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wantonlywindswept · 21 hours

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another trope inversion of GAR/Guard interactions:

the GAR is entirely aware that Coruscant is a shit posting.

they're not blind; they can see all the anti-clone sentiment when they're on leave. even when they're deployed, it's not like they're cut off from all news - they know how many times bills for clone rights have gone to the Senate floor and been ruthlessly voted down. they can see how even their Jedi are restrained by the Senate dragging its feet and making bad choices and handling the war like it's a game of dejarik since it will never affect them personally.

very few politicians have the respect of the clones.

but the Guard still have to work with the spoiled, self-centered bastards, and the GAR knows that they're not being treated well. but what can they do? they have no rights, the Jedi are as trapped under the Senate's thumb as they are, and it's not like they can get regular citizens to do anything.

so they offer their support as much as they can. any Guard, any Corrie who needs help, all they have to do is find one of their brothers and it will be offered without any questions.

you'd think that crime rate would go up when battle-traumatized soldiers are given leave on a city-planet like Coruscant, but it actually goes down.

way down.

the thing criminals come to realize is that if you are being chased by one of the Guard, if ANY other clone catches sight of you, it is ON SIGHT. clones in casual clothes carrying food and drinks have dropped everything to immediately join a Guard's hunt, throwing themselves into the pursuit with glee and an energy that the usually-exhausted Guards often lack. (some of them howl. those, the criminal underground agrees, are the worst.)

and with hundreds or thousands of clones wandering around during battalions' leave, it's possible to run into one of them anywhere. and they usually travel in packs.

best just to lay low for a while.

when it leaks that the Guard regularly run low on supplies, all sorts of things start to go missing on the venators. just a box or a crate here or there, ration packs or bacta patches or cold-weather gear. there are millions of clones and thousands of ships; it's not like every little thing can be tracked by the quartermasters.

(rex realizes that, for whatever reason, his battalion is always prioritized for resupply, and rarely any questions are asked about their requisitions. rex takes immediate and shameless advantage of this. rex manages, somehow, to lose two entire bacta tanks, along with the bacta to fill them.)

and ofc the idea that started this whole ramble - when a shiny Corrie stumbles somewhere where some of the 501st are shooting the shit, causing everything to immediately come to a halt. the kid is clutching his helmet and one of his pauldrons to his chest; his hair is mussed up and there are tears on his cheeks and bruises on his face and unadulterated panic in his eyes.

there's an angry call in the corridor.

the shiny flinches.

fives grabs him, hears him squeak, snaps out orders. echo yanks off his bucket and his upper armor; jesse lunges for a blanket. they hustle the kid into a chair, drape the blanket over his lower body, hastily swap his upper armor and helmet for echo's. fives shoves the armor somewhere, doesn't matter, it's out of sight with the telltale red, and they all barely have enough time to drop themselves back into the chairs arranged around the table and pick up their cards before some natborn stomps into the room.

anything we can do for you, sir? sorry, no, the Guard didn't stop in here. we saw him head back down toward the rotunda, though. yes, sir. have a nice day, sir.

they close and lock the door. fives goes back to the shiny. fives was instantly prepared to help a fellow clone in need.

fives was not prepared for tears.

the kid gets snot all over the inside of echo's helmet. they take him back to Guard HQ. fox is painfully, desperately relieved to see him. fox looks too-thin and too-tired but there is a fresh GAR-issued bacta patch covering a slash across the side of his cheek. he thanks them for saving the shiny, like that's something that ever needs gratitude, but is swept away before any of them can say that.

fives doesn't think that misplaced bacta and pilfered rations are enough support for the Guard anymore.

thankfully, rex and the rest of the GAR agree.

#tcw #tcw fanfiction #of a sort #coruscant guard #captain rex #clone trooper fives #commander fox

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alienssstufff · 15 hours

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your character designs are wonderful!! i always find my character designs one note and relatively "blank"/not having enough depth (like the concept just being "pirate" instead of "__ pirate thats also __"). i really admire the way you combine concepts in a way that really make sense, and incorporate your inspirations in fun and intresting ways. any advice you have to spare on the topic? thank you!!

I meannn you’re halfway there by knowing it’s more than that!

I explained my thought process in a different post-I find by separating components into differing levels of priority and stages that’s helpful.

This pyramid is me explaining the PLAN part of my character design process:

Having Just the Concept figured out isn’t a bad thing either, and sometimes in those cases Theme and character Detail in a design write for themself.

Having a Concept at all is the most important and the baseline for creating a communicative design.

S10!Bdubs as example :]

CONCEPT (primary) — Very basic knowledge about the character through their clothes. Their occupation, the time period they live in etc. Eg: Bdubs is a pirate in a world based off 17-18th Century when pirates were abundant.

THEME (secondary) — Tells us a bit more about the concept. What kind of occupation is it, the character’s affiliations, things strangers/bygones would be able to recognise via logos or cultural symbols… the Semiotics. Eg: Bdubs is (was) a member of a bird-themed pirate crew.

DETAILS (tertiary) — More intimate details about the character themselves by how they wear the clothing as well as accessories/habits that make them Them… Is it proper, what does the presence (OR omission) of accessories tell about their situation, how willing they are to present themselves (whether by accident of intentionally)… the Symbolism. Eg: (see annotations)

#ask stufff #aliensssrefs #stufff rambles #Bdubs #always so bad at making good conclusions #do NOT ask me about DemiseS10!Bdubs I love him and will pop a fuse #I have so much and nothing to say

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whoblewboobear · 2 days

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I’m gonna take Kipperlilly from some of yall 👀 you can like a villain without trying to clear their name. She objectively is a murderer and a villain this season. It does not make you a “””””bad Person””””” if you like her. You do not have to try and age her down or make her out to be innocent or gentle or sweet or misunderstood. You do not get to use her mental health to excuse her actions either.

At this point, a lot of these post are getting into slippery slope territory, especially concerning mental health. You can be mentally ill and still understand right from wrong. Infantilizing people struggling with their mental health can cause harm. There are mentally ill people that can/will/do go their entire lives without blaming and trying to harm others because of what they’re going through.

Like I feel like we’ve officially hit Joaquin Phoenix Joker levels of ‘we live in a society’ discourse. Yes, there are things that suck and living with mental health issues and having that make your life harder sucks. But then funneling that feeling of unfairness and frustration into harming other people is not okay or justifiable. It’s a clear sign that someone went untreated or their mental health was not taken seriously enough soon enough.

There are a lot of young and impressionable people in the d20 community (a community that is overwhelmingly very supportive and cognizant of mental health) that will see the KLCK discourse and take some of these things to heart. Please be mindful in what you post. She is a fictional character and in context of the story, instead of getting further help or seeking better treatment for her mental health, she chose to harm people. Some responsibility does fall on her in that regard. Not all, but some. There is a point where things get very concerning when you become a danger to yourself or others, Kipperlilly is in that place to be very clear. She needs help.

Yes she is underage, and I do think Jawbone has a heavy responsibility to either reach out to her parents to report her behavior and figure out a treatment plan for her immediately. This never happened, even when she admitted to wanting to kill Kristen. She continued on, untreated and without her rage issues not being fully addressed. Then she murdered someone.

Infantilizing Kipperlilly to absolve her of her wrongdoing isn’t the convo we should be having. Figuring out where she falls on the morality scale does nothing, she’s one of the villains of the season, by that metric, she’s not a great person (not because of her rage disorder, because of her actions.) There are complexities to her. The conversation we should be having is why not a single faculty member or adult that interacted with her and witnessed this behavior didn’t say “woah hey, let’s pump the breaks and get you assessed for a few things and get to the root of what’s going wrong.”

When you see someone struggling, reach out, assess the situation. If you’re an adult and are in a position to help, don’t hesitate to do so or notify a parent or guardian in their life so they get them help. If you’re underage and see a peer struggling, check in and if something sticks out to you as concerning, reach out to an adult that can help or find someone to help. Don’t enable violent or harmful behavior. /Please/ that person can end up hurting themselves or someone else.

#I- listen I will go on about mental health all fucking day #it is VERY important to me #I’m not a professional or a doctor #I’m only speaking from personal experience of having family and friends with mental health issues as well as dealing with my own since I #was 12 years old #I’m now 24 and I have been consistently in therapy the entire time thankfully #initially because my mom and sister saw what I was going through and got me help and then Into my teen years to present day I continued to #seek treatment #it is dangerous to enable behavior like Kipperlilly’s #it is deeply irresponsible as well #like no she’s not real but the kids in the fandom are #dimension 20 #fantasy high junior year #d20 fhjy #fhjy

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raainberry · 1 day

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Raspberry Blue Night

« silly series - 16 »

Yeji x gn!reader

synopsis - if you’re walking and Yeji is by your side, it’s a date. on this one she decides to make a pit stop in a photobooth

T/W - fluff, late spring night vibes, yeji is a little tease but also a big pouty baby, reader is a bigger tease

wordcount - 905

A/N - its been so long since i posted yeji, im so sorry to the anon(s?) i basically left on read for three weeks i promise i wasnt ignoring you😭

It was a cute spring night. Just at dawn of summer, when the air stayed warm and the trees grew into their best form and colors.

Your hand swung with hers, stirring the soft breeze around you. The shy looks you stole at each other, the giggles slipping out of your lips when you caught each other…

It all had strangers looking at you fondly as you passed them down the streets, thinking themselves a witness to the blooming of a sweet, innocent love. A first date.

It all felt like it to be fair, so you couldn’t blame them. You didn’t want to correct them, but truth was you and Yeji’s fingers combined wasn’t enough to count for the amount of dates you went on anymore.

"Oh, it's cherry!" she hummed in delight, the sweet scent of the candy wafting through the air, teasing her senses.

The heart shaped lollipop you’d bought for her at the corner bakery was blue, a color that intrigued the both of you, though not enough for you to get one as well.

You chuckled softly, gaze dancing with amusement "Are you sure?" you chuckled, and she furrowed her eyebrows at your skepticism, a playful pout forming on her lips. "I'm just saying, it seems odd."

“Here then, see for yourself.” She offered, holding the lollipop dangerously close to your lips only for you to back away from it.

You’d hesitated for a moment, and Yeji couldn’t help but giggle at the way your features scrunched up; the sound echoing off the flowery balconies surrounding you.

"What, you make out with me but you draw the line at sharing candy?" she teased, her laughter bubbling up like a spring melody.

A faint blush creeped onto your skin. Not because of her words or her teasing, but because you realised how absurd your thought process was. But again, was it really? One glance at her lips, one thought of the smile they hid and it all made sense again.

So you argued your point.

“Yes, I do. Candy’s overrated, I’d much rather kiss you.” You let your words hang in the air for a moment, so Yeji looked at you expectantly. Curious to see what you’d follow up with.

“Besides, if I kiss you I’d taste it anyway, wouldn’t I?”

Yeji suddenly came to a stop, drawing your eyes back on her. You found hers gleaming, lips curved into a sly smirk. Some playful challenge she was inviting you to.

“Seriously?” You chuckled, yet your hand never let go of hers. You still held onto her, erasing the small gap that had appeared when she’d stopped walking. You’d gotten a step ahead, like you usually turned out to be when it came to fun and games.

But she knew how to bring you to your knees.

Yeji's smile widened, turning into that grin you loved so much, a flicker of amusement dancing in her gaze as she tilted her head slightly. “What, don’t you want to find out?

Absolutely you did, so you pulled her towards you, grinning excitedly as you braced yourself to feel her lips on yours.

Those pretty shaped and full lips of hers that left more gloss and lipstick on yours than you’d ever liked but never minded. They never came.

Instead you heard a shriek, leaving your pouty lips feeling empty. You’d caught her gaze suddenly flickering behind you but thought nothing of it until she pulled her attention away from you and onto whatever had caught her eye.

Whatever it was she wasn’t going to check it out without you apparently. Her hand stayed in yours, pulling you towards what you guessed was a photobooth as you approached it.

With the way Yeji dragged you there and pushed you into the booth, you’d think she was familiar with the place.

That simply wasn’t the case.

You watched with an amused smile as she fumbled with the commands and buttons in display. “What are you doing?” you giggled, as her pouting became more and more evident on her features.

“I don’t know,” she whined. “I just hope it didn’t just swallow my coins.”

Now, you knew Yeji could be intimidating if she wanted to, but scare a machine into working? That was new. And impressive, considering the fact that she didn’t even try and was acting like a big baby this whole time.

Guess her words were enough of a threat, finally allowing you to make her money’s worth of memories.

As soon as you could see yourselves on the screen, Yeji got a hold of your cheeks, squeezing them together and molding you into the cutest thing ever in her eyes.

She made sure to call you that too, pointing it out just to see your reaction. She usually found it even cuter, the way you act like it bothers you although you secretly love it. You like that she finds you cute. You want her to. And she knows it.

So you let her coax you into a series of poses, all ranging from silly to dramatic. It’s the single most amazing and longest five minutes of your life, and it was all topped and worth it when you felt her lips on yours for the last shot.

The taste of her lips was familiar, reminding you of your banter moments ago, and you made sure to tell her as soon as you pulled away.

“Pretty sure it’s raspberry.”

#itzy yeji #itzy x reader #yeji x reader #hwang yeji #itzy imagines

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separatist-apologist · 8 hours

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On My Vigilante Shit Again

Summary: At the High Lords Meeting, Rhys doesn't dress for friends-He's dressed for revenge.

Read on AO3

Thank you @velidewrites for the moodboard!

Note: This is what should have happened post High Lords meeting and you can quote me on that

“The moment you let him fuck you like an—”

Rhys was going to explode. Was going to kill him. Laws be damned, Rhys stared Tamlin down as he ripped through Tamlin’s feeble defenses and held his mind. Just his tongue, for now. But his mind was pliant, his will weak. Rhys could so easily rip his mind apart, make Tamlin beg and plead. Make him grovel before Feyre on his knees, head bowed so low he couldn’t breathe for the marble slammed against his nose.

Rhys’s hands shook under the table, his jaw clenched so painfully he could taste blood. Had he bitten his cheek or was he merely tasting what was to come? Even as he held Tamlin’s tongue, forcing the High Lord into silence, Rhys thought it wasn’t enough. This was merely a show to the five others watching what he was capable of should they test him.

Should they insult his mate, his wife, his life. Feyre was visibly shaken, freckles stark against her gray face. Her eyes were too bright and if he really parsed through the mingling scents of the room, he knew he’d smell salt gathering in the corners. Tamlin had succeeded in undermining her at her first meeting, at the first test of power and everyone knew it. Weakness wasn’t tolerated among High Lords and they’d be circling her like vultures now, looking for more cracks.

Rhys could kill them all. His eyes flicked toward Beron Vanserra, brown eyes locked firmly on Feyre. It was a dark impulse and yet…if they wanted to test him, he’d destroy all six of them and leave their territories in ruins as their ruthless courtiers fought and killed for power. He’d let them eat themselves alive and then sweet in benevolently and take all of Prythian for Feyre. He’d lay waste to the world and set all that power at her feet.

Did they not know what Rhys would do to keep the ones he loved safe? Happy? Rhys kept Tamlin’s tongue silent for the duration of the meeting with barely a second thought. But there, in the darkest recesses of his mind—the part Feyre never ventured, in part because she didn’t think to—Rhys knew what needed to happen next. And he knew how he’d justify it when the other High Lords came to him, furious and fearful.

Tamlin had opened the gates for Hybern. He was a traitor to them all. That’s what he’d say, anyway. Some of them might guess the true reasons—Helion, certainly, who had very loud fantasies about doing worse to Beron than Rhys intended to do to Tamlin. And some might not care very much at all so long as they were reassured they were in no danger. Tarquin and Thesan, certainly, would know he was a liar and not care—Tarquin especially. Though he wasn’t fond of either Rhys or Feyre, his anger for Tamlin burned so hot that Rhys had been able to feel it in the back of his throat.

Tamlin’s foolishness had cost him more lives than Tarquin was able to count. He wanted to see Tamlin punished, too, and couldn’t for the same reason none of them could—they were forbidden from interfering in the matters of other High Lords. Rhys simply didn’t care. Stalking the halls, he listened until he found Tamlin’s pathetic thoughts.

Where did you go? Feyre’s voice floated through his thoughts, her presence caressing his own as she asked for entrance.

Rhys had never once refused her, but he did then. Go back to sleep, my love. I’ll be back before you can miss me.

Rhys, her voice carried a warning, some of the sleepiness gone. Whatever you’re thinking—don’t. Come back to bed.

I can’t.

It was the truth. They could insult him. Call him a whore, a bastard, evil, Amarantha’s right hand—whatever they liked. Rhys didn’t care. Even if they said it in front of his family in their attempt to humiliate him, Rhys didn’t care. Let them say whatever they liked about him.

But how dare they say a word against Feyre. She was the reason they were able to speak freely at all. If Rhys had his way, they’d get on their knees and worship her like a goddess, not taunt her like she was lesser.

Rhys!

Maybe it was better to let her see—not to shut her out, but to invite her into his mind. To let her see the lengths he’d go. He’d promised her he’d do this once, didn’t he? That he’d hurt anyone who hurt her and he’d take his time doing it. He’d enjoy it.

As Rhys turned the handle to Tamlin’s door, he dropped his defenses so Feyre could slip in. He could feel her peering through his eyes, settling softly just behind his eyes. Her presence was a comfort, reassuring him that this was the right thing to do.

Rhys found Tamlin standing by a window, hands folded behind his back. When Rhys slipped inside, Tamlin turned, green eyes glowing brightly for just a moment.

“Have you come to gloat?” Tamlin asked, teeth sharpening ever so slightly.

“Not exactly,” Rhys replied, jamming his own hands in his pockets.

Tamlin sighed, eyes rolling in his skull. “Have you come to defend your mates honor? Spare me—she has none.”

The hair on Rhys’s neck stood on end.

Don’t, Feyre pleaded softly, her voice a shade too high pitched for his liking. He’s not worth it.

“She’s the reason you’re standing here,” Rhys reminded Tamlin, forcing himself to remain calm. If he alerted Tamlin to his plan, he wouldn’t get to say everything he needed to say. “You owe her your life.”

“I’ve given her enough—”

“You’ve given her nothing,” Rhys snarled, his magic swirling around him like furious vipers. Tamlin didn’t blink, didn’t blanche, thinking incorrectly that Rhys was all talk and no action.

“Are you angry about what I said or angry I had her first?” Tamlin spat, a fool to the very end.

“When I found her locked in your home, it was only her love for you that spared you. I would have ripped you apart piece by piece otherwise.”

Tamlin turned back to the window. “She’ll betray you, too. Feyre isn’t capable of loving anything or anyone but herself and her power.”

Rhys’s stomach twisted in knots.

“She died for you. For that love.”

“And I tried to make it up to her—”

“You locked her away like a trinket!” Rhys snarled again as Feyre pushed closer against him, talons stroking against his mind lovingly. “You were satisfied to let her waste away so long as she warmed your bed at night. If that’s love, well. I’d say I shudder to think what your hatred feels like, but I am intimately aware of how hateful you can be.”

Tamlin only sighed. “When she leaves you—and she will—I’ll be waiting for your apology.”

Rhys raised a hand as Feyre gasped softly in his mind, understanding right then what he truly intended to do. Tamlin, too, realized the danger he was in. It was too late. Immobile, Tamlin’s eyes widened as Rhys cocked his head to the side.

“You can wait for that apology in the afterlife and we’ll see, when I arrive, who was right.”

“Rhys—!” Feyre burst into the room a mere second before Rhys snapped his fingers. Blood sprayed through the room, coating not just his skin, but Feyre’s too. Where Tamlin had once stood, now there were merely the remnants of a male who’d lived a pathetic half life unworthy of memorial.

Feyre turned, still in her silken nightdress, eyes wide. “You…”

Rhys didn’t dare back down, though he felt a sliver of genuine fear. “Yes.”

“You shouldn’t…you didn’t…” Her eyes welled with tears as she approached him. Raising a hand, Rhys flinched, expecting her to slap him. Maybe that’s what he deserved.

Soft fingers caressed his jaw. “Thank you,” she whispered. Rhys exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“You’re not angry?” he asked carefully, eyes darting around the room. There was something delicious about his mate soaked in the blood of his greatest enemy. He wanted to strip her naked and lick her clean.

“No one has ever had me,” she whispered, inching closer. The scent of her arousal slammed into him, nearly knocking him to the floor. “Not like you.”

That was all he needed to hear. Just the knowledge that she could see his worst, ugliest impulses and still love him for it was enough. Rhys needed her right then, so badly he was unwilling to even make the walk back to their shared bed chamber. She knew it, too.

Feyre surged upward on her tiptoes, their mouths crashing in a symphony of heat. Rhys groaned, snaking an arm around her waist to pull her flush against him.

“I need you,” he told her, unable to add that what he needed was for her to confirm what he already knew to be true. They belonged together—he’d waited his whole life for her, would have waited centuries more. And it had all been worth it, in the end—to know it was her on the other end of all those sleepless nights, the years of misery, the loneliness that had plagued him. No one understood him the way she did, had ever truly looked at his very soul and found it beautiful rather than horrifying.

“You have me,” she told him, arching her neck so he could scrape his teeth against her soft, sensitive skin. “I’m never leaving.”

What would she say if she realized he wouldn’t let her leave? That his hatred of Tamlin was almost unjustified because Rhys understood why someone would want to lock her away and keep her all for themselves. Rhys felt the same urge, felt the same drive to snarl and snap at every male that dared to look at her without showing the proper reverence. They were too casual about her, didn’t venerate her the way they should. Feyre was more than just High Lady—she was a living goddess, the Cursebreaker herself.

“Fuck,” Rhys groaned, tongue licking a path down her throat to taste the blood adorning her skin like rubies. If Rhys had known she’d taste so good coated in another male's blood, he’d have killed Tamlin at their wedding. That scrap of silk was soaked and when Rhys ripped it away, he found the skin beneath stained red, too. Rhys needed her more than he needed anything else.

They’d condemn him for this. When they found the remnants of Tamlin, they’d smell his arousal and what he’d done atop the bits that remained. Rhys didn’t care—he hoped Tamlin’s soul lingered so he could watch how well Rhys fucked Feyre. And if Tamlin were still alive, Rhys might have told him that he’d fucked Feyre so thoroughly she had no memory of his pathetic attempts at satisfying her.

You were inadequate, Rhys wished he could say. The problem was always you and never her.

“I can hear your thoughts,” Feyre complained as Rhys sank to his knees. “Stop thinking about Tamlin and your witty comebacks.”

“I have so many things I didn’t get to say,” Rhys complained, pushing her gently against the very same bloodstained window Tamlin had been brooding beside mere minutes before.

“You can say them at his grave,” she reminded him.

“You’re so brilliant,” Rhys praised. “And beautiful. And you taste…”

He had his face between her legs as he spoke the words, raising one slim leg to hook it over his shoulders. Feyre exhaled, leaning her head back so her thick hair spilled over her shoulders, the tips teasing peaked, rosy nipples.

Rhys almost stood back up but Feyre, the clever thing, pushed his head back down. “Focus,” she whispered. He’d forgotten she was still in his mind, listening to his thoughts and watching through his eyes.

“Can you feel how badly I want you?” he whispered, letting his breath curl like shadows against her wet cunt.

“Yes,” she panted, nails scraping over his scalp.

Rhys let go of his power, drowning the two of them in darkness. His wings flared outward, enveloping the both until she was hidden from the world unless someone happened to be flying by the window her ass was pressed against. Feyre moaned loudly, unconcerned about anyone else hearing. Good. Rhys wanted her screams to echo off the vaulted ceilings, to keep them all awake. Let them hear—let them know how far Rhys would take it. That the true power in his home was Feyre herself.

Feyre was High Lady and Rhys was her sharpened blade.

Rhys licked up the side of the thigh, cleaning the blood before switching to the other. Feyre was practically trembling by the time he reached her center, the taste of copper mingling with the sweetness of her arousal. Rhys reached upward, using his strength to hold her so she could relax and, perhaps selfishly, so he could spread her further apart. He liked to see her flushed pink with arousal, liked to tease her with his fingers without wholly penetrating her. He wanted her desperate for his cock by the time he finished with her. Rhys teased her with his thumbs, pulling her cunt apart to rub her clit with his fingers and his tongue while Feyre writhed over him, gripping his hair so roughly she was in danger of ripping them out by the roots. Rhys was so aroused it was making him stupid, the throbbing between his legs almost painful.

But he needed to do this. Needed her to see him on his knees before her, worshiping her the way the rest of the world refused to. Besides, the taste of her was soothing something wicked and angry in his chest, calming the raging beast threatening to go on a rampage.

Feyre’s breath hitched in her chest, her free hand coming to his shoulder to stroke the edge of his wing just the way he liked. He didn’t need her to touch his cock at all to come—if she kept her cunt in his face and her hands on his wings Rhys would be spent before he ever had her grinding against him.

Still, Rhys began to work faster, tongue flat against her just the way he knew she liked. Feyre began rolling her hips against him, her orgasm building. Ride her through it—that’s all he had to do, now. Rhys liked when she used him like this, taking her pleasure without concern as to what he thought about her. Daring to press into her mind, Feyre’s arousal slammed into him with enough force to nearly knock him on his ass.

Her thoughts were a mindless chant of one word—Rhys, Rhys, Rhys, Rhys, Rhys—

If he hadn’t been so turned on, he might have wept. Unwilling to disappoint her in the final moments before she fell over that ledge, Rhys doubled his efforts, looking up as he licked her to watch her come. Feyre was radiant, glowing like silvery moonlight as she fell apart. Head thrown back, breasts arched toward the ceiling and her skin flushed, Rhys wished he could paint so she could see herself the way he did.

“Stop,” she panted, fingers sliding from his hair to cup his face. “I can hear you, I—”

“I need you,” was all he could manage to say. He could have laid her out on the bed if he’d wanted to, taken his time. But Rhys didn’t want to. He wanted her right then, right now, and he’d have her against that window or not at all.

Feyre clawed at his clothes, drawing forth a talon to slice open his shirt. Rhys didn’t want to think about the walk of shame the pair were going to have to undertake when they were finished. Perhaps he’d call Cassian and beg his friend for a favor and endure the inevitable teasing that would happen in the aftermath. It was well worth it—Rhys couldn’t wait to tell Azriel, Mor, and Cassian that he’d slaughtered Cassian. Unlike the rest of the ruling elite, his friends would find it funny.

“Now,” Rhys told Feyre, hoisting her up so her back was flat against the window. He offered no other warning before he slid his aching cock into her body. Rhys nearly lost himself, rutting into

Feyre like the animal Tamlin claimed he was without a care or concern for the female pressed against him. Her body gripped him so tightly, still convulsing from the orgasm he’d given her with his mouth.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Rhys whispered, biting gently against her shoulder. “Sometimes I think you were sent to destroy me.”

“You should have run from me, then,” Feyre replied as she raked her nails down his back.

“Dying at your hands would be a gift,” he said, half delirious from pleasure. All Rhys could focus on were his hips, thrusting hard enough that the window rattled in time behind them. His words were merely his unfiltered thoughts given voice because Rhys had never learned when to shut his mouth.

“There will be no death for you,” Feyre told him, lips gliding over his jaw. “Only me.”

Rhys shuddered, holding her so tightly against him he felt her ribs groan in protest. He needed her like he needed the air in his lungs, the sun on his skin, the wind on his wings. How had he managed so long without her? Rhys could barely remember that time before, the memories tinged gray with loss.

How much different would every horror have been if he’d had her at his side? If he knew she was at his back, bow pulled taut, gaze focused and lethal on his enemies? Rhys tried to imagine Feyre going up against his father, against Amarantha in the first war, against Tamlin and his family.

His breath stuttered at the image. Gods, they would have been unstoppable.

“Rhys,” Feyre breathed, holding his face so he had to look at her. “Come for me.”

Rhys was everything Tamlin accused him of being, but without any shame. He was fucking her like an animal because that was how Feyre liked it. She panted, nails clawing at his tattooed skin until the smell of his fresh blood mingled in the air. He was desperate and needed to feel her come again, wanted her wrapped so tight around his cock he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, could do nothing but wait until she released him.

Snaking a hand between them, Rhys rubbed circles over her clit—it took two, maybe three before Feyre cried out, allowing Rhys the pleasure of capturing the sound with his tongue and teeth.

Taste yourself, he ordered, thrusting into her with brutal efficiency. Feyre was pliant in his arms, her cunt just as tight as he’d hoped it would be and twice as wet. Rhys couldn’t have stopped himself even if he wanted to, coming with a snarl so loud there was no way everyone in the hall didn’t hear him.

Rhys poured himself into her, half wishing something would take. He didn’t want to stop, even when he was spent, balls empty. He could have kept going if he took a minute to catch his breath.

Feyre, too, seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“You’re so beautiful covered in blood,” she murmured, brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes.

Rhys suddenly didn’t care if someone watched him carry Feyre naked through the palace. Fuck everyone.

“Come on,” he purred, pressing a soft kiss just beneath her ear. “Let's get you to bed.”

#feysand #okay im free #im gonna reward myself with pho for dinner tonight

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lesbianranpoe · 1 day

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SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 114.5 AHEAD

akutagawa and atsushi are going to be the ones that kill fyodor/the tripolar singularity.

long yap session ahead because Apparently writing theory posts is something i do now

so! tripolar singularities are a thing now. (which, What the Fuck, Asagiri). there are two ways that singularities can form in bsd: 1, when two abilities cancel each other out, and 2, when an ability user uses their ability on themself, multiplying the ability until it forms a singularity.¹ im assuming that the tripolar singularity functions similarly to the latter, like Verlaine and Chuuya, who are both man-made singularities. that would make it extremely powerful™️. in Stormbringer, Verlaine was only defeated because Chuuya used Arahabaki. so we’re able to assume that defeating a tripolar singularity would be even more dangerous. but why would Atsushi and Akutagawa be the ones to defeat it? and how? (<- rhetorical question) well!! glad you asked. they would become a singularity :D

in this essay i will---

The End of BSD Season 5

(^ sorry for quality, just took these off of pinterest)

now we know that the floating fukuchi is the tripolar singularity. (at least that explains the three circles on his mask). and we know that atsushi and akutagawa are going to be fighting him. it wouldn't make sense to animate this scene if it wasn't important in some way. (also, sidenote, but i love how akutagawa is able to use his ability without dazai's coat. he's finally growing outside of dazai's influence 🥲). Yes, this doesn't really prove a lot. but atsushi and akutagawa are like glowing and flying which. im pretty sure they havent done before. so there could be something there? also, "just the two of us?" "do we need anything else?" 😭 AND parallels to the earlier sskk vs fukuchi fight, maybe :D

which, mentioning parallels....

Stormbringer: SKK vs Guivre and its Possible Parallels to SSKK vs the Tripolar Singularity/Fyodor

Disclaimer, i havent read stormbringer in a while so if theres any mistakes in my recollection... sorry.

In Stormbringer, if i remember correctly, Chuuya activates Corruption for the first time to take down Guivre, Verlaine's Singularity, and Dazai nullified the corruption afterward. In Stormbringer, Dazai and Chuuya were still in the earlier stages of their partnership, but Chuuya still trusted Dazai to nullify corruption.

Eventually, the trust between them grew and they became known as Soukoku, or Double Black. Dazai fosters the partnership between Atsushi and Akutagawa in an attempt to turn them into Shin Soukoku, the second Double Black. Because of this, there are many parallels between skk and sskk. Both start off disliking each other, but grow over the course of many fights as partners. Soukoku's fight against Verlaine was a turning point in their relationship that allowed that trust to grow, and trust in each other was necessary to defeat the singularity.

Atsushi and Akutagawa are still in the beginning stages of their partnership with each other, but we can see how their relationship evolves throughout BSD. battling the tripolar singularity together by becoming a singularity themselves, learning to understand and trust one another, would be a large milestone in their relationship as Shin Soukoku.

Dazai's comment in BSD Beast

yet another disclaimer because i am Broke™️ and do not have enough money for these light novels: i have only read up to BSD beast vol. 3, and have not read the light novel yet. i found this quote online. i apologize if i end up misinterpreting it. but this quote definitely implies that Atsushi and Akutagawa forming a singularity is possible. and in order to do that, they have to understand each other.

"...I needed to have you fight. I needed you two to face death to get you to understand each other."

Atsushi and Akutagawa have fought with each other, against each other, many times throughout BSD. Against each other, against Fitzgerald, in the Rats of the House of the Dead base, against that mf from 55 minutes, against fukuchi... and these fights have helped them understand each other, making them work better together. i saw a post a while ago about how skk is a relationship founded on trust but lack of understanding, fyolai is based on understanding but lack of trust, and sskk is becoming a relationship with both full trust and understanding and like. yeah!! they are learning to trust each other and understand each other!! akutagawa and atsushi are both privy to information about the other that even their respective sides don't know, atsushi's hallucinations and akutagawa's lung illness being the two largest ones.

If understanding is the basis of what allows two people to form a singularity, Atsushi and Akutagawa are almost there. It makes sense for their character development and development as a duo to progress there.

anyways !! this was pretty much just me yapping, idk how to write these theory posts or whatever, or if any of this makes sense (i rlly need to reread some of these light novels). but yeah. sskk vs fukuchi final fight ‼️

¹https://bungostraydogs.fandom.com/wiki/Ability#Singularity

#bsd spoilers #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd theories #bsd theory #sskk #shin soukoku #atsushi nakajima #akutagawa ryuunosuke #bsd 114.5 #soukoku #skk #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara

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whatwewrotepodcast · 2 days

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Equestrian Writing Resource

Hi everyone,

I've seen some how to write horses posts going around recently that contain some . . very not true things about horses. As a Certified Horse Girl TM I thought I might clarify a few things for any one out there wanting to write anything that includes horses.

My credentials are that I've been riding for as long as I remember, have owned horses for 15 years and currently compete at a state and national level in dressage.

Facts below the cut!

Travelling by horseback

Horses cannot gallop or even canter endlessly. This is something I see a lot of in movies and games and media like that. Even an extremely fit horse can only really gallop flat out for 10-15 minutes. A steady canter they can go for longer, but if you watch endurance races (where horses are ridden for 100s of kms over sometimes several days), the riders will mix periods of walk and trot to let the horses catch their breath and recover.

There are a couple of reasons for this. Horses do not have strong enough diaphragms to inflate their lungs fully. There are some cursed interior nonsenses going on here, but essentially at a gallop, a horse can only breathe once per stride. This means there is only a matter of time before they are no longer able to get enough oxygen to their muscles.

Which leads into the next thing . . .

Horses get hot easily and can struggle to cool down

Horses sweat, just like humans, but because of their mass, their interior temp can get very high and may need assistance to be brought down. That's why at the end of a cross country course (where horses are galloping for anywhere between 5-12 minutes and jumping fences) they often have buckets of water thrown on them to help them cool down.

A well trained horse can be ridden by anyone

I've seen some posts around recently that said that horses will try and throw off unfamiliar riders and that you can't ride a horse who doesn't know you. This is . . . ridiculous. If your horse has been trained properly anyone can get on and ride it. Ride it well? Maybe not, but if the person is a good rider they'll be able to do the basics. I've ridden my friends horses, and they've ridden my horse. I've put an 8 year old on my horse and let her walk around. If you horse is so insane it tosses anyone other than you, you've done a terrible job training it.

However, if a horse has not been broken to saddle, then yes, if you try and hop on it, it will probably try and get rid of you. If you just try and get on a horse bareback in the paddock, it will probably go poorly. A lot of horses don't take well to being ridden bareback initially, but they can all get used to it in time.

Horses are sensitive but you can just let them graze

It's a common joke amongst horse people that horses will drop dead of anything and this is true to an extent, but they would be entirely unviable lifeforms if you had to inspect every patch of grass before you let them eat it. In general, horses won't eat toxic plants if they have a choice. I'm not sure how people thing mustangs and other feral horses survive in the wild if every paddock needs to be check for toxic plants because horses can't tell what will kill them and what won't. It's usually perfectly fine to let your horse graze outside their paddock. On that note - if you horse breaks into the feed shed, it *can* cause colic, and depending what they eat, it can be an extremely serious circumstance, but also many horses break into feed sheds, gorge themselves, and walk away fine. Mine has done it more than once.

Horse riding IS hard

One thing other posts have gotten correct is that riding a horse is hard. It's not something you can do well from the get go no matter how amazing you are. Riding a horse the first few times will make muscles hurt you didn't even know you had. Riding a dressage test gets my heart rate nearly as high as going for a run.

Horses are kinda smart . . and kinda stupid

Yes horses all have personalities and they can be really clever, but they can also be extremely stupid and this is because they are flight animals. Some are braver, some are smarter, some are stupid, some are flighty. But a horse is generally not as smart as a dog, and some of them are as dumb as a bag of rocks.

Riding bareback is hard and not good for your horse's back

There's a reason we invented saddles and it's to help distribute a rider's weight more evenly over the horse's back. Horse spines are suspended like a cable between their hips and shoulders. There is nothing in the middle to hold it up but muscle, and you sit right on that thing. Riding bareback puts a lot of weight and pressure on their spine and the muscles around it. Riding with a (well fitted) saddle will help distribute the weight. However, well fitted is the key thing here. You can't just put any saddle on any horse. If the saddle doesn't fit, it can cause rubbing, pain, and eventually long term damage. It's best practice to get a saddle fitted every 12 months at least.

Sweat doesn't really make your horse more slippery though and if you saddle slides right off, your girth wasn't done up tight enough or some part of your tack failed.

Horses should be tied up while you tack and untack

Horses are flight animals and they will piss off if something scares them, which can be dangerous if they're half-tacked or untacked. However, if your horse tries to bite you just because you haven't tied them up then you are doing something that is causing them discomfort or you haven't trained them properly. For the love of god don't let your horse bite you?? What is wrong with you?? The girth should not be painful or uncomfortable for the horse. You don't need to do it as tightly as possible, just enough that it won't slide. Most horses have what is called a "girth groove" which is where the girth sits in front of their ribcage. Because their shoulder is in front and their rib cage widens out behind, the girth sitting in the groove stops the saddle moving.

Training a horse does take a while . . . but them liking you doesn't really factor

Training or breaking a horse to take a saddle and accept a bit and aids does take a long time. You can't just jump on a feral horse and expect them to listen to you. Horses are usually backed (sat on) at between 4-6 years old but they may have had a saddle and bit on for short periods before hand. Horses don't accept tack because they care about whether it helps their rider not fall off, they do it because they have been trained to do it.

Crops and spurs

Crops (whips) and spurs are both aids that, when used properly, cue horses to perform certain movements. Both are more than capable of being abused. You can hurt a horse with a whip just as easily as with a spur, however, used properly, a spur allows you to make smaller, more finnessed aids with your leg than using your heel. A whip or crop can be used in a similar way, especially with horses who like to swing their shoulders or hips one way or the other - the whip just extends your reach.

English vs western

English and western are the two main styles of riding that are most common these days.

English riding includes dressage, jumping, and eventing. These sports are complicated so I won't go into them, but generally the saddles are lighter and allow for a closer connection to the horse, and more ability to move in the saddle - to stand in the stirrups, to get deeper into the saddle, etc.

Western riding is more ranch style riding, and include disciplines like reining, barrel racing, cutting and other sports involving cows. Western saddles are what you see in cowboy movies, and tend to be much heavier and more restrictive - they down allow you to move around so much.

Horses can be affectionate

It does depend a bit on the horse, but horses can absolutely be affectionate. They do this by calling out to you, coming over to you in the paddock, and sniffing and nuzzling at you. They do think with their stomach though, and a great way to get your horse to be excited to see you is to always bring them food.

Horses don't neigh that much

This is a big bug bear in movies. Horses really really really don't usually neigh that much. In fact, they don't make a lot of noise at all in general. They will call to their friends sometimes, and they make a range of whuffling, nickering, snuffling sounds, snorts and grunts, but the way movies show horses screaming their heads off all the time is totally false. They're usually pretty quiet.

That's it for now, but feel free to reach out if you have any other questions. I hope this post spreads as far as the other one did because. . .yikes there was a lot of wrong information in there!

#writeblr #writing #writers of tumblr #am writing #writer #write #writers #writing tips #horses #horsblr #horses of tumblr #dressage #equestrian

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fluffbeast7 · 2 days

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New Sun and moon au idea..

HEHHSDH i'm SO excited to work on this- i started studying the viva piñatas style (just today, actually), i want to maybe work on a AU with sun and moon in it as new characters, i'm not sure how they would impact the world but i already have a few ideas!! will post as i work on it :>

i will share just some ideas of their characters in general.

They would be helpers for your piñatas, entertaining them and helping you look after them, warning you of potential danger and stuff. They own a shop in which you have to pay them depending how long you want them to work for you, but they introduce themselves as work partners and will help each other depending on the occasion.

Both of them switch their place during the night and during the day, and if you pay them enough to stay for a long time, they excuse themselves as the sun sets or rizes and each of them would hurry to their shop in a clumsy way, sun saying he cant work nights and moon saying he only does late night hours.

there's rumors between the other characters that they both are the same person, since they are never seen together (they would like to keep it a secret and are very persistent about it). HOWEVER you can beat them with a shovel when they try to run away (if youre an asshole, yes this is something you can do to piñatas and NPC's during gamplay), not giving them enough time to get back to their shop, which results in you seeing them switch, they even drop some candy while at it... However, they will get very angry at you and wont speak to you in a while, They wont come back to your garden even if you payed them to stay (no refunds).

If you do it often, you will damage them, (causing sun or moon to do struggle noises, like in the fnaf games!), as revenge. they will leave Sour Candy in your garden, so your piñatas get sick.)

one more rumor you get from other characters, is that they think sun and moon were animatronics that ran away from a restaurant a long time ago...

this is sun's little pet, have to find one for moon still:

the reason i'm not going full in with how they function is that i want to watch a gameplay of viva piñata first, i always tried to not give myself spoilers but i accepted that i prob wont ever have the chance to play the game to its fullest qwq

#my art #concept art #viva piñata AU project #dca AU

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khaire-traveler · 2 days

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Since it keeps coming up, I want to state that I do have my asks turned off currently. My inbox was getting flooded with lots of people all of a sudden, especially requests for Subtle Worship posts, and it was beginning to overwhelm me. I have a lot going on in my offline life right now, so I'm also trying to focus on that which is also why I haven't been posting much. I just (literally one week ago) moved across the US, so I've been pretty consumed by the stress of that.

To make it clear, I'm not deactivating my account or going on a hiatus or something. I'm just not going to post as much or answer any asks. I'm just stressed, overwhelmed, and burnt out. Exhausted or anxious have become my natural states of being lately, and Tumblr hasn't exactly been making that better for me. I'll be alright; I'm just tired.

I do plan to continue the Subtle Worship series, but I'm taking a break from those posts for the time being because it takes a lot of time, energy, and effort to make them. It can be quite an exhausting process over time, especially since, admittedly, it's not super rewarding, if I'm being honest. While I make those posts to spread information, I also am often taking requests and creating posts for deities I have no experience with. Although it's great to get the word out about lesser known deities and that is a good feeling, I'm not getting paid or compensated in any way for these requests. I'm giving it my all, trying my best to come up with helpful suggestions on simple worship of deities I have never interacted with, and it takes a lot out of me. Oftentimes, I am attempting to connect with the deity's energy in order to come up with ideas which is extremely tiring when repeating that process over and over again. I enjoy making these posts, but it has stopped being fun for me and has started feeling like an obligation or expectation. So I'm taking a break for now.

I love running this blog, but it's beginning to feel like more work than anything else. I keep doing things for people, going out of my way to attempt to answer questions and creating posts upon request, and yet, it never feels like enough. There's always more for me to do, more questions to answer, more posts to create. This is meant to be an experience that I enjoy, but I'm not enjoying this anymore. It feels like a job that I don't get paid for. I love helping people, don't get me wrong, but there comes a time when it starts to be too much. Some questions are also answered by things in my pinned post, and although I enjoy helping people, as I said, it does get tiring having to redirect them to posts they can find themselves if they look at the links I've provided past the "read more". I will say that I wish people utilized my pinned post more.

So thank you, everyone, for your support and concern. I just want to rest for now. I want to enjoy myself. I want to post things that I like posting and researching things I want to actively learn about. I'm happy to help, but the person who most needs my help right now is myself, so I'm gonna focus on them. Please take care, and have a good day/night. 🧡

#blog post #blog update #personal

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queenie-ofthe-void · 1 day

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S2.5 AU || ~2k words || rating: teen || cws: mentions of past homophobic slurs, childhood neglect

AU where Max and her Mom move to the trailer park immediately following the events of S2. It's part of a long-term WIP, but this chapter got off course so I'm posting it as a stand-alone for now.

“Fucking, Christ,” Eddie mumbles as he drags himself from his warm bed. It’s almost four in the morning, much too early on a Saturday for someone to be bothering him. Yet the knocking’s persistent, the noise growing louder and impatient as he throws a sweatshirt on. Wayne had warned him it’d be a cold night– because yeah Wayne, it’s December– but not a goddamned ice age. The space heaters are barely cutting it. He can’t imagine anyone being out in this weather unless they didn’t have a choice.

Eddie yanks the door open to find the Mayfield girl, fist hitting him in the stomach mid-knock. It doesn’t hurt but he still makes a show of it. He’s nothing if not a patron saint of the arts. “Oof Little Red, I think you left a bruise,” he grunts as he crumples forward onto the door frame.

“Right, sure,” she deadpans, rolling her eyes. Now that Eddie’s closer, he can see the pale tint to her skin and the red flush on her nose and cheeks. She’s layered in multiple sweatshirts with a Hawkins Middle knit cap covering her ears, grey Hawkins Tigersharks sweatpants, and a stuffed backpack slung over one shoulder. Red doesn’t really look like the school-spirit kind of kid. But she does look cold.

“Want to come in?” Eddie asks. She’s barreling past him before he can finish, plopping herself down on the living room floor in front of the space heater. He moves to take the chair next to her before reconsidering. Instead, Eddie sits on the floor too, leaning up against the couch opposite her.

“The power’s out– heat too,” Red mumbles.

“Yeah, windows are pretty shit in the trailers. It’s why we got space heaters this year.”

“Must be nice, being able to afford space heaters,” she says with a smirk, taking her mittens off and rubbing her hands back and forth in front of the heater. Eddie’s more than familiar with the self-deprecating poor jokes, so it’s no sweat off his back. “I’m Max, by the way. Not Little Red.”

“Well when newbies move into the lot across the way and don’t introduce themselves, you’ve left me no choice but to resort to outlandish nicknames.” A ghost of a smile passes her features before it’s lost to a full-body shiver. Eddie realizes that this is their first-ever conversation, despite her living in the Park for almost four weeks now. “Mama Red and Little Red: The unfriendly neighbors across the way,” he finishes the dramatics with a wide smile.

Max scoffs out a laugh “well you haven’t been exactly friendly either.” And well, she’s got him there. He’s not exactly baking cookies as a neighborly welcome.

He decides he likes her. She seems witty, quick to defend herself, and bold enough to call out bullshit. Eddie’s always been a sucker for lost sheep and Little Red is quite literally a shivering child huddled up to his hearth with no parent in sight. Like sees like and he’s almost desperate to help her.

“You know, I know the heaters are shit in the trailers-”

“That’s an understatement,” Max interrupts with another huff.

“– but if you or your mom ever need help with anything, Wayne and I are always happy to come over to check on stuff for you,” he offers.

He watches the offer die in the air between them. Her face shutters back to the cold neutrality he’s used to seeing her wear and she moves to stand.

“Yeah, of course,” she says. There’s no warmth or meaning behind the words. Just typical middle America niceties. “Speaking of help, can I use your phone?”

Eddie nods, leading her to the kitchen. He can’t help but replay the moment over in his head, regretting that his mistake was so painfully obvious in hindsight. Offering kids like Gareth and Jeff help meant soft smiles and adoration. For a kid like Max– a kid like him– an offer of help only reminds them they’re a burden. Help is just a way of reminding them that they can’t take care of themselves. Help means weak.

How could it have been so long that he’s forgotten? He supposes he has Wayne to thank for that newfound privilege.

“Hey it’s me,” Max says in hushed tones over the receiver. She looks at Eddie and turns her back to him. He meanders over to the other side of the counter, pretending not to listen.

“Can you come pick me up?” she asks. Eddie can’t hear the response on the other end, but Max exasperatedly sighs.

“Yes I’m fine. No, it’s not Billy, it’s just the heater.”

She pauses, shoulders hunched, and Eddie wonders who Billy could be. The only Billy he knows is Hargrove, and he’s never seen him around here before. Thank fuck for that.

“No she’s not home. No, jeez will you listen I just need– yeah I’ve got a bag. Ten minutes? Ok yeah I’ll– wait no. I’m not home.”

She turns to glance at Eddie, and he’s too slow to look nonchalant if her scowl means something.

“I’m at the Munson’s. Yeah– no, it’s just Eddie. Umm,” she hesitates, scanning him up and down before responding, “no he’s good. Yeah I’ll wait here.”

She hangs the phone back on the wall, crossing her arms as she looks anywhere but Eddie’s direction. He knows he fucked up, knows where he went wrong, but doesn’t know how to fix it. He isn’t Wayne.

“My ride will be here soon,” she says to her shoes.

“Ok yeah, no big deal,” Eddie replies. “We can wait in the living room?”

Little Red shrugs, but heads back to sit in front of the space heater. It’s silent and awkward, neither of them knowing how to move past the tension. Eddie laments himself again at losing a lost sheep. Although if she has a ride, maybe she isn’t as lost as he thought.

Ten minutes feels like an eternity, but eventually headlights flash through the front windows. Max practically tips over from the weight of her backpack with how quickly she’s scrambling toward the door. And yeah, Eddie thinks she must’ve felt the same about the wait.

“Uhh, hey, thanks,” Max says, her hand already on the door handle. “You know, for letting me use the phone.”

He can fix this. He can recover. Eddie doesn’t want to acknowledge why it’s so important that Little Red feels safe here, but he’s desperate for her to know. That he’s ok and he gets it. He gets her and she isn’t alone here, like Eddie was before Wayne. He wants to help.

What would he have wanted to hear?

“Whelp,” he says loudly, standing up from the floor, “you’re always welcome to come over and entertain me with more scintillating conversations. Perchance, on our next meeting, we could engage in the classic game of Go Fish?” He plasters on a too-wide grin, removing an imaginary top-hat and falls forward into a deep bow. An actual offer of help disguised as his own boredom, wrapped in a thick layer of sarcasm and extravagance. He’s really pulling out all the stops here.

And it works, mostly. Her mouth ticks up at the ends, matching the little spark that’s returned to her eyes. Eddie thinks that maybe for Little Red, a smirk and an eye roll is as good as it gets. He’ll take it as a win.

“Oh my god,” she laments, yet the smirk is still there. “You sound just as dorky as the boys.”

She opens the door and Eddie stands behind her, holding it open as she makes her way out. He’s not sure why he’s surprised– knows he really, really shouldn’t be at this point– to see the maroon beemer parked in front of his trailer. But here he is, standing in front of the King himself, wearing Wayne’s black and tattered Johnny Cash sweatshirt, blue buffalo check wool pajama bottoms, and his red and green Christmas fuzzy socks. He feels too visible, the headlights shining on all of Eddie’s insecurities.

But before his hackles come out, Harrington jumps out of his car and half jogs up to the front step. He takes Max’s backpack and ruffles the pom on her knit hat before she’s bounding to the car, saying something under her breath which sounds a little like “ok mom” if Eddie’s not mistaken.

“Hey Munson,” Harrington says. He’s standing at the bottom of the front porch, looking up at Eddie through the glow of the headlights. And Eddie’s pretty sure the only plebeians who have ever seen the King look this disgruntled are his many midnight conquests. Harrington’s still got a thick, red sleep indent across his left cheek. His normally styled hair is pointing in all directions, standing completely vertical on the same side as the indent. He must’ve left in a hurry too, only clad in grey Hawkins Tigershark sweatpants– same as Red, though his fit him properly– and an oversized green crewneck sweatshirt.

And no, Eddie thinks, maybe even Harrington’s midnight conquests haven’t seen him like this. The King looks less like royalty and more like the normal boy Eddie supposes he really is, underneath the All-American highschool bully varnish he must slather himself in every morning. Or at least did, before Byers and Wheeler and Hargrove got to him.

He realizes too late that he’s been staring, caught up in the softness of a pretty face. Harrington’s shuffling his feet, blowing on his hands as he rubs them together fiercely. There’s a strong red tinge to his cheeks, almost like a blush. Almost.

“I uhh,” Harrington stutters, looking up at Eddie. “I just wanted to say thank you, for letting her hang here until I could get here.”

“It’s no problem, man,” Eddie says, “don’t worry about it.” Eddie means to sound casual, he does. Because he’s seen Harrington around. Watched him help move boxes into Red’s trailer. Watched him pick her up and drop her off everyday of the week, including most weekends. Hell, sometimes Eddie’s even witnessed an entire gaggle of children spill from the luxury car’s back seats, the lot of them yelling while Harrington tries to herd them around like an exhausted sheep dog.

But Harrington is still The Hair, The King of Hawkins High, even if it’s not the same as it used to be. So Eddie’s voice sounds more cold and hollow than casual. Harrington might not have ever shoved him into lockers, but he brandished sharp names like weapons against kids like Eddie. He’s a freak. A fag and a queer. A loser.

Harrington cringes, almost like he can hear Eddie’s thoughts. Eddie steps back to close the door, but Harrington calls out.

“If you ever need help with anything,” Harrington calls out, “or if Max is here and needs something, just like, ask me. Call me, you can get my number from Max.”

Help.

Eddie bites back his instinctual reaction to tell Harrington to fuck off. Of course some hoity-toity rich prick thinks someone like Eddie needs help.

Hypocrite he lambashes himself, before taking a slow breath in and out.

He stiffly nods, unable to actually respond without worry of snapping.

Harrington seems to understand, nodding in return, jogging back to the car and sending a small, awkward wave from behind the steering wheel as he and Red pull out of the drive.

Eddie crawls back into the warmth of his bed, blankets pulled tight around him. He thinks he recovered with Red rather well, in the end. Like he hasn’t lost her faith completely, which is all he could hope for. And even though he doesn’t like Harrington, he also can’t help but wonder how different his own childhood would’ve been if he’d had someone like Steve, who would’ve picked him up at a moment’s notice at four a.m. on the coldest day of winter.

He might not have adopted a new sheep into his growing flock, but he can sleep a little better knowing she isn’t alone. Knowing Steve Harrington, of all people, seems more than willing to go out of his way for her. Almost as desperate to help a lost kid as Eddie feels, and isn’t that a thought. The Freak and the King might have something in common after all.

#this fic can fit so much childhood neglect in it #steddie if you squint *really* hard #it's coming though I swear #all my babies in one story #max and eddie and steve #steve & max #max mayfield #eddie munson #pre steddie #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #max mayfield fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #QueenieWritesStories #It's midnight so if you see errors THINK AGAIN

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antiendovents · 1 day

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i just wanna make another post addressing the whole issue of the vent that told pro endos to kill themselves (link to original post here, link to response / explanation post here)

I just wanted to say that one; I do not condone harassment or telling people to actually kill themselves (I mentioned this in the tags of the original post but I'm not sure if I made it clear enough), by that I mean I don't support people actually going to pro endo blogs and telling them they should kill themselves and stuff. But, I also do not support harassing people for "thought crimes". Sure, it's not the nicest thing to wish death upon those you hate, but as someone with NPD who does this quite frequently in my head I kind of understand it. And I'd rather that person come here to vent their frustrations than say actually go around telling people to do it. You get me?

Two; this is a vent blog, made for frustration at it's core. We made this blog because endos made us mad. They made us frustrated and upset and hurt. So we made this blog for us and other anti endos to vent their anger about it, and that's what we'll allow. We have said multiple times we do not condone harassment nor do we condone actually telling people to kill themselves, but if you wish to come here and vent about it and about how you feel then you are welcome to do so.

And finally, about the delusional statement; I don't agree with that either. I don't believe delusional should be used as an insult but I feel it's important to recognise that they likely didn't mean it in that way or maybe didn't even know it was a insult.

I don't know, I'm not them and I can't comment on their actions or why they did what they did, but I can comment on why I posted it, which is because well, that's what this blog is made for. I'm sorry if you were hurt by their words, I can promise I didn't intend to hurt others, but this is a vent blog and while yes I do like to keep some things light hearted here it's also important to understand that well. As I've said. It's a vent blog.

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lovemyromance · 13 hours

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why do people say az and elain are too predictable? i mean... theyve been getting set up since the second book idk

People are scrambling to just say any and all argument against Elriel because they're desperate. Even if they constantly contradict themselves.

Elriel is too predictable - but at the same time the antis deny that Elain & Azriel have had any romantic interaction and give them "platonic sibling vibes"

3 sisters x 3 brothers is too predictable - but 3x3 everyone gets with their mate is perfect symmetry

Lucien and Elain are avoiding each other because SJM is saving their story for their book - but also Elain is secretly in love with Lucien and she feels rebellious so that's why she's sneaking around with Azriel

Gwynriels saying the mating bond snapped for Azriel when he rescued Gwyn - but then arguing he's just giving her love and trust and respect when he doesn't go feral like Cassian when Nesta & her friends get taken for the BR

Azriel raising an eyebrow and half turning at Gwyn's "high-pitched noise" was him expressing romantic interest for her - but SJM literally writing Azriel monitoring Elain as if "he'd heard the sound of Elain's sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it" was just him wanting to spy on Elain because he doesn't trust her 🤡

Give me a break. These people just see what they want to see and I frankly don't care anymore. They'll be disappointed soon enough. I wish that would be enough to never hear from them again - but unfortunately then we'll just be flooded with more posts about how SJM is only doing fanservice 🥱

#elriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #acotar #azriel #pro elain #elain #antielucien #antigwynriel

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beesspacedotorg · 7 hours

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beebebebebebebeebee… kitties minbin grooming each other 🥹🥹

hihi. there's no porn in this. just kitties being kitties! I was gonna write porn, and then decided I just wanted cats!!

Minho hated Changbinnie when you first brought him home. Hate … might be a strong word, but your Lino certainly didn't like the other cat. Went so far as to hiss at him whenever he sat in the wrong spot on the couch. It took a while, and several long, tough conversations where Minho was being exceptionally stubborn before they warmed up to each other.

(To his credit, Changbin seemed ecstatic at having an older friend. Wanted to be attached to Minho’s hip despite the other cat's best efforts.)

Looking at the two of them now, though, you'd never know that they used to not get along.

When you walk in after work, your job which you hate, Lino has Changbin pinned to the couch, licking his face while Binnie fusses underneath him.

“Yah!” It comes out as more of a yowl than a yell, “Let go!”

“Changbinnie,” Minho's voice is cloying and sweet, “stop wiggling or hyung will accidentally bite you.”

“I'm not- stop it- I'm not dirty! You don't need to clean me!” Changbin says, and Minho pulls back to stare at him with a frown, tail twitching behind him.

“I don't need to do anything. I'm doing this because I want to.” Changbin’s ears turn pink. “Or does Binniecat not want me to?” Minho pouts, fake and even though his back is turned to you, you can see the way his cute lips turn down.

“Ohhhh,” Minho flops over onto his back, trapping Changbin beneath him and giving the other a mouthful of hair, “Our Changbinnie doesn't like me anymore! Jagi,” he reaches out to you, “Changbinnie hates me.”

You snort. “I'm sure that's not true, Lino.”

“It is,” Minho yowls, rolling around on top of Changbin and causing him to groan in discomfort. “Changbinnie hates me and doesn't love me.”

“And why do you say that?”

“Because he won't let me-”

“Because I told him to stop licking my face.” You coo at how put upon your Binnie sounds, walking around to kneel on the ground next to the two of them to pinch at one of his full cheeks.

“Aigoo, is our Binnie sick of Lino’s grooming?” Your voice is high and pitched and you can see out of the corner of your eye how Minho’s ears have pinned themselves to his head in annoyance and you can feel when he flaps his tail hard against your arm.

“I just wanted to watch my shows.” Changbin is pouting at you, reaching out with his little hands to grab you in a bid for more affection. It works.

You are notoriously weak for displays of cuteness, willing to let anything slide if one of your kitties apologizes sweetly enough, and the two of them take advantage of this at any opportunity.

“Jagiiii!” Minho's drawn out whine sounds alarmingly close to your ear and when you turn your head to look at him, you're met with more of a Minho-shaped blur than anything else. You reach out to scratch between his ears.

“Yes, kitty cat?”

“Pay attention to me!” You giggle.

“And what about Binnie-bug?” Changbin headbutts your shoulder at the mention of his name.

“He doesn't love me anymore. Put him outside and let him become a stray.” Minho turns his head away, eyes closed and chin raised in the perfect image of distaste. The way he has one leg resting overtop of Changbin's gives his nonchalance away.

“Yah! Why don't we put you outside and let you become a stray?!” Changbin is leaving his post at your side to start wrestling with Minho.

“I lived here first!”

“I lived here second!!”

You laugh as their fighting takes them off the couch onto the floor, and you move from your spot next to the couch to take Changbin's now empty seat.

It's funny watching them wrestle, watching the way Minho's tail poofs up and the way Changbin’s ears disappear into his curly hair. If they were any closer to you you'd be able to see the way their pupils are blown wide from the fight.

Changbin gets a particularly good hit in and Minho lets out a high pitched meow, they're just playing, and you know now to only step in if hissing gets involved. That hasn't happened in a long time though, so you aren't worried.

Minho steps back and wiggles a little before pouncing on Changbin and you coo loud enough that they both turn their heads towards you.

“Oh, don't stop on my account, cuties.” Minho lets out a huff of air through his nose in that catty way of his before he goes back to wrestling Changbin to the ground.

Changbin usually lets Minho win. Something about cat hierarchy that you don't understand despite their attempts to explain it to you.

“It's the same reason we let you win, jagi.” Minho had said to you once.

“You don't let me do anything. I win based on my own merit and strength.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. Changbin snorted.

“Yeah, sure. You're very strong.” He’d said, kissing your cheek.

“I know I am! Thank you!” Minho had said something about feeding delusions and then the three of you had gone to sleep. Or, you went to sleep and the two of them started wrestling on top of your body in the middle of the night.

Either way, Changbin usually lets Minho win, but today he doesn't. He pins the older cat to the ground and grabs the scruff of his neck between his teeth. Minho struggles, tail thrashing wildly and growl building in his throat. Changbin answers with his own growl and Minho flops uselessly underneath him.

“You cheated.” Minho says, faced smushed into your rug.

“You're a sore loser.” Changbin replies, letting Minho turn over so he can straddle him.

You smile at the two of them and laugh, bright and joyful, when Changbin starts grooming Minho's face.

“Hey! Knock that off!” Minho says.

“Not so fun, is it?” Changbin says, pinning Minho's arms down when he tries to shove him off.

#in:box #ems more like mommy #ft.lino #ft.changbinnie #kitties minbin #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know fluff #changbin x reader #changbin x you #changbin fluff #bee blurbs #skz x you #skz fluff

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sassykinzonline · 18 hours

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ok i saw the post you guys meant when you were asking about platonic SNS aka "SNS should be platonic because that makes it selfless", heres what i'll say (some of these sort of rehash the ask, but with a more direct rebuttal to the specific point):

the manga explicitly shows how various types of love (platonic, familial, professional, romantic, sexual) can be "imperfect", therefore, the manga rejects the idea that one sort of love is implicitly "correct" or "selfless" or whatever ontological good you want to attach to the love of your choice

action/shounen's propensity to pose the love interest as the "reward" for the hero's journey not only doesnt apply to SNS (nor the naruto manga from an SNS lens), but this is also another example of attaching an ontological idea that is irrelevant to a concept. tropes are not what define a genre nor a story archetype, theyre simply a common device used within these things. for example, the "heroine as a reward" trope for the hero may be a device used to exemplify success, honour, or nobility. it likely stems from cultural patriarchal norms where what was "desirable" was a "brave" man with deeds to his name. the point of this trope is likely to inspire a reader to emulate the hero, thinking that they will also ~get the girl at the end of their "journey". but the trophy doesnt have to be the girl. the trophy can be riches. the trophy can be a title. the trophy can be peace itself. it can be all those things. why? because the core of a hero's journey is literally the hero's journey, how and why they get from point A to point B and what the effects of that are. and thats typically how you choose what trophy to give your hero at the end.

the naruto manga subverts this trope by making the "journey" the feelings themselves: do you have them, how to express them, are they enough, are they even appropriate to have, what does the other person feel, what can be done about that? thats why i said the trope doesnt exactly apply to SNS. by making the journey about the feelings, the "reward" of the heroine at the end is no longer a patriarchal holdover but a logical conclusion to a conflict. this is why i joke that naruto the manga works better as a YA novel from the twilight/hunger games era, because typically those kinds of books have room for this kind of complexity. this is also why "sasuke" is not primarily an antagonist, he is a deuteragonist. he is tangentially going through the same journey as naruto, he is not running counter to naruto's journey intentionally.

even if you wont agree that the feelings are the journey, and instead the journey is becoming hokage or uniting the shinobi world or whatever, by definition naruto's feelings have to change for the journey to be possible. otherwise theres no point in the journey, hed be able to be hokage at the start of the manga and everyone would agree on that despite him being weak. there is a reason why naruto's power-ups also come with some sort of emotional lesson, and that emotional lesson is what gets people on his side. every arc in the manga is naruto has to do something -> naruto has an idea -> someone tells him that his idea is immature -> he trains while pondering the idea -> he needs to use the idea to complete his training -> he voices his revised idea that he learned from the someone -> he wins. theres only one exception to this. i'll let you figure out why that is.

many people who make this argument about how "platonic love is better" are both understanding the point and not understanding the point. these people are taking platonic love to mean "friendship" and thats not what it means in the sense its used in the manga, nor in a classical sense. platonic love according to plato (the one its named after), is the idea that it is a love that transcends earthly ideas like carnal desire and physical unity and instead becomes desire for one's true essence and unity in the "truth" of one's being. this means platonic love isnt "love without sex" but "love that can be more than just sex". so these people understand that "platonic love" is above any other type of love, but not because its "friendship". platonic love is "better" because it is permanent and unchangeable. truth is inherent. a soul is inherent. thats why within SNS there are themes of reincarnation of souls, of sharing of pain, of cosmic unity, of reuniting after death, of inexplicable yet unavoidable attraction, of the recognition, understanding and acceptance of someone else's truth.

in summary: SNS' souls are having cosmic sex and thats what saves the world.

#naruto analysis #naruto meta #sasunaru #narusasu #sasunarusasu #sns #sasuke #naruto #sasuke uchiha #uchiha sasuke #naruto uzumaki #uzumaki naruto #naruto x sasuke #sasuke x naruto #pro sasunaru #pro naruto uzumaki #pro sasuke #once again i wrote this in one go so if there are typos im sorry but im tired of having these arguments over and over

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yes-i-write-fanfiction · 2 days

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Remember that post you made in the past about the TFA Autobots being raised on Earth?

What if those versions of themselves met their canon counter parts?

-Optimus finds himself at a bit of a loss with how to handle this alternative version of himself. They are so much alike one another yet also so, so very different. They share no life experiences in common and ER!Optimus have never experienced the catastrophic guilt that he did and so it's hard for them to relate with one another. Optimus finds his counterpart's cockiness and relaxed attitude a bit frustrating.

Meanwhile, ER!Optimus thinks regular Optimus a bit too high strung and dislikes the fact that he's got such low self confidence. Look, he understands that this this version of himself went through a lot of tough shit but that doesn't mean he's lost his value as a person.

-Bumblebee is jealous of ER!Bee simply due to the fact that this version of himself is so popular, cool and confident without even trying. It kinda upsets him because while he is always trying to prove himself, ER!Bumblebee feels confident enough to just be himself. Constantly tries to one-up his alternative self to prove to everyone (and himself) that he's not a worse version.

ER!Bumblebee on the other hand feels bad for his counterpart because he's recognizes his own behaviors and sees that Bee simply feels inadequate and is in desperate need of some validation. Does not take his continuous antagonization to heart and instead humors him all while trying to raise his confidence.

-Ratchet and ER!Ratchet won't stop bickering with each other. ER!Ratchet is much more relaxed, happier but just as stubborn as he is and he can't stand seeing how 'naive' his alternative is. Still, he's determined to teach ER!Ratchet all there is to know about cybertronian medicine and how to be a proper medic. He says it's because it's embarrassing to see himself so inadequate but the truth is that he's afraid that one day someone is going to get hurt and ER!Ratchet won't be able to do anything.

ER!Ratchet thinks Ratchet is a bitter fool, too caught up in the past to focus on the present. He recognizes that this version of himself have undoubtedly gone through things that he himself can't even start to imagine but he also knows himself well enough that he's well aware of the fact that his own stubborness is only making things worse. Does however appreciate the fact that he's finally being taught medicine about his own kind and in return he happily teaches Ratchet about humans. When they are not bickering, they actually get along quite well.

-Prowl is quite fascinated with this version of himself. What ER!Prowl lacks in fighting skills, he makes up for in wisdom, having spent his life finding peace within and connecting with the world and people around him. Happily shares meditation techniques with him and teaches him some cyber-ninja skills while discussing their philosophies. They actually get along quite well and crack a lot of jokes with one another.

ER!Prowl is a bit envious of Prowl, something that he will admit not only to himself but his counterpart as well. Since he was raised by humans he always used to feel like he didn't quite belong, that he was alone in the world. Prowl never had to experience that, being surrounded by other cybertronians. Still, he recognizes that they both have their own stories, not all pleasant, and that Prowl undoubtedly had his own worries growing up. Really fascinated by Prowl's training as a cyber-ninja and absorbs everything he teaches him like a sponge.

-Bulkhead really, really looks up to his alternative self. In his optics, ER!Bulkhead is just a better version of himself. Confident in a way that Bulkhead can't even imagine replicating. Also very impressed by the fact that he's a famous artist. Feels a bit smug about the fact that he knows about space bridges but ER!Bulkhead don't but he never holds it over his head.

Meanwhile, ER!Bulkhead is just fascinated by the fact that Bulkhead has been to space and experienced so many adventures. He also finds it amazing to watch him go about doing his own art works since he's way more experimental. All things considered, these two get along like two peas in a pod!

#transformers imagine #transformers animated #earth raised au #optimus prime #ratchet #bumblebee #bulkhead #prowl

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