with her glowing red hair and kind smile. 

You assumed Nancy was with Steve Harrington and their group. Lately, the popular crowd had been irking you, making the base of your skull ache with apprehension. The idea of them not being quality friends and judging you behind your back made you think of your parents. 

You did a lot of thinking in your spare time - about your family, school, stuff like that. You were naturally an overthinker. That's why you picked at your fingers so much.

Most of your thoughts that week were more focused on your social life, though, including the crazy-haired boy that stumbled into your line of attention by simply giving you a tattoo and being genuine.

You wanted that for yourself. You wanted to feel comfortable in your own skin. You wanted Robin to feel comfortable in her own skin, too. How long had they been conforming to the mold your parents put them in, for fear of chastisement? Or, in Robin's case, conversion therapy.

Shaking your head and vowing to start a new day, you meandered over to Eddie. You wondered if he would ever not look slightly shocked when you talked to him in public.

"Good morning, sunshine. To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

He sipped on a paper cup of what looked like black coffee, eyeing you through the steam that was coming off the hot liquid. You tried not to stare at his lips as he licked them.

"Wanna ditch school with me today?" you said quickly.

☾

You shut your mouth How can you say I go about things the wrong way?

☾

Ten minutes into driving and you were already bickering with each other. 

Eddie couldn't keep his mouth shut. And you couldn't stop your fiery temper from taking the bait.

"...all I'm saying is, I don't understand why you're friends with those jocks."

You huffed for what felt like the millionth time, looking out the window of his van. "And I told you already, I'm not really friends with them. Nancy, yeah, but not the guys."

"And why not?"

Eyes wide, you snapped a little. "You just asked me why I'm friends with them. Now you're asking me why I'm not?"

The grin on Eddie's face was contagious, apparently, almost making you smile back. His outrageous, carefree attitude reminded you of why you wanted to skip school with him to begin with.

"Fine, fine. New question."

"Great," you replied with heavy sarcasm.

"What about me?" Eddie kept his eyes on the road, but glanced your way for a split second. "Why the hell are we suddenly hanging out with each other?"

"Because I asked you to ditch school with me today," you replied simply. 

"Thanks, Captain Obvious, but you know what I meant."

The girl in his passenger seat thought for a minute or two, trying to find the right words. You knew he deserved some kind of explanation. Especially after kissing him out of nowhere at the party. Hell, he probably thought you were a typical popular kid playing a prank on him.

You picked absentmindedly at the stray fibers sticking out of the woven seat cover. 

"I dunno, I feel like I can trust you, in a way. Like you're not going to run off and tell the whole school all the juicy details."

"I don't kiss and tell, Buckley."

You waved in his direction. "Exactly. Thanks for not telling anyone about the tattoo, either."

Eddie seemed unusually serious for a moment. "No problem."

"You know, I'm sure it would take less than a day for Carol Perkins to spread rumors about me if she had the right ammo for it. She's always had it out for me. And I never did shit to her!"

The boy beside you chuckled. "It's because you're prettier than her. And a lot less annoying," he paused before adding one last comment. "Not to mention her boyfriend Tommy drools over you every chance he gets."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. You never noticed?"

"Well… no. He's a douchebag."

The van was at a stoplight in the middle of downtown. Though the weather was bitterly cold, you could still see shoppers walking along the storefronts.

"So, I've recently come into some money," Eddie began. "Ten whole dollars to be exact. What do you think about grabbing some hot chocolate?"

The corners of your lips lifted into a smile. "Sure."

He rounded the corner, pulling up to the nearly empty small diner. 

Over two cups of hot chocolate, with extra whipped cream for you, the two teenagers chatted happily. 

It felt natural for you. For the first time since you could remember, you felt comfortable. Your sharp edges softened. The wall you had built up to shield your heart was still standing strong, but there was a tiny window on it that you allowed Eddie Munson to peer through.

You learned about the love he had for his guitar, the dreams he had for his future in the music business. You learned, sadly, that he didn't get along with his dad and that his mother left when Eddie was just a kid.

And most importantly, he made you laugh. Usually, Robin was the only one who could do that. But the difference between Eddie and Robin was that you had the natural urge to protect your little sister. You didn't burden Robin with any more stress than she already had to deal with. 

With Eddie, you looked at him as an equal, and maybe you didn't have to hide your deep, dark thoughts. 

A few hours later, you both made your way back to Eddie's van.

"You know, I've never driven a car before."

The leather-clad boy stopped dead in his tracks, one pale hand resting on the hood of the van.

"Come again?"

"I can't drive. No one's ever taught me," you tugged on the passenger side door handle. "Pick your jaw up off the floor and unlock the van! I'm freezing, dingus."

Finally inside with the heat blasting through the old vents, Eddie turned to you as you rubbed your hands together furiously. 

"Well, there's only one thing left to do now."

For a second, seeing the look on his mischievous face, you were scared that he was going to kiss you. Well, scared was the wrong word. 

You definitely wanted to kiss him again. A part of you wanted to re-do the first kiss. It shouldn't have been a quick peck on the lips in the dark, only for you to run away afterwards. You figured it was a necessity to get the first kiss over with, though. Now, you wanted another one, but maybe with a bit more... romance? 

Ugh, you thought inwardly. Romantic wasn't a word to describe you or Eddie fucking Munson.

But he didn't kiss you. He reached a calloused finger towards you and booped you on the nose like a little kid.

"I'm gonna teach you how to drive, Buckley."

☾

I am human and I need to be loved Just like everybody else does

☾

"Slow down! Pump the brakes."

"I'm trying!"

"The hell you're not!"

"Stop being an ass! We're fine."

Eddie spoke deliberately, face calm. "Put your foot on the brakes before you kill the both of us."

He was just giving you shit, because in reality, you were just fine. He took you to a large abandoned factory that had an expansive parking lot to practice driving in. There was nothing even slightly close for you to crash into.

If Eddie was being totally honest, the sight of a woman, specifically you, behind the wheel of his beloved van was enough to drive him wild. After spending nearly an entire day with the spunky Buckley girl, his spank bank was overflowing.

He never even let Gareth or any of his friends drive the van. Besides his guitar, it was his most prized possession.

He couldn't possibly pass up the opportunity to teach you how to drive. It was like taking someone’s virginity - it can only be done to a person once. Eddie felt honored to be the first to teach you, even if he never ended up being any other firsts for you. But he had to slap those thoughts into oblivion as his jeans suddenly felt tight, causing him to sigh and fog up the window beside him.

What better than a day of hooky, hot chocolate, and reckless driving?

After a while of cruising at an insane speed of five miles per hour, you seemed to get more comfortable with pressing gently on the gas pedal and then alternating to the brakes. You were pretty good with the steering but your lead foot needed Jesus.

You slowed to a complete stop, shifting into park. "See? I told you we were fine."

"Hey, I just gotta look out for my precious… Brenda here," Eddie replied, rubbing his hand on the sun-bleached dashboard.

You stared at the boy, a smile tickling your lips. "Did you just make up that name?"

He tried to keep a straight face, but busted out laughing. "Yeah, I don't know. It was the first one I could think of. The van doesn't really have a name."

Eddie couldn't remember the last time he was in such a good mood. 

"Well, she has a name now. Brenda." 

You looked around, both of your hands still on the wheel. Your wandering eyes inspected the radio, then drifted towards Eddie. The look in your eyes was mysterious to him.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

You chewed on your lip, staring out the window towards the decrepit factory in front of you. "Nothing, really. Just a lot of firsts for me lately."

A knot formed in his stomach as your words mirrored his earlier thoughts. Curiosity taking hold of him, he couldn’t help but pry. "Like…?"

You had a neurotic habit of picking at things when you tried to explain serious business. He watched patiently as you scratched at the peeling paint on the driver's side door.

"Driving, obviously. Skipping school. That was kinda my first… kiss the other day, too."

If you were ever planning to tell him this information without him asking, Eddie would never know. But he was shocked. He let out a quick, unintentional laugh. He didn't mean for it to sound rude... but the words were already spilling out.

"You're fucking with me, right?"

He sounded very rude.

You looked suddenly defensive. "Yes, Eddie, I'm lying to your face." Your voice dripped with sarcasm and your eyes turned cold.

"Back it up, sunshine. I'm not making fun of you," he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "But, like, why? Why me? If it's 'cause you were drinking, I totally understand if it was a mistak-"

"No," you interrupted firmly, "Not a mistake." And then you went silent.

Looking again at the clock on the radio, you unbuckled your seatbelt and climbed out. 

"I've got to get home soon. I don't want my parents to know I ditched."

"Won't the school call them since you didn't show up?"

"Probably, but they've been at work all day. They don't usually get home until after my sister and I get off the bus."

Trading seats with you in the van, Eddie followed your directions and drove you home. He felt a little insecure at the sight of your nice, perfectly maintained middle class home. He worried that you would have a conniption fit at the sight of the house he shared with his father.

"Thanks for everything today, Eddie Munson."

He stared at you, wondering what was going through your mind. But instead of inquiring, he let you go. You waved a quick goodbye at the brown-eyed boy before disappearing into the house.

☾

I am the son And the heir Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar I am the son and heir Of nothing in particular

☾

"Bless us, oh Lord, and these gifts which we are about to receive from your bounty. Through Christ our Lord we pray, Amen."

Dinnertime in the Buckley household was underway. From what you could tell, your parents had no clue that you skipped school that day. Shoveling mashed potatoes onto her plate, your mother looked at you and Robin.

"So, girls, tell us about your day."

You both exchanged identical looks before your parents could notice something was off. The eldest Buckley daughter responded with haste.

"My day was good. Not much homework with winter break coming up."

Your mother smiled at you. "I'm so excited for Father Humphrey's service on Christmas Eve. Aren't you, Richard?"

Grumbling something about being up late on a holiday, her father shrugged. "How about you, Robin? Did anything interesting happen at school today?"

You could see the internal battle in Robin's head, trying to think of a proper thing to say. 

"Oh, yeah. I was selected to do a new song in band. So I practiced that a lot today."

Melissa Buckley giggled. "That's great news, Robin. A solo? You're so talented, sweetie."

"No, not a solo. More of a… duet."

"And who is the lucky boy, dear?"

You knew that the duet was with a girl, which is the main reason why Robin was so excited about it to begin with. But Robin knew the protocol.

"Uh, Kevin… Kevin Brown." Totally made up name.

Your father finally spoke, his mouth full of food. "See, Y/N, why aren't you more like your sister? If you keep avoiding boys, the whole town is going to think you're one of those… homosexuals."

"Richard!" your mother scolded, straightening up in her chair.

"What? You know I'm right. The girl is seventeen. Prom is coming up. I've never heard a single boy's name come out of her mouth. She spends too much time with that Wheeler girl, and you know they're a bunch of sinners."

Resisting the urge to flip the entire fucking table, you remained stone-faced as you responded. You could feel Robin kicking your leg underneath the table.

"Actually, father, I have plans with a boy this week."

He snorted. "Is that so?"

You politely dabbed your mouth with the expensive cotton napkin, face red with silent anger, then stood up from your chair.

"Yes, and he agreed to teach me how to drive. So maybe I can get my license in the spring."

Your mother set down her silverware. "Darling, is that really necessary? What's this boy's name?"

"Eddie Munson."

Slam.

Richard Buckley pounded a fist on the table, then pointed at you. "I forbid this. You know what kind of reputation that family has. His father is a drunk and a heathen."

"Please…" Robin pulled on the edge of your shirt. Not worth it, she mouthed at you.

You looked your father directly into his eyes, the color so much like your own. But he didn't back down.

"I forbid this, Y/N," he repeated coolly. "If I see you with that Munson boy, you'll be spending your entire senior year in a private school, where you can focus on your studies and repent."

☾

When you say it's gonna happen now When exactly do you mean? See I've already waited too long And all my hope is gone

☾

(song lyrics credit: "How Soon Is Now?" by The Smiths)

TAGLIST for this series if you would like to be notified when I post new chapters!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddiemunson #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #eddie munson slow burn #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x buckley!reader

[dried-up-f1sh]

Vox with a siren reader

This is purely SFW

I've never written headcanons before so this might suck🗣🔥

He probably heard about you from your abilities relating to your voice. Either your power just straight up mind controls people, or your power can affect people's emotions. If that's the case, he'd mainly be interested in your ability to make people infatuated with you. Y'know. Because simps are crazy and they're willing to buy anything. Like remember Belle Delphine's bath water?

He'd mainly see things from a business perspective at first

Either way, he'd want to exploit that and kind of use that power to lure in more people to buy things from Voxtek. Especially because of your influence over people.

He'd want you to be a singer or something as well because that gives you a platform to use your powers.

If you're familiar with advertising techniques, you'd be aware of how affective bandwagon advertising and celebrity endorsement can be. If you were already famous, he'd have you advertise his products and even have limited edition items and collections advertised by you.

If you weren't already famous, he WILL make you famous. The man controls social media, so he'll make sure that everyone recognises you and that you rise to fame. Y'know. So he could use that to his advantage and draw in more customers

If you joined Vox's team after the Vees were formed and both Val and Vel became his business partners, he'd have Vel pick out your outfits and stuff.

After a long day of work, he'd enjoy it if you sang to him. Like if your voice affected emotions, he'd just want you to use your powers to make him feel calm and relieve him of his stress. (Also slightly related to my OC but she used to do that for Alastor but in a platonic way)

I actually had this idea for my OC but like. If Vox was romantically involved with you, he'd be like your "number 1 supporter" and would jokingly ask you for an autographed picture of yourself just to keep on his desk. Shut up I love fluff

I'm not writing anything NSFW unless requested because I don't want to scar my followers who didn't sign up for this, so unless you want me to extend on this, I ain't writing 🙄

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel x reader

[zumurruds]

for the ship bingo : damenik (i just wanna hear you rant about them)🫶🏽

the brokeback mountain couple of the series!!!! the gilgamesh and enkidu of their time!!!! the achilles and patroclus of capri!!!! the alexander and hephaestion of akielos!!!!!

whether you think they’re platonic soulmates or romantic soulmates, they have that undying devotion and soulmatism factor that can’t be denied. their relationship makes me break into a cold sweat in the middle of the night at what they could have become, you could say they are my because….. 🥺🫶

cus fellas is it gay to run after your bff barefoot in the palace of your youth the way madeline miller’s patroclus ran after achilles with utter homosexuality and devotion… is it gay to stand up to and trash damen’s mean brother for not loving him as he should even tho said brother is of higher rank than you and could have you punished… is it gay to join the kingsmeet, knowing it would break both of your hearts to be separated after years of rubbing dicks in the training yard, bc you want to train with the best of the best to be able to protect your beloved better when he becomes king… is the force of your gayness so potent theomedes had to send you all the way to delpha so damen wouldn’t turn his back on producing an heir bc your hairy tits jiggled most pleasingly in a way damen liked when you both wrestled in the mud… is it bombastically gay to run into damens private chambers after his ‘death’ like aishwarya rai in devdas and risk your life just to keep damen’s pin on your person at all times…. did you weep loudly with snot and tears running down your face when you lit the ekthanos and made the long solitary at dawn for him…. did the sight of finding your beloved alive bring you to your KNEES in holy prayer even tho you are not a religious man…. did your concern for damen’s welfare overrule all the training ingrained in your upbringing against touching the king that you lured him into a tent and stripped him to the waist so you could make sure he was okay…. did you try to immediately FIGHT the demon who did that to him bc it was on SIGHT after that 👹 ….. did you follow damen into places you wouldn’t go with a GUN bc you loved that fat ass more than you cared about your own life….. did you constantly throw hands at everyone disrespecting your king bc the caucasity was so unreal…. were you so sprung for damen that his new husband had to send you half way across the country to ios bc he was so threatened by the idea of you stealing his man…. another king separating them to different ends of the country out of homophobia i think!!!!

when damen said the first thing he thought about when returning to akielos was “greeting Nikandros, embracing him, heedless of the armour, like digging in his fingers and feeling in his fist the earth of his home” he literally invented gay poetry!!!! you’re lying if you didn’t puke blood at how hard that line went. and i could go on FOREVER, they are that couple <3

#a king and his lionheart #captive prince

[achaotichuman]

I will say this once, and only once because I am hardly losing sleep over Elain in the slightest.

Throwing around the idea that everyone who disagrees with the theory Elain would make a good High lady is not a direct output of internalized misogyny. In fact, not caring about Elain at all, is not an output of misogyny either.

The idea that people only dislike her, or otherwise do not pay her as much notice as other characters is because of misogyny, is completely false at best, and a half-assed attempt at morally upping people at worst.

I am sorry, but on my desk alone I can count 12 books with female main characters who are incredibly feminine and do not end up a warrior with a sword in their hands. So, to accuse me of disliking or discrediting Elain because I have internalized misogyny, is an insult, no matter how you try to spin it.

Quite frankly, I do not like being accused of being a misogynist over a fictional character, so let me go over this once and only once.

Elain is not a main character as of yet. She is a side character and so is Lucien at the moment. Sure, it's pretty damn obvious both are being set up to have their own book, but for now other than the bonus chapter we see very, very little of Elain. And when we do, she makes no major impact to the reader other than to people who ship Elucien. I highlight the word reader, because obviously with the whole stabbing of Hybern she made a pretty big impact to the story itself.

Which I will remind she would have never been able to do if she had died in the Hybern Camps, which she got herself into and had to be rescued to get out, but I digress.

Lucien has more impact in the story than Elain, Nesta had more impact throughout the entire series than Elain. When we go back to the human lands in Acowar, we see more of Nesta. We are talking Nesta.

So, already, Elain is not the biggest character in the series, in fact she tends to cause more discord and harm than good. Whether she is aware of it or not.

In the first book this is because she is another mouth that Feyre has to feed. And appears as completely unaware of the hard work Feyre is putting in to hunt. Which already starts the reader off as underestimating her. Whether or not she was doing more behind the scenes is ignored by Feyre and the bias she has, therefore this is the only impression we get of Elain.

This was retconned later, but I am not going to ignore it since we are talking about impressions here and not about the legitimacy of the statement "Elain can't grasp things". This is what Feyre says first up in the book, which is where the reader is being given their first impressions and laying out their first thoughts of the characters.

Later on, Elain is still a very minor character. Nesta was the one who went to the wall to try and retrieve Feyre, not Elain.

In the next books, Elain does not want to be in the Faery lands, with good reason. She is very much to the side trying to handle her own trauma, the only time we see her come out of her shell a little bit is when she is Seering. Which the IC doesn't even use her for in Silver Flames, they get Nesta to do it. Nesta talks to the Cauldron, not Elain. Nesta scrys not Elain. Elain only scrys once if my memory does me justice, and it is hidden from the rest of the characters other than Feyre.

Like it not, (I know I don't like it, but I recognize it) The Night Court is the Court of interest within the Acotar series and Elain appearing as not a part of it, or as different from it, is reason for the reader to not pay her interest because they are focusing on what is happening in the Night Court. Its Elain being put to the side again, because at this point, she is a side character.

She was the one who was lured into the camps of Hybern by the Cauldron, which created a frustrating problem for the IC and Feyre, who are the MCs at this point.

She is probably going to be the next MC in the series, but up until now, unless you do ship Elucien or otherwise care about what happens to Lucien. There is not a massive need to care about Elain, leading to people either not caring about her, or not liking her.

Of course this isn't a reason to be anti of her, I'm pro Tamlin and he is somehow the most hated character in the series. But like being Pro Tamlin doesn't mean you're an abuse apologist, not really caring about Elain is not being a misogynist.

Why do I not care about Elain? Because simply put, she's a side character who I've never seen be very driven for anything in a way that wholly affected the plot, and no matter what your headcanons for her are, they are your headcanons, not mine. She is never focused on, and not in a 'we don't care about her because she's feminine' way, in a 'she simply has no relevancy yet' way.

And no, I don't care about her potential, because she isn't my favorite character. That's okay. I don't need her to be my favorite character to not be a misogynist. And no, I don't need to acknowledge her potential to not be a misogynist either.

To try and accuse people of being misogynistic to support your claim of Elain being a High Lady is a blunt sword at best. And it all comes down to one argument, why do you not like Elain?

Because as of right now, she has no drive, because she has no reason to have any drive, because at the moment she is a side character. I simply cannot stress that enough.

It does not matter, if she is one day going to be a main character, she is currently a side character who drives no plot and has no call to action.

Of course, the A Court of Thorns and Roses series is a fantasy romance, and Elain's story will be for the most part non-violent. Which I enjoy a lot more than warrior stories.

I do not read fantasy most of the time. I have read like four-five fantasy series in my life. I mostly read historical fiction, regency fiction, mysteries and retellings of fairytale tropes. Elucien's book will be filled with high society and navigating the political world rather than the battlefield. I will probably enjoy it more than Nesta or Feyre's journey.

That does not mean I need to care about her or think her to be a good ruler. Because I am more than happy to read a story of Lucien and Elain travelling the world in a way that Nesta and Feyre always wanted to and never did. In fact, I think it would be a better fit for both of them to find a life outside of Prythian, and outside of the box they were both shoved into. Because regardless of how you see it, Elain and Lucien were both forced into the places they are now.

But sure, I'm the misogynist for not wanting another journey to becoming a ruler despite being in your early twenties and never being prepared for it, story.

I am not trying to pick a fight with Eluciens. But I am trying to get the point across at how it is a fairly half-assed accusation to throw at someone over a fictional character.

Do I think that everyone has some level of internalized misogyny because of the society we live in? Absolutely. But to act as though it is pure misogyny coming out when we discuss Elain is just plain insult throwing. And I put it in the same box as people who say people who support Lucien and Tamlin are abuse apologists. Because it's an assumption you are making about a person's morals and thinking with no real basis.

No matter if you ship, Elain and Lucien or Elain and Azriel, or Elain and Gwyn or Elain and Eris, or whoever else in the acotar world. I believe trying to question another personal's morals over a fictional relationship, or character in general, is rude, inconsiderate and invasive.

I will repeat, I am not trying to pick a fight, I am terrified of fighting. But that doesn't mean I won't defend myself. Overall, this was not meant at all to question whether or not Elain will be High lady, and if I see discussion about that, I will assume you did not read my full argument and will be ignoring you.

So, to recap. Elain is a side character, and her not being your favorite character does not make you a misogynist. People not acknowledging, disliking, or otherwise 'sleeping on' Elain, does not make them a misogynist. That is a crazy accusation. We are already in a highly toxic fandom that throws around labels and sticks them to people who disagree with them over characters. Let's not add to that.

I think if you can't make a critical analysis without sticking a label to someone than you haven't made an analysis.

Let's be honest, all the 'arguing' is supposed to be a debate, not a real argument. Unless the person you are arguing with is being deliberately disrespectful, then there is no reason to insult someone's person. Debates can get heated while still being respectful.

Calling someone an abuse apologist, telling someone they have internalized misogyny when you've never met them in person, or otherwise trying to degrade someone else's argument by insulting them, is childish. I am not going to allow any arguments against this whatsoever, because this shouldn't be up for debate.

Hating on a character because they are feminine is misogynistic. Obviously. But not caring for a character because they are a side character or have caused more problems than done good is simply not liking a character.

And let's be honest for a second, some people just don't like characters because they just simply aren't interested, and that is okay. You are not morally right, and they are not morally wrong.

This was a very long-winded rant, all to say, stop insulting people who have done nothing other than no agreed with a statement you made about a character. It's just not a nice thing to do at all.

And no, this was not a list of reasons of why you shouldn't care about Elain, this is MY reasoning for not caring about Elain in the present time.

You can argue that Elain did make some impression on the reader in x scene in x book at x time. But it didn't an impression on me, which led me to not caring about her. It's fruitless to argue that point with me unless we are engaging in a debate about Elain as a character.

And this was not meant to be a comment on Elain as a character, nor on what I think her story will be. This is a direct comment on the idea of people being misogynistic for not liking Elain. It's an insane comment to make.

I will repeat for the hundredth time, some people don't care for Elain because she is a side character. Some people don't like her because of the kind of impact she made on them. And some people just don't like her vibes. All of which are not rooted in misogyny. Her story has not been told, at all, we don't need to care about her yet.

Okay bye.

#acotar #elain archeron #acotar rant #kind of #more like fandom rant #since this a pretty popular idea #yall ignore that i forgot to put the read more thing at first

[haru-natsuka]

Second Male Leads Are all Yanderes but I Won't Rest Until I Win My Love Back (Female Reader x OCs)

CHAPTER 4

Story will start after the synopsis

Every second male lead who appeared in this world had a hidden yandere side that can emerge at any moment and turn them into a twisted and obsessive villain.

As someone with a severe case of the "second male lead syndrome", you are determined to pursue your love for the second male lead, leaving the original male lead to become the second.

While you were busy chasing after the second male lead, the original male lead kept on bothering you and trying to get you to choose him instead.

"Don't you dare to come any closer!" You snap at the original male lead, your tone sharp and firm.

"Oh, and who's going to stop me? You?" The yandere stares at you, a menacing look in their eyes, as their body slowly moves closer.

"Too close! Step back!"

"Your words mean nothing to me. You can't control me. I will come as close as I please, you can't stop me."

As if a yandere was not enough, when you chose to ignore the original male lead, another second male lead suddenly entered your life, further complicating the situation.

The yandere and the upcoming second male lead both seem determined to have you for themselves, and they were both very possessive and pushy in their approaches to you.

You just wanted to be happy with your true love. Yandere or not, you would stick with your crush!

CHAPTER 1 << CHAPTER 2 << CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4: THE LADIES

What was the meaning of happiness in your life? To you, it was when you had gotten to go out with your lovely Adrian, hands wrapped around his arm in a secure lock and the most important thing was, Adrian allowed you! Just seeing the envious looks on other ladies faces at the town was enough to make your smile even brighter.

'Yes! Adrian is mine! Back off'

"I'm doing you a favour, Adrian. I'm saving you from being ambush by all these predatory ladies" That was just an excuse as you tightened your hold on him, laid your head on his shoulder and acted as his protector and savior.

"Oh, you are? I am in debt to you then." Although you did not look at his face as you were busy laying your head on his shoulder but you could tell he was looking at your direction.

"Do you think they would've been able to lure me away from you?" His question sounded so playful but coming from Adrian, it was just out of pure curiosity. An angel who just wanted to know more about your thoughts.

"Will you?" You chose to withhold your answer for this one question and used his curiosity for this opportunity instead.

"If these ladies tried to lure you away from me, would you fall for their antics?" You asked, wanting to see how he would answer that question.

"I don't think so. I rather feel more comfortable being with you, out of everyone. You spend a lot of your time with me and I can't be more than thankful or..." Adrian's tone changed from his usual calm one into the one he would used whenever he would tease you for fun.

"or maybe it was the fact that you held onto me too tightly that I cannot escape to anywhere" You could feel his hot breath hit your face as he brought his face closer to you as he whispered.

'Too cute! Can I just pinch those cheeks.'

"Your words does not synchronies with your expression, Adrian. You had fun teasing me a lot these days"

As you were about to behave more respectful to Adrian's boundary by releasing your grip on his arm, as if he disliked the idea, Adrian placed a hand over yours. Your focus was back at him in question. When you looked into his eyes, they were glistening warmly and looking at you, giving you chills and a hint of excitement.

"This is the payment for my debt so do as you like"

'Do as I like? I-I ba-bad thoughts go away!'

"Look at these two undeclared young couple. Flirting with each other early in the morning" Suddenly, an old voice rang out, calling attention to you and Adrian from a fruit store. You immediately glanced over your shoulder to look at the source of the voice.

The person who spoke was none other than your dear madam, who smiled sheepishly at you with joy and rejoice. Your mood brightened when you saw her expression, as it was a reminder of her support of this relationship. She seemed overjoyed with your happiness and satisfaction, and this made you feel more grateful to her for her kindness and love towards you.

"You're mistaken, madam. We are not a couple yet," you clarified, politely explaining to her that you and Adrian were not a couple at this point in time.

"But pray for my success please. When we are together, madam would be the first person I told to."

Upon hearing your words, the madam's eyes widened and she displayed an expression that held a hint of disappointment. It was apparent that she had hoped for a different outcome, with the two of you already being a couple. That was why she was now feeling disappointed, after realizing that you still not success in pursuing your love for Adrian.

"Adrian still rejecting you?" The madam shifted her focus on Adrian.

"Young man, you should not let a beautiful flower alone when it's dazzlingly shine in front of you. You should treasure it before it flies away. As the flower blown by the wind, it would be hard for you to get it back"

Adrian remained silent and did not reply, his expression changing to one that you found difficult to fathom. You choose to be the one who continued the conversation. Mentally, questioning the meaning of his expression. He must felt uncomfortable with the old lady's words.

"Madam, I will never go away. I will never give up but I dont want to force Adrian to accept my feeling." You reassured the older lady, who was now actively supporting and rooting for you and yet failed miserably.

"That's the same answer you keep on repeating. I'm rooting for you, Y/N and do remember my warning young man."

Adrian remained silent all the way until both of you reached a bookstore, seemingly deep in thought. He did not seem to have much to say, and kept his thoughts to himself. You chose not to enter the bookstore with him to give him some space, and instead, simply waited outside while he went in.

As you waited outside the bookstore, you did not have much else to do except to inspect the stores around you in detail. You closely studied the signs, decorations, and interiors, as if they were the most interesting things you had ever seen. You took in all the various colors and designs of each store, and soaked it all in with great care and detail.

As you continued to inspect the stores around you, a sudden burst of noise and a crowd of people caught your attention. The crowd was gathered and concentrated in one spot, which caught your curiosity. So, you tiptoed closer in order to see what it was that had piqued their interest. When you eventually managed to get a glimpse of the source, you were shaken by what you saw.

As you were watching the scene unfold from your vantage point, you suddenly saw a familiar face that you recognized from your college days. It was the most hated man from your list, someone you absolutely despised. The man locked eyes with you, and immediately began approaching you at a rapid pace.

'No no he does not walking here right or he might wants to buy something from the store too. Yeah yeah that must be it. We had never even talked before'

You quickly scooted to the side, attempting to evade his path by moving out of the way. However, he continued to approach you, as if he had his sights set on you and had no intention of backing down. Without awaiting your consent, he abruptly grabbed your wrist and pulled you close to him, seeming insistent in engaging in a direct interaction with you.

'The hand that only meant for Adrian! What with this bastard with his unrespectful behavior?! He just walks to me perfectly fine but still need to pull me? That's not important right now. The thing is, don't you dare disturbing my outing with my man!'

@d3sperate-enuf @sirenetheblogger @orinnie @aoiyx @chin-chii

This time, I want to focus on the growth of the interaction for Adrian and Y/N. Are the dialogues too much though? But I do enjoy writing it this way. Isn't it too fluffy and cute?! Enjoy your weekend while accompanied by this story.

#yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #romance #isekai #yandere stories #yandere writing #crush #crush x reader #male yandere #reverse harem #original character #yandere series #new project #obsessive love #obsessive yandere #manipulation #possessive #possesive love #novel #novel writing #romance novels #readers

[tangerinesgirl]

Pull Some Strings

Fem!Reader x Frank/Adam Barrett (Abigail)

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: 18+, explicit

Warnings: smut, denied orgasm, GodComplex!Frank, JOI, degradion, Frank swearing a lot (as usual), pet names, vaguely non con if you squint bc mind control

Summary: You've been flirting with Frank the entire evening. He tests his new vampire powers and turns you into his puppet. Things get freaky.

Notes: this seems too good to not have been done before, I did have a search beforehand so I'm sorry if it does exist! We need more Frank smut ASAP! Also, reader has nipple piercings in this and there's use of Y/N.

You jump awake with a burning hot pain in your neck. You reach to touch the wound but you find nothing there. Memories start to play in your mind, how Frank willingly accepted the offer to be turned into a monster, while you sat on the floor helpless. You were heartbroken that he could turn into a traitor like that, after the two of you fighting so hard together, but the other part of you couldn't keep your eyes off him, seeing him covered in blood, moaning as Lambert gave him his new life. You watch in horror as he stakes Lambert through the heart, you try to grab the shelf behind you to get up, but Frank stamps on your arm, breaking it instantly. You scream as he pulls your hair, exposing your neck to him.

Frank whispers in your ear, "I'm going to make you my puppet, and we're going to have a little fun". You whimper as he pecks a little kiss on the side of your mouth, and dives his teeth into your neck. You can feel yourself getting colder, your body twitching as you loose consciousness.

*

"Y/N....you are mine"

The sound of Frank's voice lures you back awake. You're in a bedroom somewhere, but you can tell you're still in this god forsaken house. "Oh good you're awake". You look around the room instinctively trying to find the source of the voice.

"What's going on?"

"Keep up sweetheart, did you not pay attention to what happened to Sammy? Or were you too busy trying to get me to fuck your brains out?"

Your mind jumps back to how you flirted playfully with Frank the whole evening. The car ride where you were zipping your hoodie down to make your breasts pop out. When you brushed past him to open the door. The way you would look at his lips, and chew the bottom of yours every time he gave the crew orders. You found him very attractive, and the dominance was a huge turn on for you.

You sit next to him at the bar in the house, "You know, I'm very much into the hot boss scenario". Your hand brushes against his as you reach for your drink. In a split second, Frank pins your hand to the counter and grabs your neck with the other one, "You're really going to flirt with me when we have bigger fucking problems right now?"

Everyone in the group stares at you as you go bright red from embarrassment. You decide to roll with it, liking how agitated Frank is getting at your advances. Afterall you've nothing to loose, no one will know your true name after this. You moan loudly with a "oh yes, harder daddy". Frank lets you go in disgust. He spits out a "fucking whore" under his breath. You hear him and giggle, "only for you" and blow him a kiss as he walks away.

*

Your mind snaps back to reality. "I know how you like being told what to do, and I'm curious to see if this actually fucking worked first time... So...Frank says, take off your hoodie". You immediately unzip your hoodie without a moment's thought, "What the fuck?"

"Frank says undo your bra". You do as he says, part of you is very much into him finally reciprocating what you've been putting down the whole evening, even in these circumstances.

"Frank says play with your nipples". You moan as you grab your breasts and tug gently on your nipples.

"Wait I can feel something cold...do you have piercings? That's fucking hot... Frank says undo your belt". The belt clinks to the floor, you can somehow tell that Frank is doing the same, wherever he is.

"Frank says undo your buttons". You unzip your jeans, and dip your hand in further, you can feel the wetness growing in your underwear as you try and find some kind of friction.

"Frank says stop. Frank didn't say to do that now, did he?"

You shake your head.

"Use your words"

"No"

"No what?"

"No sir"

"Good girl. Now. Frank says to circle your fucking clit. Slowly"

You moan softly, it's painful for you not to do anything else right now.

"Frank says stop"

The slow orders are making you impatient, you need more of a release, "please".

"Please what?"

"I need more"

"Then you fucking wait"

You can feel Frank playing with his cock, it pains you that you can't see, but you can feel him growing hard, the pre cum on his hands. You can even hear his subtle moans as he palms himself.

"Frank says dip your index finger into your pussy".

You sigh in relief as your hand finally enters you.

"Frank says insert another finger"

You fuck yourself open, Frank can hear the sound of your wetness and swears under his breath.

"You sound fucking soaked, the sound of my voice gets you this wet huh? Now...play with your clit".

You start to do so and Frank laughs, "Frank didn't say "Frank says" now did he?"

You cry out in agitation, "Frank please".

"Nah ah, what do you call me?"

"Sorry, sir"

"That's better baby. Frank says touch your clit"

You can feel yourself getting closer, Frank can too. "I'm going to cum Fr-sir, please can I cum?".

"Frank says stop"

"No!" You whimper as you pull your hands out of you. Denying you of your orgasm makes Frank's come quicker, the power over you as well as being a newly turned vampire makes him feel like a God. He takes off his shirt as he starts to cum on his chest. You can feel the hot liquid on your chest too. Your hands feel around but there's nothing there. You're really pissed off, but still very much aroused. Frank moans as he continues to empty himself on his chest, it seems to last forever. As he finally comes to a stop, he lets out one last big moan. "Do you want to taste?"

Part of you wants to give him the silent treatment for the way he just used you, but you say "yes sir" like the good puppet you are.

Frank takes a finger of his cum off his chest and wipes it on his lips. He licks it up with his tongue. You can feel the taste slowly seeping into your mouth, you bite your lip and swirl your tongue around, lapping up every invisible drop. It's salty, with a hint of iron, but oddly creamy at the same time.

"I think that was a pretty successful test, wouldn't you say, Y/N?"

You finally find your backbone after Frank and his stupid voice turned it into mush, "Fuck you".

"Oh I will, right after I kill me a vampire"

#frank x reader #frank (abigail) x reader #fanfic #abigail #movie #dan stevens #adam barrett #adam barrett x reader #horror #vampire

[y-rhywbeth2]

Mystra and selecting Chosen (and who's worthy):

“Worth” to Mystra is loyalty to her and to her aims (spreading magic to all who won’t use it to keep magic from others), durability (the ability to withstand the horrible stresses of prolonged Weave-work, that have worn out several Chosen in the past), the Gift (that is, the ability to wield the Art = arcane magic), and incorruptibility (the ability to wield such power without succumbing to the temptation to misuse it, which was Sammaster's downfall and bars Manshoon from becoming a Chosen). The Weave is a mighty and magnificent thing, but it’s also incredibly powerful, and that sheer power is beyond some mortals to wield with any precision and without being mentally overwhelmed. So ‘tough cookies’ who can remain true to Mystra and themselves are what’s needed. Mystra doesn't send individuals on formal quests when she needs new Chosen, and rarely needs or wants new Chosen (and so few measure up; that's why she took a direct hand, to put it delicately, in birthing the Seven), but she does covertly test her Chosen to make sure they aren't succumbing to temptation [i.e. power, and the lure of using it to "fix" the world or do as the wielder pleases] [...] "Mystra is one of the few deities to think she herself incurs a moral cost by making a mortal into a Chosen, knowing what she's doing to them. It doesn't mean she won't. It means she won't create a new Chosen lightly."

I heard something about Ed Greenwood once saying that he pictures Mystra as Neutral, not Good (which she was, until Midnight got written in): I didn't find it but I did find this, which I found interesting and it made me think of Mystra and Gale.

I only know about Quilé Veladorn, but yes, Mystra and her baby future Chosen engineering. Mystra, what were Gale's regularly scheduled temptation tests? ...Did you put that orb in front of him or was that all him?

And "Using power to fix the world is forbidden" - Mystra (Mark III), who already tried that.

#babbling #/gale #/mystra

[honourablejester]

Random Thoughts around D&D Westerns

Okay. So this started out as me thinking about character concepts for a D&D western-type campaign, and then moved to me thinking about setting elements for a western campaign, and then devolved into me thinking about both westerns and D&D style fantasy as genres, so like … bear with me? I’m trying to figure out how to pull this back and put it in order.

But. Okay. Let’s do it the way I did it. Let’s start from the characters.

So I’ve been noodling around the odd western type character concept for D&D the last little while, things like a druid/light cleric using guiding bolt for high noon style duels (and thorn whip as a lasso), and probably stemming originally from Kossi, my knowledge cleric/fey ranger frontier postwoman character that I’m playing in a solo campaign. So I was thinking about western characters in D&D, and thinking about the archetypes of westerns and how they’d fit.

You have things like the lone wanderer seeking justice or vengeance. The sly gambler with the heart of gold. The fire and brimstone preacher. The fiery homesteader fighting to drive bandits or railway barons off their land. The taciturn bounty hunter more at home in the wilderness than the town. The bewildered easterner about to get a sharp lesson in the way of things out west. The civil war veteran (of either side) trying to make a new life out here where people don’t care who you were, and where the rough and tumble lessons of war won’t look too out of place. The foolish miner lured to his death by greed for gold. The desperado determined to die free, go out in a blaze of glory.

The western, as a genre, is evocative. And, well, of course it is. The western is basically an attempt to valorise and mythologise a particular period of history, to gild over or ignore or straight up heroicise the, uh, less than laudable elements of that era. It’s a mythology, so of course it has some very evocative imagery.

But it is, also, a product/reimagining of a very specific historical and cultural context. And there’s elements of that particular setting that maybe you don’t want to carry over. And others that you do, but they need some set up to build in.

So I started thinking about how to get a western setting, how to make a campaign that would feel like a western. And there are …

See, the thing is, D&D kind is a lot of the way there already? When you think about the kind of stories that show up in westerns, the band of heroes defending a town, or the hunters sent out into the wilderness to track down a dangerous foe. Westerns definitely are one of the progenitor genres for D&D’s whole brand of fantasy to begin with. So what would make a setting feel more deliberately western than just standard D&D?

And, I mean. You have your basic biome shift. Put the story somewhere more arid, like the stereotypical western desert, instead of in a European forest analogue, and already it feels a bit more western. There’s also technology. Firearms, a telegraph analogue, trains. Bring some Eberron elements in, that’ll shift things a bit. But are those just cosmetic changes? Well. Yes but no. Put a pin in that for later. For now, ignoring what a western setting looks like, what does a western setting feel like?

And I think, to a large extent, it comes down to theme. Westerns had a particular set of themes that ran through them, and that’s where the backbone of your setting will come from.

So. Some of the themes I think you see a lot in westerns:

Land Ownership/Land Custodianship/Territory. Westerns are about land, on an extremely intrinsic level. It’s where the colonial underpinnings of the entire genre really show up. Think of all the western books and movies and series you’ve seen that are about claiming land and then defending that claim. So many stories are about being driven off your land. The homesteader under threat from robber barons and cattle barons and railway barons. Towns under threat from ‘Indians’. Miners getting driven off their claims. Who owns what territory. Who has the right to hold what territory. Who can defend their right to that territory. And there is … there’s a cyclical kind of terror in there. A cyclical colonisation. Because the first settlers went out there and took land from the first nations, set up their own towns and ways of life, and then the great civilising forces of the east, the railways and the telegraph wires and the big ranches, rolled in and stole it from them in turn. There’s a kind of a ‘what you do unto others will be done unto you’ sort of terror underpinning a lot of the ethos of the genre. The central theme of a lot of westerns is, basically, the territorial dispute. The land, who owns the land.

Resources/The Lure of Gold. Linked to that, there’s the resources of the land, and who gets to use them, and how far do they get to use them, and who gets murdered in the process. Gold rush. Oil. Lumber. Water. Again, very much linked back to the territorial dispute, but often in a more directly destructive way. Who can not just own the land but destroy the land. How much does owning the land give you the right to use it. And, linked from that, if you own one bit of land, and you destroy it, how does that affect, say, everything downstream of your land? (Mines and mining has a lot of knock on effects).

Civilisation vs Wilderness/Urban vs Rural. Again, linked back, but a lot of the underlying mythology of the Wild West was about being that halfway place, between the full untamed wilderness (or the full ‘savagery’ of the native peoples) and the full civilisation of the big eastern cities. A lot of (particularly later) westerns are about valorising that lost freedom and independence and rough and tumble ‘honesty’, before the railways came through and the cities built up. Which leads to a smaller scale:

Personal Freedom vs Rule of Law. Outlaws. Sheriffs. Bounty Hunters. Gunslingers. The fundamental conflict between a person’s right to do what they think best, exacerbated by so many people feeling like they had to do things for themselves because they were on their own out in the ‘wilderness’, and the need for the civilising, but also potentially tyrannical, forces of law and order. Bringing law and civilisation to the wild frontier. Personal vengeance vs impersonal justice. Corruption. Freedom. Basically, a lot of the conflict in a western will primarily run along the law vs chaos alignment axis. Good and evil depend on your interpretations of the players involved, but the fundament of the conflict will be order vs chaos. And also:

‘Progress’ vs Preservation. The thing about westerns, particularly the ‘golden age’ between the end of the civil war and around about the 1890s, was that they were right in the middle of that 19th century theme of industrialisation. As well as the colonial theme of ‘progressive civilisation vs backwards barbarism’ (hence the inverted commas on ‘progress’). This is a whole bundling together of the above themes, but westerns had a definite theme of encroaching progress. The old way of life being bulldozed for the new. The railroads are coming. Law and order are coming. The old rough and tumble frontier life is dying. The last great gunslinger is about to have his final duel. The famous desperadoes are going out in a blaze of glory. Progress is coming. And it will destroy everything in its path. But will it be a better future? And again, that kind of ties back to the colonial thing. Westerns are weirdly poised where the white settlers are experiencing what they did to those before them.

So. With all of that said. How much of that do we want to emulate? How much of that do we need to emulate? Maybe I don’t want to get into colonialism and land ownership right now, maybe all I want is a setting where a lonesome spellslinger can wander up to a desert town seeking justice, or a rough and tumble party can get together to defend a town from some desperadoes.

But. On a macro geographic level. I do think there’s some elements you want about your setting to set up those kinds of stories.

On a basic level, you want a large region of contested, non-urbanised and non-agriculturalised land (at least in the European sense of ‘endless fields of tillage’), that is divided up into a lot of small territories, where the largest urban areas tend to be towns at best, and large sections of it are claimed by various different groups or even individual owners. This region needs to be bordered by one or several very urbanised and centrally controlled powers. Probably several, not necessarily because you want to directly mirror North vs South or America vs Mexico, but because this region has been the recipient of the leftovers of a lot of outside conflicts. It’s where people come to hide, or reinvent themselves.

And it’s also where people, powers, come to build themselves. So you want to give it resources. Things people want to come and take. The constant theme in westerns is, someone wants your land. Someone wants your gold. Someone wants your town. And why? What do you have that someone wants?

Maybe, since we’re in fantasy western territory, you want to give it a rare, mystical resource. Maybe you can link that up to the theme of progress, too. A particular mineral that allows the manufacture of more powerful, durable spellstones, that would enable someone to set up a network of sending stone stations that would allow news (and information for outside powers) to flow more easily. You know. A telegraph network. Anyway.

So. A large, divided, contested region, not directly occupied by but of interest to several nearby urbanised, civilised powers. An area where there has been a lot of successive waves of people coming in, often from conflicts in or between those surrounding civilised powers. An area with a distinctly fractured and individualistic ethos as a result. An area that maybe always did, because it was never natively inhabited by empire-building societies. Everyone is this land has always claimed their own piece, just big enough for themselves, and been content with that. Yeah, bigger groups wanted more, and wars were had, because people are people, but this idea of ever-expanding ‘progress’ is new and weird and kind of terrifying.

Is this sounding a lot like a typical D&D setting again? Well, I did say D&D has a lot of western in its bones.

So. How do you make it distinct, then? Is it just cosmetic elements, biome shifts and different technology? Give it a more directly desert, 19th century vibe? And, well, that is part of it. But it doesn’t necessarily have to be technology. You don’t have to give everyone a gun. There just has to be a theme of progress. Maybe it is that sending stone network. Maybe you do want to invent a fantasy railway. But you don’t necessarily need gunslingers directly.

As an option for the gun thing, you could give every character, regardless of class, a free ranged attack cantrip. Make it part of the local culture. Defense of home. Every kid in these parts gets taught enough magic to manage that. Shit, hon, everyone teaches their five year olds how to throw a firebolt around here. What if they meet critters out there? Or worse, people?

Mostly, you want to theme your adventures around small, independent towns and groups. You want a lot of the conflict to be over land, over who has the right to be where, over who has the right to take what. You want external regional threats that are attempting to push into the area, often under the guise of for its own good. You want a theme of freedom vs law. You want wilderness vs civilisation. Or ‘wilderness’ vs ‘civilisation’, given how loaded those terms are from a standing start. You want progress as both a promise and a threat. You want natural resources, you want greed, you want boom towns and magical mining and the communities downstream that are paying for it. You want bands of outlaws running from foreign wars and making it everyone else’s problem. You want folk heroes of dubious morality. You want big powers talking about big projects, like driving a new trade route straight through someone else’s territory, like stealing rivers to bring water to cities two hundred miles away, like carving out a whole mountain that doesn’t belong to them to fuel a magical revolution in another city just as far.

And, yeah. Looping back to character concepts and plot elements. Some specific elements and ideas that I might personally include:

An apprentice wizard who’s working as a sending stone operator for the newly established United Sending Corporation station in the local town. It’s the big new thing! You can send messages instantly to any town that has one! Think of how easy it’ll be to get news! It only costs a bit per message. And yeah, the USC high ups are all big city folk from down on the coast, but hey! All the operators are local, and it is a good idea! So why not, huh?

A local druid who’s been seeing strange new afflictions in the plants and animals in their area, and who has come to town to see if anyone else has been having similar issues. And a few people have, mostly along waterways leading back to a particular area of the mountains. Incidentally, there’s also a lot of wagon traffic and provisioners moving through town. Miners and supplies moving out to a big new claim in the mountains …

A wandering itinerant preacher-slash-teacher of a gentle god who, this last little while, has been found themselves moving through towns where another, clearly much more militant preacher has been there ahead of them, and who has been riling up local tensions in ways that they’re beginning to suspect are deliberate. Setting towns on towns, tribes on tribes. Misplaced zeal, or perhaps a more long-reaching attempt to clear a path through the area for something else?

A genteel gambler who’s maintained a careful circuit around some of the local settlements for some time now, taking care not to over-harvest their flock at any one place, has started hearing whispers of a new group of bandits in the area, and some of the whispered names are worryingly familiar, echoes of the good old bad old days, when they were a different person in a different place, and under a different name …

A lean, hard, soft-spoken ranger, who ain’t got no home, who hasn’t had a home in forty years, who gets paid good money to track people down and bring ‘em in, and who has been wondering, after these last couple jobs, just who exactly has been setting the bounties in this area. Because there’s starting to be a pattern in their targets, and they’re starting not to like it.

A tired fighter, not even forty years old and already grizzled, with an albatross around their neck in the form of a legend. A bright young child who watched everything they loved be destroyed, home burned, family killed, and land stolen, and who became the fastest, meanest, most dangerous spellsword in the land in response. But that was thirty fucking years ago, and vengeance can only sustain you for so long, and now they’re broke down and broke up, and so fucking tired of all these young idiots trying to make a name for themselves out of their hide.

A charming, vicious sorcerer with a very visible scar who tends to respond dramatically to threats, and who takes a certain amount of perverse pride in being the ‘bad element’ in any town they wind up in, but who maybe, if it was offered, wouldn’t say no to chance to be better regarded than that. At least in one place. At least by one person.

Because, you know, as tangled and thorny as the genre is, westerns do have some really fucking iconic archetypes, and they are fun. Throw magic on top of it, and it is a vibe. I do enjoy it. Just, you know. You’ve got to set it up a bit carefully around the implications. Heh.

#d&d #fantasy #westerns #weird westerns #themes of the genre #character concepts #setting concepts #rambling

[gardenofnoah]

the lamp light is warm across the cut of kento’s jaw. you feel it as you watch it clench—somewhere deep in your gut, the gesture makes a home that is as wholly familiar as the creak in the second step up the stairs. his hard angles are like that—you could close your eyes and know the contours of his face from memory, just as you do your own. brow furrowed in focus, he’s so beautiful that it’s almost unsettling. time has not changed him.

not like it’s changed you.

“hello, my love.”

you raise your eyes to meet his, now looking up at you. there’s a soft smile on his face—it’s not teasing, like it would’ve been 5 years ago if he’d caught you staring. likewise, you don’t have it in you to feel sheepish at being caught. not anymore.

you return the greeting, but you know that it’s not as enthusiastic as you want it to be. kento seems to know it, too. he slides the stack of papers in front of him to the side of his desk, leaving the spot in front of him empty. when he looks up at you again it’s an invitation, and it’s one that no matter how shitty you feel, you could never pass up.

you cross the room without an unnecessary step, and he leans back in his chair for you to slot yourself between him and the desk. you take your seat on the wood and he leans forward, reaching for you as he always does when you’re close enough to be just too far from him. his fingers brush down the back of your calves until they wrap around your ankles, gently pulling your feet onto his lap. you let out a little sigh when his thumbs press into the soles.

“something on your mind?”

you meet his gaze again, and it’s both fond and a little worried. he’s as perceptive as he always was—you suppose he’s had to be, though the reasons that necessitated that are few and far between now. the toe dip into retirement has turned into more of a knee-deep wade, and now he mostly uses his observational prowess on you.

you sit back on your hands, sighing a little. 5 years ago, you would’ve vehemently denied that anything was wrong, if only to make sure you could be a partner that never took up too much space. you can’t bring yourself to do that now.

“i look….different.”

he cocks his head to the side, and for a second, he almost looks boyish. it’s warm when it rubs up against the frozen thing in your chest—it thaws you a little.

“different than?”

“different than i used to.”

“right.”

5 years ago, kento’s affirmation would’ve sent you into a tailspin. but it’s different now—you know he doesn’t mean it negatively. it’s more of a prompt for you to continue—a way for him to show you he’s present in the conversation.

“i feel bad about that.”

his brows furrow again—a tiny crease in the middle of them that makes you want to reach out and poke it.

“why do you feel bad about that?”

“i don’t know,” you tip your head back, looking to the ceiling like it’ll have the words you’re searching for on it, “i just…wasn’t expecting the change, i guess. i feel like i don’t know what my body looks like anymore.”

he’s silent while he takes in your words, thumbs sliding up the inside arch of your foot while he thinks. 5 years ago, his silence would have ate at you until you packed it with empty filler to take away from the heaviness you brought into the conversation. it doesn’t bother you now, though—you know he wants to hear what you have to say. you feel secure enough to say it.

“are there specific things about your body that you feel bad about?”

you nod after a moment, choosing not to elaborate. it really didn’t matter what they were—it was not as if it was your first time feeling body insecurity, but this feeling carried a bit of existentialism that you weren’t familiar with—that was the problem.

“i feel like i’m too soft,” you say after another moment of silence. it’s not a bombshell that shatters it—it’s just a tiny pebble dropped from above that disturbs the surface.

“for who?”

“me.”

his fingers curl around your ankles and hold you there while his eyes graze your face. “what do you need right now, my love?”

his eyes settle on yours and you feel your own need for him flare up inside your chest. too warm for the thing that was there before. melted, you crack.

“maybe a hug.”

you blink and he’s standing before you, strong arms reaching around your shoulders to cage your head in to his chest. your thighs squeeze around the outside of his instinctively, like to pull him in is all you know how to do. the hand on the back of your head is warm and unwavering like the rest of him.

“not that you asked for this,” he murmurs into your skin, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, “but i love you soft. you change and i love you more than i thought i could.”

you press your forehead to his collar bone on a shaky exhale, letting his words wash over you. kento is nothing if not a man of whole truths—the biggest of those is that he loves you. it’s not like him to offer you meaningless affirmations just to placate you, so you know this carries weight—you take it for what it is.

“i want to love me soft, too.”

“i know,” he whispers into your hairline, “give it some time. you’ve done this before, no?”

his palm finds the base of your neck and massages the perpetual ache out of the muscle. there are moments that you are grateful for kento’s ability to find solutions where you cannot—to accept the control you hand to him on the basis of trust that has been earned over the years—but right now you’re grateful for his ability to know when to leave something unresolved. it might be true that to let this air out is the best thing for you to do—and knowing you’ll have kento to lean on when it doesn’t seem so simple is helpful.

the warm light casts shadows of your bodies against the wall—distorted and conjoined, and still more beautiful than you’ve ever seen. you think you can understand what he meant.

“love you, ken.”

he presses his smile into the crown of your head. “i love you, too.”

#i love to use this blog as a very public diary #sometimes you gotta air yourself out like a soggy beach towel u know #anyway i want to be friends w more nanamin fuckers. i am luring u to me. pspsp #i feel like all the nanami girlies have mortgages #nanami kento x reader #nanamin #nanami kento #jjk drabble #nanami drabble #nanami x reader #nanamin it’s the little things

[peliginspeaks]

Listen, I'm sorry to the people who draw Veils in torn/bloody robes because of the whole Vake thing but you're simply wrong. Do you think Veils would Ever go out like that. Do you think it doesn't have fifteen changes of clothes ready immediately, with options depending on the day and occasion, to climb into when it comes back from killing things. Of course it does. Veils is getting home, taking a shower in the Bazaar, putting on a new perfectly clean robe with accent panels and silk trim, and then dabbing 1 (one) tasteful bloodstain on the hem of it with a claw because it's arrogant and it thinks it can get away with it. What is a Veils if it's not serving cunt. Of course it is.

#Fallen London #Mr Veils #BaL spoilers #i do love veils it's awful. i love it as the interpretation of a beast unchained and a wild thing resenting its constraints #and that's the most common interpretation of it i tend to see #but Also it is a politician. so so so clearly. it covers up its crimes with spotless cufflinks and talks the blood away #it's spent hundreds of years swaying who it wants and killing who it wants in kind #the apparent clashing of its domains is funny sometimes but also to me it makes perfect sense #fashion and violence. look elevated enough and anyone will believe you. kill ruthlessly enough and the ones who don't don't matter #it's the perfect cover #it's also why in spite of seeing some relatability in its moments of straining for freedom Hallowrove doesn't regret killing it #if it were just a beast following its instincts out of control that would be one thing #if it were even a consicous thing bringing anything to ruin it could as revenge for being trapped that's another #but it just so clearly enjoys having power over things. and using that power to crush #and the manipulation beforehand #...hm. makes me wonder if the feelings in the early vake dreams were genuine #or if it constructed the rush to lure the player further into hunting it #.... you know what i think it was genuine actually. and i think it still doesn't matter. #sorry for bag a legend rambling on the funny poast i just think about it a lot still #in spite of finishing more than a year ago

[mishapen-dear]

thinking about 4halo again and dying

they just. they used to be so sweet together. and then the election arc managed to genuinely turn them against each other (and bad is still affected by being caged in the museum) and i would NOT have been surprised if a rebellion had started within the next few weeks after their last fight and. they used to be friends and then they almost destroyed each other

and then the eggs went missing

and there are so many parallels between them, but one of the biggest parallels is how they're both protectors. they both protected the eggs (and, when he became president, forever extended that protection to the other islanders) but the eggs went missing and they had to put all of that aside. Forever was quicker to put it down than Bad was (it felt like only a very temporary truce, from Bad's end), but they put their problems on hold, because their eggs. were gone.

and another parallel. the destruction. both of them with their plans to cause ruin because then, maybe, theyll get their kids back. bad caused most of the grieving arc damage directly, and got aypierre and antoine to help him. he dug holes in the ground. he placed mines everywhere and leapt into them. he started the lavacasting process of the fed building (and was interrupted by admins, so he stopped, but philza and fit were still right to laugh at him lmaoo). he drilled a hole through the side of the federation office from a huge distance away. he has chosen to hurt his friends and himself to get the eggs back. whatever the cost.

forever destroyed the island. or he planned to destroy the island. or he was interrupted just before he destroyed the island or or or. I don't know. but it was big, and it was bad. bad enough that the feds had to step in and forcefully drug him, and kickstart the happy pills arc.

and the happy pills arc..... oughghghgh as fucking awful as it was for their characters to experience i genuinely truly think that it saved them from each other. when he was first told about forever being fucked up bad was still in the "i need to kick his butt" mindset, and was all ready for an excuse to kill forever. and then he saw forever. and the first proposal happened. and bad was angry and he was sad and upset and he was careful. forever tried to kill him. bad decided to save him. forever kept trying to marry him. forever kept taking the pills. forever was so scared of his own anger and all of the damage he could and would have caused to his family that he kept taking drugs that kept him so out of his mind he hallucinated his son was just sleeping safely at his house.

and they both tried to kill each other. and they both failed.

and bad showed phil and cellbit (and tubbo) the item scanner that dapper discovered, which could destroy him, because nothing else was working. because they needed to save forever. because bad was reminded by then that forever was a victim of the federation instead of just a mouthpiece for it. and then when forever woke up he saw bad, suffering, and so excited to see him awake.

and now they're here on opposite sides again with forever projecting his protection urges onto the fed worker in bad's basement and bad frustrated that he isn't being believed and his evil plans of giving ron lemons apology brownies is being interrupted and. look at them. soft "i hate you" and the appreciation room and bad's quiet heartbreak when he learned about forever being missing and the "i miss you" book bad got mad at because it asked him not to torture fed workers. does anyone hear me im so ill about them. do you understand they care about each other so much and the happy pills arc reminded them of that. forever realized bad is colourblind and bad assumed forever was poisoning him and then forever helped bad cheat on another colourblindness test and forever was giving bad flowers and bad was accepting them and accepted that he was colourblind despite his previously constant denial and! i don't know if im being comprehensible and i dont really care i will be honest i just need you to know i am frothing at the mouth like a rabid little beast. they are a TRAGEDY of miscommunication and external pressure but they love so so much. platonic or romantic or qpp they CARE and it tears me to shreds

#qsmp #4halo #i feel like ive talked about this exact thing like three separate times but #its one of those things that really Kills Me #and its CRUCIAL to understanding them and their relationship #they were fighting and now have found peace in hell #and forever using his care for bad as a distraction to not focus on his Own woes #and the way he's so sure bad needs help the way he was helped that at heart bad is a good person who doesnt want to be hurting people #and in a Way he's right. bad doesn't want to hurt his loved ones. everyone else? yeah. in a heartbeat. but his family... #but he's still makign the choice to do it. it's not lashign out in desperation the way forever destroying the island was #bad is hurting people with Purpose. he's putting thought into it. he's testing people and their knowledge and their motivations and he will #use them all as tools that can be bent and broken if it means they get the eggs back. he'll do it to himself too #especially to himself #ghhhgrhrgh the way theyre both self sacrificial and self destructive the Parallels the fucking parallels #i can best examine their relationship from a bbh pov and it agonizes me because i can't get all the nuance of forever's pov #because i dont speak portuguese yet :c #so best i can do is talk crazy about them like a Lure for other analyst shippers #pspspssps dont you see my ship. dont you see how canon 4halo is !!! in 8 acts #dont you want to examine them and their parallels and the way they are both so strange about relationships but they're finding a way to car #in a way that works for them #pspspsps #like me talking about qbbh vacation arc got the fandom acknowledging his sillies and directly got me a friend to talk about him to (hi kia! #maybe it will work here also #come to the dark side we have complex relationship dynamics that are frequently misunderstood and mislabelled #YOU can help change the world