#until i do i will come up with the most outlandish shit possible

[nasuversekinkmeme]

Weekly Roundup: prompt reminders

It turns out Gray’s dislike being seen as a pretty girl and constant dysphoria ends up being a mundane gender thing just as much as a ‘my physical appearance and identity have been slowly and painfully overwritten by a long-dead woman’s by the hands of fundamentalists’ thing. Ideally, additionally include Waver and Reines being supportive and going out of their way to help find means to present more masculine even with the unique issues of a magically 'frozen’ body.

gudako becoming a ceo and joining the kengan association after retiring as master, not because they need money or have any interest in running a business/fight ring but because the kengan tournaments are the only place they can find dick from insane men who love to beat the shit out of each other close the level of what they had at chaldea

age gap, I come humbly asking for mash/morgan. specifically i want mashmorgan with an emphasize on the age gap. Mash is SO young and inexperienced compared to Morgan, barely even just reached adulthood by human standards. You get an extra kiss on the forehead if you play it as corruption, specifically as MASH corrupting Morgan, trying to get Morgan to fuck her good even if it can't be a good idea.

Guenivere falls for Lancelot because he's horribly vanilla and she just couldn't get into Artoria's huge raging knotted dragon dick no matter how much she tried.

smut, bestiality, Lobo and Hessian double-team Guda with lots of primal feral sex. Lobo keeps knotting Guda so they can't get away even if they want to. They don't want to.

smut, jing ke (accomplished hedonist who is "very popular with female servants for some reason") convinces qin shi huang (fundamentally cautious but also too curious for their own good and always gets complacent about their perceived superiority at the crucial moment) to allow her to "explore their body" and "show them some human experiences" which they believe is fine because its not like she can put the fear of death in them a THIRD time (incorrigible hubris) this obviously immediately turns into jing ke blowing their back out with a massive strapon and with qin shi huang's mind equally blown by the vast possibilities of human pleasure and ingenuity behind sex toy development that didn't exist in their lostbelt they're immediately absorbed into developing increasingly outlandish toys for jing ke to use on them and test the limits of pleasure this body can feel until they've looped right back around to a "human experience" that applies to zero normal mortal humans who would absolutely die from the violent fucknasty pervert sex they're having and/or don't even have the holes they're having things stuck into but jing ke's fine with it this time because they're not trying to govern other people about it this time and also she gets to fuck an extremely attractive person like she's trying to kill them on a daily basis. also you can do whatever you want for qin shi huang's genitals or swap equipment midway idc about that i care about shi huang di in their hubris willingly turning themselves into an incorrigible masochist with a crippling addiction to jing ke strap

smut, Caster Artoria is "forced" to go around town stark naked. It's definitely her decision and she totally isn't doing this because she wants to guys.

Gudao gets the most unique dysphoria moment of his life when he summons Jack on one of his ‘feeling like presenting as male’ days and is immediately greeted with ‘mom’ first thing in the morning. 

age gap, Future fic where Rin & Shirou keep getting weird looks from their neighbours because from a normie perspective they're a couple of 40yo fucking Saber, a teenage girl.

smut, castoria should fuck cu alter. it wouldn't fix either of them but I think Castoria can take him + she could use a man who doesn't care if she scratches back.

Xu Fu is forced to work alone with Xiang Yu, and accidentally ends up falling in love with him too

smut, Bedivere being really fucking awkward around Castoria, because she's an incarnation of Excalibur and he sure jerked off with his Excalibur arm back in the days.

AU where Akiha fully becomes Roa's latest reincarnation after killing SHIKI

smut, Guda free use anyone? There are so many servants with carnal desires going around, I think it'd be most efficient if Chaldea had a "anyone can fuck the master anywhere and we'll all turn a blind eye to it" system.

#weekly roundup

[slippinmickeys]

Having just blasted through North of Zero in three days, I wanted to reach out to tell you how much I enjoyed it. Probably top 5 novel-length fics I've ever read.

I can't believe this was originally done as a WIP and partially without beta, given how well structured everything is, and how you paid off every setup. Your outlining game must be A+🏆

You even made the often outlandish season 8 and 9 canon work, which is a feat the show itself couldn't even pull off!

Thank you for this gem of a story, and for continuing to elevate the level of fic in the fandom.

Goodness, what an absolutely lovely message to get, and a lovely time to get it — a boost I needed and very much appreciate.

I’m so thrilled you enjoyed North of Zero. It was some of the most fun I’ve had while writing and I was fully in the zone, which is not something that happens often. The tumblers of the universe fell into place in a way that they probably won’t ever again.

If I’m honest, I didn’t have an outline for this story. When I started it, it was for a @just-fic-already workshop where we had 20 minutes to write something incorporating three different, random words — I typed it up, sent it off snd didn’t think about it for months after. When I finally did blow the dust of it and thought of seeing where I could take it, I had no idea where it would go or how I would end it, I just started writing. It was sort of a creative exercise at the time. I weaved some things into the story that I though would be interesting to incorporate and forced myself to figure out how to incorporate them. Base Zero wasn’t even a concept until I was maybe midway through (chapter 10 or 11, maybe?) — the title itself I pulled from a list I keep on my phone of possible titles (nearly all of which have no story or idea behind them) — I just thought it sounded cool.

As for S8 & 9 canon? I SWEATED that shit. Watching the show live, I understood like nothing of what they were trying to do, and today I think I understand it possibly even less. I watched a few episodes, mystified and in full consternation, and pulled what I could that worked for the story. When I tell you I spent a lot of time on fandom wiki… I’m thrilled it all seemed to come together.

In any event, the stars aligned and I had a blast writing it. It was a really fun, extremely challenging writing exercise, and I’m incredibly proud of it.

Thank you for acknowledging the effort. 🙏🏻

#Anon #when I tell you I needed this #fanfic #my fic #post-colonization #north of zero #WIP to finished pipeline

[dzpenumbra]

8/6/23

Today got completely thrown off. I was up until 9 with a recurring medical condition that I'm not going to go into the details of that makes it impossible to sleep. It's not the end of the world, staying up until 9AM is not outlandish for me in the grand scheme of things, it just sucks when you're getting your sleep back to a somewhat normal place and then something completely outside of your control just fucks it all up.

I got really good sleep, but I ended up starting my day at like 4PM. That shit sucks. Honestly. You have no day to work with at all.

All I got done today was yoga (which was nice), food, shower, laundry, late dinner and a sketch of a piece I want to put on my beige cargo shorts. I honestly don't know where the day went. I played a little Minecraft, but really not that much at all. I did some research on clothing customization... I wanted to find a way to cannibalize my old t-shirts... okay, being honest, all of my fucking clothes are old as hell. But like... the t-shirts that are literally falling apart or yellowed and kinda gross. I don't want to throw stuff out if I can avoid it. I want to find ways to upcycle or modify them to make them into other things, they mean a lot to me and I really don't like this whole idea of "it's not perfect, so it goes and rots in a pile in the dump". So... I had the idea of turning graphics from old t-shirts into patches for other clothes. I don't know, it's all new to me so I'm not sure how to do any of it, but a lot of what I was reading seems simple enough.

I really like the idea of just using all materials on-hand and using as few power tools or plastic materials as possible. It seems like a lot of the stuff people say "you need this" is... really not essential. It may be like... optimal... but not essential. For instance, like a synthetic mesh glued to the back under a t-shirt patch to add structure and stability. I mean... wouldn't any sturdy fabric work? Like jean or carhartt or something?

So... basically... the clothes I have lined up to work on are a beige pair of lightweight cargo shorts and an old black pair of jeans that I wear skating. I have ink fabric pens that I'm planning on using with the shorts, but... I think even black ink on black pants is just not going to be visible. It could make a cool subtle texture effect... but I'm on the fence about it. The alternative I have is fabric paints, but... from my experience with working on the hoodie with them... they are textural. They are basically the equivalent of working in acrylic paint. You know t-shirts that have that kinda... plasticky paint that cracks over time? It's that kind of paint. So... it's not bad... and I did it for the hoodie and it's great for a backpiece there. What I'm worried about is... doing it for a piece of clothing that gets a lot of movement. That needs to bend. That's going to crease immediately, and flake, and fall off. I really don't think ink or dye are going to do that. But because paint kinda binds and sits on top of the fibers... Yeah... So... I'm back and forth about using the paint on the pants, even though they would be the most bold colors.

There's always DecoPens, which I've used in the past... but they come out in the wash. The fabric DecoPens are basically the exact same deal as the fabric paint, so... <shrug> Thus is the development of a process. So... black clothing is tough. Honestly... I might just do some subtle work on these pants and just do black on black, because the black ink is definitely darker than the pants themselves. And if I really wanna get weird, I can always try to track down a bleach pen, and either use that for accents... or lighten an area as a basecoat and do an ink piece within that.

Lots of ideas rattling around the ol' noggin. But I had this vision of like... taking an old t-shirt that had a band name or something... and just cutting out the band name and running that down the seam on the side of the pant leg or something.

I've always wanted to learn how to hand-sew, how to repair and modify clothing. My clothes are ancient and always falling apart, I have a bunch of clothes from ages past that I've had sitting on the backburners for years just waiting for the free time (or a generous friend) to repair/replace zippers or mend tears and holes. Back in college, I'd constantly get the ends of my jeans caught under my heels and they would tear and fray and the tears would spread and rip way up my leg. And I'd just fucking keep wearing them, with these gigantic rips like all the way up my calf to my knee. It didn't bother me, I just considered them art/skating pants that I could afford to damage and wore them until they didn't fit anymore. And... I think these black jeans are the last remaining pairs of that series of jeans. I think these are the same jeans I wore in college back between 2008-2010. And they're in shockingly good condition.

So yeah, its a bit more than just a "I'm bored, pick a random new skill out of a hat"... It's been a long time coming that I learn this skill. Plus... with my painting skills... and my ability to accurately and in great detail recreate things from reference... If I can get clothing fabrication skills under my belt? I could do some sick fucking cosplay shit. Watching all this Adam Savage is making me go... man... no offense to Adam, he's a fucking legend, but he will tell you himself... he often neglects detail in order to get "close enough". And I see a lot of props and replicas and shit like that do the same thing. And that? That's not me. I love the detail work, and I'll put in the extra time and work to get there too.

So yeah, maybe that's a long ways off, maybe that's something others would be interested in teaming up with me on. If my skills could be of use to them.

I feel myself getting insecure there. Like... I've never worked in those mediums before... Do I really have anything I can concretely offer those people? Ugh, I hate this self-sabotage "well... wait a second..." reflex. Of course I have artistic skills to contribute. I just haven't done realism in a bit. Doesn't mean I can't do it...

That said... I did some realism today. And I took a new approach, too.

I have thrown the idea of doing a deer on these shorts around for fucking weeks now. It's been tossed in the trash like 5 times by now. The most logical place for the deer to be displayed would be on the cargo pocket... but it's a double cargo pocket, meaning it has a tiny smaller pocket sewn on top of it. And I'm tempted to just fucking remove it at this point because what the fuck am I going to put in that damn pocket, a half a roll of quarters? A lighter? Maybe a half-handful of pebbles? When I really sit and think about it, I struggle to find a practical use for it. And it is 100% getting in the way. There's too much threadwork, too many overlapping seams. Especially for a piece with detail in it. So... I kinda scrapped the idea a bunch of times.

Today? I reworked it. I found a spot on the pants where it would be prominently displayed and still avoid the pocket. I have no idea what I'm going to put on the pocket... but that's a disaster for another day. And I decided to modify it slightly... instead of doing just a deer... I was going to do a deer's head on Vishnu's body. Or... at least that body type and a seated pose with hands in mudras. That was the plan. I have drawn this before and it was one of my favorite pieces that never really left the sketchbook. The body wasn't really a Hindu god, it was more inspired by the style and poses. Every person that I've shown that piece to is genuinely in awe of it. It really had this captivating presence to it.

I spent a big chunk of the night working on compositing photos for a reference for that. Finding the right god's body, the right pose... I luckily found the right deer head about 2 weeks ago, so that was already done. And after I found good reference, I got it all composited and started drawing... and I just started getting super frustrated with proportions again.

I swear to god... I can draw every piece of the body in detail individually... hands, feet, faces, all of it. Though... to be honest, my muscular anatomy could use a refresher, especially in the upper legs and forearms. But what I always struggle with when I walk away from figure drawing for more than a couple months... the first thing to fucking go every time is full-body proportions. Every time. So I end up with a perfectly detailed foot, and it leads to an ankle and calf and the bends look believable, and that leads to a knee... and then foreshortening lets me cheat a bit... and then I go and start to shape the rest of the body and by the end of it... the leg I drew looks fucking tiny and there's this massive chest up above it that's way out of proportion, and the other leg looks wrong... and it all just... ugh.

I guess I just... never really developed much of a process around that. I just sorta replicated things that I drew, and sorta made it up as I went along. I would sometimes do that thing where you draw a circle and do the cross in the middle and make the face that way. Then I started to just like... build a skull foundation, then add muscle shapes on top, then add skin. That was when I really started getting good at portraiture and shit. Now? I don't know. I guess I just... maybe I rushed it? I worked from the bottom up? I didn't make a full-body rig, I just sorta worked in one area and started expanding off of that... and my projected proportions just... got warped, I guess?

Welp... I can usually take a hint from pieces when they aren't working. I... scrapped it. It doesn't look bad. It actually looks kinda like what my work pre-college looked like... but with more obvious knowledge of some muscle groups and shading. But instead of getting too upset about this, I took it as a hint to do something different.

I backtracked in my mind to some thoughts I had earlier when I brought up the reference material... Really, what I'm drawn to here is drawing the deer head. That's the compelling part. The rest was sorta... I guess slapped on for dramatic effect, or trying to rebuild old glory or something. The spiritual part of me says "the sketch didn't work because that's not what this piece was supposed to be, I was trying to force it to be something it doesn't want to be." The empirical part of me says "I was trying to rush the body, or didn't care about it, because I was saving 'the best part for last', so... I might as well just draw that." I think... both are right.

When I looked at the deer head earlier... I started to break down its face into geometric shapes. I had... Wow, this unraveled in my head like a dusty scroll and I realized this is actually somewhat of a long story... but it's a cool one that has a really satisfying ending. In fact, if you get through this story, I'll reward you with a picture of the end result. Sound good? XD

I have been getting ads on Instagram periodically for a book that... honestly, I might buy. It is super rare for me to find something advertised to me that I actually want to buy, but this was right on the money. Assuming I can actually... get myself enough free time to go this direction again someday. It was a book on anatomy as related to 3D modeling. It showed advanced techniques on how to do super realistic topology, in relation to actual human anatomy. I can still see the book in my mind's eye. Good lord, those are the kinds of things you really need to get. Fuck this TikTok shit, the things that inspire you so much that catching a fleeting glimpse of them in passing sticks with you vividly for over a year... that's something special.

So... if you're not familiar with 3D modeling, topology is basically breaking a form down into the simplest shapes (geometric faces) you possibly can. You want to capture as much meaningful detail as you can, but with as few shapes as possible... because more shapes/faces = more data = larger file sizes. So, it really is an exercise in capturing that organic object's structural essence. And the pictures I have stuck in my head are like... pictures of faces in profile perspective that are all flat surfaces... kinda like origami in a way? So they break down the natural curves of the face into the fewest rough geometric shapes they can while still maintaining structure and legibility.

When I looked at this deer's head... I started to see it that way. I started to see it as though I was going to 3D model it. I could see the lines and edges running through it, connecting different planes where the angle of the face would change or where the fur would change color, or where body parts like the eyes or nose intersected. There were a surprising number of visible hard edges. So I dove right in and started playing around with this new way of drawing... where I start at the top and start just ignoring natural curves and just drawing the general geometric shapes underneath it. As though I was 3D modeling it. And it started making proportions shockingly easy, because all of the faces were relatively proportional to their neighbors. I had no idea how big the deer head was going to end up in the end... but I could know for damn sure that the forehead and the snout would be in proportion because their shapes were nearly the same size... the snout just cut into the forehead shape. This made drawing the face... take longer, simply because I'm not used to the process... but the accuracy was fucking scary. I still keep looking over at it like... wow... that's pretty dead-on...

What I noticed the most was... god it just made a lot of the organic shapes a lot easier to parse, to be honest. Ugh, I'm having trouble finding a segue to what I want to say so I'll just say it and connect the dots after. It's a lot easier to connect dots with straight lines and make polygons than it is to draw organic shapes. (There are exceptions, but let's just stay simple here.) It's much easier to connect two points with a straight line than it is to connect them with a line that curves in slightly at the top, then does a broad curve outward at the bottom. So... instead of doing proportional measurements with organic shapes... like circles and ovals and shit like that... things that aren't very conducive to making hard edges for relative reference? I was using polygons for reference. In case I'm speaking fucking Martian, let me translate. Instead of making the eyeball an oval with pointy ends... I made it a... rhombus? I guess? And that gave me a hard line on the top lid to work with when drawing other neighboring lines. And, from experience, it's much easier to "trace from a distance" aka draw a parallel line following a hard straight line than it is to sorta parse where the line continues to go once the organic shape meanders away. It's subtle, but man did it make a difference. Especially when it came to doing other features... like the ears. This was the big one. Because the top of the ear lined up perfectly with the inner edge of the upper eyelid. Perfectly. So I could take that hard edge and just... extend it... and there's my ear line. It just made... getting a lay of the land and shaping relative faces much easier when I had simple geometric forms than it did when I was working in super complex or super smooth organic shapes, that's kinda what I'm getting at.

Then, when I got the topology all done... I went in and started to add more details. Nares on the nose, fur pattern details, that shit. And then I just went in and started smoothing and rounding all the geometric faces. Simple as that. Just took the rough geometric structures and just... smoothed the lines into organic ones. And it worked great. I could focus on the details without having to worry about orientation or perspective, because it was already done.

So yeah, I just got really excited about that. I still have a lot to do, there are still a lot of hard edges and I just barely started with the antlers. But I'm optimistic it's going to come out pretty damn cool.

Here, I'll share a picture:

So, you can still see a lot of the topology I haven't worked yet, but the nose and eyes are pretty much set. I have no idea how much detail I'm really gonna do because the ink pens I'm using are not very fine-tip at all. I might try to see if I can do like a 3-tone grayscale? Maybe brown but idk. And I'll leave the beige of the pants for the white. But like... I feel like those proportions came out really fucking good. I can always tell when I look at it and it feels like it's looking back... that's when I know it's pretty damn on-the-money.

So... my plan is to do this, get the antlers done, maybe add more neck and possibly even body? Then throw it on the lightbox with my pants and see if I can see it through the pant fabric, which I should be able to... If I can't... I'm going to have to do an ink version... then lightbox the ink version. If I end up doing that, I will have to draw this thing 3 times. But I really think it's gonna be worth it.

My only concern is not having anything as fine tip as the mech pencil I'm working in here. The tip of this fabric pen is like... somewhere around the equivalent of an 08 Micron pen. I usually work in much finer detail than that. So... it might not have as much delicate linework as this... but I think the only part that's really concerning is... the nose... and maybe the tear ducts. We'll see.

I love when I get this excited about a piece. And this is just a starting sketch, too! I'm excited to see this progress.

Alright, enough jabbering and click-clacking on the keyboard, it's like 4:30... I gotta get to bed.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of thoughts #stream of consciousness

[loud-brain]

(pt.3) Desert people in a city, how unfair is that?

Inside the picture stucco schoolhouse crammed with the kind of miscreants from a bygone age, the protential improvisers all hopeless youths nervous about busting a chair although excitable pieces of flesh prancing and posing in love of fisticuffs, more enamored with food than the war, and, unfettered by the wanton inculcation from Earth and vilification from the margins, strangely jocular or compassionately negligent of each other, a variety of social impasses condensed together, its compulsive effect not foreign to those visitors from an other planet, our view penetrates the chromic center of the external environment, like negative transmission of a great far away death.

that said, despite similar experiences being possible (and lucrative), I'd prefer...

Depression was spread throughout the evening to collect depression and fully regroup depression into fuck-want and hollowed almond essence.

...laughing until she ends in a lingering layover of incision, the saggers who secretly reproach that acid shit, pop.

the vehicle immediately into fixation on the ostensive sky

by conjuring miracles a part of the faces had metastasized into outlandish animals like this fucked up bullsitt\ that's sort of it.

studies of malnourished fat began the nichlomantic cult of vulgarity

girly taunts

whole base of critical ideas about the love of money and community - we're gonna take it out on each other;

considers the plan

to implant a fission chip into one's spine to generate heat;

the extreme cold of death from an insufficiency of carbon to maintain an effective atmosphere - ah, but there's the sun.

extrinsic to a man's despair was another's pride and that of his loved ones, and this single trait united them, even in the lowest depths of depravity.

we could hit it big by drinking from a communal trough.

most male babies are born with their hand clutched in their mothers' womb, and if they're out, they do what their mothers would never do, which is to punch their mothers in the face.

as it were, were it not for me, the cyborg, the world would be perfect.

I always thought of myself as the other, an outsider.

I never quite fit in.

was the token rock musician, the flamboyant experimenter, the stoner.

I wonder what it would be like to not be human.

I wonder what it would be like to be half-animal.

hindsight is 20/20.

do we all become those things we want to be?

where the hell is the time machine?

in retrospect it all makes sense,

but when I was there it didn't.

didn't know that I was such a hardass.

everyone else is a bastard.

I don't want to be the only one who remembers what it was like.

there is nothing left to regret.

it's like God said to him, 'are you ready to change?' and he said, 'yeah, whatever,'

God, he got back on the shuttle, and got ready to change.

the only way that this is ever going to end is if we leave the earth.

i'm waiting for someone to come with the cure.

we have to find out what's wrong with us.

I never liked us.

I hope you get to see the guy who invented shoes.

I never liked my people.

we have to change.

I'm waiting for you, dad.

I never liked us.

I never liked my people.

we have to change.

I'm waiting for you, dad.

I never liked my people.

the people I like are all dead.

we have to change.

we have to change.

we have to change.

the force is, in fact, a given, a commandment to preserve all that is good,

Immanuel Himin von Donner.

I never liked us.

as my coffin falls from the sky.

black clothes? why didn't I ever wear black clothes?

they were too comfortable.

that was weird.

you know what was weird?

the thousands of worlds and creatures up there

so many shining, there's nothing in between.

there's nothing.

but I love him, I love my father,

who's immortal.

and there's so many planets up there.

they're beautiful.

one day, when the sun does give us a body.

in accordance with African custom, we shall burn with him.

great lyrics, really.

that's not worth messing with, that other stuff.

what's he looking for anyway? I thought he said there's nothing in between.

fine words, not totally relevant, we are wondering.

they'll find out, somehow.

it all makes sense.

but we mustn't spend too much time here.

space is infinite and dark.

somebody's trying to feel it.

or maybe they've never seen the rain.

but the rex isn't a lie, she only ever tells us about how real she is.

the axit, four billion years old, mostly is real.

the girl's fine though.

the neo-cordillera is inhabited.

tucson likes to think it's a leader of sorts.

desert people in a city, how unfair is that?

we are as human as human beings get.

our home is beyond time,

but it has been our home for eons.

a strange country, that can't be understood by any outsiders.

and their ruins are their land, and they know them by heart,

they look at the ancient faces of their ancestors,

almost at peace, perhaps more than their wise elders,

their genes part of them, as permanent as their eyes are strong.

what does eternity really mean?

what is humanity?

one out of billions?

how can you say these words?

such lofty ideas, such impossible questions

we didn't ask them then, and we don't ask them now.

we are just a bunch of people

who are lucky to be alive.

Well, the couch, it's brought us into quite a world.

We gotta get out.

getting this self out.

#loudbrain #loudbrain collective #poetry #creative writing #artificial intelligence #desert #tuscon

[fvrxdrm]

5 Times

Pairing: Damnation!Leon Kennedy x Reader

Warning(s): None

*****

4 times Leon didn't confess his love and 1 time he did.

One

It was the giggles that sailed upon your boat, the laughter, the smiles. You both saw the funny in everything and that was your bond. You could be serious too; you loved deeply of others more than what was generally accepted. So you guessed the humor was how you let out the tension that kind of love brings. In those silly moments you were perfect, and they were the sweetness you needed in rough times. That's what friends do, right? It's the love that makes doors in emotional brick walls, the love that makes everything possible.

That's what Leon always thought. It was so cordial and unique in a way that he felt like what he valued so much was somehow outlandish and alien. He couldn't distinguish what comes out of him whenever you were with him and every tingle that raises hills on his skin was a puzzle he was unable to solve.

"I'll see you around," you mumbled against his chest.

"Yep." Leon unwrapped his arms around you albeit slowly, reluctant for some reason, and smiled through his pursed lips. "I'll see you around."

He watched as you wended your way from his house and into your home, a teasing tug pulling his lips at the ghost of your own against his cheek.

Two

Under the dim lights and the colorful ornamentations, your raiment sparkled against the gleam, catching the eye of many guests, predominantly Leon. You looked like a princess wearing a headband that imitated a crown, a top and a pair of pants embellished with a winking glint that could be mistaken as diamonds from afar, and heeled leather boots that comically made you look tall. Your hair was in a loose and messy braid with a few strands hanging just beside your face and a light chain that twisted along your H/L H/C locks.

Leon was in awe, no doubt. His focus was glued to your appearance. Even when his friends were making random conversations with him, he found it unbearably hard to keep his icy blues away from you.

"You should just ask her out, you know. You've been staring at her with heart eyes the entire night," Chris spoke as he followed the trail of Leon's gaze towards you.

Leon broke away from his stupor and shook his head at the man's voice, his blood rushing towards his neck and face.

"What? No, no. You're mistaken. I-I don't like her like that."

"You sure? Last time we were drunk you were yelling about how much you love her right into my ear."

"We were drunk, Chris."

"And? What's that saying again? A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts?" Chris simpered as Leon's eyes widened in surprise.

"What? Th-that's not true!" He denied.

"Mhm, sure. Anyway, my girlfriend's probably looking for me now," the taller and bulkier man said. "At least ask her to dance."

As Chris' footsteps faded away into the beat of the music, Leon thought about what he had said.

Did he actually like her, or was it just something he was confusing himself with? Either way, you were still a treasured dear to him and whether or not his heart was romantically beating for you, he would still value you the same, although he would probably be a bit clingier if you did end up together.

For now, he'll just ask you for a dance, go with the flow, and see what happens.

Three

The night rode in on a horse of pure midnight velvet, beckoned by the stars under the glow of a full moon. As the colors of the day rested, perhaps dreamt of the morrow, the forest became its monochrome beauty, darkened greens and golds that made an ever-changing, ever-present puzzle, question and answer united.

Fire danced beside you as you and Leon laid against under the constellation of stars and talked the night away, smiling and laughing at every jest that was told.

It felt pleasant to be in his arms and he felt warmth as a wild heart beat in his bars.

"This one," you began, leading his fingers towards a raised and silvery part of your skin, "I got this when I was younger. I got stabbed by a pencil."

"A pencil?"

"Yeah. My friend and I got into a fight and it was buried, like, 3-fucking-inches inside of me. And holy shit, my teacher didn't fucking notice it while I was bleeding profusely. I was leaking hamburger helper!"

Leon busted a gut and pulled you towards him even more as he shook in laughter.

You went on and on about the most absurd things that had happen during your childhood until you lost all energy and eventually fell asleep in Leon's arms.

You looked peaceful, he thought. Your face was so serene as if nothing had really affected you in any way. The world was cruel, but you only sought for the brighter side and stood along it with your back turned to the hell it truly bore. Your lips were parted lightly, and hair just a tad bit messy from all the exaggerated movements you'd done while telling your stories and tossing your head back while laughing. A part of your skin was showing as your top rode up, and he couldn't the blush that crawled up to his face when realized his hand was rested on that patch of skin.

He smiled.

Maybe he did like you, or love you. If his admiration wasn't enough, then his heart reassured him.

Four

"Oh, fuck!"

You swam away from Leon as fast as your arms and legs could fight against the water as he chased you, muscles and quads aiding him. Compared to you, he was more skilled in this type of stuff while you had chicken legs with barely anything of assistance. So it was no surprise when he caught up to you with spider hands and wrapped his arms around your waist. He tickled your stomach, the bareness of it making the stimulation all the more patent and making you guffaw while squirming in his arms.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" You cried in between laughter. You turned around to face him when you felt his hands making a stop against the side of torso and looked at the wonders of his eyes steadily and intensely.

You didn't notice it, but Leon's breath hitched at the proximity of your faces, the hot air that flew out of your nose hitting the droplets on his face. You were in a daze. Both of you. It felt so intimate and bona fide that for a second that was your only reality.

Your fingers trailed up his chest, neck, and finally his cheek, and for a moment, your hand was still on his face with only your thumb moving to stroke the scar that was stripped away from his hair. Leon furrowed his brows. The inside of your lip was lightly bitten as you thought about your next action for a moment. But decided that fuck it, life is short. If he felt the same way than congrats! But if he didn't, well, it's either he'll pull away or kiss back with no purpose. And hey, what's the matter with making out with your best friend?

And so, you drew a bit closer, albeit rather slowly in case Leon wanted to pull away. But seeing as he was copying your motions, you saw his intention and pressed your lips against his in a shy lip-lock.

Five

Leon tugged on his tie as he looked at the people dancing around inside of the venue, his heart doing a little dance of its own when he saw you smiling with the crowd.

He blew a sigh, the breeze intertwining with the air. He could see the party from the balcony: flashes of different color schemes, the swaying of dresses as the women moved, the chattering of people as they drank the glasses of champagne. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe this was all about you and him; two souls entwined by love.

"I see you didn't invite me," a sultry and velvety voice said from beside him. He knew who it was and it didn't faze him anymore to see her appearing uninvited as she always did.

"What are you doing here, Ada?"

"What, I can't go see two of my favorite people anymore?"

"Well, it always ended in a mess, anyway, so what's the point." Ada chuckled in response and leaned back against the railing, the smile her giggling left still ghosting on her face. It was all jokes, fun, and games to her for a moment until she turned serious and gazed at you from a distance where you couldn't notice.

"Take care of each other, Leon. You both are worth more than what you give yourselves credit for," she muttered. "I wish I could've given her the life you're giving to her now. But I can't, and I'll remain like this until I die."

In the depths of her mind, Ada reminisced on the time when she was in Leon's position. She gave the love you needed and wanted, and cared for you in so many ways. But she was a mercenary, a wanted one at that, and she knew that one day, everything would be thrown into a void or burned until it turned to ashes. So, she broke what you had off and handed you to Leon where he could give you a better life.

Leon couldn't say anything. It seemed rude and odd but he remembered when you knocked on his door, drenched in rain water and sobbing everything from your chest. It hurt to see you like that. And so, he promised. He promised to be the best husband he could ever be and shower you with everything he could give you.

"Leon!" Your voice rang out as you ran towards him with a wide smile on your face, startling the both of them.

Leon turned towards where Ada stood but saw that she was gone as if she was nothing but an apparition that was made by his mind.

He was befuddled for a moment, pondering about his encounter with the woman, but found his heart racing as you came closer to him.

What transpired was long forgotten and all the world could see how Leon mimicked the smile that defined the joy you brought to him. He was just happy to share such a beautiful moment with you and he optimistically wondered about what was ahead of you.

He pulled you towards him and spun you around as he battered your face with kisses, whispering 'I love you's and so many more sweet nothings against your cheeks while you laughed in his arms.

Hidden within the shadows was the raven-haired woman, imitating their smiles as she watched the intimacy from afar. She felt like her mission was done and although it hurt, she was thankful for what she'd done. Leon was going to give you the life you deserved and he was going to fill the holes she'd left.

*****

This was rushed. Lol. And I'm using my phone. How was it tho?

This was the outfit I had in mind. Feel free to change it though.

#leonkennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon+kennedy+imagine #leon+kennedy+fanfic #leon kennedy imagines #leon s kennedy x reader #leonxreader #resident evil #leon+s+kennedy+x+reader #resident evil fanfic #resident evil x reader #resident evil damnation

[cockroachmotherfucker10]

PRIDEFALL UPDATE: real or fake?

What is Pridefall?

Operation Pridefall, also known as Project Pridefall or simply Pridefall, refers to an attack planned by /pol/ (a political discussion board on the anonymous website 4chan) for all of June, AKA Pride month. The original 4chan thread, which has since been deleted, was primarily focused on “redpilling,” i.e. spreading queerphobic propaganda to make people question the LGBTQ+ community. However, now that it has spread outside 4chan, there are threats of harassing, doxxing, and outing queer people (especially minors) on social media, spamming gore and rape videos in private messages and Pride tags, and even kidnapping, assaulting, or killing queer people in real life.

Specific targets include Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, and dating apps. The goal is to go after smaller accounts so the queerphobia isn’t lost in the comments.

Is Pridefall real?

Yes and no.

I searched “pridefall” on 4chan last night. Apparently any new threads on it are being deleted, and anytime someone mentions it, everyone calls them slurs and says no one is doing it.

However, Pridefall is gaining some traction on Instagram--I have seen it for myself. I don’t have TikTok or any dating apps, but I’ve heard that some people are spamming homophobia on TikTok. As for Twitter, I only looked briefly, but I saw some Pridefall accounts there, as well as a lot of warnings and blocklists from people who are worried about it.

I’ve also heard that there have been a few Reddit and Discord raids, and that there is an Operation Pridefall Discord server (someone who spied on them says they have been banned on Discord as well as a platform called Riot before, so very few people are left on the Discord server now).

What do you think, Lia?

This is not coming from 4chan. No one on 4chan is interested anymore.

Most likely, people outside of 4chan heard about it and decided to take matters into their own hands.

The original 4chan thread wanted to make Pridefall “normie-palatable” by avoiding Nazi imagery or other overt unpleasantness, but I have seen a LOT of both on Instagram. This reinforces my belief that 4chan isn’t doing this.

A lot of the people behind this are young, or at least unsophisticated. Most of the Pridefall accounts on Instagram engage in very childish trolling, and one of them said they were a minor. Some of the threats I’ve seen are so outlandish that I can only imagine they came from a fairly young person.

My guess? Most of these people are around 13-19.

There are also very few of them and some of them probably have multiple accounts. Anti-Pridefall accounts outnumber them by far.

However, on Instagram I’ve seen Pridefall accounts following each other and commenting on each other’s posts, so there may be a few groups working together.

A lot of this shit is going to get deleted. I know Instagram is working through reports very slowly right now because they have fewer people available due to COVID-19, but most of the worst accounts I saw last night were deleted by this morning. I saw some more accounts deleted today.

Most, if not all, of these Pridefallers are just trying to scare us. Because they’re probably quite young, there’s very few of them, their accounts keep getting deleted, and law enforcement can track online activity, there is no way they have the balls or resources needed to coordinate major attacks.

There is a very, very slight chance this could spill over into real life, but as long as you practice basic online safety, you will be fine.

That being said, if you are threatened or doxxed by a Pridefall account, PLEASE contact the police. Better safe than sorry.

I do think that the threat of being doxxed or outed is more real than the threat of being attacked. I have already seen one Pridefall account who posted a trans boy’s address on Instagram (he is okay, he posted recently) and another who posted someone else’s address.

There is little chance this will last throughout Pride month. Apparently the goal is for Pridefall to worsen until the end of June, but given that this is most likely just some vastly outnumbered teenage trolls who are bored in quarantine, I seriously doubt they’ll be able to stay interested for a whole month.

This might not be as big on Tumblr. Tumblr is a lot more anonymous than, say, Instagram, which will hopefully deter would-be doxxers. It’s also known to be a highly liberal and queer-friendly site, so any Pridefaller with half a brain cell should know that A) their content is sure to be outnumbered and reported (only us Tumblr users know how bad staff is at deleting questionable stuff), and B) anyone with the original goal of “redpilling” is sure to fail here. Plus, I only remember seeing few, if any, mentions of Tumblr on Pridefall planning threads.

Still, expect to see some Pridefall activity here. Unsurprisingly, not all of these Pridefallers have half a brain cell. Some of them will definitely be unable to resist the lure of a community as openly queer as Tumblr, and we’ve all seen or heard about doxxing, harassment, gore, Nazis, and queerphobes on here. Also, 4chan has historically had some beef with Tumblr, so young teenage boys who idolize 4chan may target us for that reason.

How can I stay safe?

If you have any social media accounts where you A) have posted identifying personal information, and B) are openly supportive of the LGBTQ+ community (especially if you’re queer yourself), put them on private for June. Any other accounts are probably fine to stay public.

If you need a private Tumblr, you can make a password-protected secondary account and only share the password with mutuals you trust.

It is probably okay to be openly queer on a private account (e.g. have pronouns/rainbow emojis in your Instagram bio), since a private account is not likely to be doxxed. But if you want to be extra careful, remove queer identifiers from anything that is publicly visible.

Use Pridefall blocklists. They’re all over Instagram and Twitter. I may repost some here.

Report any Pridefall accounts you see. This is VERY important because this is how we can actually get rid of Pridefall content.

DON’T RESPOND TO ANY PRIDEFALLERS WHO PERSONALLY INTERACT WITH YOU. I know it’s tempting to give a snarky reply, but if they message you, comment on your post, etc, just block them. Seriously, don’t feed the trolls. It's exactly what they want.

Make sure your password game is strong. Use a different password for every site (I know, I know, it sucks), and use passwordmeter.com to test their strength. Write them all down on a piece of paper.

Make sure your username game is strong. Don’t use the same username for multiple sites, and avoid putting personal information in your username, such as your name or birthday.

Do NOT open random links!! Pridefallers could message you links that will give you viruses or track your IP address.

Don’t accept DMs or follows from people you don’t know. Pridefall accounts don’t always look like Pridefall accounts. Some of them are undercover.

Use a VPN. This is probably a little overkill unless you’re particularly at risk of being doxxed, but it will hide your IP address.

Be careful who you interact with. A lot of queer people on Instagram are DMing Pridefall accounts or commenting on their posts, but this could make you a target. As helpful as anti-Pridefall accounts are, you might even be targeted for following those.

Be wary of Pride tags. Unfortunately, a lot of Pridefall accounts plan to infiltrate tags commonly used by queer creators during Pride month. Use discretion when looking for queer content.

Be safe IRL. Lock your doors, lock your windows, be aware of your surroundings, don’t walk alone in poorly lit places, know basic self-defense, etc. Again, I absolutely do not think people will be attacked in real life, but you should be doing this shit all the time, not just in June. Thanks to COVID-19, you’re safer inside anyway!!

Make yourself hard to dox. Even though I have a very unusual first name (it's not really Lia), I am extremely hard to find online. I just went into an incognito browser window and searched my first and last name in quotation marks, but I didn’t find myself until page 4 of Google (and that result wasn’t even posted by me). I’m only half as careful as I could be, but here’s some of the things I do:

-I never use a picture of myself as my profile pic, except for Facebook and Instagram, which are both on the highest privacy settings possible.

-If I post identifying information on a public account (my college, my age, etc), I use a pseudonym or my first name only.

-On Instagram, I only use my first name, and I used special characters to type it, so you won’t find me if you search my name.

-On Facebook, I only accept friend requests from people I know. Most, if not all, of my Instagram followers are IRL friends, friends of IRL friends, and trusted Internet friends.

-If I’m really being paranoid, I’ll make a brand-new email account to sign up for a site. That way, my accounts aren’t all linked through one email address.

-Before I post a picture online, I delete the EXIF data with verexif.com, since EXIF data can hold GPS coordinates.

🌈 Stay safe, everyone.

You will not be harmed. You will be okay. Like cockroaches, we are survivors, and we will get through this!! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

-Mod Lia

#mod lia #og post #og post cmf #pridefall #operation pridefall #pride fall #pride #pride month #lgbt #lgbtq #gay #safety #psa #please reblog #pride 2020 #lgbtqia #lgbt pride

[nickydestati]

Hello! I can't believe what you made out of that ridiculous German prompt about the bear! It's so good! Personally, I like the Italian prompts best, so might I request Italian 15 with Joe and Nicky? Have a good day!

Thank you so much, anon, you’re too kind!! I hope you enjoy this and have a splendid day as well! 💛

Italian 15. Is it not a bit small? (Non è un po’ piccolo?)

*

Nicky has a hard time liking things a normal amount. 

Often, when he finds a new interest, he gets obsessed before he can stop it. He doesn’t do anything else for weeks - except for going on missions of course - until it suddenly dies away or is replaced by a new hyperfixation. 

The old ones do return sometimes, like is the case with sewing now. The first time he got into it a little too much than was healthy, was not long after he met Joe. Then it turned into a casual hobby that turned out to be pretty useful for people who got stabbed on a weekly basis. When the sewing machine was invented, though, the obsession came back in full force for almost three decades. And Joe drew design after design for him to make because Joe loves him like that. At one point, their safehouses were so stuffed with clothes, Andy threatened to burn them all if they didn’t do anything about it right that instant.

Nicky tries to contain his excitement with new hobbies ever since. 

Unfortunately, the obsession has returned once again now Nile joined the team. She and Joe can talk about fashion for hours at a time, and when Joe mentioned Nicky could always make them something, she wanted proof. (Nicky couldn’t blame the suspicion in her eyes as she looked him up and down. Whatever impressive designs he had made over the centuries, he preferred his own clothes to be simple and comfortable.)

So Nile and Joe came up with one of the most outlandish designs Nicky had ever seen. With a little smile, he went to work. 

It had all gone downhill from there. But what could he do when Nile and Joe kept shoving drawings his way? At least this time, he tries to give away his creations to people who can use them before Andy gets angry with him again.

But the project he’s working on now, is not meant to be donated. This one is for Joe: a shirt in deep emerald green silk, even though the last thing Joe needs is another shirt. However, when Nicky had seen the fabric in the shop, he couldn’t help imagining Joe in it, and well… Joe deserves a nice treat once in a while.

It’s almost finished. He patiently sews the last letter of his favorite verse of poetry Joe has written for him in a hidden place in the collar, and then holds the shirt at arm’s length. Joe will love it, he’s certain of it. And he’s even more certain it will look stunning on him. 

(If he made it a little tighter than necessary, then that’s no one’s business but his own.)

“Tesoro,” he says softly as he stands into the doorway of their room where Joe is idly plucking the strings of a guitar. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Oh?”Joe puts his flat hand against the strings to silence them before putting the guitar aside. He looks up at Nicky coming over to him with a bright smile. 

Nicky sits down on the edge of the bed and hands Joe the shirt.

“This is beautiful, habibi,” Joe says, marvelling at the fabric for a while before going to look for the surprise Nicky always hides in his clothes. His smile brightens impossibly more when he finds the verse, eyes softening. 

Nicky thinks his heart might leap out of his chest.

“Try it on for me,” he says and Joe immediately stands up to do so.

Nicky miscalculated. He thought Joe would look stunning in the shirt, but words to accurately describe just how stunning have yet to be invented.

“Is it not a bit small?” Nicky asks with a dry throat, because even though he made it tight on purpose, it shouldn’t be uncomfortable.

Joe moves his arms and rolls his shoulders to feel how it fits. Nicky swallows at the way the fabric stretches over Joe’s chest. He can almost hear the buttons scream under the strain.

“I think it fits perfectly.” Judging by the mischievous glint in his eyes, Joe knows exactly what the sight is doing to Nicky.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

Joe grins, clearly understanding what Nicky is after, so he stretches his arms above his head like he would do waking from a nap. And really, only Nicky is to blame for one of the poor, hard-working buttons snapping loose and hitting Nicky right in his eye.

“Shit! Nico! Are you alright?” Joe rushes over to Nicky.

Nicky curses, but fortunately the pain is gone soon enough. After wiping the tears from his eye, he looks up at Joe again and wonders how it’s possible that he looks even better with one missing button. Before he can stop himself, he runs his hands over Joe’s chest.

“Let’s get you out of this,” Nicky says, fingers already working to release the other buttons from their ordeal.

“Excellent idea,” Joe agrees and kisses him.

Nicky smiles against his lips and pulls him down on the bed with him.

From all his obsessions and hyperfixations, his favorite by far will always be his Yusuf.

#the old guard #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #immortal husbands #kaysanova #duolingo prompts #swquser #demonicneonfishy #usertriz #usercacau #usersimo #one day i will write something serious for these two but today is not that day

[jaskiersvalley]

CW: Past child death.

Meeting Cahir had been quite accidental but it was something neither Lambert nor Eskel regretted in the slightest. They were at a party, not quite sure whose though, there were a lot of people there. The invitation had come from Yennefer who'd heard about it from Fringilla who was friends with Letho. It was possibly Letho's birthday but it didn't much matter in a way. A party was a party, that particular one was quite rambunctious, enough so that Lambert and Eskel needed a quick breather. What better way to get away from the noise than to discover Gaetan had brought his husky along and was chilling in the kitchen with someone else. That someone turned out to be Cahir who wasn't really much for parties but had lost a bet against Letho so had to come along and at least pretend to be sociable for a little while.

The first meeting turned into a second and a third hangout session. Over the course of spending time together, Lambert and Eskel learned so much about Cahir yet nothing at all. He didn't drive, had an old as the earth mobile that was near enough indestructible. Technology as a whole seemed to be something Cahir didn't seek out. He worked as an accountant, still preferring to use pen and paper for most situations rather than the computer programs favoured by most accountants. Oddly, it made him quite popular so he had no shortage of clients. However, aside from that all the two knew of Cahir was how he took his coffee (black, four sugars), that he had a preference for sweet things over savoury and that he lived in a house at the edge of town.

As time went on the meeting up became dates which turned into Cahir going over for dinner. Eventually it became Cahir going over for lazy making out session. All too soon Lambert and Eskel knew exactly what Cahir sounded like in bed and also how best to draw those sweet noises from him.

It was all well and good but it felt like Cahir was holding something back, shying away from inviting Lambert and Eskel back to his home. In a way it felt like Cahir keeping them at an arm's length and it hurt. But neither Lambert nor Eskel were very good at words, they didn't know how to ask without it either sounding like they were angry or disappointed. In the end they didn't have to ask. They'd had rough plans to meet up in the evening, Cahir going over to theirs again to probably spend the night in a tangle of limbs. However, he called to say that he couldn't book a taxi because there was some event or other on in town so everyone was already full. Almost shyly, he tacked on, "If you don't mind a bit of a mess, you could come over."

Which was how Lambert and Eskel finally knew his address and eagerly made their way across town, curious to see Cahir's home. Weirdly it was quite anticlimactic. There was nothing strange or unusual about Cahir's home. The tour of the bungalow was quite boring.

"Shoes and coats can be left here." Cahir pointed to the hooks in the hallway. "Bathroom's through that door. That's the kitchen and diner, living room. Door on the left is the bedroom the right it's the spare room." Most doors they could peer through except the spare room, that one Cahir very deliberately didn't open.

"What did you end up doing with the spare room?" Lambert asked curiously.

Sheepish, Cahir ushered them away from the door to the room in question. "What pretty much everyone I know does with a spare room. Filled it up with things."

Not a very satisfactory answer but Lambert let it drop. They had a wonderful evening together, all thoughts of the mysterious spare room gone from his mind. It wasn't the last time Lambert and Eskel visited. In fact, now that they had been once, Cahir seemed to be a bit more brave about inviting them over. Always keen to see their boyfriend, they went whenever invited, even if sometimes weird things seemed to happen in the house. Lambert thought it was some kind of weird practical joke. He knew Cahir had an odd sense of humour from time to time. So finding all the cupboard doors in the kitchen wide open one morning was chalked up to their boyfriend trying to be playful. It didn't stop there though. They stayed over enough times that they ended up with toothbrushes by the sink, a few changes of clothes in the wardrobe and their favourite snacks in the fridge. However, sometimes Eskel would find his clothes and toothbrush near the door. Which was odd because he didn't wake up to either Cahir or Lambert leaving the bed at night which was something he usually would do.

The other strange thing was that, despite being repeatedly told that the spare room wasn't exciting at all, Cahir sure seemed to spend a fair amount of time in there, sometimes even talking by the sounds of it, maybe even singing on one occasion. But it was brushed off. So Lambert and Eskel ignored the odd little things that happened around Cahir's house, misplacing phones, keys and remotes seemed to be the norm. His kitchen doors seemed determined to open at inopportune times despite there being magnets to hold them in place.

"Maybe he's got a lodger?" The various ideas Lambert and Eskel had were starting to get a little more outlandish as time went on.

Eskel shook his head. "I still think a secret child. It would explain the little girl's laughter I swear I heard."

"And the music box playing randomly on his mantlepiece in the middle of the night."

They had no firm ideas about what Cahir could be hiding or why but they agreed it wasn't worth the risk of barging into the spare room to find answers for themselves. If their boyfriend wanted to have his secrets, he was entitled to them.

Answers had a way of coming about in the least expected of ways. The phone call from Geralt was a surprising start.

"We fucked up." He sounded beyond tired and stressed. "Could you come over?"

Of course Lambert and Eskel hopped in the car and race round. Geralt was a lifelong friend and he'd had so much shit thrown at him throughout the years. The worst was probably the death of his and Yennefer's daughter, Ciri. They had taken it hard, quite understandably. She had been the light of their lives, cruelly taken at the age of five. It just wasn't fair. Arriving at their house, Lambert and Eskel knocked. An exhausted looking Yennefer opened the door.

The house was a tip, like a small hurricane had gone through it, things strewn on the ground, broken and ruined. In the living room Geralt sat on the sofa, head in his hands, looking no better than Yennefer.

"What the fuck happened?" Lambert was never one to beat around the bush.

Sad eyes turned to him as Geralt looked up. "We just missed her so much."

Which was no explanation until Geralt gestured to the bookshelf. There sat a doll, like a miniature version of Ciri, obviously custom made.

"You got a doll?"

"She's haunting us." Matter of fact, Yennefer didn't mince her words. "We couldn't let her go and now she won't leave."

Scoffing, Lambert shook his head. He'd heard of many stupid things, knew that Yennefer had frequently explored some occult things but this was taking it too far. A haunted doll? Ridiculous. Even more stupid to think that it was Ciri. Even if the mess left behind did look like one of her more infamous temper tantrums.

"It's okay," Geralt said. "Someone's coming to look at the doll, possibly to buy it."

That was something Lambert had to see, who in their right mind would buy an allegedly haunted doll? He settled on the sofa with Eskel and they took in the destruction around the room. It was quite extensive, whatever Geralt and Yennefer had done, it was a thoroughly done job. They didn't have to wait long before the doorbell went. Yennefer went to answer and an oddly familiar voice struck up conversation with her. Sure enough, Cahir rounded the door in Yennefer's wake. He froze when he saw Lambert and Eskel.

"Is this a joke?" he asked, taking a step back.

At the same time Eskel asked, "Cahir, what are you doing here?"

An awkward silence descended on the room until Geralt cleared his throat. "You still want the doll?"

Hesitant, Cahir cast Lambert and Eskel a glance, cheeks rapidly flushing. However, he gave a tight nod at Geralt's question. Immediately Yennefer was handing the doll over and Cahir looked at it with a small frown. His eyes looked a little unfocused for a moment before he smiled.

"Hello Ciri," he murmured.

"How the fuck did you know her name?" Yennefer growled. "Did you search for us before you came here? Look up the tragedy of our lives just to play some sick game?"

Cahir held a hand up to placate, eyes wide. "No! The doll's haunted, like you said. She's been struggling to let go for some reason." At that Yennefer looked guilty. Thankfully, Cahir didn't let her dwell on it, "I'm happy to take her off your hands. She won't cause you any more trouble."

A frankly ridiculous amount of cash was passed over for what was a porcelain doll that looked somewhat like Ciri. Lambert wanted to ridicule and mock but somehow couldn't find it in himself, too stunned by this revelation.

"Did you get a taxi here?" Eskel asked in the end and Cahir nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. "We'll give you a lift home."

It was obvious that Cahir thought he was going to be interrogated and maybe even dumped. His shoulders sagged, even as he held the doll in one arm like it was a baby.

"Thank you," he murmured. Goodbyes were exchanged with Geralt and Yennefer before they trooped out of the house and piled into the car.

Silence stretched for more than half the ride until Lambert couldn't contain himself anymore. "So, haunted dolls?" When Cahir didn't reply with anything other than a shrug, Lambert pressed on. "What do you get out of them? Is it a weird fetish?"

At least that drew a look of offended horror to Cahir's face. "No! They just need some love, space and understanding. Most people don't care for them properly, so someone needs to."

Which was weird as hell, if Lambert had to give an opinion. Dolls, haunted or not, were still dolls that could be played with or disfigured or binned as the owner saw fit. The haunted aspect was something only idiots tended to believe. And his boyfriend. But it was best not to think about it.

"You might as well come in," Cahir said softly when they pulled up outside his home.

Finally, Lambert and Eskel were allowed into the spare room. Despite their expectations and theories, nothing could compare to the reality. The walls were lined with shelves, on them sat who knew how many dolls, each one with a little card next to it with a name, date and a few notes such as "doesn't like biscuits" and "needs daily brushing".

"What the-?!" Lambert stared, Eskel was similarly astounded.

Looking at them, Cahir shrugged. "As I said, someone needs to care for them as needed."

The door slammed shut to the room, making Lambert jump. Cahir only chuffed out a soft laugh and settled the Ciri doll on a gap in the shelf. He pulled a card and pen from the draw, jotting down the name and date. As the card was put next to the doll, Cahir quietly spoke. "You'll be welcome here, Isobel is your neighbour, she'll help you get settled in."

A saucer crashed to the ground, the plastic clattering. Clicking his tongue in displeasure, Cahir only moved to pick it up. "Honestly, Dara. That's no way to greet a new arrival. We'll be out of your space soon. But Lambert and Eskel wanted to meet you all."

An exaggeration by far but the warning glance Cahir shot them stilled Lambert's tongue. Even if he thought this was all a crock of shit, there was no denying that Cahir took it seriously. Given the way Eskel was staring around, he was having doubts as well. Leaving the room, they settled in the kitchen while Cahir boiled some water for a tea.

"Do you really think they're haunted?" Eskel finally asked, incredulous.

"Yes." Cahir shrugged. "Not all dolls are haunted, some people just say they are for the wow and the money factor. But I don't take those, they don't need me."

"How can you tell which ones are haunted?"

With great simplicity, Cahir said, "I see them."

Which was beyond any rational argument but Lambert didn't know how to refute it without it descending into name calling. In the end, he let out a long breath through his nose and pinched the bridge of it.

"Okay." It was easier than arguing. "I'm glad you have such conviction in your beliefs."

Right on cue the television came on without anyone near it. It cycled through the channels before turning off again. There was an indulgent look on Cahir's face.

"Sometimes Sasha likes to explore."

Determined to prove him wrong, Lambert vowed to check the wirings in the whole house and have a long look at the TV. And fix the cupboard doors so they didn't pop open anymore. And install cameras to prove that the clothes, toothbrushes, and shoes moving around was either done purposefully or through sleep walking. In the end, Lambert didn't know what was worse, that he found nothing wrong with the TV, the cupboard doors were beyond fixing and there was nothing wrong with the wiring or the TV. Or that Cahir gave him a knowing look before his eyes seemed to go a little unfocused and to the left of Lambert before the sound of a child's laughter rang through the air.

#lambert/eskel/cahir #lambert/eskel #lambskel #lambert #eskel #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #modern au #haunted dolls au #cw: past child death #tldr: cahir has a secret hobby

[laughing-with-god]

Ooh, sorry to be a bother, but I'm really interested in Namjoon's character, so what are some of his headcanons? 💜💜

He isn’t necessarily as outwardly charismatic as the career victors but he has amazing manners and a very sophisticated vocabulary.  

His deep voice is also a signature feature of his.  Sometimes when he isn’t mentoring and thus is a bit more unbiased, he will be invited to the Capitol to feature on shows that make commentary during the games and make comments on the moves the tributes make.  

His opinions carry a lot of weight around the Capitol.  If Namjoon says he thinks 9 might just make it to the end, expect bets on District 9 to triple by the next morning.  

Weird but he smells really good.  I mean they all do but Namjoon especially.  His scent is masculine, warm, faintly spicy, and woodsy?  Idk I’m not familiar with colognes but that’s how I would describe his.  

He wears a lot of dark clothes.  Esp at the Capitol he only wears black.  People think he just likes the color the most but really, it’s out of respect for the tributes who are playing that year.  He remembers how annoyed he was when he saw everyone in outlandish getups and colors at the Capitol when he was about to be sent to his death, so now he wears it in remembrance of all the tributes who are about to die/have died. 

He is very cordial to everyone he comes in contact with, from the outside looking in it doesn’t appear that Namjoon hates anyone because his manners are just that good.  But truthfully, there are plenty of victors Namjoon doesn’t like.  Cough careers cough.

Every time he enters a room, he has a tendency to briefly analyze it and find the exits in case he needs to run off.  A habit he picked up after the games, he almost always has his back faced to a wall and nothing else, not willing to get ambushed again.  

Cracks his knuckles a lot.  

Surprisingly frugal.  Even though he is now one of the richest people in his District thanks to the games, he rarely ever dips into his winnings.  District Three lives in abject poverty and he knows that when he dies, his home on Victor’s row will be cleaned out and any of his family living there will be kicked out and vulnerable again.  So he saves all his money so in case something happens to him, he can be sure his family will be able to live comfortably.  

Also the reason he doesn’t say no to making appearances in those commentary shows.  They pay pretty well.  

It was about two years after his game when the Head Gamemaker approached him.  They were curious about the traps he made in his games because they wanted to emulate something similar to that in a new arena.  Namjoon reluctantly showed him how he made his traps because as everyone knows when the Capitol asks you for something, they’re more so demanding it.  

But then the Head Gamemaker began asking for his advice more often and often, even dragging him to the gaming center to get his take on things.  It didn’t take too long until the rest of the Capitol found out and made it news that Victor Namjoon might have a future in gamemaking.  

This has caused a rift between him and some of the victors, they think he willingly switched sides because he is from 3, really smart probably took pleasure in creating schemes and traps if his games were anything to go by.  

Namjoon never bothered to correct this misunderstanding because if he was caught telling others he didn’t want to help the gamemakers, he’d easily be killed off.  

He was pretty close to Yoongi and wishes other victors tried to understand him better. 

Namjoon is a very observant man and it didn’t take him long to figure out Yoongi

The reason why Yoongi had one of the worst reactions to the game is because he’s one of the most sensitive and good-hearted people to ever play.  He feels a lot of guilt for what happened and takes morphling to numb the pain.  He’s actually a very kind and quiet person when he’s sober but thats very rare.  Most victors can’t see past his outbursts to give him a chance.  

He tries his best for his tributes whenever it’s his turn to mentor.  Every year he takes in-depth notes of every District’s reaping and gives his tributes a run-down of who will all be playing.  This included threats, weaknesses, underdogs, possible alliances etc.  

But he also doesn’t sugar coat shit to them.  He thinks every tribute deserves to hear the truth about their situation.  Sometimes if his tribute accidentally said something offending during an interview or has no apparent skill, Namjoon will tell them honestly, “You’re in trouble, kid.”  

Stays up multiple days during his mentoring to watch the games, knowing that just bc his tributes are asleep doesn’t mean something can’t happen to them.  

Pretty good at getting sponsors, although it's almost always just supplies for the 3 tributes to make some sort of trap.  Some of them are too dumb to pick up on what to do with it though.  

But after a tribute from his District dies and he was their mentor, he personally visits their family, tells them of his last moments with their kids, and gives them a generous amount of money that usually equates to about months’ earnings in District 3.

[breakyeol]

mutually beneficial

One Shot

┗ pairing: best friend!baekhyun x reader

word count: 3k 

warnings: smut, porn, masturbation, fingering, hand job, very light choking

a/n; this was not meant to be as long than it actually turned out to be

“Hey.”

You raised your eyes from the textbook laid out in front of you, blinking at your best friend, who was sprawled out comfortably beside you on your bed. “Hey?”

“Can I ask you something?” He asked, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. You raised a brow, shrugging lazily as you looked back towards the text.

“Shoot.”

A beat passed. “Do you watch porn?”

You had to pause for a moment. That… was not what you were expecting. You let out a strained chuckle, gaze flicking away from him briefly. “I mean… sometimes, yeah. Doesn’t everybody?”

“What kind?”

Well, that depended on your mood. Could be male solos, female solos, amateur, professional, you weren’t too picky (except when it came to those cheesy ass plots, cringe) — But you weren’t about to tell him that.

“What do you mean what kind? Why are you asking me that?” You laughed, shoving his arm gently in an attempt to alleviate the sudden awkwardness you were feeling. Sure, Baekhyun was random and said dumb things pretty much every time he opened his mouth, but shit— sex was rarely a topic of conversation between the two of you, let alone porn.

A mischievous grin curled at the corners of his lips, and he shifted towards you, head lowering as he whispered, “wanna watch some?”

You stared at him for a moment, expression blank as you tried to process what had just come out of his mouth. You must’ve misheard him… you must have.

“Huh?”

But it seems your ears hadn’t been playing tricks on you, as he shamelessly declared, “Let’s watch porn.”

“Right now?” You asked, stumbling over your words from the shock.

“Right now.” He confirmed, nodding his head resolutely as excitement glinted in his dark eyes.

“Together?” You pressed, voice jumping up an octave.

“Together.”

You swallowed, blinking hard as you slowly closed your textbook. “Why?”

“I’m curious,” he admitted, teeth nipping at the corner of his lip as his shoulders lifted in a subtle shrug. You found yourself suddenly curious as to what his reasoning could possibly be. It was completely out of the blue. But… you’d be lying if you said you weren’t intrigued.

“About?”

A flash of something unrecognizable crossed his features, but it was gone before you could try and decipher it properly. Instead, he offered you a boyish smirk, brows wiggling suggestively, “don’t you think it’d be fun?”

“I think your definition of fun is very different from mine.”

“Oh come on~” he whined, scrambling into a sitting position as a pleading pout painted itself across his face, hands shooting out to tug at the sleeve of your sweatshirt, “your parents aren’t home, right? It’s not like we have anything better to do.”

That was the most bullshit excuse you’d ever heard. But, it seemed Baekhyun really, really, really wanted to watch porn with you. Why? You don’t really know. However, you were always a sucker for those pleading puppy dog eyes, even when they got you into trouble. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? He pops a boner? Not like you hadn’t seen that happen before.

With a heavy sigh, you relented. “Fine. We can watch your stupid porn. But nothing weird, okay?”

An excited grin split his lips, and he performed a little victory wiggle, “deal!”

In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the best decision on your part to agree to one of Baekhyun’s outlandish requests.

The sound of soft moans and low groans filled your bedroom, the high quality sound pulsing from your speakers and surrounding you and your best friend. You were biting at the inside of your cheek nervously, eyes flickering noncommittally from the screen to your bedsheets and back again.

Through the corner of your eye, you braved a glance in Baekhyun’s direction.

His attention was fixed on the screen, his tongue peering out shyly from between his teeth, trapped tightly between. His eyelids looked heavier than usual, dark eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheeks with every careful blink. Your eyes traveled down from his face, across his locked jaw, dripping just low enough to catch the rising and falling of his Adam’s Apple as he swallowed thickly. Lower still, your gaze followed along the length of his arm until you found his hands, curled so tightly into the thick duvet that his knuckles had paled.

You couldn’t help the way your lips twirled upwards, amusement sparking to life inside of you. He must’ve felt your stare, because his flicked over to meet it.

He offered a shaky smile. “What?”

“Nothing.” You couldn’t stifle the giggle that escaped you as you shook your head, looking away.

“Y/n, what~” he whined loudly, batting a hand against your leg. You laughed loudly, catching a glimpse of the faint bulge in his sweatpants before he rushed to cover it again, face flushing a dark shade of pink. “Shut up.” He grumbled sourly.

“You can…” your words tapered off as your brows lifted suggestively, “if you want to.”

You grinned in wild amusement as his eyes widened in shock, blinking at you in disbelief. “I can— h–huh?” His stunned expression morphed into annoyance as he caught the teasing glint in your gaze. “Don’t make fun of me. You think I won’t? I will.”

You laughed again, crossing your arms over your chest challenging. “Oh, will you?”

“Yes,” He stuck his chin out stubbornly, “yes, I will.”

“Go ahead then. No ones stopping you,” you taunted, not believing he’d actually have the balls to whip it out in front of you. The man was all bark and no bite.

He huffed out a sharp breath through his nose, glaring at you determinedly.

“Fine.”

Okay. You admit it. You hadn’t actually expected him to pull out his junk. So, it’s understandable that you were a bit caught off guard when he lifted his hips off the mattress and shoved his sweats down just far enough off his hips to allow his dick to spring free.

You were quick to divert your attention, but the damage had already been done. You’d seen it. In all of its erect glory. You swallowed, blinking rapidly, as if that would somehow clear the illicit image from your mind.

“Oh? Why are you acting shy?” You scowled at the taunting pitch in his voice, bringing your eyes back up to his. You regretted it almost immediately upon seeing the bold smirk now drawn across his face, one eyebrow cocked into a daring arch. “Aren’t you the one that said it was alright? What, are you embarrassed about seeing my dick?”

“No.” But you couldn’t help the sudden rush of heat to your face when you caught his fingers stroking slowly up his length from your peripheral. Nor the faint throb of your core as he let out a quiet, airy moan.

“You sure about that?”

No.

You bit the inside of your cheek, swinging your gaze back towards the tv hanging in the middle of the opposite wall. It was just slightly unnerving that seeing Baekhyun teasing his dick had more of an affect on you than watching a woman getting practically bent in half and fucked into oblivion.

You tried to keep your eyes on the screen, you really did. But you couldn’t help the way that your gaze flicked in his direction every so often. You sunk your teeth into your lip, breath faltering ever so slightly as you watched him touch himself from the corner of your eye.

Something about the way he looked made your stomach twist: his brows furrowed deeply, eyes hooded, cheeks flushed a faded shade of pink, teeth biting roughly at his lip. You felt yourself clench around nothing, an unfamiliar desire beginning to burn in your gut.

“Can I touch you?” The question was out before you could process that your lips were even moving. He looked over at you, but you refused to meet his gaze, already feeling an embarrassed warmth engulf your face.

“Sure.”

Your eyebrows shot up. Sure? He’d just said sure, hadn’t he? You didn’t mishear him, right? You definitely hadn’t. Not with the way he was looking at you, with those hungry eyes, burning with want. Your stomach twisted under the heat of it. Geez… if he kept looking at you like that…

Deciding not to question it, you reached forward. He drew his hand away from his dick, and yours replaced it. He let out a long, breathless moan the moment he felt your skin against his, eyes fluttering as his head tilted back. He was hot against your palm, and you could feel him pulsing ever so slightly.

“Fuck… do something… please,” his strained voice broke you free of your momentary trance. Your tongue swung over your lower lip, and you allowed your hand to slowly start pumping his length. He groaned softly, and you almost jumped as he suddenly gripped at your thigh, fingers pressing into your legging clad leg.

“Does it feel good?” You asked, voice quiet and laced with curiosity, wavering ever so slightly. He nodded, breathing in short, heavy huffs. You noticed his shirt had ridden up slightly, displaying his tensed, toned stomach.

You wanted to touch him more. Touch him everywhere, feel every ridge, explore every curve, memorize every last fucking inch of him. But you tamed that internal wildfire and satisfied the sudden hunger by picking up the pace of your strokes. He jolted, a pitchy moan breaking from his lips as his hips thrusted upwards.

“Oh god,” he panted, and you felt the hand on your thigh drift higher. His head rolled, and suddenly he was looking at you again with those eyes, taunting you with those lips, daring you without even trying. And then he was speaking, voice hoarse and airy and dangerously hot, “Can I touch you? I really want to touch you. Please let me touch you.”

How could you possibly say no?

“Okay,” you breathed. He didn’t waste a second before his hand was slipping inside of the tight confines of your leggings, curious fingers caressing over the thin fabric of your underwear. You shuddered, gasping softly.

“Fuck. You’re wet.”

And who’s fault was that?

You let out a trembling moan as he teased your clit with unsatisfactory taps, sending literal shocks of ethereal pleasure shooting through you. It was almost the exact equivalent of touching a doorknob and getting static shock. And it quickly resulted in your frustration. You wanted more. Hell, you wanted him balls deep— but that would have to wait.

“Stop teasing me, Baek,” you gave a warning squeeze. He moaned, and then giggled, looking over at you with those same mischievous, playful eyes that you grew to both dread and adore.

“How do you want me to touch you?” He asked, voice soft and teasing as he feathered his fingertips over your heat. “Where do you want my fingers? Tell me. I wanna hear you say it.”

This little shit—

“Jesus just fucking touch me, Baekhyun.” You snapped, though the words escaped you slightly less stable than you had hoped.

“I didn’t hear a please~” he sang, trailing his fingers lightly over your core. Chills rolled down your spine, your hips instinctively twitching upwards. His teeth latched onto his bottom lip, hooded eyes swirling with desire as he watched you react to his teasing. “Come on, y/n… you know I wanna make you feel good. Just tell me how you want it and I’ll give it to you.”

Your grip on him tightened, and he moaned throatily, taking you off guard as he pressed his thumb down on your clit, circling it for a moment before returning to idle caresses. But you needed more. That little taste of pleasure was enough to have you burning from the inside out.

“Fuck… fuck, please, Baek,” you uttered breathlessly, pace of your strokes picking up to such a speed that he was gasping and groaning beside you, goosebumps rising across his arms as your voice lowered, “please touch me.”

“Shit.” He let out a strained chuckle, not wasting a second before he was pushing his fingers inside of your underwear and sliding them through your wet lips. You moaned as he explored near your entrance with careful touches, gentle yet curious.

But, you didn’t need him to be gentle. What you needed was some real friction— what you needed was for him to be inside, fucking you with those beautiful fingers like he meant it.

“Baek,” his name escaped your lips in a soft plea, “please.”

That seemed to be all the persuasion he needed to be pressing his slim middle finger inside of you. A hum of satisfaction vibrated in your throat, your eyes fluttering shut as you savored the feeling of his long digit pumping into you, slowly, deeply.

“Y/n,” a whine broke you out of your short lived trance and you looked over at Baekhyun through hooded eyes, but it wasn’t until you felt his hips thrusting up against the underside of you closed fist that you realized your motions had ceased, “keep going. Please.”

God, he sounded so breathless, voice singed with desperation. Were you doing that? Were you making him like that?

The idea of it gave you a sudden power rush, a smirk curling onto your face. You twisted your wrist, circling your thumb around his swollen tip that was leaking precum. “You’re pretty cute when you beg, Baek.” You mused, squeezing the base of his dick gently, reveling in the way he moaned for you, voice breaking with a pitchy whine as he breathed out your name.

“Don’t tease me,” his resolve was weak, shaking with a low whimper.

“I’m serious,” you chuckled, though you gasped in surprise as he suddenly stretched you out with a second finger, thrusting in even deeper than before, “god, Baek, your fingers—” you cut yourself off with a sharp moan when his thumb sudden pressed against your sensitive clit, sending an unexpected shock of pleasure shooting through your core.

Suddenly, the mattress dipped, and all at once he was on top of you. Your eyes widened at the sight of his face hovering directly above yours. “Can I kiss you? I think I’m gonna come soon, but I have a little bit of an oral fixation so it feels better when I have something to do with my mouth.” He explained quickly, a hint of embarrassment glimmering in his fluttering eyes. His breath that smelled of strawberry flavored gum causing a heat to rise in your cheeks, deluding your senses.

Beyond your control, you found yourself staring, utterly transfixed, by his perfectly pouted, slightly swollen, cotton candy pink lips and craving the feeling of them pressing against yours. So, without thoroughly considering the consequences, you found yourself saying, “okay.”

His kiss was rougher than you expected it to be, desperate and hungry, teeth biting, tongue lashing. You couldn’t say you minded it though. Not to mention the way he was grinding himself down on your thigh as you resorted to working mainly the upper part of his dick. The added pressure of his knee between your legs also forced his fingers to press deeper inside of you, easily finding that perfect little spot that made your head spin.

“Fuck,” you growled against his lips, sinking your teeth into his lower one and tugging. He groaned roughly, the kiss quickly growing feverish as his hips stuttered. Then all at once he pulled away, and you were left hopelessly craving the warmth of his ravenous lips.

“Can you…” his voice tapered off as his hand reached for your free one, wrapping around your wrist and gently guiding it upward, until your fingers were caressing the smooth expanse of his throat. Your eyebrows shot up at what he was suggesting, a light chuckle of disbelief escaping you.

“You’re into that?” You asked airily, but he was too lost in his desperation to come to react to the teasing pitch lingering in your words, only nodding in confirmation as his bated breath rushed over your damp, swollen lips in short huffs. “Kinky.”

Without hesitation, you were wrapping your fingers around his throat, tightening them just enough to create some strain. And that seemed to be all it took to have his orgasm crashing down over him.

“Oh fuck.” He let out a strangled moan, eyes rolling in ecstasy as his lips gaped and trembled, his hips snapping up roughly into your palm. You felt the warm, stickiness of his release trickling over the back of your hand and over your fingers, a few stray drops falling onto your exposed stomach.

His fingers stilled inside of you, but you were patient enough to not complain and simply wait it out as his high overwhelmed his mind and body. With one final weak thrust and a choked mewl, he collapsed on top of you, head falling into nap of your neck, heavy pants wracking his chest.

“You’re also pretty cute when you come, too,” you snickered, lips feathering against his ear.

It seemed that the sound of your voice served as a reminder that he had unfinished business to attend to, because all at once he was drilling his digits into you at a pace that had moans pulsing from your lips.

“You were so good to me, y/n.” He all but purred against your skin, lips pressing kisses from your neck to your shoulder. You shuddered in delight as he ground his digits into you, drawing out low, gravelly moans from the depth of your throat. 

“Baek,” you whimpered, the need for release suddenly swelling inside of you. 

“Now,” he continued, smirking as you keened when he suddenly crooked his finger, successfully massaging that perfectly little spot inside of you while his thumb once again took to teasing your clit, “let me be good to you.”

So… maybe-- just maybe, watching porn with your best friend wasn’t the worst idea of your life. 

#baekhyun fanfic #exo smut #byun baekhyun #exo #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun one shot #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fic #baekhyun #exo baekhyun #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo scenarios #exo fic #exo one shot #exo imagines #baekhyun drabble

[shysneeze]

phases of falling in love (ginny weasley x fem!reader)

Description: the painful process of reader falling for her Ginny Weasley, her best friend.

Warnings: angst af, I can’t think of anything else specific but please let me know if you come across anything and I’ll add it

Authors note: in love by khai dreams and she by dodie fit this in my head and are worth a listen.( edit, : i have a playlist here that fits this entire fic) . 

 ...

(Y/N) has decided that falling in love comes in three distinct phases: realisation, denial, and acceptance, though with various forms of panic in between.

No one’s ever boasted that falling in love is easy, the bitter angst of doing so the subject of too many pieces of literature to be doubted. Yet, no one’s ever told her it would be this hard, but she supposes the stakes were always going to be higher when it’s your best friend.

Realisation came first during a party, sat in a small group by the fireplace as the cheers and laughter so typical of a Gryffindor victory party raged on around them. They weren't much different from the others, talking loudly and laughing with their heads thrown back dramatically. They were discussing the game, (Y/N) thinks, though she can hardly remember now, nor was she particularly invested at the time. 

How could she be with her just across the from her, fair freckled skin aglow from the fire, who's light danced across her face with each flame’s flicker. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders effortlessly, as if it was pulled straight from the ponytail she wore during the afternoon's match.

That was the night she looked at Ginny  Weasley and felt something in her heart, longing perhaps, that went beyond mere friendship, the first night Ginny's smile made her chest tighten and her eyes finding hers with a wink made her gulp. 

It was the first time she looked at Ginny and saw her best friend but longed for more. 

Denial was easy after that, the whole thing flippantly dismissed as a fluke of the evening, blamed on the giddy feeling that accompanied the house’s victory that Ginny played such a vital part in securing. It was nothing more appreciation, awe.

Weeks later though, and the tugging in her chest still lingers, holding her hostage and controlling her every move.

It flares up unexpectedly, from a smile at lunch, a wave during matches or a laugh hidden behind textbooks during classes. There is an endless array of quirks and habits that (Y/N) has never once before paid attention to that now leave her stomach victim to butterflies and her heart to palpitations.

Yet the denial continues, excuses ranging from the outlandish to the self-deprecating. Perhaps an insensitive prank, a love potion slipped regularly into her morning orange juice, or maybe it’s just all in her head, a crush manifested from loneliness, from the desire to be loved by someone.

Excuses are easy to provide, yet even easier to disprove and it soon becomes clear that every attempt to deny her own feelings is fruitless. Acceptance looms over her, unmindful of the heart it’s about to break.

Acceptance comes reluctantly during an evening’s study in the library. There’s no blame to place on atmosphere this time, hidden together at the end of an aisle of shelves, sat across from one another at a desk most certainly made for one.

The characteristic smell of old books lingers in the air and speckles of dust are illuminated by a dim lamp as they float aimlessly around them. The light does nothing to highlight the red in Ginny’s hair the way the flames of the fire had during the party, or to draw the warm brown from her eyes,  yet (Y/N) is enamoured. 

(Y/N)'s quill hangs limply between her fingers, ink drying on the tip with a word half-finished on her parchment. Across from her, Ginny bites her lower lip in concentration, deep brown eyes scanning each word she writes, occasionally lifting her hands to fix the loose bun holding her fiery red hair from her face, ridding her eyes of the messy stray strands with a frustrated rush of air from her pink lips. 

(Y/N) gulps and panics slightly that in the quiet of the library, her best friend might hear the hammering of her heart in her chest. They're so close that their knees touch under the desk and (Y/N) is left unsure on whether to move her legs or not from fear of only drawing attention to it. 

She's trying to convince herself to act normal, that this is all normal, a scenario they've been in so many times before with procrastinated essays and last minute deadlines, that she has no reason to act any different, yet her heart races, and she can hear it in her own ears.

It’s terrifying.

She's mid inner quarrel when Ginny lets out a loud sigh of surrender and lets her quill clatter against the desk. (Y/N) blinks out of her daze, dropping her own quill in surprise and frowning at the red head. 

"Snape is asking for one of the twin's puking pastilles in his tea." She grumbles.

"They'd give you them for free if you tell them it's for Snape." (Y/N) manages a laugh. "How much more have you got to do?" 

Ginny peers at her own parchment, then at (Y/N)'s with a questioning frown, reaching over to snatch it into her hands. She examines it with arched brows and stifles a small laugh at whatever she's read. 

"Better than you- You've neglected to finish the word 'assignment', (Y/N)." She snorts softly. "It just says 'ass'." 

(Y/N) stands abruptly to grab it back from her amused friend with a quiet 'oi' and a flustered wide-eyed expression that only adds to Ginny's laughter until she's clasping her hand atop her lips to muffle the sound. 

"I got d-distracted." She explains embarrassedly. "It's just the first draft." 

"Oh no, I think you should hand it in as is." She grins. "I want to see Snape's face." 

"I'm not getting detention just so you can get a laugh." She argues. 

"Aw, come on." Ginny pouts. "Not even for me?" 

A part of her, a shameful part, almost instantly concedes to the offer, despite its teasing nature, just for Ginny's puppy dog eyes, which (Y/N) has until now been immune to. She falters for only a second before fixing her friend with a frown. 

"No, not even for you." She decides firmly. "Lets hear yours then, Gin." 

Ginny dramatically clears her throat with a grin, something that eerily reminds (Y/N) of her elder brothers, and begins to read aloud before (Y/N) stops her with an eye roll, cautious of the pacing click of Madam Pince's heels as she roams the aisles for the opportunity to evict noisy teens. 

"You'll be surprised to hear I finished all my words and never once spoke about my arse." 

"Sod off." (Y/N) rolls her eyes again. 

"Well, what’s got you so distracted you felt the need to conclude that you 'learned lots about counter curses from this ass'?" 

"You memorized it all ready?" 

"Of course." She beams cheekily. "How else am I to tell the rest of our friends?" 

"You are the worst." 

"You love me really though." 

(Y/N) worries when she can't laugh that off, when she falters for only a second, but enough to remind herself of this new and scary situation. She forces on a smile and hope she's been quick and convincing enough to seem normal, though something in Ginny's eyes tells her otherwise. 

"Are you okay, (Y/N)?" 

"Fine." 

"Hmm, you look nervous." Ginny hints. "What are you hiding? Is it a girl?" 

(Y/N) is exposed instantly by the involuntary widening of her eyes and Ginny grins menacingly at her from across the tiny desk. She leans over, palms flat against the desk and head so close to (Y/N)'s that their foreheads almost touch. 

(Y/N) forgets to breathe. 

"Who is it?" 

"No one." (Y/N) manages, edging back as subtly as possible. "It's not anyone." 

"Aw, c'mon." Ginny rolls her eyes. "Tell me." 

"You're going to make Madam Pince kick us out again." 

Ginny tuts, rolling her eyes and returning to her seat, allowing (Y/N) to drop her shoulders in relief. She sighs as she picks her quill up again, soaking the tip in ink with a rejuvenated intent to write, motivated by the chance to change the topic of conversation. 

"You're no fun." Ginny mumbles. "I'll find out." 

“There isn’t anything to find out.” (Y/N) exhales, not daring to look up from her parchment, knowing once again her expression will betray her. “Or anyone.”

“Oh, but there is.”

(Y/N) doesn’t need to look up to know the red-head is grinning, it’s evident in her voice. All she can do in response is take a deep, calming breath and continue with her work.

It’s not long before she can feel Ginny’s eyes on the top of her head and she freezes again, not sure when this became a talent of hers, to tell just from some new sixth sense that Ginny Weasley is staring at her.

“Can I help you?”

“Is it Willow Kings?”

“Been there, done that.” (Y/N) mumbles with a sigh. “She’s nice but talks about her owl too much.”

“Hmm.” Ginny hums in contemplation. “You’re not crushing on Pansy again, are you?”

In every single way, (Y/N) wishes that was her current shameful crush, rather than the girl currently interrogating her. When (Y/N) denies it, Ginny begins to hum again in thought.

“Luna?”

“Luna’s just a friend.” (Y/N) sighs, distinctly trying to convince herself the same thing about Ginny at this exact moment. “I’m not telling you, Gin.”

“Ugh, why not?” Ginny grumbles loudly.

The red-head’s face pales when the methodical clicking of the Librarian’s heels halts, wincing at what is soon to follow. The sound begins again, quicker and sharper as it approaches the pair.

“Shit.” Ginny curses, already gathering her work into her arms. “Here we go.”

“You two.”

The girls turn sheepishly to the other end of the aisle, where Madam Pince stares them down, one hand on her hip, other extended outwards to point at them with a disapproving look.

“We’re just leaving.” Ginny assures.

Ginny stands, reaching out innocently for (Y/N)’s hand and clasping it in her own to drag her to her feet as she splutters out protests, flustered instantly by the action. Ginny only gives her enough time to gather her things before pulling her towards the exit.

“S-low down, Ginny.” She pleads. “Sorry, Madam- “

The librarian scowls at them with an icy look as they squeeze past her towards the exist, Ginny’s laughter barely concealed as they go. (Y/N) can barely focus on anything other than the hand in her own.

Once in the corridor, convinced of their own escape from the strict librarian, Ginny flings he rhead back in a laugh, bun bouncing on her head at the action, cheeks flushed from the excitement of it.

“Every time!” She exclaims. “We get chased out every time.”

“I-“

(Y/N) is too stunned to form a sentence, stunned not by their actions, one’s regularly performed to avoid Madam Pince’s wrath, but rather how suddenly loud her heart is in her own ears.

She could blame adrenalin, it would be so easy to do so, but she knows it’s not. It’s many things, but not adrenalin. Instead Ginny’s laughter, her free and proud laughter so cheerful on her ears, it’s the baby hairs framing her face, endearingly messy, and it’s most certainly the hand still clasped in her own, warm and soft.

Acceptance, that final phase. No amount of excuses in the world could hide it now, that (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is undoubtedly, and most terrifyingly, in love with her best friend.

In this moment, watching Ginny’s grin, that infectious smile that has (Y/N) own lips pulling into a smile of her own, she’s about ready to risk it all for her, to tug her closer and ask, even beg, to kiss her.

“Ginny- “She starts

“Harry!”

Like that, the spell is broken and Ginny’s hand is slipping from (Y/N)’s and her feet carrying her towards the red faced boy-who-lived at the other end of the corridor, flinging herself eagerly into conversation with him and leaving (Y/N)’s smile to drop.

The tugging feeling in (Y/N)’s chest returns, and she finds herself back in reality. Ginny likes Harry, she always has, it’s been the topic of so many late-night teasing, how could (Y/N) possibly forget. It hurts though, in a way it never has before, a painful stab of reality sent straight to her heart.

(Y/N) has just learned for herself that falling in love is never easy, even if her heartbreak isn’t one likely to be documented as a great tragic romance in future. No one told her it would be this hard, but as she watches Ginny grinning up at the boy across the hall, her heart twists with the reluctant acceptance that, not only is she in love, but that her best friend is in  love with someone else. 

#ginny weasley x reader #ginny x reader #ginny weasley imagine #ginny weasley reader insert #ginny weasley #ginny imagine #ginny reader insert #harry potter #weasley x reader #fem!reader #i'm a bi stereotype it's ridiculous #ginny fanfiction #ginny weasley fanfiction

[mypoisonedvine]

Juicy Fruit (Chris Evans x Reader oneshot)

Based on a dare by @hnryycvll and @honeychicanawrites, I decided to write something about my personal theory that Chris is a two-pump chump who cannot last in bed to save his life.  So, yes, this is somewhere between smut and mild bullying.  

Word Count: just under 2k

Warnings: smut (duh), drunken shenanigans, dub con if you want to be totally accurate about the fact that they’re intoxicated but I promise everyone involved wanted this to happen

He struggled to slide the key card through the door, and you tried not to laugh at him as he did it.

When he finally made it work and you both stumbled inside, you took a moment to appreciate the expanse of his suite.

“Your room is a lot nicer than mine,” you blurted out.

“Starring versus guest starring,” he smirked.

“Truly, guest stars are the most oppressed, downtrodden people on the planet,” you laughed.

“You want a drink?” he offered, waving to the minibar.

“I’m already pretty lit,” you admitted.  “So, just one.”

“Right,” he winked, “just one.  You’ll like this whiskey-- on the rocks?”

“Yes, and with a twist please,” you requested.  He nodded and obliged, rubbing the orange peel on the rim before dropping it in and handing the glass to you.

You took a seat on the couch, admiring the view from his expansive window, showing the glittery city lights below.

As he brought his own drink over and sat next to you, you honestly couldn’t tell what sort of “let’s hang out in my hotel room” interaction this was.  You hoped it was the more mature kind… and the way he was looking at you made you think your hopes weren’t so outlandish.

“I’ll admit that was my first cast party,” you said quietly, breaking the silence.

“Well, you pretty much did all the stuff you’re supposed to do,” he soothed.  “Drink, chat, try not to think about how long it’ll be until you see these people again…”

You nodded and looked away.  “Yeah, I’m definitely gonna miss these crazies.  For better or for worse.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged, “we’re gonna get renewed.  And we’ll be back together again in no time.”

You decided to believe that, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up too much.  Sure, you believed in this show, but that didn’t always translate by the time it was edited and released.

“And if we get cancelled?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Then at least I got to meet some super cool people,” he answered hopefully.  You smiled.

“Yeah, this is such a great cast,” you smiled.

He bumped you on the shoulder with a finger.  “You’re my favorite,” he admitted.

“You’re drunk,” you frowned.

“Yeah, but it’s still true.  Don’t tell anybody though.”

“Cause you told them all the same thing?”

“No,” he laughed.  “Word spreads fast in this town, that’s all.”

“People would think we were… involved?  If they knew we were friends?” 

“Yeah, definitely.  If I say anything nice about a female co-star, everyone is convinced that I have a crush on them.”

“Ugh, that’s so annoying,” you groaned.  

“Yeah,” he agreed, “especially when they’re right.”

“Oh my god!” you gasped.  “I totally knew it!  You had a crush on Scarlett Johannson, right?”

He frowned.  “I was talking about you, genius.”

You nearly dropped your drink.  “Seriously?  I mean, the girls in makeup were always joking about it, but I never thought…”

“Why wouldn’t you think?  You’re super smart and you made me laugh, like, a hundred times a day.”

“Yeah, I get the feeling our director didn’t care much for that.”

Chris laughed at the memory.  “We ruined a lot of takes…”

After a pause, you took the last sip of your drink and set it down.  “So, is that it?”

“Huh?”

“You’re just gonna tell me you like me and… not do anything about it?”

He gave you a look, and you hoped you weren’t blushing too hard.

“Should I do something about it?” he asked lowly.

You simply nodded, and tried not to grin too hard.

He leaned in and kissed you sweetly at first, slowly.  It was giggly and innocent-ish until you found yourself feeling suddenly desperate, needy, and you grabbed his shirt to pull him closer.  He got more serious then, too, his hands slipping to your back and holding you; you felt so small in his embrace.

“Chris,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” he asked, only pulling back from you as little as he possibly could to talk.

“Are we...gonna do this?”

“I really hope so,” he admitted with a little smile.

You kissed him again, leaning forward even more such that you would’ve fallen over if he hadn’t wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you stable.

A sober you would’ve thought about not straddling him on the couch, but tipsy and love-drunk you was tired of the damn waiting and was already on top of him, moaning a little at the feeling of his hands running down your legs.

He laughed softly and moved the kiss down to your neck, taking a moment to murmur your name, as if he needed to remind himself who this was happening with.  

The intoxication made your skin warm and tingly, and the arousal made your eyes feel heavy-- or maybe it was the other way around, you couldn’t really tell.  Either way, being held by him felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket, even as your heart raced and your mind was happily supplying anxious thoughts of oh my god this isn’t happening, is it?

You didn’t even realize your hips were rolling against his until you felt what was obviously his erection, somehow managing to rub against your clit just right even through so many annoying layers of clothes.  You heard his breath stutter, and his hands gently guided your hips to do it again.  

As much as you felt like you could just keep doing this and get off pretty quickly, that was not at all what you wanted from this.  

"I need to taste you," you sighed against his lips.

"Aren't you already?"

"I was thinking somewhere a little different," you admitted with a raised eyebrow.

You felt your dress stretch a little as the hand on your back clenched into a fist.

"Fuck," he replied softly, "yeah, okay, damn."

You smiled as you stepped back and dropped onto your knees, pushing his legs apart.  He looked at you with some mix of confusion and amazement as you ran your hands up his thighs and finally reached to unbutton his jeans.  

You bit your lip when your hand reached into his boxers and wrapped around his cock.  It wasn’t even fully hard and yet already so thick and hot in your palm.  Of course, it didn’t take more than a few lazy strokes over it as you pulled it out for it to get entirely hard and oh shit, this thing could take your eye out.

Deciding you’d better get on with it before you changed your mind, you licked the head and wrapped your lips around it.  He moaned and it spurred you to bob down further, loving the way he filled your mouth until your jaw ached.

“Oh god,” he sighed.  He couldn’t seem to decide between letting his head fall back onto the couch, or looking down to watch you take him deeper into your throat.  

You hummed around him in approval.  The whole time he couldn’t stay still, squirming and gasping beneath you.  He was so sensitive; every time your tongue swiped just under the head of his cock, his hips jerked up into you just a little.

“Baby,” he praised with a breathy voice, “so good.  Oh my god, you’re so good.”

It was hard not to smile, but you managed for the sake of your task.

“Get up here, please,” he begged suddenly, “I need to--”

You didn’t even let him finish, pulling off with a pop! and hopping back up into his lap.

“Eager, are we?” you smirked.

“I don’t think I’m alone there,” he chuckled.  “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he explained breathlessly, “I’ve wanted you for so long.  God, I’ve thought about this for so damn long.”

“Me too,” you grinned.

“Well shit,” he laughed, “why haven’t we done it sooner then?”

“Let’s not worry about that now,” you decided, pulling him in to kiss you again.  His hands pulled at your clothes and you finally relented, letting him shirk you of your dress.  Before you could worry about what he’d think, he was kissing you again and running his hands over your bare skin.

You felt yourself blushing a little as you reached between your legs to pull your underwear to the side.  You’d never been quite so desperate but you needed him inside you as soon as humanly possible and there was no chance you were going to get up off his lap until you were done.

His breathing stuttered when you grabbed his cock and guided it to slide through your folds.

“Oh,” he gasped as you started to drop your hips down, your eyes fluttering shut so you could focus on the feeling of him stretching you open.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

He winced as your hips reached his, fully seated inside you.  You just stayed still for a moment, absorbing the perfect feeling of him before starting to, finally, move.

“Oh… oh god,” he groaned.  He hissed in a sharp breath as you started making circles with your hips, your own moans impossible to stop from emerging.  You wrapped your arms around his neck, attempting to keep yourself stable as you bounced on his thighs.

“Yes,” you hissed, “oh my god, Chris, yes.”

He bared his teeth when he heard you say his name like that, leaning in to lightly bite at your neck.  Every graze of his teeth against your skin made your walls clench around him, and both of you moaned. 

“Baby, if you don’t stop, I’ll-- oh my god-- I’ll come.  Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“I’m not gonna stop,” you promised, “I wanna make you come.”

“Fuck.”

“I want you to come inside me, Chris.”

“Fuck!”

You sped up a bit, leaning in to him so all you had to do was buck your hips and his cock would brush against your clit on its way into you with each thrust.

You weren’t sure what it was that made you ready to come so quickly, but him being on the edge was pushing you over as well.

“Yes, oh my god, yes,” you hissed as pleasure washed over you, and suddenly he was wrapping an arm around your hips and pulling you down onto him as he came inside you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “baby…”

You stilled against him as you began to catch your breath, laying your head on his shoulder.

“I didn’t last very long, did I?” he whispered.

“Nope,” you laughed.  “Me either, though.”

“I’ll go ahead and blame the booze,” he shrugged, but then he turned his face to look down at you and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“We should do this again sometime,” you suggested, already drifting into sleep and hoping he would carry you to the bed at some point.

“Sober?”

“Sure.”

“After a nice dinner?”

“Or before.  I’m flexible.”

#chris evans x reader #chris evans headcanons #chris evans smut #chris evans x y/n #steve rogers x reader #chris evans imagines

[the-mad-dancing-queenrps]

The Maddox Clan

We are looking for the rest of the hectic Maddox Clan. Loosely based on the show shameless, these people are known for being a bit over the top, having bad luck and keeping up the hustle. Growing up money was tight and there was no good role model. More often than not the children were left to their own devices, but we will dig into that in just a minute. Let’s start from the beginning. 

Stephen and Charlotte met at a bar or while waiting to be booked at the jail, the story has never been the same and so the kids don’t actually know how their parents met. What they do know, is that it probably hadn’t been the most romantic of meetings. The two of them were frequently in trouble and being together only seemed to increase their outlandish behavior.

Eventually Charlotte became pregnant with their first child and honestly, after that, they kind of just kept coming. There are at least seven children (though we are open to the possibility of more). With neither parent being all that faithful, we are open to half-siblings with ethnicity being a little more open.

As you might have guessed, the family itself is a shit show. With their parents in and out of jail, constantly on drugs and causing multiple other issues, the older children were often left to take care of the younger ones. This has left a bond among the children that is rather complicated. Though the siblings fight, frequently, they also defend one another and have each other’s backs no matter what. A lot of the kids still live in the family house and have dead end jobs.

The whole family is known for often getting into trouble, being arrested or being a city-wide nuisance. Most people know the Maddox name and it’s often not for good reasons. CPS has probably come out a few times, as well as the kids having been placed in group homes from time to time, before Charlotte or Stephen cleaned themselves up long enough to get them back.

The parents are still around, but they will be NPC (unless someone is dying to play them), so we will all kind of work together to create issues for them. Example: in a current thread the parents are fighting over a stash one of them has that they won’t share with the other. Honestly, it’s all just a mess.

Everything when it comes to the kids are pretty open; name, occupation, gender and race. Things can be kind of hectic, because it fits the family history great! Just a heads up, Axel was actually absent from the family from the time he was thirteen till about twenty-three years old. He actually went to live with their uncle, but ended up being a runaway who was later picked up and put into juvie until he aged out. After that, he stayed with their uncle until the man passed away. Other than that, I picture all of the kids having been in the bronx all their lives.

#watercoloreyesrp

[michyreadsthenwrites]

Plain Bad Heroines - Let Me Give You My Thoughts On This (Character Analysis)

**major maaaaajor spoilers ahead**

(Here we begin with the handful of characters from Danforth’s sophomore novel that have found their way into my heart and apparently, this Word document. It didn’t hurt that they were all women that love women. And I mean, they really loved women.)

 ·   Merritt Emmons is easily my favorite character. She’s got that dry, sarcastic humor and air around her that makes it really easy to love her and hate her guts all at the same time. (If she were here, she’d tell us that this was a talent, not a flaw.) I felt personally affronted when characters in PBH didn’t like Merritt, like they were overlooking the diamond in the rough right in front of their faces. Then, like most things, it became pretty clear: Merritt Emmons could be one hell of a bitch at times. But it really only made me love her more. I realized that I identified with her. Yes, about being a queer woman that really fucking loves other women, but also because she was a writer that wanted her writing to stay true to how she wrote it, especially with so many people traipsing all over it and trying to make it into something it’s not. That was where I realized I loved her early on; when she pitched a genuine fit over who was to play Clara Broward. It was something so petty and childish, something so very me to throw a fit in a packed room of professionals when you have no idea about that kind of world and what it demands. But she fought for what she believed in, alright. Until she didn’t. This made me love her some more, incidentally. We got to see Merritt’s character development throughout the novel, and more specifically, we got to watch her bounce back and forth between the person she was too scared to be but wanted more than she could ever admit, and the person she spent twenty long years being; the person she was oh-so-tired of introducing to people. This constant shift between new-Merritt and old, crabby, prickly-Merritt was a very raw and vulnerable thing for us to experience as an audience. Merritt was certainly a lot more refreshing than every one of the overdone-Hollywood-types we became acquainted with within the book. She was mean and arrogant and wildly insecure, yet somehow confident and sure of herself, when it came to her work or her knowledge or anything that had to do with any book written, ever. A walking paradox, that one. Merritt was a good way to remember that real people, not built-and-put-together-by-Hollywood-people don’t always have their shit together, and they can’t always get it together by the end of a novel, albeit a long, six-hundred-page one. I think I’ll cut myself off here, friends. Not that I want to, but I feel we have a lot to get to in these pages, and Merritt Emmons can’t be the star of all of them (lord knows I’d let her, though). To sum it up: Merritt Emmons was the star of this book, for me at least. And I hope for you too. (This means go get your ass over to your closest B&N and buy the damn thing).

  ·   Harper Harper is somewhat of a mystery to me. She was a major character in the story, as well as one of our three protagonists, our three heroines, and yet I have trouble finding her as authentic and outlandish as she tries to come across. What I’m still having trouble deciphering is if this is an intentional character flaw created by our Miss Danforth, or if Harper Harper really has nothing to her besides being completely reinvented and marketed by Hollywood. Even in saying this, I know I have to give Harper credit where it’s due. She’s a proud queer woman in the movie industry, as well as openly queer online and really with just anyone and everyone she meets. She’s known for various flings and love-interests of the week, which is still a gross misrepresentation and stereotype of (masc?) lesbians and how they’re emotionally unavailable and unfaithful, which again is a possibility of the author’s intentional writing, something that we can leave for further discussion. We do get a bit of a glimpse into Harper’s life – her real-life – about how her mother is struggling with her sobriety, how her little brother seems to be caught in the middle of her mother’s messy relationships, and how she really has mixed feelings about how she fits into her new movie-star life. That’s about all we get from Harper, though. And it really is almost enough realness to take away from the fact that everyone else in the world sees Harper as the face of Hollywood, as this thing of beauty and money and badassery instead of a real person. But still not enough. And I could be wrong, friends. I could be pulling all of this out of my ass because Harper Harper is a badass queer woman that took over the movie industry with barely any experience under her belt. Harper Harper took every room she walked into by storm, and she made everybody pay attention to her, and she became the character we had a little crush on, simply because she was that big of a deal. But nothing of substance, not really. Not ever. But perhaps she had been her most real self with Merritt Emmons, in between the quiet pages that we didn’t get to read entirely. Merritt, our dry and arrogant and favorite heroine, had been Harper’s favorite, too. The most credit that I find myself giving Harper is her aid in Merritt’s character development. She brought Merritt out of her shell in a massive way, though at times she did have a hand in driving her back into the said shell. It was flawed, their relationship, which is another authentic Harper Harper insight we saw, as little of it there was. They were hot and cold, on and off, but always so enthralled with each other. And while Harper seemed to have had an impact on Merritt (among other factors), it doesn’t seem like Merritt had the same effect on Harper. I could be wrong and do feel free to correct me, friends, but Harper Harper did not come out the other end of PBH a changed woman. She was not burdened with the weight of a life-changing revelation. She was Harper Harper, as she always was, floating and untouchable, the kind of woman you wished to know, maybe to be, but also the kind you see right through. They’re transparent, friends, that’s what I’m trying to get at here. And they tend to stay that way. And I realize as I’m nearing the end of this, that I sound harsh in my critiques and analysis of Harper. I don’t mean to come off that way, friends, I really don’t. The truth is I love Harper, she’s everything we wish we could be. She’s gorgeous and sought after, can land any girl she wants with the bat of her eyelashes and a lazy smile. But you have to remember, she’s everything we’re not. I can only speak for myself, friends, and I encourage you to speak for yourselves if you find you have anything to add. I never related with Harper the way I did with Merritt’s character, but that doesn’t mean that Harper isn’t a beautiful enigma waiting to be unwrapped. I just don’t happen to be the kind of reader that would know where to begin unwrapping her, if that makes sense. And because I’m afraid it doesn’t, I do believe it’s time to stop with the metaphors and wrap this up nicely for you, friends: Harper Harper is number two on my list of favorite characters from PBH, and that is not something done lightly or by accident. She was one of our three heroines, after all. And a proper heroine she was, friends. Don’t you ever forget it.

  ·   Libbie Packard broke my heart more times than I count, friends. You’ll notice I have kept her maiden name, then. This is intentional, friends, for our Libbie never wanted to be a Brookhants, not really. It wasn’t towards the end of PBH that we learned much of what we now know about Libbie, and how it came about that she had been married (to a man no less!), as well as the very young principal of an all-girls school. Throughout their chapters in the book, Libbie and Alex, her Alex, were seemingly at each other’s throats constantly. There seemed to be a mysterious tension that we as an audience weren’t privy to – but it didn’t stop us from speculating. I found myself drawn to Libbie more than I did her counterpart, and I still can’t point my finger as to why. Libbie seemed sad, right from our first introduction, and Alex always seemed angry and cynical (as a queer woman in 1902, is there any other way to seem?). This might serve as a dual character analysis yet, friends. I’m not sure how much I’ll have to say about our Alexandra Trills, but Libbie Packard deserves a long sentence, or two. You know when something finally clicks into place and you can’t help but just let out a long “ooohhhhhhh”? That’s a recreation of how I looked when I read the explanation of how Libbie Packard became Libbie Brookhants. Learning that she had become pregnant with a baby she didn’t want was mind-blowing enough, and it filled in the blanks of how young, gorgeous Libbie had become the wife of a rich, old, old man. Libbie gave up her child was because she didn’t want to be a mother, and she had originally rejected Harold Brookhants offer of marriage because she didn’t want to be a wife, regardless of false the marriage was. And for a while, Libbie’s new life was amazing; she got to live with her Alex in a beautiful house and became the principal of a promising school. This was the life she’d always wanted. Or was that just what we wanted to believe, friends? Only at the end did we learn that Libbie had rejected Harold Brookhants offer (to live a quiet, queer life with her lover and without the child she clearly didn’t want) because she didn’t want to be tied down; not to Harold, not to anyone. If you think about it, friends, this was exactly the life that she had been living for years to come now. The tension with Alex had much to do with the circumstances surrounding them at Brookhants and the evil that was unfolding before them, but it seemingly had even more to do with the fact that Libbie Packard felt smothered. She was hiding secrets from Alex, secrets that she felt could destroy this already fragile relationship that they had between them. How vastly different it was to read and experience their relationship at the beginning of their love; playful and full of joy, both women giddy with the promise of something new and exciting. To compare that kind of love to the broken, tight-lipped, empty vessel of the relationship they now pretend to have is heartbreaking. And yet, completely understandable. Alex had fallen in love with the Libbie she wanted her to be, not the Libbie she was. Our Libbie wanted to be eternally young; playful and happy, bouncing from city to city with Sara Dahlgren in a sea of eligible bachelors (and bachelorettes!). It was almost a shock to discover that this life Libbie tried so hard to defend and protect was not a life she had ever wanted for herself. Despite this, she loved her Alex and her students, and devoted her life to them. There was that whole business with cheating on Alex with Adelaide the housemaid (don’t even get me started on that broad) but I’d like to extend to you, friends, the fact that I won’t comment on this. Queer relationships in 1902 are definitely not what they are now, complete with century-old curses and dead schoolgirls. Libbie Packard became the 1902-lesbian-headmistress version of our stereotypical bored housewife, stuck in a marriage that she secretly wishes she could be free from. And my heart broke for her, friends, it really did. But she was a heroine all on her own. A deeply intelligent and remarkable woman. Make no mistake, friends. Libbie Packard and Libbie Brookhants differ by more than just a surname. Our young, vivacious Libbie disappeared the moment she accepted Harold Brookhants’ offer, and this is indeed the sad truth of it, friends: Libbie Packard was gone before she could ever find herself. But Libbie Brookhants was our gorgeous, brilliant, queer heroine that never got what she deserved. So, friends, let’s all have a moment of silence for our dearly departed Libbie Brookhants… wherever she is.

·   Alexandra Trills is a character that I don’t know where to begin with. Her end is not one that I saw coming, at least not in the gruesome and deranged circumstances that came to surround it. Or maybe, friends, I just didn’t want to acknowledge the clear downwards spiral that our Miss Trills had seemed to be heading towards. Her steadfast and growing obsession with the death of Florence Hartshorn and Clara Broward was apparent in every page we turned, and the following death of Eleanor Faderman did not aid in absolving Alex of her obsession with the one, single copy of a book they had all possessed at one point: The Story of Mary McLane. Alex grew hysterical in her investigation of the novel and whatever evil she believed it had brought to the students of her school. I remember feeling a bit hysterical myself at times, following along with Alex’s scrambled train of thought that never seemed to find a place to stop. She was right, you know, my friends. And now what does she have to show for it? A gruesome death and an eternity of haunting the same grounds, day in and day out? I may not have liked her, and felt like she had been the reason Libbie was so unhappy and stuck in a life that she did not want, but the way Alex’s story had ended really did take me by surprise and break my heart. She deserved a better ending than what she got; she deserved to reconcile and fix her strained relationship with Libbie. Damn it, they deserved to live quiet, happy lives with each other. Neither of them got the endings that they deserved, and God, did they deserve plenty. This, friends, is the hill I choose to die on tonight.

 Alright, friends, this is it for my character analysis of Emily Danforth’s Plain Bad Heroines! I have a special place in my heart for book characters that you can relate with (or characters that just really make you love them). The way that Emily Danforth brought our heroines to life was remarkable and highly impressive (I say this because it’s decidedly been a while since any book character(s) have weaseled their fictional way into my little heart). It’s rare that I give a book five stars (check out my Goodreads reviews) (oh god, please don’t), and yet halfway through PBH, I knew that this book deserved it. Good book characters are the ones that stick with you long after you’ve closed the book on them, and our heroines are stuck with me. And believe me, friends, I’m certainly not complaining. 

#plain bad heroines #emily danforth #book review #book reviews #character analysis #books #literature #lgbtq #wlw #queer #writing blog

[thatsamericano]

I Know My Love Should Be Celebrated, But You Tolerate It

Pairing: America/Romano, human AU

Ratings/Warnings: Teen, mild angst and some homophobia from human OCs.

Word Count: 2100

Summary: Alfred needs to tell his mother he’s engaged, but he knows she won’t be happy for him the way Matthew was when he got the news.

Alfred was sitting on the couch with his hand clasped in Savino’s, staring at the cell phone that was resting on the coffee table. Part of him didn’t want to pick it up to tell his mother that he was engaged now, because he knew she wouldn’t have the reaction he was hoping for.

Last night, he’d called Mattie only a few minutes after Savino had proposed. Matthew said congratulations, told Alfred he was happy for him, and most importantly, sounded completely sincere and not just like he was saying what he was supposed to. He listened while Alfred gushed about the proposal and possible wedding plans and chuckled quietly at some of Alfred’s more outlandish ideas. He was just as amused as he would’ve been if they’d been there in person and he’d been able to see Savino curled up into his side, blushing and with that fond, disbelieving grin only Alfred could put on his face. They talked for an hour and a half until Savino pointed out that it was past midnight, and Matthew might need to end the call so he could get enough sleep before he had to go into work the next day.

Alfred knew that his mother wouldn’t react like that. The first time he’d brought Vinny home to meet his family, his father shook his head and walked out of the room while muttering under his breath. Alfred had heard the car starting up outside as his mom gave them an extremely fake smile and asked them if they’d like something to drink. Later, she’d pulled Alfred aside to scold him for not “warning” his parents ahead of time that Savino was his boyfriend, not just his friend. She asked about his sexuality, and he hadn’t been able to answer to her satisfaction, because to him it wasn’t a question of men vs. women. It was a question of Savino vs. every other human being on the planet. If he couldn’t be with Vinny, he’d rather be with no one at all.

It had been two years since then, but Alfred could still vividly remember the look his mom gave him, which was identical to the look she’d give Baxter when he was a puppy and peed on the carpet. Like she loved him, because Alfred was her son and she had no other choice, but was deeply, deeply disappointed in him.

Alfred stared at the phone and jiggled his leg nervously. Savino squeezed his hand.

“You’ll have to pick up the phone eventually, tesoro.”

Alfred heaved out a sigh. “I know. It’s not like I don’t wanna tell her. I wanna tell everybody. Last night, when you asked me to marry you, was the happiest moment of my life. But I know if I tell her, she’s gonna try to make me change my mind.”

Savino smiled weakly. “But she’s not going to be able to, is she?”

Alfred shook his head and glanced back at his cell phone. “No. Nothing could ever make me change my mind.”

Vinny rubbed his hand over the back of Alfred’s hand. “I’ll be here when you call her. You won’t have to do this alone.”

He could do it. With Vinny holding his hand, he could swallow down his anxiety and tell his parents. Alfred picked up his cell phone, went to his contacts, and called his mom.

The phone rang twice before his mom answered. “Hello, Alfred.”

“Hey, Mom. I’ve got some big news to share with you.” He figured it was best to tell her right away. He glanced over at his fiancé, who was nodding in approval.

“Is it good news?”

“The best news. I’m engaged. Vinny asked me to marry him last night.” Alfred grinned, because it felt amazing to say that out loud. Some part of Alfred still couldn’t believe it was real. He was gonna marry Vinny, who was smirking because he knew it was taking every ounce of Alfred’s self-control to avoid squealing or screaming down the phone line like he had when he called Mattie the night before. Savino was adorable 24/7, but especially when he smirked like that, like he was the lucky one in this relationship. Alfred would’ve kissed him if he wasn’t waiting to hear his mom’s reaction.

He waited. And he waited. As he waited, the grin gradually fell away from his face. Alfred hadn’t been expecting anything different, but the way she couldn’t even feign a congratulations hurt.

“Oh,” she finally said. “I suppose you won’t be holding the, uh, ceremony, in a church, will you?”

“I don’t know. Vinny and I haven’t talked about that yet.” He knew they couldn’t get married in the church Alfred had been raised in, and that they couldn’t have a Catholic wedding either. Alfred noticed how she had avoided the word wedding but pretended everything was still fine.

“Will there be a gift registry?”

Alfred frowned. “Like I said, I don’t know. We just got engaged last night.”

“Then why did you call me?” His mom sounded irritated, like she had when he was five and wanted to show her a drawing he did in kindergarten and ran in while she was in the middle of doing work in her home office. That dismissal had hurt at the time, but not as much as telling his mom he was engaged and getting the same kind of reaction as a little kid clamoring for attention while their parent had something more important to focus on.

Alfred shrunk down mentally to that same age. “I just wanted to tell you because you’re my mom. I’m happy, so I thought maybe you’d be happy for me, even if you can’t be proud of me.” Tears were pricking at his eyes, and Alfred bit his lip so his mother couldn’t hear how upset he was. Savino scooted closer, so that he was pressed up against Alfred’s side. He couldn’t be closer without crawling onto Alfred’s lap.

His mother sighed, and she sounded so tired. Tired of him more than anything else. “Alfred, your father and I have been patient about this. We’ve been as tolerant as we can be.”

Alfred laughed miserably. “Sure. Dad won’t even acknowledge Vinny exists, and you tell all your snooty friends that Vinny is my roommate instead of my boyfriend. But you haven’t disowned me yet, so I’m supposed to be grateful, right?”

“There’s no need for you to get so hostile.”

Right. Because it wasn’t hostile for his parents to treat his fiancé like shit and to act like him being in love and happy was something horrible they had to tolerate and be patient about. Alfred bit his tongue to keep those nasty thoughts inside his head, and Savino nuzzled into his neck.

“I’m so sorry she’s doing this to you, caro,” Vinny murmured. Alfred silently kissed the top of his head and listened as his mother started lecturing him again.

“You’re so young. I remember being that age. You think you know everything, but you don’t.”

“I’m older than you were when you married Dad.”

His mother ignored what he said, just like he’d known she would. “I love you, Alfie. And it’s because I love you that I’m trying to help you avoid making a mistake you’ll end up regretting someday.”

Tears were leaking out of his eyes, but Alfred was so angry that his words came out as a growl rather than pathetic blubbering. Vinny deserved better than this bullshit. “Savino is the only person I’ve ever wanted to be with. I told you that two goddamn years ago. He’s been nothing but respectful to you and dad, but you guys never even gave him a chance. He isn’t a mistake, and I don’t regret anything about being with him. The only thing I regret is listening to you put him down for so fucking long.”

“Alfred, that’s—”

“I’m done. Call me when you can at least pretend to love me for who I am, instead of who you want me to be.” Alfred hung up the phone before his mother could say anything else, and Vinny immediately shifted onto his lap and started wiping away the tears from his cheeks.

Alfred sobbed harder at Savino’s kindness. “I hate her. I hate her so much for trying to talk me out of marrying you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and the only reason she can’t see it is because you’re a guy.”

Savino kissed his face and made soothing noises. “I love you so much. I wanted to rip her to shreds the second she made you cry.”

Alfred laughed wetly. “You sound so hot when you say stuff like that.”

Savino rolled his eyes and blushed at the compliment, like he blushed every single time Alfred tried to seduce him, no matter how cheesy his attempt was. “Idiota.”

Alfred surged up to kiss his fiancé, and Savino made a muffled sound of confusion but reciprocated a second later. Vinny was being too adorable and perfect for Alfred to not kiss him, but that wasn’t the only reason. He needed to feel something real, something lasting that wasn’t the rejection of the woman who brought him into this world. Savino’s hands planted on his shoulders, the warm weight of his body on top of him, and the soft pressure of their lips pressed together made Alfred feel safe and loved in a way nothing else could.

By the time they separated, Alfred was no longer crying. He felt significantly calmer as he petted Savino’s hair. “I don’t think I want my parents at the wedding.” It wasn’t a decision he would ever feel completely okay about. In an ideal world, his parents would be there in the front row, crying nostalgic tears as they watched him get married because they were so proud of him. But Alfred didn’t live in an ideal world, and he couldn’t keep pretending that he did.

Savino pressed a tiny kiss to his temple. “If you don’t want them there, then we won’t invite them. We should invite people who can celebrate with us. Unless your parents have a miraculous change of heart, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

Alfred scoffed. “If they decided to come, they’d probably act like they were going to my funeral instead of my wedding. Or they’d try to convince me I shouldn’t marry you, and I’d lose it on them a lot worse than I did today.” Alfred had been putting up with his mother’s bullshit for far too long, and he probably would’ve continued to put up with it if she had only been insulting him and not his fiancé. Alfred could take his parents’ disapproval, but he wouldn’t listen to anyone implying that Vinny wasn’t good enough for him.

Savino hummed in consideration. “We shouldn’t tell them until after the fact. Send them a postcard when we’re on our honeymoon and it’s too late for them to do anything about it.”

Alfred chuckled. “That sounds devious. I like it.” He grinned and rubbed his hands up and down Vinny’s thighs. “You should make evil plans more often. It’s sexy as hell.”

Savino snorted in disbelief, but he was grinning in the flattered, flustered way Alfred was so familiar with as he fiddled with the top button of Alfred’s shirt. “Amore, you’re hopeless. You think the way I breathe is sexy.”

“Anyone with working eyes or ears would. Which makes me a pretty lucky guy.” Alfred winked up at him, which he’d learned early on was a good way to flirt with Vinny. He wasn’t really good at this whole flirting thing, since Vinny was the only person he’d ever wanted to flirt with. All he’d ever been able to do was be a little too honest, recite lines from TV or movies, wink, and carry heavy stuff to show off his muscles. Miraculously, his clumsy attempts had actually worked.

They were working pretty well now, obviously, because Savino was leaning in less than an inch away from his mouth. “We’re both lucky, Fredo. Ti amo.”

Hearing that made Alfred weak-kneed even though he was sitting down. When Savino leaned in the rest of the way to kiss him, a shiver swept through him, even though he wasn’t cold. He grabbed at the back of Vinny’s neck and moaned when Vinny licked his way into his mouth. His mother’s reaction to his engagement, along with any other problems he had, ceased to exist as long as his fiancé was kissing him.

#hetalia #romerica #hws america #hws romano #hws south italy #aph america #aph romano #aph south italy #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fanfiction #hws fanfic #hws fanfiction #aph fanfic #aph fanfiction #my writing #original post #tw homophobia