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uvuyai · 3 months

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ძᥲᥡ 2 ~ һᥙmіᥣіᥲ𝗍і᥆ᥒ + 𝗍ᥡіᥒg ᥙ⍴ [EVENT]

Yandere! Blade x FEM! Reader

–genre. Smut, nsfw

–tw. Blood, skin carving, humiliation, skin writing, non-con, creampie, sadist!blade, spanking, porn with plot(maybe), size difference, stomach bulge, choking, overstimulation, possessive behaviors, blade is called ren, mentions of the hard R in the beginning, neglect, degradation, reader is blades reincarnated lover, prone bone, MINORS DNI, non consensual touching, nipple play, SW and Kafka is helping blade, headlocking, dub-con, blood,

–synopsis. You've been kidnapped by the swordsman of the Stellaron Hunters and brought to their headquarters. It's Valentine's Day and he planned something special.

Mari/yai's message – just know i was very uncomfortable with writing this. I've been drawing lately so it's been a while.

You were tied up in the basement of the Stellaron Hunters headquarters. You were just walking down the streets of luofu till you were grabbed into an alleyway and a cloth covering your mouth and then you inhaled chloroform, passing out into the person's(or thing) arm. When your captor brought you back to where they lived, they introduced themselves as Blade but he told you to call him ren.

Blade. As in the wanted criminal and part of the Stellaron Hunters?

After a while he got tired of your useless attempts at escaping (mostly snitched on by Kafka or Silverwolf by telling blade you escaped.), and then forcefully forced himself onto you. After that he left you.

He would come back occasionally if Kafka told him so if he didn't want you to die. He would bring you clothes and food to keep you alive and helped you take care of your hygiene. You didn't eat in front of him and just pretend to be asleep most of the time in the corner of the mattress.

You tried talking to him but couldn't since your stuttering held you back and you couldn't make eye contact with him since he fiery red eyes would stare into your soul, stunning it immediately.

He brought you stuff like a note book to draw or use it as a diary. Since you barely could get your words out, you wrote ‘Why did you kidnap me?’ on a page. He only muttered the word “Lover” and left it at that.

Well today was Valentine's day as you'd know by the calendar beside your bed. You still didn't love him or let yourself develop Stockholm Syndrome. If you could tell, he hated it.

You behaved well for the days, months, or even years he captured you. He let you out of your ropes and lets you walk around the basement. Various furniture was added like a desk that faced a window(that was very hard to break), a bed set, and a built in shower.

Silver Wolf gave the glory to Blade that he can have one of her old games but he decided to give it to you so you wouldn't be as bored when he went.

Kafka came down and called out for you. You raised your head from your pillow and looked at her with sleepy doe eyes. “C'mon dearie, Blade will be home soon and he has something planned for you.” she grabbed your forearm and dragged you to the bathroom and ran you a bath as if you were her child. She helped you shave your legs(and everywhere else including pubic) and did your hair into something simple. She gave you pink Valentine's Day themed lingerie undergarments to put underneath the white lace night gown.

You wished you knew why Blade suggested Kafka to give you this. The clothes fit you nicely. Your mind was all over the place as you thought about how Blade got the correct measurements of your bra and panties.

Kafka led you out of the bathroom and back to your bed and went back up stairs and came back down with a low black gift box. She skied the top off the box to reveal red ribbons. The box was branded so it must've been from a sex store or somewhere that was expensive. You thought it was for your hair otherwise it's weird to come in a box like that.

Kafka placed her hands behind her back and closed her eyes and let out a pitiful sigh. “I'm sorry, dear.” Before you could turn around something rough and hard hit the back of your head. It put you to sleep on impact.

She dragged your body to your bed and threw you on your bed, grabbing the ribbon and tied it tightly around your legs and wrist. The extras went around your waist and torso. You were truly a beautiful doll. She wrapped soft cloth around your mouth and eyes. Just breathe through

She left the room and as if on cue, Blade stepped through the door. In his deep voice, he spoke. “Did you do what I asked?” Kafka nodded her head and gave off her signature smile. “I did but I had to neutralize her because she was struggling too much for my comfort.” she was obviously lying. He could obviously tell too.

He stepped his way to the basement where you were. He heard distant whimpering and sobs which were coming from you. He reached you and noticed your squirming. Your breath hitched as you heard boots stepping your way. The ribbons were hurting way too much to even ignore for a bit.

“Hey waterlily, It's really disappointing how you didn't behave for her.” he breathed. “You should be punished for that. I see she did most of the work.” you heard something slam on the nightstand next to your bed.

He hooked his finger underneath the blindfold to reveal your doe stricken eyes.

His lips lifted into a smirk while he trailed his bandaged fingers from your face to your collarbone. He noticed your squirming got more vapid. You shook your head as you didn't want him to continue.

His hand ripped the strap that was holding the gown, revealing your covered breast. Your face felt as if it was burning from embarrassment. He pushed you onto your back and got on top of you. Your muffled protests became unheard as he grabbed scissors and cut the straps from your bra, removing it, and revealing your tits.

“You look like a slut... Begging for someone's attention.” he laughed. “That someone's attention you want is me.” he dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a knife and a permanent marker.

He slid the knife down your torso, the force was enough for it to draw blood. He leaned down and lapped at the blood while maintaining eye contact with you. Tears ran down your face and dried ones were replaced.

He fully discarded your dress and panties and threw them somewhere on the bed or ground. He used his gloved hand to finger you. Your slick immediately gathering on his hand. “Has all this fear got to you? I would've mistaken you for being a masochist, y'know.”

He unbuckled his pants and slid down his boxers that revealed his large, thick throbbing dick. It was flushed red at the tip and a white bead of precum was drooling from the slit. He thrusted two fingers into your cunt. He wanted to prep you since it's been a while since he had done anything with you. The stimulation was overwhelming. You desperately tried to kick him away but he grabbed your waist and replaced his finger with his dick rubbing against your pussy. Your juices covered the downside of his dick.

He leaned back to position his dick between your pussy lips. He thrusted up into your pussy, hitting your spongy spot on impact. A little blood covered his dick as well. A bulge would pop up with each thrust of his hips. Your scream was muffled and you leaned your head back on the pillow. You were biting at the cloth that was covering your mouth. It was covered in your saliva as well.

Blade hooked a finger underneath the cloth and pulled it down. Your breathing was harsh in a way that if it was cold, air would come from your mouth. As his thrusts started to pick up and your juices webbed his whole dick, he picked the knife back up and started to engrave a letter below your tits. The letter was his initial, the letter ‘B’. The icy hot pain was all over your body(it wasn't but it felt like it but mainly between your thighs), Blade licked the blood up, enjoying the metallic iron taste from it. His dick landed painful hits to your cervix, making you grimace at the feeling.

During that, yelps, whines, and moans were heard through the basement. If you were loud enough, Kafka and Silver Wolf would hear.

His thrust got more erratic. His thrusts were sure that by the time he finished your pussy would be gapping open and molded into the shape of his cock. You tried to cover your moans by turning your head to the side and trying to muffle them as much as possible. Blade was quick to grab your face, squishing your cheeks together as he got up in your face while looking at your unfocused eyes filled with tears. He trailed his eyes down back to where he drew the letter below your tits.

He slowly itched a small cross(which was a plus sign,) and after a while, he carved your first name initials after. It looked like those cheesy trends where it shows what initials are meant to be for example; B + Y. He did all of this while keeping his thrusts while you squirted your juices onto his lower abdomen and cock. He grabbed the permanent marker and drew a small heart around the heart.

He grabbed you by the shoulders and squished you against his chest. He rocked his hips back and forth and wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you steady. “You are such a slut. Nothing but my cum dump.” The cold permanent marker touched your skin, sending shivers down your spine and to your core. He wrote a few words like “CUMDUMP”, ”SLUT”, and “Blades/ren's property” on your back. He placed a few humiliating words on your collarbone so anyone could see it and also remind him what you are to him.

You pussy clenched around his dick, signaling your. “You wanna cum, yeah? Then cum. Cum for me.” he said between grunts. Your string of moans and mewls of being overstimulated, he released his cum inside you. Your stomach was slightly bloated and thick, sticky cum leaked out of your cunt and onto the bedsheets(it had little bubbles in them and stuck together like a spider web).

Blade was quick to flip you onto your stomach with your ass in the air. He grabbed the knife and released your wrist from the ropes binding them together. Your wrists were finally able to breathe. His rough hands grab at your wrist, pulling them to make you arch your back further.

He angled his cock back at your entrance, pushing his hips forward and his cum and your juices acting together as a secondary lube. The movement of his hips grew faster as time passed.

He leaned down to where his chest was touching your back. He resumed his torcher and thrust into you so hard he could break into your cervix and split you apart. His hand snaked up to your neck, squeezing it slightly so it wasn't hard enough to stop your breath. He used it to angle your head so he could kiss you. You moaned into his mouth and drooled all over his tongue.

His thrust started to get sloppy and he felt your breath get harsher from you breathing through your mouth. He wrapped both of his thick bulging arms around your neck, placing you in a loose headlock. A hand slipped down and tugged at your nipple. You released the kiss as you tried to get your breath back by sticking your tongue out. He placed a loud smack on your ass which made you come on his dick, stunning you.

He came inside you for the second time. You don't know how long he'll be doing this for as you feel his dick hardened inside you.

;(

#𓆩ri.𓆪 #✉️.txt #[ ♪o(〃＾▽＾〃)o♪ ]#✎ suggestive 𓆪 #𓆩!smutty.𓆪 #✎ yandere #𓆩ri.txt📝𓆪 #yandere x reader #yandere smut #blade x reader #blade smut #blade x reader smut #honkai blade x reader #yandere blade #yandere blade x reader #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #✎ characters from other clubs #[ .nsfw ]

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intergalacticfop · 7 months

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Minoan Kilt

The large, structural skirt worn by Minoan women in art is instantly recognizable, and when I made my own I combined current best guesses with my own personal tastes.

My kilt shape follows the hypothesis laid out by Bernice Jones in her book Ariadne's Threads: The Construction and Significance of Clothes in the Aegean Bronze Age. She describes the shape of that of a labrys, a double-headed axe with apparent ceremonial significance in Ancient Minoan culture. This garment may be depicted in Linear-B logogram *166 + we, we-being the backwards-s-shaped squiggle in the center which identifies the piece as a garment.

See pages 336 and 341 in Marie-Louise B. Nosch, The Textile Logograms in the Linear B Tablets

Actual details on construction and materials below the cut:

Construction:

The top and bottom edges of the kilt are concave, so the sides are longer than the middle. This gives the chevron-shape seen on layered kilts in art. In addition, the curved top half makes the skirt flare out, accommodating the hips and giving more freedom of movement to the legs. My kilt measured from my waist to my anklebone at the longest point, and about 1.5 times around my waist.

I chose to make a flounced kilt, with smaller strips of fabric and trim applied to a large base piece, rather than a tiered kilt, in which multiple kilt shapes of varying length are layered one on top of the other, so you end up wrangling 3 layers of fabric around the waist. The flounced kilt saves fabric and gives you a lot more freedom with whatever trim you might want. Jones' diagram for a flounced kilt is seen below:

Unlike the version in the diagram above, I chose not to attach ties to the garment itself both because the linen I used was very heavy and I was concerned about weight, and also because folding the skirt and securing it with a separate tie worked just fine for my tastes. In total I had four flounces: 2 alternating rows each of fabric and fringe.

The vertical edges of most kilts are left plain, probably representing either the selvage or an edge otherwise finished off to prevent fraying. For my kilt, however, I ended up with a couple inches of self-fringe on either side as I adjusted the fabric to the correct width. At least three examples of kilts with fringed vertical edges are known, all three from the so-called "House of the Ladies" in Akrotiri

Photos from Wikimedia Commons. Image 1. Image 2.

The vertical edges of these kilts are reinforced with a colored band or tape, probably to keep the garment from unintentional further fraying. Accordingly, I did the same on my kilt. I also like that it gave a nice vertical diagonal to counterbalance the horizontal ones.

Materials

I tried to use mainly linen and wool, the fibers most available on Ancient Crete, but some of my trim was cotton because sometimes you just have to use what's cheap and available in the today times.

The base of my kilt is a heavy, patterned linen in what's called a diaper weave, meaning that a repeating diamond pattern is woven into the pattern itself. A lot of the Minoan textiles depicted in frescoes are characterized by repeating geometric patterns, likely woven into the fabric itself, and that was something I wanted to capture in my own piece. My linen is woven with both cream and natural colored threads. The heavy weight is important to give structure to the garment--otherwise it would be kind of limp. My linen was from Burnley & Trowbridge (shameless plug), as was the plain cotton twill tape I used to bind the top and bottom edges of the kilt, and the dark red wool twill tape I used along the vertical edges.

I bought my cotton fringe from a rug supply store. I had to search a while to find a fringe that would work for me, and I ultimately chose fringes with a woven header rather than the more common knotted one, so that it would lay flat against the kilt. I hid the woven header under a layer of cotton fringed trim from Michaels (yes, Michaels) with this really great diamond and dots pattern woven in black.

The blue layers are from a bolt of vintage wool Kimono fabric. Blue appears frequently in frescoes, likely achieved with indigo or woad dye, or even murex/mollusk dye. The fabric is printed with an imitation ikat pattern of diamonds and squares that made me think "the vibes seem right!" because quite frankly, you aren't going to get "historically accurate" Minoan textiles (which there probably isn't enough archaeological evidence to definitively describe) without, like, hand-weaving it yourself or paying someone hundreds of dollars to do it for you (and that price is if the weaver really likes you). Neither of which appealed to my desire to just make a fun, low stress project. Good enough is good enough.

The narrow trim on the bottom of the blue flounces is vintage cotton/poly woven trim. This trim, while narrow, was quite thick and stiff, which was great because it added more weight and structure to the end of my flounces since the wool fabric itself was quite thin.

The top layer is a custom tablet-woven wool trim that I commissioned from MAHTAVAhandicraft on Etsy. I imagined this as the "centerpiece" of my kilt, and I'd arrange everything to complement it.

It's a kivrim pattern, which has itself only been traced to 19th-century Anatolia, but I didn't care. The way it looks like waves reminded me of how central the sea was to life in the Ancient Aegean and Mediterranean and it captured the idea and aesthetic I was pursuing. I mean, doesn't it remind you of these dolphins?

(I like the dolphins)

The whole thing was machine sewn with the exception of hemming and adding trim to the blue flounces. If you were to look at it from the back, you'd see lots of zigzag stitches, because i wanted to be fast! and have fun! not chase some unreachable ideal of "accurate."

As for wearing it, I chose to wear it with the top part folded/rolled down over a belt, so I have a thick tube of fabric around my waist. Many images, like the frescoes above of women with fringed kilts, appear to just show the kilt being tied closed. Other images are so fragmented or stylized that it's unclear what kind of skirt closure was used. Sculptures and figurines definitely show some kind of SOMETHING around the waist, whether this is folded fabric or a kind of belt is unclear. Different art could show different things!

I think I see evidence of a continuous line from the skirt to the waist-roll on the figure on the left, found in Troas, which I think indicates some kind of skirt-folding situation. The woman on the right, found in Crete, looks more like she's wearing some kind of long coiled belt, or perhaps snakes. Who knows? I don't! For my own part, I found the combination of rolled waist + tie belt the most secure for doing things like kneeling, stomping around, and wading into rivers to rescue bees. I also liked that it gave me the bulk around the hips that gives Minoan figurines such a powerful silhouette, and proportionally gives more of an hourglass shape. If you wanted to do something more firmly grounded in the sources, stick just with the waist tie or belt, wrapped around a couple times and tied in back. If you want to be like me, just say "well we don't KNOW it didn't happen" and just do whatever you want. Have fun! Whatever happens, it should be fairly easy to move around in the kilt--this is not a restrictive garment, just a heavy one.

#minoan #minoan crete #historical costuming #bronze age #reference #resources

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diorctrl · 10 months

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KISS MY LIPS yang jungwon x reader

𓂂 ˳ mean girl reader x class president jungwon fluff warnings: intentional lower case, reader is lowkey a bimbo

the air from the air conditioning of the class room blew on him, the teachers knowledge filling him as he wrote down his notes, he took a peek at the clock only 48 more minutes of class.

he went back to writing his notes but was distracted by the loud sound of the classroom door shutting, he didn’t have to look to know who it was, it was obvious.

the sound of his teachers voice is what makes him look up. “l/n, how wonderful it is for you to show up.” he looks at the clock. “yep, like always late, care to explain why?”

jungwon finally turns around to take a look at you in all your glory, your hair in a half up half down topping it off with a miumiu head band, your pink glossy lips and light sparkly eye shadow, your white leg warmers with and your mary janes with pink ribbons, he knows exactly why your late, no one puts this much effort into how they look and can show up to school early.

his gaze follows you as you walk up to your teacher at the front of the classroom, your mary janes clicking on the floor, you fan your face before speaking, “sir,I have a completely reasonable reason to be late today.” you stop right in front of jungwons desk, your perfume filling his nose she smells good like always.

your teacher crosses his arms while looking down at you. “right, and what’s that?”

jungwon eyebrows raise as he watches you pat out your outfit like you’re preparing to say the most tragic story ever known to man kind.

“okay, so first I woke up sorta late, not gonna lie but that’s beside the point.” you start waving your hands. “at first I thought my chauffeur was late because that’s what my dad wrote on the bored today since he couldn’t actually tell me when I woke up because he’s never home, you know CEO stuff, but you already know that, BUT, you’re never gonna believe this.” you talk like you’re gossiping. “he actually didn’t show up at all, all because his wife went into labour, can you believe her, how could she?” you ramble.

your teacher nods his head,entertaining you, “oh yeah, how could she.”

you smile. “I knew you would understand, I’ve had a very bad morning as you can see, I couldn’t even get my morning smoothie, so please don’t get mad me.”

a laugh was heard from someone in class, you snap your head towards them and the sweet smile that you had turned into the most bitchy face, that jungwon has seen multiple times.

“what’s so funny?” you ask the laughing girl, your mean gaze scans her, “you should be laughing at the tacky shoes on your feet.”

the girl goes quite, your hard gaze travels to jungwon, softening slightly before hardening quickly after. “that’s what I thought.” you finish before turning to your teacher. “am I free to sit sir?”

he lets out a sigh. “yes, you can go sit.”

you smile before, digging into your bag and pulling out a two 10000 won bills and putting in his shirt pocket. “buy yourself a nice lunch sir.” you pat his shoulder before shuffling to your seat at the back.

the person sitting beside jungwon leans in to him, “she’s never gonna graduate.” they say before leaning back but he doesn’t reply.

the rest of the class is haze and the sound of bells is what snaps jungwon out of it, he picks up his books, the sound of feet scurrying out the class fills his ears.

he makes his way out the class and down the hallway but is stoped by a familiar voice.

“Mr president!” you say teasingly, walking up to the boy, who looks down at you with amusement.

“you were really gonna leave me huh?” you say putting his arm over your shoulder as you guys continue to walk down the hallway.

he doesn’t respond just laughs shaking his head, “did you hear about the morning i had today? i still can’t believe it.”

“i think the whole class heard it yn.” he said leaning against the lockers beside yours.

“oh.” you pause for a minute, before continuing. “oh, and i can’t believe the audacity of that girl in class today to laugh at me? me? i could buy her.”

you take out the books that you need for your next class, “i’d have to ask for dad’s permission first though.” you say turning to your boyfriend rolling your eyes.

“oh how dreadful.” he says sarcastically he says taking your books from your hand and kissing your cheek as you close your locker.

“walk me to class?” you ask.

“always.” he replies.

“kiss me.”

he kisses your cheek.

“my lips dummy.”

taglist: @doublasting

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon x reader #jungwon fluff

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dwindlinghaze · 1 year

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ribbon and sweater

(remus lupin x fem!reader)

summary: remus finds himself slowly in love with a girl, but he doesn't like it, doesn't like the way you make him feel some type of way.

contents: fluff, soft/shy reader, enemies to lover (kinda), reader likes ribbons and pearls and angels and somewhat feminine, mean remus, angst to fluff. it's long so buckle up!

a/n: i'm quite proud of this cdhfyz

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

you.

you with your pretty hair that falls to your face and the ribbons that tied half of them together made something in remus swirl.

the way you scrunched your face when you laugh with mary and lily sends butterflies to his stomach.

and he hated it. he hated how much impact you had on him. he always considered himself as a collected person, but he would fall for you all over the place.

maybe because he never lets anyone in and the fact that he wants you in is terrifying to him.

you were once partner in potions. he heard your sweet voice and it sent him spiralling in an alleyway. one time your hand brushed his when you were cutting gillyweed. the touch of the hand lit the fuse of a chain reaction of countermoves.

he first saw you this way when you were in charms class. professor flitwick was praising you because you managed to do a quite tricky spell.

his eyes perked up the moment professor flitwick said your name. he usually was the best in charms, but you were beating him and he isn't enjoying it. when he looked at your flushed face, there was no anger or jealousy anymore. he almost adored the way you smiled timidly at the professor.

he shook his head rapidly, scoffing at himself.

"what mate?" sirius stared at him with side eyes.

"nothing," remus replied

"are you sad that you're not the best in charms anymore?" sirius laughed, hitting remus side.

"shut up no," he said.

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

you were friends with james since fourth year because he thought you were a way to get lily to like him, but after being friends for a while, you actually grew on him and now you're actually friends with james, not because his needs for lily, but for you.

remus finds himself staring at you during classes you had together, rolling his eyes when you were laughing with mary.

and by the way, he hates your laugh so much because it sounded like an angel's harp to him. it's horrible how pretty your voice is.

"moony, you've been staring at the girl for a while now," sirius said in a sing-song voice.

"i'm not! she's just terrible. that ghastly pearls around her neck and ears is stupid. and those bows she never took off of her head is horrendous," remus huffed, flipping his book rather harshly.

deep down he loved it. he loved your style and how perfect you are in them. he just hated his feelings. he knows you will never reciprocate him and maybe by getting you to hate him can make it easier. so he knows that you will never like him.

"hey, watch your mouth! she's my friend y'know," james scoffed at remus, throwing a paper ball at him.

"no i'm just saying-"

"you're never this mean to anyone..." james raised an eyebrow at the boy. it's true, remus lupin is always nice. he doesn't hate anyone, he's not able to. "she's a big softie on the inside. you just got to warm up."

if i warm up, i will fall in love

remus ignored him, feeling his stomach grumbling.

dinner was then ready. every students were in the great hall except you. you were somewhere in the castle ground playing with the nifflers the caretaker just got.

remus noticed. there isn't any white or black or baby pink or blue ribbon in a person's head in the great hall. he finds himself furrowing his brows, not eating the food from his plate.

and then the door opened, you walking in with your hair messy from the wind. remus thought you look unbearably adorable. and he hated it.

"hi james," you said before taking the empty seat between mary and james. "hi," you smiled at the other three marauders.

everyone greeted you back except remus, who was sitting in front of james. he was pursing his lips, eyeing you weirdly.

james kicked his legs from under the table, making remus winced in pain.

you didn't know how it started but somehow, you were now staring at remus and remus was staring at you. millions of thoughts swimming inside your minds.

he looked very good under the candlelight.

why is her hair so beautiful?

his chocolate eyes are like a comet in the sky

her eyes are like a glimmer of sunshine

the freckles in his cheeks are pretty

she must be god's favourite because she is the best of all his creations

"are you two having a staring contest?" james looked between you and remus.

"no," remus replied before scoffing and rolled his eyes at you.

you felt yourself sinking in your seat. a frown appeared on your face as you looked down at your plate, toying with the food.

remus felt guilty for making you feel this way. he wished to wipe your frown away. a part of him adored the way your eyebrows crinkled together, it was cute. but also he is one step closer for you to hate him.

when you averted you attention to mary, making a conversation with her, james kicked remus' shin, glaring at him.

"what were you doing?" james whisper-yelled. "stop being so mean to her!"

"ok," remus replied nonchalantly, brushing james' feet away.

"i think remus is in love with her," sirius said, maybe a bit too loud for remus' liking but not loud enough because you're still focused on mary.

"how's that possible?" remus huffed.

"well- for starters, did you see how moony looked at her earlier? it's the way when two or one people is in love with the other. i'm not playing around!" sirius raised his arms in defence.

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"i don't think remus lupin likes me," you said to lily that night. you knew lily and remus are study buddies and maybe she can tell you why he was acting like that towards you.

"oh trust me he doesn't!" lily said. "remus can never hate anyone- and how can a person hate you? you didn't even do anything wrong."

"he was rolling his eyes and scoffing at me earlier," you frowned, playing with your fingers. you hated how you're overthinking everything you never did.

"he has anger issues," the redhead simply reply. "why do you care so much anyway? i'm sure he likes you. he may come off as rude or mean at some point and that's not your fault!"

"he seemed like a good friend. just disappointed that he doesn't want to be friends with me."

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

the marauders were planning their monthly pranks, remus being the mastermind that laid groundwork and then just like clockwork, their plans cascaded in a line.

"let's prank y/n," remus stated, looking at the other marauders.

"what? no!" james refused. he has a soft spot for you, he feels like anything that touches your skin will burn the petal.

"prongs! that'd be funny!" sirius agreed to remus' idea, clapping him on his back.

"are you sure this is a great idea? i mean- she's like- i don't know. not prank worthy?" james continued.

and remus agreed with james too. although it would be funny to prank you, he would never want to hurt you. and what the hell is that? you're supposed to hate him.

"just not anything too much. nothing a tulip can handle," sirius shrugged.

you were heading your way out of the common room, a book about angels clutched tightly on your chest. you were walking silently and a second later, you hear a splash behind your back.

seemed like the marauder has missed their target, resulting a first year to be drenched in green paint.

you whipped your head around, hair flying behind. "oh gosh are you okay?" you kneeled at the little girl.

she was now crying, and you had your suspicions on a certain group of friends for this. the girl shook his head, wiping the green substance off of her face.

you cast a spell, waving your wand in mid air to produce a napkin. "here let me help you," you said softly to the girl as you wiped off the green off of her face.

"thank you," the girl whispered. despite the substance being completely wiped off, it still leaves a stain on her skin. "my ribbon is stained," the girl cried, clutching it with shaky hands.

"that's alright, you can have mine," you reached up for your hair to grab the thin bow off of your hair. "there, you look gorgeous!" you beamed at her after you clipped the bow in her locks.

"people make fun of me for liking ribbons and fairies and angels. i think we like same things."

"listen, don't let people get to you. we're young and still got a long life ahead, being someone you're not is tiring. be who you are and if people don't like it, then be yourself even more so they can suffer," you giggled, patting her shoulders. "go take a shower yeah? the green might go away."

"okay..." she runs off to the distance.

"james!" you huffed. you knew the boys were around somewhere.

"hi darling," sirius appeared as he put his arms around your shoulders.

"you guys were planing to prank me didn't you?" you squinted your eyes at the three.

"yup." remus said, a bit disappointed at the fact that it didn't work.

"why,"

"we are the marauders, darling, that's our job," sirius replied.

"why me? i didn't do anything."

"it would be funny to see you in green since all you wear is white and pink, elphaba" remus scoffed.

"oh you know the wizard of oz? wicked?" you started to get giddy. you've never met someone that knows that muggle series, it was your favourite.

remus, seeing this, feels like his heart was melting at your reaction. you looked adorable and excited. it drives him insane how effortless you can be.

"that's like a children's storybook. you're sixteen," remus, instead, replied.

the smile on your face dropped almost instantly, your heart hurts. you're embarrassed. embarrassed for being so excited about something stupid.

remus felt like he should bury himself under pounds of blankets so he doesn't get to see your sad face. he felt guilty for making you feel stupid. he wanted nothing more than to pull you to his chest and whisper sweet nothings in your ears. he couldn't though.

"i should get going," you forced a smile. "please don't pull pranks on me," you giggled at james before making your way outside the castle.

your book was left behind, remus noticed it. he went to grab the thick heavy book when a shoe blocked him. "let me-"

"what? you're gonna make fun of her for liking angels now? or you're going to burn that whole damn thing down?" james glared at the lycanthrope.

"nope. not any of that. i just want to see," remus fought.

"no," james snatched the book away from him before running to his dorm, tucking it under his bed so remus wouldn't find it. he's planning to give it back to you later.

"i think i missed a chapter here," sirius inquired. "since when is prongs more mature than moony?"

"since y/n i fear," peter quipped.

"you guys are a bunch of bullocks," remus grumbled.

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

it was winter, your favourite time of the year. the scape displayed a beautiful scenery of the wildest winter wonderland.

you, mary, and lily were planning to skate on the ice rink in hogsmeade. coincidentally, the marauders are also skating at the same time.

you spun around the rink, snowflake hitting your lashes and hair. the sight of you were simply mesmerising. remus is in awe. you were like an angel.

your head tilted up, hair flying around with the wind. with the lack of balance you had, you scrambled, almost falling to the ground. lily and mary laughed at your antics, and you laughed too.

remus wanted to hold your hand as you spin around so you don't lose balance. and if you did, you would fall to him.

you were in your own world as you glide around the sparkling ice when you felt a presence beside you.

it was remus.

"hello," you tried to be nice to him, winter is not the season hold grudges. people make mistakes and you forgive them for it.

"do you ever take that ribbon off of your hair, it's ghastly," remus rolled his eyes.

"oh so you only came here to say that to me? well i personally think your sweaters are horrendous. you should try putting them on a washing machine because it looks like it hasn't been washed for months," you scrunched your face, making a disgusted face as you skate away from him.

it hurts. your words sent his heart breaking like icicles. he deserved it though. he had said stuff much more than that to you.

what makes his heart break more is that you never said mean things to people. you're patient and careful with your words and the fact that you snapped at him sent him to another dimension.

"what? you can't skate?" you chuckled at him as he struggled to move. you made your way back to him, helping him stand up after he fell.

he was embarrassed. after all he said and now he's lying cold on the icy ground. a part of him liked the way you were laughing because of him. it makes him feel fuzzy and warm inside but he hated it.

if he wasn't acting mean to you, he was sure he would open the door of his heart so easily. your soft hands grabbed both of his wrist as he tried to stand up.

your touch sent shivers down his spine. you never touched him before, only a little contact of the skin. your hands were like soft petals, opposite of his rough ones.

you helped him skate to where the friends were, effortlessly. "why are you nice to me?" remus said. "i've been nothing but mean to you."

"it's winter- almost christmas! it's the most beautiful season. i wouldn't ruin it by being immature," you shrugged.

"would you stop going so fast," remus squeezed your soft knuckles.

"if i go any slower, you will lose balance!" you said.

oh now you're thinking of his safety

he cursed himself for thinking that way. it was probably nothing. you always think of others.

he hates the way you make his stomach do flips. the swarming butterflies in his body is crazy. almost unreal. he lets go one of your hand and rest them on your shoulder so he can get closer and smell you.

you smelled like strawberry and marshmallows. it was sweet and so you. he would inhale your scent everyday and won't get sick of it.

"oh now moony and y/n is looking very cosy," sirius perked.

remus, hearing this pushed you away from him, making you fell to the ground with a thud.

and god he felt so guilty. he was sorry. he couldn't bring himself to say it though. his original plan was to make you hate him but it's quite literally impossible.

you were so lovely and he's such an idiot.

"ow," you whimpered as your back hit the ground. remus whipped his head around, eyes widening in panic as you tried to massage your elbows.

"oh god i'm sorry! i didn't mean to-" remus rambled as he grabbed your left arm, fingers grazing the fabric over your skin tenderly.

he felt horrible. he is so stupid for everything. he considered himself as a nice person but he was anything but.

"remus," you spoke, looking at him dead in the eyes. you were crying. "would you mind not touching me?," he frowned, his eyes were watery. he looked like he was about to cry. "i don't think i'm comfortable," he pulled away immediately. "thanks for understanding."

you stand up, wiping the tears from your face and went away to catch up on mary and lily.

remus sat still on the ground, unable to move as he watched you away.

"what was that?" james shouted. "you're an asshole you know that. she has been so patient with you! remus lupin, i'm not going to deal with this." james scurried away, scoffing at him with the nastiest look he can manage to show.

"mate, what just happened?" sirius spoke, a weird expression on his face.

"i'm in love with her," remus cried.

"would you care to elaborate? i'm lost right now," sirius replied timidly at his friend.

"i'm in love with y/n. i'm only being mean to her so i can hide my feelings. i'm so stupid. i'm tired of myself. just leave me alone!" remus yelled, his tears run cold.

"y'know it'd be easier for the two of you if you don't hide those feelings and actually be friends with her?"

"you don't understand! she would never like me. not anymore after what i had done. not ever. not even before. i'm a werewolf!"

"oh the books missed the part of werewolves being really dumb. moony-." sirius tried to speak but he was cut off.

"leave me alone!" remus snapped, trying to stand up unsuccessfully.

"fine!" sirius said, reaching up to where james and peter were.

remus watched you from afar, hands in your pocket as you looked down at your pink roller skate with ribbons as the laces. you looked so beautiful, and angelic, like a fairy.

you caught him staring at you with an expression like a broken vase. you paid him no mind as you skate around even more, scaring mary from the back which made the poor girl fell down.

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

you didn't try to talk to him the next day. and the day after and the day after. he wasn't being mean to you anymore. he's giving you space.

you don't sit next to james anymore during breakfast lunch and dinner. you sat on the furthest seat of the gryffindor table. he couldn't even look at your face anymore. heads of strangers blocking his view.

the other three noticed the shift in him. he doesn't talk as much anymore. although he is quiet, he's never this quiet. he doesn't want to be involved in pranks lately, he'd much rather read your angel book he found tucked under james' bed under his sheets.

he hated himself. hated the fact that he didn't make you hate him but made you hurt. flashes of you crying on the ice rink haunts him. he would never look at the snow the same ever again.

every time the snow fell from the sky, memories of you rushed back into his mind. his heart aches, his mind is his biggest enemy, the full moon is his biggest vendetta.

the next time he saw you was when you were sitting under a tree, flowers around you. it was like as if nature was your best friend. you look incredibly dazzling under the sun. it was cold. you wore your fluffy jacket along with some matching leg warmer.

he wanted to make things right with you. he wanted to apologise for what he had done. although there is a slim chance you would forgive him.

his palms were sweaty despite the freezing weather. his heart was beating rapidly under his coat. he mustered up the courage to talk to you after weeks. now that you're only meters away from him, he wished he can just sink down on the soil. being under there forever.

"hey," remus said shakily. you looked up at him, eyes a little puffy, you had been crying.

you didn't reply though. he didn't blame you. "you're not wearing a ribbon..."

"trying something new," you replied, rather coldly.

"i'm sorry. i hope you know that i didn't mean for this to happen. never," he spoke softly. ripping the grass under.

"okay," you nodded, and averted your focus to your book.

"i don't know why you hate me so much. what did i do?" you said sadly, after a while long of silence.

remus took a deep shaky breath, "i never hated you. i didn't want any of this to happen. this is so stupid and i don't even want to say it but i just thought by making you hate me, i can push my feelings for you aside. so that i dont have to hope for impossible things and face reality that you can never love me back. i know you cant."

"why not?"

"after what i've done to you? i doubt," remus huffed at himself.

"no i mean- before that. must be something right? you're a good person."

"how can you say that? you don't know what you're talking about," remus said.

"james and sirius and peter wouldn't be your friend for six years if you're a bad person," you shrugged.

remus felt himself blushing, heart warm and fuzzy just like your jacket. "they're crazy," he shook his head.

"you haven't answered why though?"

remus gulped. his throat went dry. "uh-" he cleared his throat trying to collect himself.

"if it's personal you don't have to tell me," you smiled a lip tight smile.

"i'm a werewolf," he blurted. his lungs were knocked out of his body by now. it's crazy how he can let you in so easily. he is a closed book at all costs but he would tear every pages of himself and give it to you without questions.

"for real?" you asked, eyes widening in awe.

"yeah, that's why i was mean to you. nobody can lo- uh like a monster like me. who am i to think that by some miracle you would reciprocate my feelings," remus eyes glisten.

"don't say that about yourself," you furrowed your brows. "i don't think anyone is a monster. it's just the books that says so."

"stop trying to make me feel better after what i had done to you. you deserve so much better than this- i-"

"i love magical creatures," you smiled.

"huh?"

"and werewolves are magical creatures!" you said.

"no, y/n, you love fairies, angels, pegasus, pixies, and things like that. not werewolves," he fought, breaking his own heart.

"no i don't. i love all kinds," you replied, smiling at him.

"no, you don't love me. you can't!" he felt tears streaming down his face like the biggest waterfall there ever was.

"i can love you. maybe i don't love you now but you deserved to be loved. and i know i can do that," you said.

"y/n, at least punch me in the face with a tree trunk first. i don't deserve this," remus spoke, wiping his tears away.

how can someone be so lovely and forgiving at the same time? it was unfair because the world is absolutely horrible for people like you. him for example, he's horrible.

you didn't punch him, you hugged him instead.

he couldn't breath the first seconds. the smell of strawberries and marshmallows were filling his nose, he could melt.

he gently wrapped his arms around your frame, careful with his movements because you were like the most expensive porcelain doll from the southern quadrant. if he was in the magical land of oz, you would definitely be from the quadling country.

"and by the way, i love your ribbons. you look pretty in them- i mean you're always beautiful. do you have any ribbons by chance right now?" remus mumbled, brushing your hair from your face gently.

"i do, i have two in my bag," you replied.

"can i see them?"

"of course," you said as you pulled two baby blue ribbons from your bag.

he took them from you, holding it like it's made of glass. he clipped one on your hair and one on his, which made you laugh.

"pretty," he smiled.

"remus- you look-"

"i look like you!" he cut you off.

"okay..." you chuckled.

oh he loved that sound so much. it's terrifying how much he loved it.

"i love your sweaters too," you whispered shyly.

"i have one extra in my bag, let me put it on you," he said, pulling a sweater from his bag and his eyes landed on your angel book he secretly brings around everywhere.

"do you always have an extra one in your bag?"

"no," he shook his head, embarrassed. "it's just- uh-" he struggled to find the right words, his cheeks flushing under your soft gaze.

his stomach was filled with swarming angel wings, mind filled with the thought of you. "let me put it on you. so we wear each other's stuff." he cringed at how cheesy it sounded but smiled when he sees your pink tinted cheeks.

the sweater fits on you a bit too big. it was a white knitted sweater, "i love it, thanks."

"you can keep it. i knew you'd like it," he said.

it smelled like him, looks like his usual musky green sweaters too- just a different colour this time.

"oh and by the way, here's your book," he pushed your book to you.

"i've been looking for this! where did you find it?" you asked him giddily.

god you are so adorable when you're excited. he's so smitten.

he scratched the back of his neck, "you left it in the floor the day we pranked you. i'm sorry about that. james found it and put it on his bed, hoping to give it back to you the next day but i found it and i kept it. i want to be the one that gives it back to you. um sorry it took this long-" he rambled. it was bewildering how easy it is for him to open up to you. narrating the story for you to hear.

"oh thank you!" you started to open the book. "i haven't read this yet."

"you're like a cherubim angel," he said, resting his chin on you shoulder from the back so he can see the book with you.

"what's that?"

"it's in the book," he replied, "and uh is this okay?"

"what's okay?"

"me being close to you," he pulled back a little wanting to make sure that you are comfortable.

"oh- it's fine!" you giggled. "you're warm, i'm very comfy."

remus hid his face in your shoulders, hiding his crimson cheeks.

"wait- you said something about cherubim in this book. does that mean you've read it?" you pointed at the book in your lap.

"uh yeah- can't help it," he said, flushing once more. the effect you on him were crazy. "do you want to read it together?"

"sure," you opened the first chapter.

"read it out loud, i love hearing your lovely voice," he spoke.

"oh what? no-" you have never read aloud before. nobody has ever asked you for it.

"i want to hear your voice," he mumbled.

so you started.

it was like heaven to him. your scent covering his nose while you voice filling his ears. he must be dreaming because no way is he breathing.

he interlocked his finger with your softer ones, wanting to never let go. your hair was brushing his neck as the wind hits it.

he felt like he's in a new world where there's only you.

you and your pretty ribbons on your hair; that beautiful smile; that lovely voice; your enchanting smell; you soft fingers; your back pressed against his chest. it was indescribable. he couldn't ask for anything better.

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

you two were hanging on the couch the next few days, james and sirius still not noticing the way you two are behaving. james was still mad at remus, so he barely knew what he is up to these days.

it was at night, the snow patting the window, glistened as it fell.

he remembered that day all too well. he still felt guilty for it.

but all negativity were pushed aside when he felt you shifting beside him.

you noticed the look on his face. "hey, don't worry about it. everything's fine," you stroked his fingers.

"okay," he replied. he has been mustering up the courage to ask you to be your boyfriend. he wanted to do it today. he feels like right now is the perfect time.

"hey, angel," he turned slowly to you, swallowing hard. "i would really really really love to be your boyfriend. if you're ready for this of course. i don't want to push things."

you blinked at him, eyelashes hitting your lid. "rem, i'd love that," you blushed.

"yeah?"

"mhm."

"okay," he said. "i really want to kiss you right now."

your heart skipped a beat at his words, "you can y'know."

"yea.." he whispered before leaning forward, nose inches away from each other. he can feel your unsteady breath, he put an arm around you to ease you up before his lips were pressing against your own.

you soft lips felt even softer when it touches his. it sent him in to a love spiral. kaleidoscope of loud heartbeats undercoats.

you were so sweet. tastes like sweet candy drops.

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

the next following day, you were sitting on the great hall right next to remus. it was questionable to the other because you and him were never spotted this close.

"do you want pumpkin juice?" he asked, pointing to the goblet.

"um tea please, no sugar," you replied, squeezing his fingers.

"oh of course no sugar. you're already sweet," he shook his head as he poured the tea in your cup.

james eyed him suspiciously, "i missed a chapter," he mumbled.

"don't know what you're talking about," remus simply replied. what sent the others even more shock is the way he kissed your temple so tenderly.

"oh we are dating," you blushed as you poked your blueberry pie.

"what?" james asked wide eyed.

"i knew it!" sirius cheered, almost knocking his cup. "he told me he was in love with her. i was right all along, of course i am," he threw his hair back.

"stop it," remus hissed.

and the others also notice the change since he's with you.

he now takes care of himself, starting from little things. he's always been a gentleman but never this gentle since you.

ribbons and sweaters are the things that brought you two together.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus x reader #remus lupin angst #remus lupin imagine #remus x y/n #remus lupin blurb #x reader #remus fluff

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hotvintagepoll · 2 months

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Propaganda

Elsa Lanchester (The Bride of Frankenstein, Bell Book & Candle)—we love cleft chin rep for women! gorgeous but in a way that made her stand out, and she should have been a leading lady much more than she ended up being. her turn in bride of frankenstein is iconic

Madge Evans (The Mayor of Hell, Lovers Courageous)— Because she's typically seen as "the nice girl" I think people tend to overlook her, but when I first saw her in The Mayor of Hell (1933) and thought she brought a lot of depth than that to her character. She plays a nurse who repeatedly stands up to the corrupt, bullying warden of a reform school. She's fierce, determined, and outspoken, even though she risks losing her job. While her character is essentially powerless to change things and turns to an outsider for aid, I could never think of her as weak or useless. Because really it's only because she's a woman that she doesn't get to be the hero of the piece (not for lack of trying, as it were).

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Elsa Lanchester:

The ultimate vintage weird girl crush!! Her performance in Bride of Frankenstein is captivating and iconic and mostly done with eyes (although she doubles as Mary Shelley at the start, which is also very sexy of her). Also she’s in a film where she tries to assassinate Hitler (it’s not great but she’s great in it, and that’s frankly iconic). Also the first few sentences of the ‘early life’ section of her Wikipedia are fascinating: Her parents were bohemian socialists who rejected traditional Edwardian marriage, and her brother owned a puppet company. Coming from that of course she was gonna be an icon.

“I found it rather glamorous to be a bastard.” -Elsa Lanchester

She is just so pretty??? Her eyes and face structure is both very beautiful, but also lends to her expressions

she's always so delightful and funny in every role she turns up in <3 I love her in witness for the prosecution, I love her in the inspector general, i love her in bride of frankenstein! funny astute adept always! (and neil gaiman's personal hot woman crush)

#madge evans #elsa lanchester #hotvintagepoll #ladies 1 #fuck that old woman

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chrispineofficial · 4 months

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sam reading a parenting book and playing nice with jack because he thinks jack can help them find mary does not make him a better person than dean. it does make him less honest, though!

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jtl-fics · 1 year

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I wonder what happened to the Wesninski house in Baltimore. It was definitely roped off as a crime scene for a long time but eventually it had to go somewhere and Neil’s the only beneficiary it could really go to.

Do you think it enters his custody and there are plenty of people who want to buy it, either because it’s a nice house or because ‘it’s the BUTCHER’S house’ and they want to turn it into a tourist attraction. Neil’s getting bombarded with real estate, city planning, victims advocacy, etc.

Maybe it’s only Neil’s 3rd year that he gets possession of it and he’s already stressed because it’s his 1st year as a captain and he needs to show the Moriyamas and the professional teams that he is worth investing in.

Maybe Andrew sees all of this and reaches out. Maybe all of the OG Foxes brave Baltimore one more time and maybe they spend all of Spring Break destroying every single nice thing that house ever had. For the Foxes it’s just fun to break shit, for Neil it’s destroying and rejecting his father’s legacy, he’s desecrating his father’s grave, it’s the most cathartic thing he’s ever done in his entire life and that includes telling Riko off his freshman year. They shatter chandeliers, furniture, appliances (the gas is well and truly turned off), watches, jewelry, clothes, plates, glasses, and anything they can find and destroy.

Allison has a running tab on who has done the most in property damage. The one who wins is Matt because he brought his own sledgehammer to the party.

Maybe the Foxes help Neil destroy his father’s legacy but also...maybe Dan grabs pictures of Nathaniel smiling at the camera with a missing tooth.

Maybe Nicky finds a recipe book hand written from Nathaniel’s maternal grandmother hoping her grandson will like them and it is set aside to be saved.

Maybe Matt finds a hidden corner where Nathaniel had drawn on the wall in crayon and he cuts out that chunk of drywall.

Maybe Aaron finds some letters Mary wrote to Stuart about what a good boy Nathaniel is and he pockets them.

Maybe Renee finds a stuffed animal with a missing eye and carries it to safety.

Maybe Kevin finds a set of child Exy equipment that goes into the Maserati.

Maybe Allison finds children’s clothes that have been sewn back together because the person who wore them loved them so much so she puts them in her purse.

Maybe Andrew finds a tiny bloody hand print in the basement and Andrew’s hand eclipses the hand of the bleeding child who left it and Andrew doesn’t forget things but the thought is easier when Neil’s hands engulf his when they hold them later that night.

Maybe the Foxes go and save every piece of Nathaniel they can from that house. Nathan can rot there, Neil is having the house demolished in a week and then he’ll sell the land to the Baltimore parks department.

But maybe Nathaniel’s grave is somewhere else. Maybe they let him rest somewhere other than Baltimore. Maybe Neil can’t take anything they had saved from that house yet so Nathaniel’s memories rest with them until Neil can take it.

#If you have ever read my 'Beware' fic you know I'm weird about Nathaniel #I think he deserves a softer end than being buried in Baltimore #But that's besides the point #I might elaborate on this idea in 'Beware'#Nathaniel Wesninski #Neil Josten #AFTG #AFTG Fics #Andreil #The Palmetto State Foxes #My fics #Nathan Wesninski #All for the Game #In a Masterpost

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 11 months

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No Pain, No Gain | Part 3 |PersonalTrainer!Aemond x fem! reader

A/N: you guys are absolutely feral for this and I love it, thank you legitimately for all the love. Once again 😘 @ewanmitchellcrumbs , hope you luv uwu

Series Masterlist

warnings: EVENTUAL SMUT, 18+, sexual tension, binge eating, mentions of breakup, cursing, dickhead Aemond, reader is horny af, English slang (soz), warnings will be added when needed

When Baela messaged you with this screenshot.

You thought, hell fucking yes.

What better way to take your mind off thinking about your personal trainer’s dick, undo about an hour’s worth of cardio and feel like shit afterwards?

2 for 1 cocktails.

Storm’s End was pretty popular so Baela, being the legend she is, booked for four of you to go. Baela, her twin, Rhaena, you and a mutual friend from university, Maris Baratheon. Her Uncle owned the pub/club so she used her connections to get a further 50% off on friends and family discounts.

God it was going to be a long night.

After getting ready in the living room, Rhaena absolutely hogging the Spotify playlist, all three of you buzzed on a glass of Prosecco hobble to Storm’s End.

“Rhaena, take those stupid shoes off” you nudge her shoulder a bit, which takes her off balance. She’s wearing heels that are far too big and far too high for her. Tottling around like a newborn giraffe.

She yelps a bit but glares at you, “At least I’m taller than you now, short-ass”

Hand on heart, you feign offense, “Who put 50p in you?”

Baela nudges you from your other shoulder, “Children, stop it”

Maris pipes up from behind, playfully squeezing your butt, “Where did you get this from?”

“Ow! Maris!”

Rhaena laughs, “Our creepy cousin is giving her personal training”

“Hey, you” Baela glares at her twin, “He’s not ‘creepy’, just misunderstood. And be nice, his dad just died!”

“Oh yeah cos everyone loved Viserys” Rhaena mused.

You give an awkward look to Maris as you enter Storm’s End, giving a name as they lead you to a booked table.

“He didn’t seem that bothered about it” you shrug as you huff off your coat.

Maris, sat next to you in the booth, hangs her jaw open, “Fuck you, look at these!” she says squeezing your biceps, “I’m jealous I don’t get to see you in the bikini”

Rhaena snorts, “Maris, your bisexual is showing”

“Sorry, sorry”

You must admit that when you were getting ready to go out with the girls tonight, you’d made the effort. The black cocktail dress hanging in the back of your wardrobe, that probably hasn’t been touched since the graduation party a few years ago, looked tempting. So imagine your surprise to find that it still fit, snug in all the right places. It wasn’t quite warm enough to go out in just that, so you pulled a coat over it. Even here, in the darkened part of Storm’s End, a sort of anxiety prickled at you at how low cut it was. You were usually not so brave.

It had been a while since Maris came to visit all of you, so the drinks came easily. And effectively being as cheap as water, it was easy to put all the cocktails away. One particular cocktail had you constantly sneezing from the ginger in it, but you were nicely drunk now, engaged in conversation.

Maris was swooning over a girl she’d met on a night out.

“You know when you see a woman and you’re just like ‘yes’ she is perfect” Maris swoons, slurring her words.

Almost in unison you all say, “No”

“Maris, we are hetero beyond hetero” you laugh, sipping the cocktail and leaning against Baela on your other side. She leans in as well, partially, if not more drunk than you right now.

“Okay fine, I’m not having this conversation with you virgins”

“Whoa whoa whoa! Who said virgin?” Rhaena furrows her brows, angry and you genuinely have to hold back a laugh with how loud she’s being as several people turn around, hearing what she’s said.

“Rhaena, I am willing to bet yours has grown back it’s been so long”

“Nuh-uh” you point to yourself, head wavy from all the drinks, “that’s me~”

Maris orders more, “Didn’t you and what’s-his-face break up like two months ago?”

“Yesss, but we didn’t have sex for ages before that. So if anything it’s me who’s the sad little virgin of the group” you say, polishing off your cocktail to go in for another.

Baela snorts, “At least until she gets a mouthful of Aemond”

You almost spit out your drink, glaring at Baela. The alcohol has made you more…morally loose, yes. But you didn’t expect Baela to say that.

“What the fuck Baela!”

“Oh come on, she’s been cracking out the vibrator everytime I even say his name”

Maris sees your bright red face, “Don’t” you warn.

“Oh my god, as if you have a thing for creepy Aemond?!”

You raise your eyebrows, “Okay, describe him”

“Tall, lanky, skinny…I guess?”

Stalking time.

You raise a finger, putting your cocktail down to get your phone. You quickly bring up his instagram and show her the one photo where his whole body is in shot.

Pretty much as soon as the screen lights her face, her jaw drops.

“Oh my god”

“Can you two please stop thirsting over our cousin, please” Rhaena rolls her eyes,

Maris zooms in, “Hold on, I want to see what all the fuss is about”

She zooms in, really taking him in and the both of you fawn over the photo for a bit too long. Describing everything. His legs, arms that poke out of the shirt he’s wearing with veins. Ugh. His neck, his chest, his shoulders. How tall and broad he is. Just everything.

“Would you not let that man destroy you?” you ask Maris, snatching your phone out her hand,

In your drunken haze, you freeze as your finger slips and double-taps the screen, liking the photo.

“Oh shit”

Rhaena raises her eyebrows, “what”

“I just fucking liked the photo” you drop the phone and put your head in your hands, vision spinning from the alcohol as well as the embarrassment.

The girls erupt in laughter, which isn’t helping.

You find the courage to look and see that the photo is a good ten or so months old. And the little dot next to his profile shows he’s suddenly active. He’s definitely noticed.

Fuckfuckfuck.

“Hey, you never know, it might be a good ‘in’ to get him to bang you” Maris chimes.

You’ve never felt more embarrassed in your life. And yet, you can’t help your mind wander at the possibility of it.

Would he?

He was pretty handsy last time.

But he’s a personal trainer, surely it’s wrong for you to pay him and bang him when he’s on the job.

No you can’t.

You can’t imagine…him bare chested pressed against you, hot, sticky and sweaty from the efforts, broad shoulders closing you into the mattress, large hands splayed across your waist, teeth biting at your neck, prying your thighs apart, rutting into yo-

“Hello! Earth to y/n!”

Fuck, you’ve got to stop doing this.

“Do us all a favour and fuck him” Maris muses, “You’re like in heat or something”

Despite the embarrassment of it all, the night continues on and Baela is far too drunk to carry on. So being the good friend you were and mother of the group, you pull her hand around your shoulder and escort her home. She’s wobbly at best and seems to laugh at the smallest thing, and even though you’re drunk as well, the situation earlier sobered you up considerably.

“I have a headahceee….” Baela moans.

“I heard you the first three times you said it”

“Can we get some painkillers, we don’t have any hic back at the flat..”

With an annoyed groan you drag her into the nearest corner shop, it’s close-ish to home, so hopefully she swallows the painkillers, shuts the fuck up and you can tuck her in on the sofa.

She waits at the entrance while you pay, talking absent-mindedly to a stranger.

“Baela, don’t talk to strangers please” you say as you shove the box of painkillers in her hand. The man she’s talking to smirks amused at the situation.

“This isn’t a stranger, it’s my other cousin!” she says, her drunkenness making her far too loud.

“Oh yeah?” you crack open the bottle of water you bought, taking a swig before passing to Baela, “Is that true?” you ask the other man.

It could be true. He’s got platinum hair, a smile that spells trouble and that weird cockiness all Targaryen men seem to have. He gives you a bit of a wink, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Unfortunately, yes. Aegon” he extends his hand and you tentatively shake it, still a bit weary. He looks at you like he already knows you, it’s very weird.

“Yeah that sound like a Targaryen name”

“He’s Aemond’s older brother” Baela says while taking a sip of water, accidentally letting it fall over her face and down her neck,

“Unfortunately, also yes” Aegon smirks, “She looks a bit worse for wear”

“We can thank Storm’s End 2 for 1 cocktails for that, can’t we Bae?” you smile, hooking an arm around her waist to steady her, she just grunts in response, “what are you doing here anyway?” you ask Aegon as he’s now found some interest in walking alongside you both.

He shrugs, “Just came out to get a few bits, do you guys want a lift home? Aemond’s parked around the corner”

“Yeah actu-” your mind works before your mouth does and your face pales a bit, embarrassment working its way into your belly.

Baela has that stupid fucking smirk on her face again, wide and giddy like a child, “Yes please! Y/n, this is your chance to get Aemond to ram-”

“Enough of that” you warn sternly, slapping a hand over mouth, but Aegon gives an amused grin, seemingly catching onto the subject of the conversation, “We’re fine getting home thanks”

“Don’t be stubborn, come on” Aegon says, helping Baela down the road.

A gnawing embarrassment curls in your gut. The last thing you want is to see him. And this is reinforced when you round the corner and Aemond is in the driver’s seat, looking up when he sees three figures. His eyes dart between Aegon and Baela for a moment before landing firmly on you, shamelessly looking down and then back up again.

You take a deep breath. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.

Try as you might, you make for the back seat, but with a shit-eating grin, Aegon makes it there first, under the guise of helping Baela in the backseat and making sure she’s okay. And you want lightning to strike him down right now with how fucking smug he looks.

A family trait, you see.

With an annoyed huff and without looking at the smug blonde in the driver’s seat, you get in the passenger seat, quickly pulling the seatbelt around you. Aemond doesn’t say anything either, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

Oh God, his thighs.

Stopstopstop.

You can almost see in your peripheral the way he’s smirking to himself, thinking it’s all very amusing.

“Aem!” Baela shrieks drunkenly from the backseat, luckily cutting the already existing tension, “Where did you come from?”

Aem chuckles lowly and it might be the first proper time you’ve heard him laugh, he turns to his cousin in the back seat, “I could ask you the same thing”

“I found them in the shop, what was it, Storm’s End 2 for 1 cocktails?” Aegon laughs.

Aemond huffs a laugh in response, raising an eyebrow in your direction, “Training going well then?”

You only have to turn your head a little to face him and when you do, you regret it immediately. In the proximity of the car, with you in the front seat, it’s achingly close. You try to muster up an indifferent look.

“Don’t live in the gym like you do”

He smirks, poking his cheek with his tongue, and turns back to the road, putting the car in gear to drive off. And now his gaze is averted, you briefly let your eyes go over him. It was only fair, he did the same to you. And you turn away quickly with a sigh when you see he’s wearing fucking dark grey sweatpants. All those thoughts return at breakneck speed, the sinful, lustful ones you only think of when you’re alone with your vibrator and it makes you squeeze your thighs together harshly, and you swear you see a flicker of Aemond’s head move in your direction when you do it. Not that he shows it on his face.

Aegon’s playlist is in full swing and it’s not a long car journey, but it certainly fucking feels like it.

You’re just thankful that Baela is quietly drunk in the backseat, half asleep, so she can’t say anything incriminating about the desires you’d divulged in female confidence.

“Stop the car” Baela says hurriedly, undoing her seatbelt.

Aemond brakes, looking back at her in the rearview mirror.

“Oh shit” Aegon curses as Baela gets out the car like a bat out of hell to run behind the closest tree, halfway across the park. Aegon follows with the bottle of water you’d bought her.

In any other situation, you’d be glad to have a borderline sick and vomiting Baela out of the car. But right now, left alone with Aemond after the sheer stupidity of the night so far, you want her to come back as soon as possible.

Aemond sighs, at least glad Baela had the decency to get out of the car before being sick. He reaches for the gearstick to move the car out of the way of the middle of the road. And the smug bastard completely misses and his large hand makes contact with your knee instead. You can do nothing but gasp when he does it.

“Sorry” he murmurs without moving his hand.

When you look at him, he stays eerily still, his eyes flitting across your face to take in the dazed, stunned and impassioned look on your face. Your mouth seems to go dry, brain made of cotton, desperately trying to come up with something to say, but failing.

Aemond withdraws his hand back to the gearstick, but not before giving the flesh above your knee a firm squeeze, burning his touch into them, leaving behind prickling heat on your skin. Seeing that you’ve been caught staring at him for too long, you flick back, pushing your legs together impossibly tighter.

He seems to delight in the reaction.

“Have fun on instagram earlier?”

Oh fuck my life.

You turn to him, embarrassed, but his eyes are on the road just as Aegon and Baela get back in the car with a few rough and tumbles. You hate how easy it is for him to get a rise out of you like this, so you turn away and just watch the night life go by as Aemond drives the 5 minute route back to your flat.

Almost as soon as he pulls up, Aegon’s helping Baela out and you follow, just about to shut the passenger side door when-

“See you at our session tomorrow” Aemond muses smugly. His eyes glimmering with mischief.

Not knowing what to say and far too horny to even form a thought, you take Baela back into your arms and make for the flat, but not before looking over your shoulder to see Aemond’s dark gaze over the steering wheel.

Once in the flat, Baela collapses on the sofa, murmuring incoherently. Like a good mother, you put a glass of water and painkillers on the side table, pulling the blanket over her.

“Did you get railed?...” Baela groans, to which you bite your lip.

“No Baela”

With a disappointed groan, she turns and almost instantly falls asleep, aided by the dizzying effect of the alcohol creeping in. You smile at her, she’s always been like this when she’s drunk. Always the wingman. Or wingwoman, you supposed.

Halfway through taking off your makeup, your phone pings with a notification.

Absolute.

Bastard.

You wake up the next day shockingly kind of okay. Baela on the other hand is milking this for all it’s worth. Being a Saturday, you supposed she’s allowed some time to recover.

But when you use the blender to make a smoothie, she groans, “Are you doing this on purpose...” she groans, with a wet cloth on her forehead.

Forcing the urge to laugh at her away, “Sorry hun”

She lifts the cloth to glare at you, “Why are you in gym gear, it’s Saturday”

Your mind races a bit, a blush making its way up your neck and a familiar heat pooling in your stomach.

“Last session today before the holiday” you say, leaning against the counter to sip the smoothie, “only day free was Saturday”

Baela pulls a face, as if amused.

“What”

“Nothing”

You scoff, “Fuck you, I told you all that under the influence, it doesn’t count”

“Oh yes it does~”

She goes on and on and on it feels like, about how badly you said you wanted Aemond to destroy you last night. She seemingly doesn’t remember the finer details about how you got home. You wished you could forget. You can still feel the way his hand gripped your leg so tightly, the bare skin prickling up.

Ping.

The dreaded ring of a notification. And it’s like he can fucking sense when people are talking about him.

Dramatically, you flop on the sofa, showing Baela the text.

“I don’t know how many more signs you need” she reaches for her go to hangover cure, the biggest bar of chocolate you’ve ever seen and a diet pepsi, “I don’t want to hear anything about it, if you do though because that’s gross. Tell Maris or something”

“Nothing is going to happen”

“Uh huh, whatever you say hoe”

With even Baela’s belief in you dwindling by the second, with a heaving sigh you manage to plop into your car, prop your phone on the mount for directions to the address Aemond sent you and drive. Something curls in your gut all the way there. Nerves? Excitement? Nausea? Was it the Indian food…

You know the answer already but it doesn’t make it any better.

The car that picked you up with Baela the previous day is parked on a driveway, a black Mercedes.

Twat.

With a breath to stable yourself, you trudge with your gym bag to the front door. The front garden is curiously and meticulously tidy, grass mowed and in general looked beautiful. A stark contrast, you think, to the guy inside. For a moment, you honestly think why the hell you’re here. Or maybe it’s just scary how easy it was for you to just…go with it and come to his house.

He appears in the doorway mere seconds after you press the doorbell, making you think he had seen your car pull up, but this notion is quickly dashed when you see him. He leans against the doorframe on his forearm, having to look down at you with a bottle of something in one hand.

“Didn’t get lost then” he says with a smug smile. The embarrassment and those thoughts that were loud the night before come back at breakneck speed, making the heat flood your cheeks uncontrollably. You just hope that he doesn’t see it, but by the amused look on his face, he totally does.

You roll your eyes a bit and his smile seems to drop for a second. He removes his arm from the doorframe, your eyes drag over what he’s wearing briefly. It’s not the black shirt he usually has on, but a grey one with patches of dark at the neckline and middle, you surmise he’s probably already been working out before you got here. The image of his taut stomach sticking to his grey shirt will forever be seared into your memory.

Walking through his home is like walking through a show-home, as in, it doesn’t look like it’s been lived in. It’s weirdly pristine, smells like air freshener and detergent. And as you follow him to the back of the house, where you assume the home gym is, you can’t help but stare at the dark grey patch in the middle of his back and the way his shoulders move when he takes a drink.

There’s some stairs that lead down and you quirk a brow, “a basement gym?”

He stops at the stairs, looking up, his eyes somewhere else before he meets yours. His hair is up in a bun again, like the first time, with stray pieces falling out, “Yes?”

“How very serial killer of you” you muse, following him down the stairs, “Should I share my location with someone”

He huffs a laugh, opening the door and leading you inside with the smallest of touches to the small of your back, “Unless you want to”

Even the borderline ghostly touch against the small of your back through your coat is enough to make your brain feel like it’s mush.

What if he’d ventured down, using his large hand to squeeze your flesh between his fingers? Moulding the skin to shape of his palms?

“Drink?” he asks, strangely more chirpy.

Pulling off your coat you reply, “No, got my water, thanks”, you try and make your voice as stable as possible.

His home gym is actually quite big, lit by several spotlights since there’s no natural light. It hasn’t got any machines, but several weights and sit up benches, perhaps he brings some clients here sometimes? Your body shudders inconsolably at the thought of being laid on the sit up benches, flat with him looming over.

He’s filling up his own water bottle from the cooler in the corner, back to you, “So what were you doing on instagram?” he asks, and you think you can hear the smile on his face.

Taking advantage of him not looking your way, you adjust your sports bra. It’s a different set this time, since the other is in the wash, a dark rusty orange two-piece. He turns just as you’re pulling your hair up into a bun, eyes hooded and trained on you before briefly flitting across the new outfit.

“Stalking your creepy profile” you answer, disinterested.

He raises an eyebrow, “Creepy?”

“That’s what Rhaena said”

“Ah” he responds, “she would”

“Why’s that?”

He motions loosely to his eye that you supposed he was blind in, “Freaks people out”

You furrow your brows, “Why would it freak people out?”. You ask it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s quiet for a moment, tapping his fingers against his water bottle in thought.

“Does it not freak you out?”

You shake your head softly, “No”

He doesn’t take his eyes off you when he takes a sip of water and it makes your thighs feel somewhat like jelly.

“Right, stretches”

Oh boy.

It’s almost as bad as the first time you’ve done them together, except he’s extra handsy, smirking with the knowledge that you were talking about him in your spare time. This time, when you’re doing the 60 second planks on the mat, his hand stays there on your back, moving every now and then slowly between your shoulders, to the nape of your neck. And there’s no mirror in his home gym, so you’re only hoping and praying that he’s not taking this opportunity to look at you in the skin tight leggings too closely.

Although secretly, you kind of hope he is.

“That’s it...” he praises lowly, and it takes you so off guard that you think you might just crack. But you resort to just biting your lip, trapping the skin between your teeth painfully.

Squats are genuinely no better. He stays behind you the entire time, achingly close with his hands on his hips and everytime you go down to do one, you can’t help the desperate thrum of anticipation in your belly as you make contact only very slightly with his leg.

Once you’re done with stretching and core, with the lack of windows in the room you’re in, it’s very hot and you wipe your forehead a little, slightly out of breath as you take a sip of water. Feeling as if you are being watched you turn your head slightly and see him sat on the sit-up bench watching you intensely.

“Shit” you curse as some water leaks out of the bottle onto your chest and right down your sports bra. You try and wipe it away quickly, your chest already glistening with sweat. But when you look up, you see his eyes quickly flit from there to your eyes, darkened. One of his thighs jitters as he bounces his leg, as if aggravated.

“Sorry” you breathe, grounding yourself, “what next” you ask, desperately trying to lighten the tension.

“Bench press” he responds, and there’s that same tone he used last time. The tone that he used after literally scaring your ex away. But you swallow thickly and nod and sit where he once was.

He explains how to do it and you take it all in a bit until you realise he’s going to be standing right behind you and your cheeks flood with heat again, tingling down the back of your neck. He just stands there as he usually does, but from this angle (and it’s very difficult to not look at this point) your head is right at his waistline and had there not been 30kg combined in your arms right now, you probably would have given more of a reaction to it.

But you do your reps, with him watching in silence, seeing you break a sweat. As far as you are aware, his eyes forever on your form, but really it’s zoned in on that shadow that disappears down your sports bra and at the exposed bit of midriff beneath that to your leggings.

As you’re doing the last few, he rounds the side and places his hand flat on your ribs, right under your sports bra’s hem and you freeze, an involuntary gasp escapes.

When you meet eyes, he’s already regarding you.

“Relax”

Licking your lips nervously, you nod and breathe in and out deeply. But he never takes his hand off you, almost making sure you’re doing what he says.

The next few reps are probably the most difficult. Never being able to stop thinking about his fingers on your bare skin, his thumbs drawing very very small circles on the hot flesh there. The air feels charged, as if one wrong move could ignite something, like striking a flame near gas.

He moves his hand lower to your abdomen, making you freeze and look at him again. There’s no smug smile on his face, just a hooded, promiscuous expression, one that makes a deep, blurry thrum right where his hand is.

“Push here”

You try and do as he says for the last few, but it’s hard with the way he’s staring at you. And when you let out a huff and put the weights back where they belong on the rack, he nods slightly.

“Good girl”

He sees the way your face flushes this time, but makes no comment on it. Instead he rights himself to stand, extending his toned arm to you to help you up, not breaking the intensity of his look.

It really does happen too quickly to know who did it. All you remember is taking his hand to pull yourself up. The next. Both his hands are around your waist, nearly encompassing them with how big they are, and the way they slide against your glistening skin rouses you in places you didn’t even know existed.

There’s not even time to say anything when he locks his lips with yours, pushing you harshly against the wall with a thud that makes you gasp into his hot mouth. It’s messy, chaotic, a clashing of desperate lips and when he brushes your lower lip with his tongue it’s embarrassing how good it feels. He pushes you against the wall so harshly by your waist that you think he’s trying to embed you into it, hands clasped tightly around you in frustration, his fingertips creating marks where they are fixed.

Amongst all this, he presses his firm, lithe body against yours and you let out the quietest of moans with the realisation that he is desperately hard beneath the sweatpants he’s wearing, pressing it into your thigh.

“Fuck…” he breathes as his hand snakes up your front to take hold of your jaw, kissing with such need that it almost feels like too much.

All this time your hands have had no idea what to do, but one slides to the nape of his neck, gripping harshly and completely destroying the style his hair had been in. The other runs over the slick skin of his forearm, tracing the veins there, and how they seem to thrum with every beat of his heart, faster with the desire that courses through them.

“Fucking perfect…”

Words fail you at this point, his fingers digging into the sides of your face make you realise he’s keeping you right where he wants you, attacking your mouth with his in a way that’s not really happened to you before. And that little breathy moan escapes once again when his teeth nip at your lip as he pulls away, immediately dipping to your neck to kiss and suck the delicate skin there, his hips pushing against yours with hunger.

You wonder what his hands would feel like wrapped around your neck, squeezing gently, or maybe not so gently. If his hands would just go that bit lower…if your hands just dipped beneath the hem of his shirt…down the sweatpants…

Buzz buzz.

Snapped out of this hot, heavy trance, Aemond steps back a little and you duck underneath his arm, not daring to look back at him at the fear you might stay and fuck up this entirely professional relationship. You desperately look at your phone, a missed call from Baela.

But that’s all the excuse you need, you hurriedly pack up your stuff, “S-sorry…I..” you start but with no vocabulary to actually finish. Your core is still spurring with delight with what you’ve just done, taking all the power from your brain.

Looking back briefly, he looks a bit dishevelled but still ridiculously too good, flushed in the face and his chest gently heaving, and with that ghost of a smile on his face. Not smug this time, to your delight.

“Um, sorry I have to go…thanks, Aemond” you excuse promptly. Even the very swift walk back to the car is a blur. It’s only when you’re in the driver’s seat, intensely gripping the steering wheel that it all slots into place.

Your fingers go to your lips and all the places his hands had touched you. They’re on fire. Begging for more. And you feel your breath in your lungs stutter at the memory of it. Aemond stands at his window, watching with acute amusement that you’re still sat there, absolutely dumbstruck by what’s happened.

Baela pings you in the wake of her missed call.

taglist (sorry if I missed anyone, I’m crap, bold means I couldn’t tag)

@mrsgrwy @lovelykhaleesiii@urmomsgirlfriend1@iiamthehybrid @namelesslosers @chainsawsangel @warmfieldofgrass @mynameisbaby9 @afro-hispwriter @tempo-rary-fix @toodlesxcuddles @definitelynotsatans @svtansdaddyx @tssf-imagines @darkenchantress @vrtualfairy @fan-goddess @skikikikiikhhjuuh @helaenaluvr @sarahkimtae @blackxisxmyxcolour @castellomargot @girlwith-thepearlearring @julczimozart @amazingdisneyfansblog @slutforaemond@thedamewithabook@Iiamthehybrid@sahvlren@Whoknows333@cosmoeticss

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nuttersincorporated · 4 months

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Mickey Mouse does not need your protection

Since Mickey Mouse became public domain, I’ve seen some really wild takes and misinformation going around. Yes, Mickey Mouse is public domain. No, you do not need to protect him. It’s fine if people other than Disney make Mickey Mouse stuff, even if you don’t like the things that are made.

You are not protecting Mickey Mouse. Mickey Mouse is not real. Even if he was, you STILL wouldn’t be protecting him. You’re just sticking up for a megacorporation. Disney has more money and resources than you will ever have and they horde them. You shouldn’t be trying to help them do it.

Disney is a company that loves using public domain properties to make things. They have just tried their absolute hardest to make sure that nobody else could do the same thing. If you think Mickey Mouse should only be used by Disney, you should be upset that Disney made money off public domain stories like Snow White and Rapunzel.

What about things like Winnie the Pooh? Disney didn’t come up with him but they were happy to make money off him. They bought the rights to him and then didn’t share.

‘Ah!’ I hear you say. ‘But Winnie the Pooh actually helps prove our point! When Disney – that poor poor super rich company that should be protected – lost the exclusive rights, a Winnie the Pooh horror movie was made! That’s not in the spirit of the original character!’

Firstly, you can just ignore that movie if you want. I did. Nobody is making you watch it. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Secondly, there are nice Winnie the Pooh stories out there that aren’t by Disney or the original author. The Pooh books by Jane Riordan are lovely. Her stories are much more in the spirit of the original character than a lot of the Disney comics were.

This is an official Disney comic with Winnie the Pooh

This is a picture from one of Jane Riordan’s Winnie the Pooh books

One of them is sweet, kind and in the spirit of the original character. The other is Disney owned and approved.

What would the original author A.A. Milne think of the different adaptions and new works? Well, we don’t know because, at the end of the month, he’ll have been dead for 68 years. However, I can quote one of the original Pooh books about sharing,

And really, it wasn’t much good having anything exciting like floods, if you couldn’t share them with somebody.

Thirdly, Disney does not respect authorial intent.

PL Travers, the author of the Mary Poppins books, did not want Disney to make a movie based on her work. She got coerced into letting them make one. She hated the movie and refused to let them make any more.

What happened after she’d died, the ban on them making more Mary Poppies movies ran out and they got their hands on the rights? They made a sequel.

I think you should be more upset that Disney went against the direct wishes of an author than the fact regular people can now use a character that megacorporation uses. PL Travers was a person. Disney is a company. There is a difference.

I love the original Mary Poppins movie. I don’t care about or like the sequel. However, PL Travers died in 1996. People should be able to use the character now, no matter how you or I feel about those newer stories. Again, you can just ignore them if you want.

The original stories are still there.

Royalties are different to public domain. The profits from PL Travers original books go to her descendants and the Cherry Tree Foundation. They will continue to go there for 80 years after her death and then the royalties will be shared out among any decedents who are alive at that time. The money from those books will continue to go there, no matter what new stories with Mary Poppins get made.

You all seem okay with Disney making money off public domain stories and buying the rights to other stories. Why can't you extend that right to other people?

No one has stolen Mickey from Disney. Disney can and will continue to make money off him. All that’s change is that other people can now do that too.

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 2 months

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I don't know who needs to hear this, but you should make an OC.

You should make an OC. Specifically a Spider-Sona. Like now. Preferably yesterday. [A MEDIUM-LONG essay about OC's, fanfiction, and how to enrich and better your writing skills in literally every sector. Throughout this essay I reference my two characters Disco-Spider and Inca-Spider as examples of the way OCs can be used.]

_________________________________________

"But no one cares about OCs -"

OKKAYYYY??

IDK about ya'll but fandom is NOT my final destination no siree

I feel like a lot of the time we get so caught up in posting and notes we forget that for many artists and writers on this platform - fanfiction is not the true end goal.

Many of us write and draw fanart for years -

But the fact of the matter is if you want to be an author someday, if you want to be a graphic novelist, an animator, etc, etc - You're going to HAVE to make OCs.

If you want to study English in college or publish books - you're gonna have to write an OC at least once. If not hundreds of times.

If you want to study art - chances are at some point you're gonna have to fill a portfolio with original pieces, including some of OCs.

If you want to do something with your writing, if you want to get better - or make a career out of your art, you HAVE to make OCs at some point.

And this is especially true for fanfiction writers.

You can get very very very good at writing in your specific fandoms, you may have the emotions of the characters on point, and the ability to describe the scenery.

But if you don't know how to create and design a character - if you don't know how to worldbuild, or come up with scenarios without the help of characterai and ChatGPT - you won't be able to write a book.

If you're an artist and you don't know how to draw an original character from scratch, how to match colors, how to draw certain skin tones, certain hair, wheelchairs and mobility aids, how to design a character from looks, to clothing - it's going to be so hard to expand your art outside of fanart. You'll always be beholden to the notes and popularity of your particular fandom.

Do it - even if you've never written or never draw before. Even better.

That's why I CHAMPION Spider-sonas so much. They're basically OCs on easy mode.

Can't write backgrounds yet? Here's a bucket on canon events to pick from? Can't draw faces? Blank mask with eyes.

Hell, if you're really really new about it - just pick a character and make a slightly different variant. Make a Hobie of your own, make a Peter variant. Make a Mary Jane variant. Pick a something you like and turn that into a character.

Can't write? Just fill-in the 'My name is [blank], I was bitten by a [blank]' script that Miles does. Can't draw, just draw out a basic shape of a body and color-out the suit, no fancy pose needed. That still counts!!

Make a self-insert. Make yourself fit into the story, design your suit, write out how you fight crime, how you'd act at the Society, meeting Miguel or Miles.

That's still character design, that's still worldbuilding.

We always hear people say 'Make art for yourself' and yeah that sounds nice - but people also misinterpret it.

Make art for yourself doesn't just mean making art that you personally like.

Making art for yourself also means making art that develops your skills even if no one gives a fuck. It's about making art as practice without the intention of it being 'completed', making OCs that never get used, drawing locations you see or writing a random ass short story then shoving it into your Google Drive forever.

Making art for yourself means making art that invests in yourself.

It means making art that interests you, challenges you, or helps you develop.

And making OC's helps develop your fanfic writing skills.

In may fandoms we begin to fall into these routine 'tropes' between characters and their personalities. This is usually known as the 'fanon' characterization.

Because when you have a set amount of characters and people, there's also a set amount of interactions and relationships between those people.

Writing OCs and having those OCs interact with canon characters allows you to dig deeper into sides of the canon characters we'd never otherwise see.

That's why I wrote Disco-Spider Diane like I do. Often, we see Hobie characterized as the chaotic, rowdy, confident type - which is perfect characterization for him. But in almost all of his interactions - he's the wilder, bolder, extroverted one. I wanted to put him in a situation where for once, he was the calmer one. I wanted to explore more grounded and chill sides of Hobie, one where he's the one grounding the other, and thinking logically - because in canon, we're hinted at a side of Hobie who's way more methodical and slow-paced and willing to stop and wait it out and play it off. And I wanted to see that. I wanted to explore what he'd do if he was faced with someone just as chaotic, who put on a cheeky ironic act - just the same as him.

Because no other characters serve that purpose in canon.

If there are elements of a character or concept you think are interesting but outright ignored by canon and fanon, you can create an OC to explore those parts.

For Disco-Spider: I wanted to explore how someone like a militant Black Panther would handle being Spider-woman, when Spider-people are usually shown as pacifists - what that would look like or how it'd shape her morals based on era, etc. For Inca-Spider: I realized there were so many culture based Spider people like Pavitr and Spider-UK. But none for indigenous communities, and NONE from countries that only existed in other universes. So, I created an indigenous character from Tawanti - a country that's located where Peru would be for us.

You can give a canon character a sibling, to explore how they'd interact with family. Give them a partner that acts totally different than their canon partner, write how that'd change the way they show love.

OC's make your original writing better, AND your fanfiction writing too. They can help you understand canon characters on a deeper level.

And sure, nobody likes your OC. NOW.

But every single character you write about, is someones OC. Every character you write about was once treated that way. Once upon a time, Dean Winchester was just some rando character in the pilot script of a show that hadn't picked up yet. Probably no one gave a fuck until CW picked it up.

The writers had to not only make him and develop him - they had to BELIEVE in him enough to pitch him to a TV show channel to make people care.

That's always the first step. Believing your character's story is worthy enough of being told and presenting it as such.

ESPECIALLY if your OC represents a demographic you don't see represented. Cause yes if there isn't any black women in canon then I'll Thanos this shit and do it myself.

Make OCs.

Write them. Draw them. Even if it's bad. Who the hell cares. Big Mouth is on Netflix with multiple seasons, have you seen that show?? 'Ugly' art is not a crime.

Make piccrews, fill out OCforms or take quiz's as them. Write little blurbs of them hanging with canon characters then post it in the tag.

You don't need a huge Spidersona sheet or a long long fic explaining their backstory. They can just be there.

MAKE OCs.

Make them to explore more in your fanfiction, make them so future you can write that novel or draw or that comic or sell those prints or whatever it is you plan to do.

Make it so your fanfiction AND original writing can grow stronger. It isn't just about notes and content and follows.

Make an OC. Make a Spidersona. Literally you have nothing to lose but your chains.

"Nobody cares-"

Oh they'll care when you pop out with that 6-book publishing deal. They'll care when you're designing big characters for movies. Cause that's how it happens. Watch.

ANYWAYSSSS if you made it this far I hope this inspired you to at least play around with the idea of OCs and Spidersonas in general.

Here's Hobie.

BYE.

If you want to make a sona and are kinda lost on where to start, lemme know!! Because I think they're amazing starting places for those who have never written or drawn before. Or if you have a sona but want to develop them further.

I haven't seen a guide to spidersonas and i wonder if that's something some people might want/need.

Seriously if I can even get one person into writing or drawing I'll be over the goddamn moon.

MAKE OCS PLEASE.

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