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#genuinely both sides of this should be ashamed
hells1nfern0 · 5 months
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"this isnt funny, this is mid, this sucks."
then immediately once funny half life is seen
"OMG IT WAS SOOO FUNNY AND SOOO WORTH IT IN THE END LOL!"
Let them have fun. It wasnt only fucking made for a trailer guys. They put work into it. It isnt just good because you got what you want at the end.
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deadbeat-motel · 3 months
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ᐯᗩGGIE ᗩᑎᗪ ᑕᕼᗩᖇᒪIE ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ
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These two are simpler than the angel dust design I did since I didn't have a lot to go off of. Posted on Valentine's Day because yes I can.
I don't think Charlie is significantly different from her Pilot design because I genuinely think it was the best design from the cast (before the redesign).
Thoughts below, though TW for the creepy charlie image at the end:
My issues with their Original designs:
Vaggie:
The giant "X" over her eye is really distracting and even world-breaking because
1. Why had no one put 2 and 2 together that the only character in Hell who has a visible 'X' mark on her face might be related to the angels who also sport that X mark on their faces.
2. Why is it shaped like an X? Her eye was taken out via a single slash.
3. If the hair's purpose was to cover it, why would it show through it? What's the point of the hair then?
The hair that was supposed to cover that wounded eye looked so ugly and confused as to what it should be doing. I mean every shot that showed that thing in a sideview shot of Vaggie felt like the animators had to make their own guesses as to how that was supposed to look like. It was distracting for me personally and I hated it so much.
It's been said over and over again, but her clothes look like she works at McDonalds. I get needing to change her outfit so that she looks like she works at the hotel, but it's just been poorly designed.
Why change her clothes' colors from white to red? the white helped her stand out from Hell and the Hotel's majority red background. (In the finale, she at least has a non-red attire)
She's also one of the very few women in HH and she falls under the skinny stick side of it despite being an angel exterminator.
Her hair is kind of hard to visualize looking at in any way other than what it is when it's static. However, when it changed into a ponytail or a bob, it's actually really nice to look at.
Unsure of what that bow's purpose is for the design.
Charlie:
Charlie is a simple but very confused design. The pilot design was a lot more coherent than the current show design
It's disappointing to see the bouncy Pilot hair go and be replaced by that boring bubble braid of all things.
Her undershirt peaks out of her tuxedo.... why???? to separate the top jacket and the pants? You wouldn't need to do that if her pants were a different color like the pilot design.
Thought about it and was confused, as a demon with an angelic father, why didn't she have wings as well? She didn't need the 6 wings like Lucifer but maybe a pair of one would appear?
Out of all the characters for the show's redesign, Her's was by far the MOST infuriating to me. Her pilot design wasn't perfect but it was good, they had to downgrade her for some reason.
I didn't have much to say about Charlie. it basically sums up to "the Pilot design was better".
On to the thought process for these two:
Valerie the fallen:
Yes, she got a rename. Sue me.
I had to remove the moth aspect of her design because it doesn't seem like it makes sense for a heaven-born to follow the sinner's rule of "gaining features based on the life you lived" since she basically never lived right?
In this redesign (and eventual rewrite), Valerie is not ashamed of her exterminator background. In fact, she was known as the most recent "fallen" in hell. her short stature doesn't make her less of a threat to the demons.
She's also visually thick with muscle because why not let one of the show's women have a body type that isn't stick-thin?
She's using the wings that were torn off of her as both an interesting article of clothing and as a way to remind others and her that she is (or more accurately 'was') an angel who could kill them if she wanted to.
Her clothes are pure black underneath the pale feathers to show that while she is an "angel", deep down, she is far from a good person.
She's also getting an actual skin color because from what I gathered myself from the show's heaven. Most of the souls there still retain a human appearance (Adam, Lute, St. Peter, and the other random human angels up there still look human..... but just don't mind the fact that most of them are white.)
Her hair is that ponytail she had in the finale because as much as I didn't like that episode, some designs looked actually decent.
Also, her hair actually covers the eye scar properly.
I wanted to keep her ribbon as a splash of brightness on her design but the OG ribbon looks a little out of place on a warrior so It became that (Plus it pays homage to her OG moth influence with its shape looking like the fluffy antennas of the moth)
Gave the spearhead a little bit of detail on it plus a chipped side so that it has a bit of charm as an old weapon she still decides to keep around.
A note about Valerie's design is that I haven't tackled the armor of angels yet so I was unsure of what pieces of the undesigned armor to give Valerie as of now.
Charlie:
I honestly actually enjoyed her Pilot hair, so I tried to put it back and also simplify it a bit so there are not a lot of strands for me to keep track of. Plus it was a genuinely cute design for her. (There's a reason that version was used in the Verbalase video.) <- I'M JOKING
Replaced her button nose with a goat's because a friend has commented how it looked like the noses of the women in a Goofy Movie and I will never be able to unsee that.
Her hair is also a lot brighter compared to her washed-out blonde color.
She has the same design thought process as Valerie, Covering the darkness of her true nature with white fluffy fur which is stylized like feathers at its ends. She has pitch-black skin underneath and looks like a proper nightmarish demon like the image below.
I ditched the tuxedo look, since almost all the cast has a similar outfit already, and gave her a jumpersuit instead. (Idk what it's really called but that's what I think it is). It's a light grey because she's a mix of bad and good (though a bright grey because she prefers to be on the good side)
Her horns are there and visible because yeah it's cute but also helps her read as the half-angel/half-demon character she is.
Tiny goat tail because can you imagine every time Valerie holds the rare angel smile of approval, her tail is visibly wagging in glee and excitement???? My heart would die. I love these lesbians with my life.
Has wings from her father.
Anyways, those are my thoughts and redesigns... I wanted to add more details to them but I didn't really know what to add that didn't feel unnecessary.
Also bonus! Concept art of Charlie's true form:
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charmandabear · 2 months
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Office Hours - Chapter Six
Summary:
Astarion surprises you with a night at the theatre that doesn't go quite according to your plan.
Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.7k Tags/Warnings: rough/angry sex, hair pulling, emotional manipulation, dubcon, bad BDSM practices, angst, daddy kink, reminiscent of Ascended!Astarion, discussions of domestic abuse (in Taming of the Shrew)
Hi. Hello. My sweets. My darlings. This is it. The chapter where you absolutely must mind the tags. Just know that I won't take you anywhere that we won't be able to come back from. Know that I, too, am an absolute baby when it comes to intense subject matter in fics. But I want you to take care of yourselves and your hearts. As always, shoot me a message if you'd like more specifics.
Photo credits: Zaria for Green Pussy Suit Astarion and Nephi Garcia for the incredible dress.
Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist
“In the library? Babes, are you insane?” Shadowheart's voice reaches a pitch you’re fairly sure only dogs can hear. You curl your knees into your chest and cover your face in your hands, feeling the exact appropriate amount of shame.
“I know, I know. All logic goes out the fucking window around him. All I can think is ‘mm, good dick makes brain go brr.’” You let out a frustrated sigh into your hands.
“Do you want to get fired?” She pulls your hand from your face so you can't hide from her pointed stare.
“Oh trust me, I ran about forty different scenarios of that happening through my head on the drive home.”
“Did you, now? And in how many of these did he also get fired?” Shadowheart presses, knowing how your anxiety can get out of hand.
“Like, two,” you groan and drop your head back onto the couch cushions. “I don't know what comes over me. I feel like I can't tell him no.”
“Wait, wait.” Shadowheart grips your knee, suddenly worried. “You can't tell him no as in it feels too good to stop? Or as in it doesn't feel safe to say no?”
“Nine hells, no, the first one!” you respond, horrified. She squints at you and you squirm under her gaze until you’re finally more truthful, both with her and yourself. “Well, I mean, mostly. Like it's not like that. But like also not not like that, you know?”
“I can assure you I do not,” she says in a flat voice, not interested in joking around. You sigh dramatically, trying to find the right words to describe how you feel.
“Like. Okay. Am I fully consenting to everything we do? Yes. 100%. Oh gods, yes.” Your cheeks tinge pink even thinking about it. “But like… am I going against my best judgment? Do I feel like I should say no? Does part of me kinda wish I would say no? Like… maybe?”
“Tav, that's not okay. You need to talk to him about this.” Shadowheart’s voice is soft with genuine worry. Which is ridiculous, because she’s focusing on the wrong thing.
“No, see, that's the thing. It's not actually a him issue, it's a me issue. Like there's something wrong with me, I see his most toxic traits and suddenly I'm like a horny teenager!” Your voice increases in pitch as you grow more hysterical. “How am I supposed to call him out on it when the only words that will come out of my mouth are ‘yes daddy, more please’?”
“Is there anything redeemable about him at all? Besides being good in bed?” She leans back, taking a sip of her wine and fixing you with an incredulous look. 
“I mean… yeah. He’s witty, and bantering back and forth with him is fun. He’s incredibly smart, as loath as I am to admit it, and I like hearing his ideas on things, especially his interpretation of Shakespeare’s text.” You don't even notice the smile growing on your face, but Shadowheart does. “And he’s got this unexpectedly soft side. Like he seems cold and aloof on the outside, but he cares, deeply. About his students, about his cat, about-”
“About you?” she interjects, and your smile falters.
“I don't know, Shade,” you say quietly, almost ashamed to look her in the eye. “I think so. I hope so. But it's not like we've been seeing each other for that long, he’s under no obligation to feel anything.” You practically swallow the last sentence, a truth you're reticent to voice. 
“And you?” she asks softly.
“Man, I don't fucking know. I just want to keep getting laid and not catch feelings, is that so much to ask?” you whine. She laughs, but you can tell that she's only humoring you.
“For you? Probably.”
***
It's been several days and your busy schedules have kept you and Astarion apart for most of it. Save the occasional tension-filled passing in the hall, you've barely interacted at all. You're almost beginning to believe that your whirlwind affair has come to an end when you find a mystery package at your apartment door.
It's made out to you with no discernable return address. You bring the box into your apartment while examining it, trying to ascertain its origin. It doesn't even really look like it was sent through the mail, it looks like it was dropped off.
You take out your phone and call down to the front desk. It rings a few times, then a somber voice answers.
“What dost thou require?” His voice is deep and crackled, like some ancient eternal being.
“Hi Withers, it's Tav in 3C. Do you know anything about this package that was left at my door?”
“I have inspected it, and determined it safe for you to open. It was brought by someone claiming to be a friend.”
“Can you tell me anything about this someone?”
“No.”
And the line goes dead. You laugh and shake your head. If Withers says it's safe, then it probably is. You’d trust that wrinkly old man with your life, honestly. You cut open the tape sealing the box shut and lift off the top.
Inside is something wrapped in tissue paper with a note stuck to it in Astarion's immaculate handwriting. 
Tomorrow evening The Rosewood Seven o’clock Wear nothing underneath
You let out a small involuntary moan when you read the last three words. You carefully unwrap the tissue paper to find a fabric that looks like it's made of starlight. You pull out the midnight black dress and go slightly breathless when you get a good look at it. 
It’s a backless dress with a sweetheart neckline and intricate gold embellishments that almost make it look like armor. It has a lavish gold neck piece attached by several gold chains that drip over the skin. The skirt is made of a weightless black fabric that shimmers with gold as you move it in the light. It almost appears to be cut into two panels with dual hip-high slits.
With a dress cut like this, you wouldn't be able to wear undergarments even if you wanted to.
Your heart hammers in your chest as you think about what he might have in store for you. You're not even sure what's running at the Rosewood right now, but it could be complete trash and you wouldn't even care. You probably won't even be able to pay attention, too distracted by Astarion sitting next to you for two hours.
You feel a pulsing between your legs at the thought. You think of his hand sliding up your knee while you struggle to keep a straight face. Or him reaching an arm around you, gently sliding his fingers into your hair before giving it a sharp tug.
Another moan works its way out of your throat and you follow it up with an annoyed groan. You can really get swept up at the most inconvenient times. It’s not like you don’t have any work you need to do or anything. You roll your eyes as you stalk off to draw a bath.
***
Waiting in the lobby of the theater, you’re feeling surprisingly nervous. The dress, though beautiful, is not particularly comfortable. With all of its various chains and pieces, you needed Shadowheart’s help just to put it on. It helps that she’s also incredibly talented when it comes to hair and makeup, so in truth you feel positively glamorous. 
When you see Astarion, however, everything goes silent. You’re certain that he’s posing for you the way he’s stopped to adjust his cuff. The cut of the suit he’s wearing is exceptionally flattering and you imagine running your hands all over the emerald velvet. His crisp white button down is almost sheer and you desperately want to pull him into you by that forest green silk tie. 
But you can’t tear your eyes away from his face. This is the first time you've seen him wear makeup, and the simple smokey eyeliner look makes his red irises pop. He’s decided to forgo his glasses, presumably opting for contacts instead to show off the makeup. He’s also swapped out his standard silver hoops for little daggers with a red rhinestone glimmering at the hilt. 
He looks up at you the moment you lay eyes on him, or more specifically, the moment your heart starts to beat out of your chest. He flashes you a devastating smile before striding up to you and pulling you into a deep kiss. You can’t even be bothered to care that the other patrons are probably staring as he slides his hand onto your bare lower back, his cool touch sending a shiver up your spine.
He pulls away from you just enough to breathlessly ask, “Are you ready to sit down?”
“Huh?” You’re distracted, too busy plotting a mental path to the bathrooms to fuck him. He lets out a winded chuckle.
“The play. House is open, would you care to find our seats?” His palm is still pressed against your back and you can barely form coherent thoughts. You still don’t even know what play you’re here to see. You just want—no, need—to be near him.
“Um, yeah,” you respond, still trying to get your bearings and remind yourself how to be a person. You let him lead you into the theater, and only once you're in your seats do you realize that neither of you grabbed a program. You pull out your phone to see if you can look it up, but service in the Rosewood is notoriously bad. Instead you just need to sit still next to Astarion, who looks like a dream and smells even better. 
He glances at you as your heart quickens again and his lips curl into a smile. He slips his hand behind your neck and lightly runs his finger along the seam between the golden collar of the dress and your flesh, sending goosebumps down your arms. He leans toward you until his lips are almost brushing your ear. 
“You look absolutely ravishing, my dear,” he whispers, his breath tickling your earlobe. You turn your face toward him on instinct, your chest heaving as you try to steady your breathing. Your lips hover inches apart, anticipating the kiss, when suddenly a throng of noisy actors come barreling down the aisles. You snap away from Astarion as the cacophony of their shrieks of laughter, calls across the audience to one another, and drunken banter fill the house.
One of them clambors onto the stage and shouts, “For God’s sake, a pot of small ale!” He’s dressed in rags and appears by far to be the drunkest of them all. Three servingmen swarm him with various shouts of, “Will’t please your honor?” He shoves them all away and proudly takes up space center stage.
“I am Christophero Sly! Call not me ‘Honor’ nor ‘Lordship,’” he bellows as the rest of the players make their way onto the stage.
Christopher Sly… you’re wracking your brain to remember which play he serves as a framing device for. Most productions cut this scene because it’s long and completely irrelevant. You just can’t for the life of you remember which play he appears in.
The scene continues with their drunken antics and slapstick comedy as the players address Sly as “my noble lord,” making him believe he’s a king that they’re about to perform for. Eventually they carry Sly out on a makeshift palanquin as the “play within the play” begins. Two handsome young men in preppy clothes enter, holding a book and wearing glasses that aren’t too dissimilar from Astarion’s round metal ones. The one without the glasses speaks first.
“Tranio, since for the great desire I had to see fair Padua…”
Tranio? Isn’t he one of the characters in Taming of the Shrew?
He knows you don’t like this play.
Well, if it’s all that’s playing at the Rosewood right now…
But if that’s the case why not just, like, see a movie?
You shift uncomfortably in your dress and cast your gaze towards Astarion. He smiles, taking your fingers and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles before turning back to the stage. He keeps your hand in his, absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. 
You can feel your heart pounding in your ears and you find yourself wondering what’s running through his head. Just when you think you have him figured out, he does something to surprise you. And honestly, not always in a good way.
Maybe it won’t be so bad. You know the creative team at the Rosewood wouldn’t pick this show if they weren’t going to try to do something with it. 
But even still… is this text even redeemable?
You sit through the entirety of the show cringing as the audience around you laughs at flagrant displays of domestic abuse. The actors, several of whom you’ve worked with before, are trying their hardest to make the lines playful, but some things just can’t be recovered. Between the forced starvation, physical intimidation, and gaslighting, you wonder why companies even bother performing this play anymore. No matter how witty the writing is, it’s just too out of date to be a good season choice.
When the time comes for Kate’s final monologue, you watch in pain as the actress tries to wink-wink-nudge-nudge her way through lines like “place your hands below your husband’s foot.” She’s young, and you wonder if this is one of her first professional gigs. You get a little sad knowing that she’s probably just desperate to do anything, even if it’s trash.
Maybe you’re being a little harsh. All of the individual elements of the show—the acting, set, costumes, direction, lighting—were quite good. You just can’t get over how irredeemable this text is. Worth teaching, yes, and maybe even taking Act II out of context just for the fun banter and clever wordplay. But professional theatre companies should really just retire this one.
In the Lyft back to your apartment, you decide to get Astarion’s take on the matter.
“Do you think it’s possible to redeem a text like Taming in a modern age?”
He pauses for a moment, continuing to look away from you and out the window.
“I do, yes,” he finally answers. “I think it takes a skilled hand, but it can be successful when done well.”
You sit on his response, chewing it over. You decide to take a different route.
“I guess a better question is do you think it’s worth trying to? Like, what are we getting out of it anymore?”
“Is entertainment not enough?” he says with a laugh. You wrinkle your nose at him.
“Sure, if you’re a basic ass bitch. But I want my art to mean something. And I can’t think of what this play can possibly mean if it’s not ‘shrill women are annoying and should learn their place.’” You cross and uncross your legs, trying to keep yourself decent.
“Last I checked, you enjoy being put in your place,” he says in a low hum and your pussy betrays you with a clench. 
“Shut up,” you grumble, and you’re grateful that the dark car hides your reddening cheeks. “It’s different.”
“Is it, though? Ultimately it is a text about two dysfunctional people finding comfort in one another.” His sincerity catches you off guard, and almost makes you angry that he’s been taken in by the propaganda.
“That’s only a valid interpretation if you ignore half of what happens in the play. They’re not equally dysfunctional, Kate literally gets beaten into submission and pretends to be happy about it. Petruchio is exactly the same from the start to the finish, he has no fucking character arc.” Your hands start to shake as you try to keep your cool. You’ve had this conversation far too many times with men who think they can interpret out the sexism by simply glossing over Kate’s abuse.
The Lyft stops in front of your building and you thank the driver as you get out. Astarion follows you, and you’re not even sure if you want him to accompany you upstairs. But you remain silent as you walk past Withers and into the elevator.
“You’re overreacting,” Astarion says once the elevator doors close. “People are drawn to this play for a reason. The text is excellent, and no one truly thinks of Petruchio as an abuser.”
“Are you joking?” Your voice gets shrill and the similarity to Kate isn’t lost on you. “The whole thing normalizes his abuse. The fact that people don’t think of him as an abuser is the problem.”
“It’s a slapstick comedy,” he snaps, his voice growing stern. “Are you going to tell me that we need to cancel the Three Stooges because it promotes violence?”
“Don’t be fucking condescending,” you spit. “It’s not the same and you know it.”
“How is it not the same? Suddenly because it’s a woman in the role it no longer counts? Are you implying that women should be barred from certain types of performance because of their gender?” He walks past you into your apartment and you throw your keys and bag on the counter, not even bothering to see where they land.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying, now you’re just twisting my words,” you grumble, more frustrated than ever by your inability to match his eloquence.
“So use your own words,” he sneers, whirling around to face you. “How is it not the same?”
“It’s because- well, I- It’s different, just- argh!” Your head is clouded by your attraction to him, which has annoyingly only grown over the past few minutes of shouting. You’re suddenly reminded of the smug arrogant bastard that you first met. He lets out a jeering laugh.
“See? You can’t even defend your own point.” 
His sardonic cruelty sets something off in you and you angrily grab the lapel of his green suit. Your intentions are a complete mystery even to you, because as soon as you’re within inches of one another, instincts take over. You crush his lips into yours and pull him backwards until you thump against the door behind you. He paws hungrily at the dress, sliding his hand under the slit and around to grab your bare ass. You gasp into his touch, feeling equally frustrated and aroused that he even controlled what you wore tonight.
Your fingers make their way into his hair and you pull hard, breaking the kiss and leaving his mouth open, panting. His eyes are sparkling with a fire that you haven’t seen yet and a low growl manifests in your throat. He smirks and buries his teeth into your shoulder, something he usually asks bespoke permission for. You cry out in response, twisting your hands tighter into his silvery locks.
He unlatches from your shoulder and pushes his knee past the front of your skirt and up onto your bare cunt. You grind wantonly against the velvet as he kisses you with bloody lips. He grabs hold of the delicate chains of the dress and yanks, detaching them from the collar and making the entire bodice crumple and pool around your waist. Your nipples immediately harden at the sudden exposure to cold air and he pinches one sharply between his fingers. Your hips roll into his leg as you groan, fully ruining his pants. He continues to bite around your neck and shoulders, placing little puncture wounds in his path, marking you as his.
You grab onto his tie and push him away so you can shimmy out of the rest of the dress. You’re now down to just the gold collar of the dress and your heels, a look you wish you could hate but don’t. You pull him across your living area and toward your bedroom, shoving him down onto the edge of the bed. 
“Thou hast hit it, come, sit on me,” he says, quoting Petruchio with a sinister grin. Kate’s retort falls out of your mouth reflexively.
“Asses are made to bear, and so are you,” you hiss as you straddle his hips, wrapping his tie around your hand until you’ve gripped it up to the knot. Your other hand violently unbuckles his belt, yanking it through the loops with a snap.
“Women are made to bear, and so are you,” he says with a caustic laugh, digging his nails into your ass cheeks. You tug sharply on his tie, bringing his lips close to yours.
“No such jade as you, if me you mean,” you snarl and silence him with an angry kiss. You don’t want to encourage his idiotic behavior, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said this wasn’t a fantasy you’ve had before. You fumble with the buttons of his suit jacket, trying to get him undressed as quickly as possible. You’re not sure if you feel more vulnerable or more powerful being undressed while he’s still fully clothed, but either way you want him naked, now. You get about three buttons into his shirt before you grow impatient, ripping it the rest of the way open and sending buttons flying. 
Good. Let him need to repair his clothes for once.
You push him flat onto his back and descend onto his chest, alternating kisses, licks, and bites. Your dull human teeth don’t have nearly the same effect as his fangs, but it just means you get to bite twice as hard in order to leave a mark. He writhes beneath your touch, and you feel a twisted satisfaction at the quiet little grunts and gasps you’re finally pulling from him. He’s rarely this vocal during sex, and it’s only serving to spur you on more.
His groans build until you capture his nipple in your teeth and bite down, causing him to shout and buck his hips up into you. In a flash he flips you around onto your back and he bears down on you, eyes dangerous. 
“Little love, do you think you’re in control?” he asks in a low growl, his hand gripped around your jaw. You sneer and slide your leg against the strained bulge in his pants. He hisses and your smile widens.
“Right now? Yes,” you coo, continuing to press your calf against his velvet-covered cock. You grab the tie still hanging around his neck and pull him close. 
“If you want it back, fucking take it.”
If I put my hands around your wrists, would you fight them?
He kisses you roughly, catching your bottom lip in his teeth biting hard enough to puncture the skin. He pulls back slightly, a drop of your blood running down his chin and a snide grin. He makes like he’s about to kiss you again but shoves your face away before your lips make contact.
This is the worst you’ve ever seen him—the most arrogant, the most condescending, borderline cruel even. And you have never been more turned on.
If I put my fingers in your mouth, would you bite them?
“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunt, licking the blood from your lips. “Go ahead, choke me, daddy.”
The feminist in you is horrified, but the little gremlin controlling your libido is having the time of its life. It squeals with delight when his hand closes around your throat, just barely constricting your breathing. 
“You insolent little brat,” he breathes into your ear, pulling up on your jaw. “I will absolutely ruin you.”
And there will be no tenderness, no tenderness.
“Do it, coward,” you spit, and he lets go just long enough to finish undressing from the waist down. He grabs your still heeled ankle and presses your leg up by your shoulder, stretching you wide enough to take him without any prep. You gasp as he fills you, the stinging pain outweighed by the gratification of finally feeling him inside you.
The only thing that I ask, love me mercilessly.
He sets a punishing rhythm, one knee on the bed and the other foot still firmly planted on the floor. He bottoms out with each long thrust and you grab hold of his hair to brace yourself. He winces with the pain but doesn’t slow down, and your moans grow high and loud as he continues to furiously pound into you. 
“Gods, fuck, Astarion,” you keen, your desire coiling in your belly and threatening to explode. “Keep going, daddy, fuck me please.” He grunts with the effort and your dirty talk seems to be having an effect as his pace falters. You jerk your hips up into him, chasing your orgasm, until finally it barrels through you like a runaway train. You pull on his hair as you come and that sets off his, his pulsing cock pressing against the clenching walls of your cunt. 
He stays deep inside you as the aftershocks reverberate through both of you, until the only sound remaining is your heavy panting. He drops his forehead to touch yours, a pleasantly tender moment after some of the roughest sex you can recall having. He starts to giggle and you follow suit, suddenly giddy. He pulls out of you with a squelch and walks to the bathroom to get a towel to clean up the mess you’ve left behind. He wipes you down gently, a surprising bit of aftercare you’re not accustomed to with him. He plants a tender kiss on your lips and you feel dizzy with affection for him.
You settle up against the headboard of your bed, his arm around you and both of you looking at your phones in a companionable silence. After a moment, he lets out a small chuckle. 
“What?” you ask, turning your head towards him quizzically.
“I’m just shocked that worked, is all,” he laughs, shaking his head. Your confusion grows and you furrow your brow.
“What worked?” you laugh with him, but something doesn’t feel right.
“The whole night, taking you to see Taming, getting into just enough of a fight to result in,” he vaguely waves his hand, gesturing to the edge of the bed, “all of that.”
“Wait, what? What do you mean?” You pull away from him and your stomach drops. Surely he can’t be suggesting what you think he’s suggesting.
“You get riled up so easily, I thought this might be fun.” He still doesn’t seem to have picked up on your heart pounding in your ears, which is frankly unusual for him.
“Are you saying… Wait, are you saying that you planned that fight? So, what, we’d have angry sex?”
“Of course, you don’t think I actually believe anything that I said, do you? Taming of the Shrew might be well-written, but it’s a rubbish play to produce.” He finally turns to you and sees that you’ve gone white as a sheet. “Oh, darling, don’t take it like that, you’re positively adorable when you’re angry, I couldn’t resist.” He tries putting his hand to your cheek but you flinch away like he’s burned you.
“Get out,” you say in a low voice, unable to even look at him.
“What?” He’s still laughing. He doesn’t get it. “My sweet, didn’t you-”
“GET. OUT.” Your voice has a venom in it that even shocks you. He stares at you in horror until you shoot him an icy glare. “Now.”
Without a word he stands and quickly puts his clothes back on. You stay in your bed, naked and curled under a sheet, until you hear the front door of your apartment slam. With shaking hands, you call Shadowheart.
“Moonmaiden’s delight, did you enjoy yourself? It certainly sounded like you did.” The sound of Shadowheart’s bubbly laugh usually makes you smile, but right now it seeps into your skin like poison.
“Shade, please come over,” you whimper, and the second the words leave your mouth, the tears begin to fall. You don’t hear her hang up, but you do hear a muffled, “I’m going to fucking kill him!” through the wall. You pull your knees further into your chest and sob.
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schizoidcel · 1 month
Text
## BOOTHILL x READER ★
🤍 ﹒ HEADCANONS ! ! . .
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- notes ̽ ۪⠀written before his release + gn reader huhu. yall i swear ill get to the lcb requests but im brainrotting too fucking much right now boothill is colonizing my mind so enjoy these thoughts i had and will throw into the tags
︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.
He's a little spoon and NOBODY can convince me otherwise period.
We know damn well hes touch starved. So ofcourse he'd wanna be nuzzled up inbetween your chest and chin
Will teach you how to ride a horse. He definitely has a favourite (his name is Sebastian 🌚🌚)
Very protective over him though. You will not ride on that horse until you are months into the relationship
He gave you another horse to practice riding on and an extra horse incase the other "knocks your socks off" ... Whatever that means
You named them Yee and Haw and he was so conflicted with his emotions that he considered getting a routine check up on his body
Will tease you if you completely fuck up immediately.
He grabs your hands to gesture on things you should be wary about while being on the back of a horse, knowing it'll mess your brain up and lead you to not pay attention to a single thing coming out of his mouth
On the other hand if you're able to handle it in a short amount of time, he'll start flirting with you
"I'm doing it, Boo!" "Nice work, honeybunch. Think ya can manage ridin' somethin' else?" "Dude"
It's one or the other. You will not escape the Boothill down bad programm
Boothill also acts like a himbo to mess around with you.
On another note, you called him Bootyhill once and he's still shook up. Whether /pos or /neg is up to interpretation
While we're on the topic of nick/pet names, he calls you things you've never heard of before .
Or even if you did, they're things you expected never to be called 😭
What the fuck is a doodlebug Boothill
Type of man to get flustered when you flirt back. He just starts bugging out
Will play it cool though, but the faint blue on his cheeks says otherwise
Also a fan of headpats. No, he's not ashamed. No, he will not tell you.
Expanding on the no shame, Boothill takes it to the extreme
No filter, no mask, no nothing. Touchy EVERYWHERE you go
Even if he can't really feel it, he just feels more at ease when you both are near eachother or touch one another. Man wants to protect his partner, after all
It dosen't matter if you're able to protect yourself, the gesture just makes him feel more comfortable and calm
Also has a hair pulling kink woah. Let's keep it sfw everybody
Forehead kisses ❤️ or just kisses anywhere on his head in general. Kiss behind his ears and he will overheat
He let's you play with his hair<3 It's one of his favourite passtimes with you
Braid it, tie it in a ponytail, give him buns, pigtails, curl them, decorate them with hairpins, clip bows in his strands it don't matter PLAY WITH HIS HAIR ⁉️
He relaxes SO MUCH it's insane. Genuinely just one finger goes into that hair of his and he melts
This plays into the little spoon factor
You'd tease him about it but he takes pride in it 😭
Has a weird obsession with biting. If you complain that it hurts he goes "What, want me to smooch the pain away?" and he does this fuckass face :3 while you're just staring at him dead in the eye (you say yes btw)
If you're ticklish, he's hell for you
Tickles you in the most random times possible.
And you know it's even WORSE with those cold ass metalic hands
You're cuddling? The sides of your torso are not safe. You're currently occupied with an activity involving your hands? Your armpits are not safe either. He's laying on your bare stomache face down? He starts blowing raspberries.
You know damn well he uses the feathers of his hat 😭
Sticks it up your nose to make you sneeze too. Usually to wake you up or some shit
You could have the most volcano eruption alert level 5 sneeze and he'd still say "Aww, ya sneeze like a kitten!"
One last note this man is a whiney loser bottom not sorry
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the word ill is in boothill for a reason the way im laying in bed all sweaty ANYway 🌚😵😵😵😵
ૢ་༘࿐ thank you for reading ! Ⳋ᧙
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blues824 · 11 months
Note
Could I request Azul, Kalim, Epel, Jamil, and Ace being pulled into the chest of their big-busted female s/o?
My heart goes out to girls with big boobs, because I heard that they can make your backs hurt. I hope both sides of the pillow are cold for you to comfort you in your hard times. I have a pear shaped body, so sorry.
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Ace Trappola
It was when his team won where you met him down on the basketball court and pulled him into your chest. Bro had no idea what to do in this situation, since this was the first time he was pulled face-first into his girlfriend’s boobs. He felt like he was lit on fire, and you even felt him growing hot. You pulled him back and asked if he was alright, and his voice cracked as he tried to tell you that he was okay.
He was not able to look at you for the rest of the day, and this saddened you. He eventually explained that it was because of you pulling his face into your tiddies, and that caused you to laugh because you have never seen Ace acting like that. You’ve caught him staring a few times, but this was on a whole other level of amusing.
That was the moment where his face flushed red as he told you to stop laughing at him and that it wasn’t his fault that his girlfriend was so attractive and affectionate at the same time, and that caused you to laugh even more. You would never let him live this down, and you would jokingly ask if you could hug him to make sure he was comfortable. He would roll his eyes before he nodded his head.
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Azul Ashengrotto
You had entered the Mostro Lounge to meet with Azul, and to greet your boyfriend you pulled him into a hug. However, because of your large chest, he was kind of pressed up against it and that flustered him a lot. He wasn’t really used to physical affection, so when you saw him glowing red you asked if he was alright.
He stepped back and said that he was fine, but the tweels saw all of this and while Floyd was demanding a squeeze as well, Jade explained that his boss was not used to being hugged by someone with rather large endorsements. It would have been a cause of laughter on your side, but you saw that the cecaelia was absolutely ashamed so you told him that it was alright and that you should have asked anyway.
This made him feel a bit better, but he still was not able to look you in the eye even after you said that it was alright. You giggled every single time he would come up behind you to hug you instead of hugging you in front. His face was still red, but he was at least able to complete a sentence while talking to you.
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Kalim Al-Asim
This man is so affectionate that he didn’t really think twice about it when you pulled him into your chest. He already likes using your chest as a sort of pillow when you both cuddle in his room as a reward for him doing good in his classes, so this isn’t really anything new. However, some of the Scarabia dorm members were definitely flustered upon seeing their Housewarden being pulled into your large bosom. 
He may have a tinge of blush on his face, but that’s mostly because the realization always hits that you are his girlfriend and it’s so cute. He will have a look on his face like he discovered something, and he will whisper something like ‘you are my girlfriend!’ and you will laugh as you say ‘yes, and you are my boyfriend!’ Literally adorable.
Anyways, the only people who are genuinely flustered are the people who witness you pulling Kalim into your chest. Also, the people who walk in on Kalim resting his head on your chest when you both are cuddling either in the Lounge area or basically anywhere. This man will cuddle you anywhere as long as you both are free.
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Jamil Viper
It was also after winning a basketball game where you met him on the court and you pulled him into your chest while telling him that he did well. Bro froze while his teammates let out a few wolf-whistles and cheers. You pulled back and asked if he was alright, mainly because he looked a few seconds away from having a bloody nose.
After making sure that he got to Scarabia without any blood, he asked why you did that in front of all of his teammates, and that made you feel kind of bad. He saw your dejected face as you apologized and promised not to do it again, and he pulled you into his arms and said that it was alright and that he understood the excitement from winning the game. And he said that it was alright if you pulled him into a hug because then it goes to show that you are his and no one else’s.
So you spent the rest of the day cuddling in his room, of course after he showered because he was definitely very sweaty. He decided to initiate the physical affection, where he lays his head gently on your chest to kind of get used to it. Just give it time, and he won’t be flustered anymore and will be at a point where he won’t freeze up.
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Epel Felmier
One thing he did not expect to happen after Spelldrive practice was you being there in the stands watching and cheering him on. Another thing he did not expect was to almost immediately be pulled into your chest. He tried pulling away because he knew that he was sweaty and he didn’t want you to feel dirty, but you just told him how proud you were of him and he absolutely melted.
His hometown raised him in a bit of tough love, and he himself wasn’t too affectionate of a person, but he didn’t mind your hugs. However, being pulled face-first into your chest was a completely different thing. You know how some relatives pull you into their chest? It was kind of like that. He caught your scent as he reciprocated the hug, and then he pulled away with a very flushed face.
You asked if he was alright, and he just nodded his head before saying that he needed to get to Pomefiore if he wanted to shower and escape from Vil so that he can spend some time with you. You pulled him by the arm in the direction of his dormitory, before you had to part in the Mirror Chamber so that you could prepare Ramshackle for your movie marathon.
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honeyedmiller · 11 months
Text
When It Rains | Pedro Pascal
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based on this request here
pairing: pedro pascal x gn!reader
disclaimer: I obviously know Pedro is such a sweetheart and would probably never do this to anyone in “real life.”
warnings: angst, fighting, cursing, mentions of social anxiety, fluff, no use of y/n.
word count: 1.3k
-
You don't even know how it escalated to this point.
One day, you and your boyfriend come home from an event that went terribly. You barely got to see each other anymore, so that event was your time to spend with one another—until he was pulled in every which way for an interview, to talk to a friend of his, or to talk to current or past co-stars.
You knew he had a busy schedule and he was quite literally dominating the film industry at the moment, but fuck you just missed him. You couldn't blame him for genuinely being a person of and for the people. Everyone loved him.
That's not what upset you, though, no—it was the fact that he'd barely acknowledged you the whole night, not introducing you to the people he was talking to, and had you following him around like a goddamned lost puppy the whole night.
When you got home, you were exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally. You didn't bother trying to explain to him why you were in such a sour mood, which to you, was just you being silent. You were never silent. You loved to converse with Pedro, even when he didn't have the energy to talk. He still loved to listen to you.
When you said you were going to bed flatly, his mood absorbed yours and it just escalated from there. It's been days. Small bickering here and there, until tonight.
Something just snapped in both of you, all the pent-up anger and frustrations being laid down on the table for both of you to finally see.
"I don't understand your deal." Pedro snapped, squinting his eyes at you as he crossed his arms over his chest.
You scoffed at him and threw up your arms in defeat. "How about we start off with the fact that I was looking forward to spending a great night with you the other night. You brushed me off and acted like you didn't fucking care about me, Pedro. What the hell? Are you-" You paused, tears welling in your eyes. "Are you ashamed to introduce me to people a part of your 'world' because I'm not on your guys' level?"
He looked at you in complete disbelief, as if you blamed him for something that wasn't his fault.
"Don't even start with that. You know that's not true. Maybe you should learn to be a little less introverted and actually learn how to speak to people. You're a grown up, for fuck's sake." Pedro's words dripped with venom as he seethed, and the look of hurt was eminent on your face.
Pedro knew you had terrible social anxiety. The fact that he'd throw that in your face was hurtful and belittling. You never brought up his anxieties and used them against him in an argument, so the fact that he did that to you fucking hurt.
"You know what, Pedro, you're right. I am a grown up. But that doesn't mean I don't struggle with things any less. I'm not a part of the acting world, let alone even famous. I got that part. But fuck, if you're going to brush me off like that and treat me like I don't matter when I've been nothing but loving and supportive of you from the moment we've met, then maybe you should go find better." Tears were streaming down your face. You couldn't hide it anymore.
"What are you saying? Are you breaking up with me?" Pedro's angry voice faltered into a broken and confused tone.
"No, Pedro. I'm just saying that if this isn't what you want anymore, then you can go ahead and find better. Find someone who's more understanding of your career. I love you, but I can't deal with this right now." Your fists were balled up at your sides as tears continuously fell down your cheeks. You took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling before turning on your heel to walk to the front door.
"Fuck. Please, baby, wait." Pedro begged, moving closer to you.
"Don't."
That's all you said before you walked out of the front door, shutting it behind you. The chilly, gloomy weather made you wrap your arms around your frame as you briskly walked down the sidewalk, tears blurring your vision. Thunder cracked loudly above your head, making you jump and silently curse at Mother Nature.
Of fucking course the weather would match your sad, brooding mood. As soon as you felt one drop of rain, the downpour followed next. The rain soaked you to the bone, but truthfully, that was the last thing on your mind. You could've sworn you heard your name being called, but the pounding of the rain against the sidewalk made it nearly impossible to hear correctly.
You didn't bother to turn around and just kept walking for what felt like hours, before you reached a small local community park. You stepped on the muddy sand and made your way to the swings, sitting abruptly.
You couldn't help but cry your eyes out.
You knew dating a celebrity would come with some pros and cons, but you never thought Pedro would've been the type to brush you off. He was usually so loving and tender when it came to you. Seems like when it rains, it fucking pours... you guess.
You couldn't help but think that maybe you were being a bit dramatic with this whole thing. Maybe Pedro didn't mean to brush you off, or make you feel inferior. Maybe he didn't even realize what he was doing.
Your mind started running overtime, and you suddenly became overwhelmed with the thought that you might've just ruined what'd happened to be the greatest relationship you've ever been in.
All because you couldn't put your anxieties behind you and be an adult and introduce yourself. Maybe Pedro was right. You sighed as you rested your elbows on your knees, hands covering your tired, puffy eyes. You sat there for god knows how long, before you saw bright headlights flash on you as a car quickly parks on the street.
Your head snaps up and you squint to try and see who it was, because for all you knew, it could've been a fucking axe murderer. You heard your name being called distantly, the rain still making it a bit hard to hear. Your name was called once more as the person got closer, and you instantly recognized the voice. Pedro.
You stand slowly from the swing you were on, legs shaky and weak. All of your energy had been completely depleted from your body. Your wet clothing felt like a thousand pounds on your body, and your eyes hurt from continuously crying.
Pedro approached you slowly, his eyes clearly bloodshot from crying himself.
"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. So fucking sorry." His voice cracked as his hands reached for you. You stilled and thought about backing away, but you couldn't even fathom fighting with him or being angry for another second. All you want was him and his comfort.
"I shouldn't have gotten angry at you for something that was my fault. I know you try your best in social gatherings. I should've introduced you. I was a dick. I'm so sorry, baby." Pedro kissed the top of your head as you rested your forehead against his broad chest.
"I love you, P," You confessed, squinting up at him to prevent the rain getting into your eyes. “But I’m sorry, too. I should’ve communicated this to you and talked to you about it instead of being brash and walking out on you. Walking out shouldn’t have been my first move. I’m sorry.”
"I know darling, I know. Next time both of us just need to talk about it head-on. I hate fighting with you. I love you so much," He whispered the last part before kissing your forehead this time. "Let's get you home and comfy and dry." His big brown eyes were glossed over and soft as they looked down at you.
"I hate fighting with you, too. And yes, please, get me out of this fucking rain." You half laugh at the last part, arms tightening around his core.
"Of course, my love." He wraps his arms around you just the same, leaning down to give you a genuine, heart-tugging kiss.
The kind of kiss that happens in those cliché romcom movies that makes you fall for him even harder. The kind that makes it known to the both of you that he's yours and you're his... forever.
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a/n: as someone who has social anxiety, talking to people (especially in new settings) is SO HARD so if any of you can relate, I feel u fr fr. Love u all <3
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muzicgenerator · 9 months
Note
pls could u do a tom kaulitz angst? like he’s arguing w reader and mentions something he knows the reader doesn’t like bringing up, and he has to make it up to her, then it can turn into fluff <3
yep here it is!!
hope u like it and sorry for late reply T_T
(BRO OHHH MY GOD THE ORIGINAL STORYLINE DIDNT SAVE 😭😭😭 so i just made a new one which is this one AGHHH SO MAD RN btw i didnt proof read the entire thing)
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Atonement
Pairing: Tom Kaulitz x Reader
Genre: a bit Angsty, Fluff
Warnings: None
Request Status: closed :(
✩°。⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Last Night on Earth : Green Day
Playful bantering was one of the things you and Tom would do everyday in your relationship.
Sure, serious arguments would rise up which a simple kiss and genuine apology would quickly fix.
However those two won't do it right now.
"The hell do you mean I have trust issues?!"
"What?! It's true! Your ex cheated on you so you're scared to trust me; It's not like I'm gonna do what that guy did!"
Definitely, Tom shouldn't have brought your ex up who has no relation to this quarrel.
He knew how much of a prick he was to you and how he treated you; he even witnessed how devastated you were when you once came to him to seek comfort when you found out for the second time he had been cheating.
And he knew damn well you never wanna hear about the jerk ever again.
However, you did appreciate him admitting he wouldn't repeat the history you had with your past lover.
"The fuck, Tom? That bitch has no connection whatsoever about what we're fighting about right now.
And I saw the way you looked at her! It's like, if I didn't interrupt you both would've shared spits by then." enraged by what he said; you raised your voice to match his volume - which was unlike you since you're the composed one out of you two during serious arguments.
"Sorry but he kinda does! This issue you're having surely started with him. I remember the way you wasted your snot and tears on him and I dried it off.
And please stop being overdramatic, she's just a fan and I wanted to make sure she's happy. Not only with her; I mean with everyone of them!"
Tom tried hard to defend himself instead of admitting his wrongdoing.
"You are such an ass for bringing that shit up again when you know damn well your ass had issues too that I helped you get over with and all I've ever done was try my greatest to understand and care for you!
All I ever wanted was for you to stop looking at other people and look at me.. Am I asking for too much?" your voice whispered in offence and slightly croaked which made you resent yourself more.
Tom realized with wide eyes of what he had done,
"No, no of course not ____. No, look- I'm really sorry for what I said, I really am and-"
"Just shut the hell up, Tom. Save it, I don't wanna hear it right now." you harshly brushed past him to storm off to your apartment's bedroom in fear of hot tears falling down to your cheeks.
He sighed; ashamed in himself. Tom truly regrets letting those harsh and unnecessary words slip his blunt mouth. He knew he was better than this - definitely, he should control his mouth more and think about what he should say carefully during times like this.
The night spent alone in the bed you'd always share with Tom felt cruel.
Not for the reason he's not by your side; it's rather the fact that you're in bed without properly making up with him since you'd always forgive one another the same day.
A big part of you wanted to forgive him - believe that he truly didn't mean what he told you and only accidentally slipped because of the heat in the moment; that we all say things we don't mean when we're mad, and that he really wouldn't stab you on the back with a woman like your past lover did.
The smaller part of you scolded for being such an idiot; for believing a man would stay loyal - that you should call it off before he could do any further damage.
Honestly, you felt devastated just thinking about not being with him; so you eventually came into terms with yourself that the fire will settle down and you'll forgive him and he'll do better.
Don't know when it'll die down but it will. Hopefully soon.
Some relationships are worth fighting for, like you have with Tom.
Hence you will stay strong and prepare for many wars.
But tonight; you wanted and allowed yourself to fall asleep being upset and disappointed at Tom.
You'll let tomorrow do its thing.
✮✮✮
It was the next day and the back of your head was pounding alongside a stiff neck.
You sat up and glanced at the digital clock placed on your night table that read 11:37 AM.
After stretching your limbs out while reminiscing the night before; you decided it's time to wash your face and start making lunch for yourself.
When you turned the knob and pushed it open; you were greeted with the aroma of your favourite dish; one that was always served to you as a child when you still lived with your family - one that you shared its recipe and process with your lover.
"Tom?" you asked in disbelief. You were certain he had left since your ears picked up the sound of the front door being pushed open then close in the middle of the night.
Certainty assured your mind that you'd rather not see his face first thing in the morning after such a night. Boy, were you wrong.
Your lover turned his head quickly; unaware of your presence since he's so caught up finishing, as well as perfecting the dish.
"Oh- love, you're awake. I um.. made breakfast but you didn't get up and it's uh, it's almost time for lunch so I thought I'd make your favourite." he stumbled over his words; which is bizarre.
"The pancakes are on the table, you can eat them later as a snack."
You nodded your head with a tight lipped smile and mumbled a thanks before heading to the bathroom.
Once the door had shut; you quickly drowned your face with water to remove the image of Tom cooking without a shirt on.
It's not like it's the first time you've seen him like that; but the way you're reacting right now is how you feel when you catch him in these types of situations - preferably without the post-fight shit going.
After peeing, washing your hands, brushing your teeth washing and drying your face, and doing your skin care - you forced yourself to go back outside for you cannot stay in the bathroom forever.
When you opened and closed the baby blue painted door; your eyes wandered off to the table and drooled at the sight of the newly cooked meal.
Tom patted the seat beside him with a smile; gesturing you to sit beside him.
You had no choice but to join him for lunch; after all, you are starving.
Instead of giving in to his request, you sat in front of him.
Instead of painting a frown on his lips; he still kept his genuinely proud smile (from cooking such a delicious dish) and handed you your plate and utensils - to which you accepted.
"Let's eat?" Tom asked.
"I don't wanna eat without talking about last night." you said with a straight face.
The man in front of you softly breathed a sigh,
"You're right." he agreed with a nod
"I'll start by saying I'm really sorry, and I didn't mean what I said. I just want you to know I would never even dare to think about betraying you like that, and I was an ass for what I did." Tom seemed to look everywhere but your eyes.
He couldn't bring himself to look at your mesmerizing hues for he was certain his shredded heart would be turned into dust.
"I don't even know why I said those things, I- I know this sounds like bullshit but I swear I really don't mean those things and you're the only person who I have my eyes on.
Please give me another chance I- I'll be better now, promise!" he trailed off and fearfully continued;
"But y'know if uh.. if you don't and wanna call it o-"
"Shut up Tom we're not breaking up." you sighed
"I know you said those to defend what you did, and it slipped out because of the heat of the moment. We all say shit we don't mean when mad, I understand. But what I don't understand is why you'd caress her cheek and look into her eyes like that?" your eyes examined his facial expressions and only saw genuine regret on his face. You hoped he'd look at your eyes and tell you directly why.
Hence, before his ready mouth started to explain; you tell him, "Tom, look into my eyes, please."
You caught the way the ball of his throat bopped up and down; swallowing his saliva. His eyes slowly trailed up from the table to your chest, neck, chin, nose, then eyes.
"She said she'd been a fan since the very beginning of the band's debut. She loved all us a lot, especially me. I asked her if meeting us was a dream come true, she said yeah, and we talked a bit more. Then she asked me to touch her face because she really couldn't believe that it was all happening, which I did."
Tom would look away from the two windows of your soul for a second before meeting again.
He was replied with silence; which kind of scared him.
"____? Please say something."
"For God's sake Tom, why didn't you just start with that last night when I brought it up?"
Tom rapidly blinked once, twice, thrice, then for the fourth time. "... I must've forgot to bring it up because I was so caught up in the moment."
You laughed; a true one, "You mean too focused into bringing my ex up?"
He was speechless by how just a second ago you were dead ass serious, and now crying laughing at what you said.
"Sorry, I'm done laughing now." you giggled before continuing, "Fine, I'll forgive you if you tell me where you went last night."
"I went back to my apartment and did some thinking how to make it up to you and slept there. I went out really early to buy groceries so i can cook your favourite food here."
It was your turn to be speechless.
"...You seriously did that?" you asked with doubt in your voice.
"Yeah, I mean the proof is on the table." Tom chuckled.
You said nothing and finally dug into the 5 star looking meal, soon your lover did as well.
"Sooo, are we good?" Tom hopefully asked after sipping his water from the cylinder glass.
"I guess so." you blessed him with a small smile to which he returned with a big one.
Conversation flowed naturally between you as you ate the savoury food.
If Tom didn't make it as a famous guitarist, he'd definitely be a winner in Hell's Kitchen.
After Tom cleaned put the dishes to the sink; you insisted to wash it since he cooked. He declined numerous times but it wasn't going anywhere since you're more stubborn than him.
"All right, fine. Only if you let me hug you from behind." Tom made a deal.
"Pshh, why're you asking as if you don't do that whenever I do shit in the kitchen?"
Tom rolled his eyes with a smirk drawn on his lips as a reply and proceeded to snake his large hands to your waist; then pressing his chest to your back and resting his chin on the crown of your head.
Nothing could be heard other than the clanking of pans, plates, and utensils, along with the flow of the running water from the faucet.
The comfortable verbal silence and physical contact was very much needed after a fight.
After drying your hands with a cloth; you walked towards the couch and sat with your boyfriend still embracing you from behind.
"What do you wanna watch?" you turned your head to the side to look up at his face.
"Whatever you want, I'm fine with anything." Tom looked down to your eyes, then lips.
Slowly, he leaned his fave closer to yours so he could taste your lips.
Once contact had been made; you couldn't help but melt even more to his touch and wrap your arms around his neck - and he couldn't help but deepen the kiss and caress your waist and back.
Soon enough, the passionate kiss had come to an end to catch their breaths.
"I love you so much. You know that, right?" Tom stared into her hues as the tip of their noses touched.
You slowly nodded and brought your hands up to his hollow cheeks, "I love you more." you said before pulling his face closer to kiss each other's lips once again.
Tom mumbled in-between the kisses, "I love you the most, sweetheart." before deepening it. His tongue soon entered your mouth and both your hands rubbed and caressed your bodies.
The hot post-fight make out session would last as long as half the length of the movie you played in the middle of the session; playing Atonement for the millionth time from your entire life.
After pulling your mouths away due to your jaws hurting; you slept and cuddled like babies.
Feeling the safest in each other's arms.
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wrr000 · 1 year
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Odin's sons when you randomly kiss them - short headcanons
AN: I hope it's not too cringe;; I wanted to write something short while working on request, so please don't take this too seriously, just a silly hcs
Summary: Heimdall, Thor, Tyr and Baldur being soft, big fluff and a lots of hugging, kissing in the cheek, kinda romantic headcanons in general?
Warning: none, just short
--Heimdall
You thought you could suprise him? Well, you didn't
He heard your footsteps from behind and actually expects either hug or sweet kiss in a cheek
Luckly, it was the second option
"OH, you want my attention so badly, don't you sunshine?"
Even tho he acted so unphased and cocky--inside he was exploding from happiness
The fact that you wanted to make him feel loved, that you were thinking about him
And on one hand it's obvious since he is your lover, but on the other hand Heimdall really miss love from other person
I don't think he ever experience genuinely feelings nor he showed his vulnerable side
So moments like these have a great value to him, I can asure you
You should do that more often! This man needs it
He don't kiss you back because he expect to receive three more times with that cheeky smile on his face
And you fell for it
--Thor
You always know how to cheer him up
He grabs you into a hug immediately, kissing you back into the lips
His face was hot-red with soft smile and it's one of the few times when you sees him being actually happy
"What did I do to earn this, honey?"
Thor is always so brute and ruthless in battles, but with you? Whole different person
He became so gentle and loving
Thor isn't scared or ashamed to show his true emotions to you because you didn't sees him as a monster
Probably would give you a thousands kiss all around your face while still hugging you tightly
He doesn't want to let you go, he feels safe
Aesir wants you to do this more often, but I feel like he doesn't want to say that out loud
But you know
--Tyr
Soft, big softie, grateful big shy softie
He saw many things, met many people, been to many realms and yet you always finds a way to make him flush
That really surprised him, but he doesn't want to leave you hanging forever
Definitely would kiss you back and take you to his arms
"Thank you, little one, you are very dear to me"
This man is so gentle
Tyr loves your thinking about small things like random kisses which makes his love even stronger
Your generosity won't go unnoticed
He doesn't want receive only, but also put something from himself into this relationship
Make you feel loved
Be ready to some night cuddling or special gift from another realm
He likes what you did and you should do it again for sure
It's not like he needs a proof, but it feels good to know that he's important to you
--Baldur
Sadly, he can't feel your smooth lips which really hurts him
He can only imagine this warm and sweet kiss
A sad smile appeared on his face at the thought
"It's good to know that you're still trying babe, but it's not gonna work"
You hug him as tight as you can, burying your face in his shoulder
Baldur hugged you back, but careful not to crush you
His heart begins to beat slower with every second
Being in your arms was a relief to him from damn world, sometimes he even forgots about his curse
Or rather he wants to forgot
But it's not that simple and you both knows that
He was so grateful for having you by his side, a person who doesn't judge and can rely on
Your every action means everything to him, so keep doing that
He knows that you want to break the curse as much as he does
Maybe your little kiss will do it? Let's see another time
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A/N: I kind of love this one. Added a tag list for people who commented about a part 2, and I’m thinking maybe one more part? Maybe 2 :)
Part One Here! / <This is Part 2!> / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here!
You’re not sure how you ended up here.
“So all of a sudden you’re into some literature nerd—” you flinch at the sound of Bianca’s voice on the other side of the bookcase. “—that you’re noticing now after two whole years.”
Just that you’d rather be anywhere else in the world then one row away from Xavier and Bianca in the library.
You stiffen as you watch them between the cracks in the books.
You've been 'dating' Xavier for a few months now, and everyone feels fairly convinced that what you have is genuine.
Everyone except Bianca.
You can’t deny that she has a point. It’s not like you and Xavier were friends or something—and truthfully between the two of you, Bianca probably knows him better.
You catch sight of Xavier tugging on the end of his hair and his fingers, the way he always does when he’s nervous, and instead of backing away Bianca draws closer. You know it’s the wrong thing to do before her hand settles on his shoulder, before Xavier draws back and out of reach.
“It just happened, okay? I can’t help who I fall in love with—" Again the ticklish feeling of hope swells in your chest, and again you swallow it away like a bad aftertaste. “—why are we even having this conversation?”
“You know why.” Bianca’s words feel like a dagger through the heart. He does know why. And so do you. But when he makes no move to say anything more, she huffs. “Find me when you figure out who your real friends are.”
When she’s gone Xavier tangles a hand in his hair, a heavy sigh whistling past his lips.
“That could have gone better.” You say to him, on his right side.
“Yeah, I know.” The words pass his lips before he can flinch in realization, a hand clutching his chest. “Jesus, when did you show up?”
“I’ve been here the whole time.” He raises an eyebrow. “I was behind the other shelf.” You point to the gap between the books and he sighs again.
“You should add eavesdropping to your list of skills.” The words have no bite, you find yourself reaching for his hand, and this time he doesn’t flinch away.
“If you still like her, you could date her.” You regret the words as soon as they come out of your mouth, a shallow, lonely ache in your chest.
You're ashamed at the relief that floods through you when Xavier shakes his head.
"I liked Bianca a lot," he admits. You remember the way they used to look at each other, the arms laced around waists, the secretive smiles shared. "but I could never really trust if these were my feelings or hers." He admits.
He looks at you now, a fiercely passionate gaze.
"The one thing I learned from watching my parents is that if you don't have unconditional trust, you don't have anything."
Your back presses against the bookshelf, a sliver of space sandwiched between the both of you in between the library aisle.
"That's very mature of you."
He gives you his signature smile, a lopsided quirk on his lips, before cracking into a full grin--like he can't play coy any longer.
You're not sure when you started being able to tell when Xavier was really smiling, like now, and when he just pretended to smile--to charm a teacher or exchange a pleasantry with his classmate.
You're not sure when you got this close to him either when him tugging your joint hands to his chest felt normal. When he led you out of the stacks and to the cozy alcove you usually sat at on the third floor---when that spot went from being just 'yours' to 'ours'.
Xavier meets your eyes after flicking a book open to the homework assignment.
"Don't tell me this is the moment you've fallen in love with me?"
No, but it is the moment you realize your feelings for him might run deeper than camaraderie.
"I just wanted to know if you had the answer to question five."
You'd rather cut off your own hand then admit it out loud though.
You’re not sure how to process the progression of your fake relationship.
Even now, when you’re sitting in his lap, his arms wrapped around your waist, and his chin on your shoulder, your not sure when this casual intimacy was built between you two.
Just that you enjoy it more than you like to admit.
They’re playing some game, never have I ever, but your attention is solely on the boy who’s literally wrapped around you.
“Never have I ever skipped class.” Enid giggles as half the circle takes a deep sip of their respective drinks.
“Never have I ever stone-d myself.” Xavier’s mouth quirks up on one side, you know it like you know the ocean is vast, even without looking.
Ajax grumbles as the rest of the group laughs. “I told you that in confidence!”
His laugh brushes against you, breathe ghosting over your neck.
You bite your cheek to keep from shivering.
“Never have I ever kissed (Y/N).”
Whatever warmth you had leaves your body, even Xavier’s arm tightening around you doesn’t provide any comfort this time.
If Xavier were a different kind of boy, he would have noticed the barb, noticed everyone’s eyes on him, laughter dying down when he didn’t bring the cup to his lips.
If Xavier was a different kind of boy he’d know better, he would know to lie.
Instead all he noticed was that you had gone stiff.
“You guys haven’t kissed?” Bianca asks with a raised eyebrow, the insinuation is obvious—they’d done more in less time.
“We’ve been taking it slow.” Xavier shrugs.
You want to hide.
“Yeah, but you guys have been dating for two months—” Ajax stops when he catches Xavier’s eyes.
You feel like the grounds pulled out from under you, like you missed a step on the stairs and now you’re tumbling down.
Think. How do you get out of this. Not even Xavier’s banter is enough right now.
Think. Think. Think. Think. Thi—
You have an idea. You saw it in a movie and it’ll work, but it’s a little bold. Bolder than you’re used to.
It’ll get them to shut up though.
“These things don’t have a time —” Xavier cuts himself off when you tug away the solo cup from his hand, you keep a finger of the dark liquor in your mouth, tipping Xavier’s head back.
He closes his eyes instinctively, parting his lips as soon as your mouth meets his. Both of your hands cradle his face, and you feel him gulp the alcohol down in one smooth motion.
He’s grinning when you pull away.
“Two birds, one stone.” The entire room riots around you. But your eyes stay fixed on his smile—
You’ve never seen someone look so happy.
Every emotion you’ve hidden, that you’ve beaten down, rushes straight to your face.
The wobbly smile, the heated cheeks, the watery eyes.
You’re sure you look embarrassed.
And you can’t deny the truth any longer—you like Xavier Thorpe
When did this happen?
Was it when he instinctively held your hand in his he get you tense around strangers, a protective arm holding you close.
Was it when he anticipated your needs, handing you a book you needed before you even knew you wanted it?
Or were you doomed from the start, that day when he sat beside you at the lake—sunlight glinting around him like glitter, blue eyes have never seemed clearer.
Xavier watches you like every thought you’re having is completely transparent to him.
He doesn’t let you feel embarrassed for too long, tugging your face to his chest.
“Alright, you all got your free show—keep it moving.” There’s another round of laughter, and you’re sure he can feel the heat from you face through his thin cotton shirt.
“You know,” you feel his breath tickle your ear when the game is underway again. “You didn’t ask for consent.”
You pull away, looking at him with threaded eyebrows.
You did that to save the both of you! It was a matter of your social reputations!
He gives a soft chuckle at your shocked face, his index finger curling under your chin.
“It was cute so I’m not mad.” His eyes twinkle with mischief as his gaze falls to your lips. “Expect a penalty soon though.”
Tag list: @dyhlanobrien @magical-dreamland @lilsunshine1092 @4rt3m1ss
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one-time-i-dreamt · 1 year
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I invite everybody who took the other users side in that situation to find me a single situation where I was fatphobic and or went out of my way to be cruel or malicious to another user. After these crickets end, I'd like to invite the OP to prove that my reblog asking what their post means caused them hundreds of harassing messages in mere minutes, like they claimed. I will wait.
They posted one single message they got, from a person who wasn't a follower of mine and who responded to them after another user reblogged their post, which was confirmed by that other user. Before they closed their replies and closed themselves in an echochamber of people agreeing with them, I checked the notes a final time and though they did get criticism, as did I (and you all do know I listen to you and hear you and am always, ALWAYS open to conversation), those hundreds of messages of hate were nowhere to be seen.
Do you know why I know for sure they're lying about getting soooooooo much hate because of me? First of all, I've never cultivated a bullying culture on my blog. My followers can attest to that. I never supported users brigading for me. I don't have a cult following either way, but you can say I even discourage brigading. I always ask my followers not to fight others on my behalf. Not that it's necessary, because no one can say I get into drama often. Since making this blog, I can count maybe 5 situations that would be considered 'situations' to begin with. I don't have fans. I have bloggers that enjoy the content I post.
But secondly and more conclusively easily proven with numbers, I simply don't have that reach, nor do I have that many followers who are both active and fatphobic. I don't support fatphobia. I spoke out against fatphobia on this site. I've experienced it myself and I know how hurtful it is. My activity for this blog is abysmal due to me all but abandoning OTID in throes of my mental health battles. My posts get maybe 300 notes in total, over a 1000 if they're a hit reblog but that's it.
Hundreds of hate messages in minutes? Very unlikely. I'm not ashamed to admit OTID isn't what it used to be and that's completely on me and it's completely fine. My struggles stopped me from giving you the best possible OTID experience that you could've gotten and I feel very sorry for that, but I can be realistic and admit that this blog is just not that active anymore, and that's okay. All things die out with time. Lying on me wont change the facts that you're lying.
I also invite the people who say I should've known better and that my intent was unclear in asking the question, to explain about what I should have known better and to prove I was somehow malicious. Why would I be malicious? Why would I attack OP in the way they claim I did? When do I ever do that? How does that even make sense? You can still go through the notes and see that after I asked them for an explanation, nobody attacked them. You can also see that the OP went out of their way to attack me, while they explained calmly to another user what they meant.
What makes us different? Neither one of us understood. I can't read tones online, neither can that other user. I also am not a native speaker, so I sometimes get things wrong, hence why I asked. Why do they deserve kindness and I am accused of ill-intent for asking the same thing? Their replies and notes were off. I couldn't see the replies. This isn't Twitter. If you close those things off, other users don't see them and can't know you've made them. Why would anyone post things publicly but not expect a public response from anyone else?
I'd understand if I was attacking OP and they reacted like this, but I wasn't. My response wasn't malicious. I asked the source to explain, because I didn't understand. How is that malicious? To the people who say they see their point, please explain, because I do not see it and I really want to know. How is me genuinely asking what something that I don't understand means malicious? Even after publicly saying that I actually agree with a lot of things they said on their blog about fatphobia and so on. Supporting the cause? Understanding their points? Agreeing? I'm malicious?
I would also like to invite the people who claim I asked them in a known and rude/malicious meme format kind of way to prove that I did that. I did not know of this meme you speak of, but after checking for it online and finding the "well-known meme format" that was mentioned (which wasn't that well-known since I've never heard of it), my wording was not the same. It wasn't even close. So this argument, how can you claim it to be true?
And lastly, can anyone sincerely tell me how does it make sense for me to suddenly have a complete personality change, decide to reblog something to troll a user I don't even know just to be cruel to them, suddenly be malicious and fatphobic and be a completely different person that you all have known me to be for the past six years? If that was really who I am, wouldn't have the masked slipped way sooner? Why would I pretend to be not a complete POS all this time to have "What does this mean?" hill to die on? This is silly.
I wasn't being fatphobic. I wasn't mocking OP. I wasn't attacking OP. I wasn't being 'snarky'. I simply asked them what something they said meant, because I didn't understand what they meant. My brain wasn't computing. I didn't get their wording. I stumbled upon their post on the explore page, and wasn't seeking them out to antagonize them or anything else they might have claimed. I don't like hurting people. I don't go out of my way to hurt people. If I do hurt somebody I want to do everything in my power to correct it.
My followers weren't harassing them after that question. The OP didn't receive hundreds of hate messages after that question. OP is lying and it's easily to prove that they are. I don't know why they're lying and I'm not willing to get into that because I can't even assume, but one thing is clear - OP had a disproportionate reaction to a question that shouldn't have warranted such a reply. They doubled down and continued claiming victimhood in a situation where they haven't been victimized.
I genuinely feel sorry for them. I believe they've been victimized before. I know this sounds patronizing, but I really do feel sorry for them. I just don't appreciate that they've decided to do a victim cosplay over this and tried to villainize me for asking this question:
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Ending this with my final thoughts: fatphobia is real and hurts people. I don't support fatphobia. I don't stand for it. I've met a lot of fatphobes in my life and all of them were deeply hurtful and insecure people who took out their insecurities on others. Here on OTID we don't vibe with shaming people for their weight nor for how they look. Fat people are people. Skinny people are people. We're all the same on the inside, bones and organs. What matters is how we treat others. I want to spend my days treating others with kindness and receiving kindness back. I like putting smiles on people's faces, not hurting others. I do get it wrong sometimes, and I acknowledge that, but I always try to correct myself, learn and be a better person. I admit when I'm wrong.
If this is my hill to die on, then so be it. But I promise you that I did not reblog OP's post and asked that question to make fun of them or invite harassment to them. I can't believe I even have to repeat this so many times, but I was asking because I didn't understand. I stand behind everything I've said. If your claim to fame is trying to fight me, you highly overestimate how many active followers I have and the kind of community you'll find here. If you want to cancel me for being fatphobic, I'm sorry to say but the only person I've ever been cruel to and who I've bodyshamed was my own self.
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blurbios · 1 year
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Being Dabi’s Doting S/O (Part 2)
cw: none
other: gn! reader, fluff
follow up to this
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As odd as it still felt when Dabi thought about it, he had gotten used to you caring for him. The mission Shigaraki had sent him on was a long and tedious one, no intense fighting, but tiring nonetheless. He was absolutely exhausted, the only thing that kept him going was the thought of seeing you light up when he walked through the door. Nobody told you that Dabi was coming home that night, so you were sitting in bed, typing out an essay for some random college kid that commissioned you. You started writing papers as a side hustle after having met the league so that you could help keep the lights on in the place. You were nearly finished when you heard the doorknob turning. “Ah, you’re home! Nobody told me, I’m sorry. Should I run you a bath? Did you eat?” You rambled on and on as he walked closer to you, visibly fatigued. He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back, you quickly moved the laptop from your lap, careful not to delete your hard work. 
“I missed you.” He looked up at you, his head now resting on your thighs.
“I missed you too Dabi, I’m glad you’re back.” You ran your fingers through his messy hair. “How bad was it? Because I’ll fight Shiggy, I don’t care.” You hated seeing him look so drained.
“You don’t have to do that, it wasn’t bad. It just took too long, don’t worry.” He laughed a bit at the thought of you actually confronting Tomura. 
“I always worry, you know that.” You smiled down at him, taking a second to take in what was happening. Not one sarcastic remark, not one hand swat, he was nothing but genuine. He brought your free hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on each individual digit, you could feel the smile on his lips as he did so.
“I love you, y/n.” he said looking up at you admiring your features. He still had a hard time saying it, but he couldn’t believe that you were his. 
“I thought I was supposed to be the mushy one.” You joked. 
“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me too much.” He retorted like normal. He sat up and turned toward you, taking your hands in his. “Sometimes I think you’re too good for me.” You raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the sudden sincerity. “You’re so caring and kind, you shouldn’t be around people in the league, people like me.” His eyes dropped as he felt a bit ashamed. 
“If you really think all those things, you have to tell me what I can do to make those thoughts fade.” You removed your hands from his grasp and placed them on either side of his face. “I love you, Dabi. I want you to realize that you deserve good things too.” You inched closer to his face, so he had to look at you. “I mean it, I love you, more than anything.” He leaned forward to press his lips gently to yours. You both felt heat growing in your cheeks. You felt the familiar sensation of butterflies in your stomach, the same feeling as when you had first confessed to him. He leaned all his weight on you causing you to lay down. You wrapped your arms around him as he laid on top of you. 
“Maybe I am rubbing off on you too much.” You laughed. It was nice having the tables turned, him clinging to you instead of the norm. 
“I’m so lucky to have you.” He spoke lightly into your hair as he nuzzled closer. 
“And I’m even luckier.” You placed a soft kiss on his temple. You felt so lucky that he felt comfortable with you, comfortable enough to seek you out and rest his whole weight on you, comfortable enough to be vulnerable with you, and comfortable enough to show that he loves you. You were used to him doing little things, silent gestures of love, but this was new and it made you feel treasured. After all, you were his treasure, the treasure that he was lucky enough to stumble upon, and the treasure that he would never ever let go of.
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a/n: i dont think every league member is gonna get a part two, but this popped in my head and i knew i had to do it. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh thank y’all for enjoying these lil stories i write btw makes me happy xx
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Names
[It's Dew lore time, because why not?] Below the cut.
A soul awakes in the darkness, cold.
But not alone.
It flickers like fire, a soundless whimper of confusion.
Of fear.
And in that moment, an all consuming warmth encompasses it.
Holding so gently, yet trapping it behind unseen walls.
A voice drones, somewhere far away and yet so close by it makes the soul ripple and twitch like water.
"I, who have lived in shadow since before it was known to mankind..."
"...Who was cast out and let to rot..."
"...Grant you, who knew both light and faith..."
"...Who sought Heaven and likewise fell from grace..."
"...a chance at redemption."
In Hell, Dew's name had been Parva, a word which, in Latin, means "Small" and "Unimportant".
His mother had chosen it the day he hatched.
"I had thought you were going to die."
She said when he was old enough to understand the meaning of it, of why it was such a cruel name to be given.
"Perhaps I wanted you to."
And Dew, ever determined to prove himself, lived and grew in spite of her wishes.
Still, so long as he was in Hell.
He was Parva.
He was small and unimportant.
And every beast that could understand, and those who need only see him to know, would take it upon themselves to remind him he was unwanted and weak.
He learned to fight.
Learned to sink his teeth into the necks of many of his kin.
To tear without mercy, for no one had shown it to him.
He would be as wicked and cruel as he needed to be in order to survive.
But still...
Still, there was a part of him that longed for something different.
And in his searching, he found Mist, whose name in Hell was simply "Aqua".
A name given to kits born of water with no pack, no family.
Together, they survived.
Until Mist heard a voice.
A calling from nowhere and everywhere.
And like that, she was gone.
Dew had been so pathetically lost then.
Sad and alone.
But more than that...
He felt a rage.
An indignation the likes of which he had never felt before.
He screamed and cried, wondering why he didn't get chosen, why only Mist got to leave this wretched place.
And then he remembered and laughed.
He was nothing.
The years would go by and Dew would find himself one among a pack of a hundred, all answering to one dominant ghoul.
A fierce and wicked tempered fire ghoul who renamed him to Donum as a joke.
"Since you were so keen to give yourself to me as if you were something precious." He'd laughed in his face, but still called Dew to his side often.
Beckoning to him like a dog.
And Dew, who was bereft of affection, had all but crawled to him time and time again...
Until that bastard made the mistake of inviting him into his bed.
The chaos that ensued when he dragged his body by hair and horn out of his fortress and cast him upon the rock outside...
Dew should have felt powerful.
But instead he felt... hollow.
He felt... guilty.
Ashamed at what he had done.
But as he tried and failed to convince himself that he could have been happy continuing to play to the whims of a mad man...
Dew heard a voice.
A calling.
From nowhere and everywhere.
And when he next awoke, it was to the sounds of...
Well, in retrospect, he knows they were birds, but a live in Hell had not told him much about what Earth, the surface, was like.
Stumbling over his tongue, he can remember asking, so genuinely curious...
"Is that?"
"Hm?"
"Whaaat isss that?"
"That's a bird." Omega told him, smiling so softly Dew had reached out and poked his face, uncertain what it meant.
"Is that?" he asked, squishing the older ghoul's face.
"Which part?"
"Mouth. Up."
Omega looked at him so heartbroken then.
"I'm smiling."
It took a while for Dew to adjust to life on the surface, and in that time, he found himself with a new name.
"Dewdrop. It means a drop of dew. Dew is... small drops of water that forms on things at night."
Dew had furrowed his brow at the word "small", but accepted the name nonetheless, though he wondered...
"Parva? Yeah, I've heard others name their kits that before." Alpha had said, "It's a... I don't remember the term for it cause it's been years, but it's basically a temporary name."
"Temporary?"
Alpha nodded.
"You name kits things like that as a way of... I dunno, changing their fate? If you name your kit 'Parva', you're basically making it so people don't, uhh... It's like the evil eye stuff." He explained, "You give your kit a silly or slightly rude name to avoid incurring sky man's wrath or something like that."
"Sky man?"
"The big man upstairs."
Dew blinked at him.
"Papa Nihil is not very tall..."
Alpha smacked the back of his head.
"The G word, Dew boy."
"Oh." Dew hummed, "So... Naming your kit that because you thought it was going to die..."
The way Alpha looked at him then.
It was the only time he'd seen the man look so sad.
"You're not Parva anymore, Dewy... You're Dewy." he had said, "You're our stupid little Dew boy, our Dewdrop."
"When you say it like that-"
"Shut up, you know I'm not good at words."
So... Dewdrop then.
Or Pordwed, if you spelled it backwards.
He'd done that a couple times to prove to Omega he was okay after clonking his head or drinking too much.
Dewdrop.
Yeah, he could live with that.
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boldlygreatsuit · 2 months
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Why I love one-sided radiostatic
Before I start this little rant I must disclose that I’m aroace (so please know that this isn’t me trying to erase his orientation and present asexually as a problem, this is me trying to explore these complex and flawed characters) and so naturally I love the representation of alastor also being aroace so maybe me shipping radiostatic is a little hypocritical of me but I can’t help but love the story and tragic character exploration behind it.
Personally I like to believe that Alastor GENUINELY loved Vox, just not in the way he wanted. (They had some kind of queer platonic relationship but Vox wanted more and Al felt uncomfortable) And I think it killed Alastor to hurt his closest friend so much when he turned him down, I’ve been through something similar with an old friend I used to have. I know what’s it like so maybe I’m projecting onto Al but ehhhh.
It’s easy to just paint alastor and a evil psychopathic serial killer, a cannibal, and sadist, who loves torturing and tormenting people, don’t get me wrong, he is all those things but don’t forget he’s also human, he still has emotions no matter how much he represses them for the sake of his pride, reputation and self preservation. I could totally see him struggling to understand why’s he’s different and just brushing it off, after all, it’s never been an issue before now. He never had many close friends, nobody he’d ever be interested in pursuing. And now the person he loves the most wants him and he cant bring himself to want him back no matter how much he wants too.
I like the idea that Alastor wants to want him so much but he just can’t and it absolutely destroys him. He feels guilty and ashamed that he cant reciprocate Voxs feeling towards him (remember he’s from the 1930s, I doubt he knows what the LGTB is, let alone asexually so he’s probably under the impression that’s he’s broken in some regard. He probably never gave romantic and sex much thought, assuming that he would start feeling something eventually but nothing ever happened). While Vox just cant understand why he doesn’t like him back and keeps trying and it creates an uncomfortable situation for both of them.
I think radiostatic can be so tragic, they both love each other but in different ways and it tears them apart and they lose their closest friend due to it. Which ends up with them both bitter, raw and angry. Both blaming each other outwardly (Vox hating that Alastor rejected him while Alastor is upset that Vox went and caught feelings, complicating their perfectly platonic relationship) but internally hating themselves (Vox thinks he did something wrong to scare alastor away while Alastor hates that he couldn’t feel the same way).
I know Alastor is a very prideful person but I think behind closed doors his incredibly sentimental, after all, he’s pretty much a snapshot of the 1930s and he doesn’t seem to happy about change. So I could just imagine him up at night staring at the ceiling struggling with what he could do, whether or not, he should just lie to keep Vox happy and enter a relationship He does not want to be in so he can avoid losing his best friend (but also risk leading him on); or he turns him down and is honest with himself, not forcing himself into a relationship he doesn’t want but irreversibly hurting Vox in the process, and also risking losing Vox forever.
This could also create an interesting situation where Alastor agrees to date Vox and really tries to love him, hoping that maybe he’ll start feeling something eventually or at least get used to it. Of course this doesn’t really work and just creates resentment and pent-up emotions. Due to lying to Vox about wanting him and digging himself into this hole and the longer he stays the harder it is to leave without hurting Vox, this could lead to a messy breakup when Al just cant take it anymore and leaves.
I think “never love an anchor” and “tongue and teeth” are such perfect songs to encapsulate this kind of situation, the guilt and remorse but also the inevitability and hopelessness of it, the knowledge that there ISNT a right answer, no fairytale ending, this isn’t something to be overcome only accepted, and no matter what is done someone gets hurt severely and the only question is who and by how much. 
I want to see a Alastor and Vox confrontation where we see how upset they are and how they’re equally heartbroken. Al for the first time shows actual vulnerability as he’s expressing his self loathing and guilt towards his choices but even so he stands by them and tries to defend them. He hates that he did what he did but there wasn’t another option for him and he didnt know what to do.
They both struggle with their emotions but also their pride and respective personas, not wanting to put aside their pride and admit their own shortcomings and guilt, and be genuinely honest and vulnerable with each other. They want to comfort the other but they’re just at a point where they don’t know if they could, if it would make it worse. they both still love each so so so much (in different ways) but it’s all wrapped up in fear, resentment, guilt and heartbreak which complicates things.
Ngl the best outcome is these two going to therapy, probably Charlie, and actually learn how to communicate.
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I've asked myself many times over the course of three years about how would I react to information that comes to contradict a specific image I have about people. And the answer would differ, more or less, depending on a myriad of factors, such as my mental wellbeing, my attitude toward the fandom, the group, the members, etc. The truth is, I only knew how I would respond the moment it happens and I was pleasantly surprised in a way. I see it as a sign that I'm doing better or at least I'm on the path of doing better.
These are things that I didn't want to allow to come to surface in the way I used to handle the BTM blog. Perhaps because the point was to create a platform in which I could offer the rational, researched perspective which I considered to be the correct one. I'm not retracting any of that. I still believe that it is possible to offer a more complex perspective if I can back it up with knowledge from various fields, but it was also one of my defense mechanisms.
Without expanding on the personal reasons, it has become very easy for me to separate my rational and emotional side. So much, that even when I should be staying in the moment and let my emotions take space, I can't really do it, I need to come up with a rational explanation so it can make sense. I then applied this to BTS as well. I couldn't just say I like this group when someone would ask, I would have to tell them about all the studies I read and how my fascination is mostly intelectual, when in truth it was both. I used to talk about jikook only in the context of analysis, be it GCF through semiotics or various types of interpretations when it came to their performances or fandom reception in terms of their dynamics. It had to be in the context of rational fascination and curiosity because I was merely trying to justify myself on why I care that much about two strangers that I look at on my phone. Again, my intellectual curiosity is real, but that has always been only one side if the coin, but it was one that I pushed.
It's about shame actually. I can't actually accept that I have such an interest. It doesn't fit with the idea I have of myself. And sometimes I don't like it because it makes me question my intellect, my critical thinking. How can I be so good academically and at the same time I fear that I've fallen into a fandom trap? I'm smart, right? Right?
I'm sure a lot of people have dealt with or ar going through this process of cognitive dissonance. How does one deal with the mere idea that something they believe in based on their understanding of the world, their ability of decoding (not in a conspiracy sense, but in a Saussurean way) can turn out to be wrong? We see something that resembles a specific behavior that we are surrounded with our entire lives, sometimes we ourselves engage with, but we've identified it wrong on others? Of course, it's through the visual medium, one that is edited. It's a puzzle with large chunks missing, but we're getting a general idea of it. But we can be wrong. So how do we deal with that? Well, I don't have a correct answer.
Me in 2020/2021 would have been more affected because my mental health was not good. I was functionally depressed and I clinged so much onto BTS, Jikook and the small community that I found myself in at that time, that I would have felt a lot more torn than I am now.
A couple of years later and having to actually go through a situation in which my understanding of people's relationship might not be accurate, I realized I'm fine. And I think it's because it made me really register just now that I finally learned how to have fun with it. It took me three years. By having fun, I mean genuinely being able to simply enjoy the little things. I'm still on the path of not being ashamed for liking kpop or spending time talking about the dynamic/relationship of two people.
What prompted this post was reading what is currently being written in the jikook tag. Yes, I had this big introductory chunk that perhaps people won't bother reading, but I'm doing it for myself. If I can't be honest while writing stuff into the void for strangers to read, then what is the point?
I get frustrated very easily. I like debates and contradictory points of view, but not always. And that's because I like to be right. Almost all the time. So when I see something that I believe it lacks logic or I find it absurd, then my fingers are itching. I don't comment or DM people, I can control myself. I'd rather get out of the app and do something else.
What I want to say is I was surprised at how much fanfiction is being written. More that usual. Shipping contains a big deal of fanfiction by its nature. Gestures and events taking place at different times are interpreted and having information added that fills the gaps. People do that because they have to make sense of what they see.
They like to make relationship timelines. They speculate on first kisses and first sexual experiences. That's their imagination. None of us has any way of knowing. The element of fiction is heighted when people feel like they are losing control of the narrative. When they are unsure of what they are seeing. Which is what usually happens in the shipping community on a yearly basis. Anons flooding the bloggers' inboxes because they need confirmation or they didn't get any ship content in a month or two which means something is wrong.
There's this understanding that the shipper/supporter is delusional while the one who stops shipping is the rational one. From what I've observed throughout time and mostly now, that is a false distinction. The so-called rational fan makes use of fiction just as the shipper. The difference is in purpose. One talks about why the supposed romantic relationship is real and the other tries to refute that. But both categories seem to need fiction in order to build their arguments. That is because none of them have access to someone's private life and relationship, so the gaps need to be filled with speculation. There is no right or wrong version here, despite how much the idea is being pushed. And me writing about this won't make a difference. It's simply how the fandom works. The one who position themselves on the side of anti-delulu will always be seen as the less crazy one. The similarities will fade for the collective consciousness of the fandom.
I think it's difficult for a lot of people, regardless on which side they find themselves on, to accept that the option of simply not knowing is enough as well. Or knowing, but without getting anal about it. But it's hard and they write posts after posts, anons are sending asks over asks because there has to be a firm answer. Only a few allow themselves to be in between lines.
I'll bring back something that I always used to say. Shipping and involvement in the fandom is a lot more about us and less about the people we're talking about. It's about fullfiling some needs, of needing a community, of focusing on the idea of love. Those things can still be done in a way that still makes the experience enjoyable. But not everyone can and I'm not blaming it.
There's a way to just like how people behave with each other and imagine things without adding so much weight to it. Regardless of the true nature. It's our imagination, there's no need for a moral inquisition to tell anyone how to think or that they should stop thinking a certain way. Touching some grass is a cliche and an expression I ended up hating, but I do believe that being connected to discourse on a daily basis can really alter our sense of reality and what we consider to be real issues. We really should pay more attention to that and take some distance if necessary.
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gale-gentlepenguin · 2 months
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Tell me more about your feelings on Hazbin Hotel.
Part of me doesn’t want to answer this question, because of how popular this show is on Tumblr.
And I know that people will be like.
“What do you know, you’re a Christian, of Course you’d have some problems with it.”
Yes, I am going to disclose that. I am a Christian. Not ashamed of that. Still working to be a better one. But I can be objective enough to view it as a writer, and that at most my personal bias will only be a slight enhancement of my view.
And these are my unfiltered thoughts on this show.
But for my opinion of Hazbin hotel. The original Pilot was interesting. A place trying to reform sinners in the last place people would think to be reformed. (Spoilers ahead)
That pilot premise is interesting. You see Hell as a cesspool of the absolute worse people. (Like Los Angeles but with more cannibalism) and it takes the “Hell is other people approach”
The songs were fine, the animation was great, and the characters introduced were intriguing. So much potential depth to them, theories can speculate. And of course the big question of. “Can someone in hell actually be redeemed?” And we even have a character pointing out “of course not, they’re in hell. Their chance was before this?”
It raised this question of, if you know your doomed, why try to be a good person? And That is fascinating.
Then the show finally airs. And it’s just another “Heaven is corrupt” storyline. And it’s not even done well.
(The whole retelling of creation made my eyes roll. Trying to make Lucifer to be the good guy? How original (sarcasm). And not even done well. Because it’s Charlie narrating this, which makes it be like Charlie knows all this and is doing all of this pointlessly)
Hells gonna rise up against it and all that. The hotel was basically pointless.
The show goes on to constantly contradict itself at numerous points that leaves me more confused.
Yes there is an interesting character (Alastor) but outside of a great soundtrack and animation… the writing of the show is a mess.
It feels both rushed and too slow. The characters are speedrunning their arcs, yet the plot is crawling.
Let’s then not forget the fact that Angel power and weapons are said to be the only thing that Perma kills sinners and angels. Yet sir pretentious dies and instead of permadead, goes to heaven? What fucking logic is that?
Also it says how only Angel weapons and powers can hurt angels (they make a whole point about it) only to show Vaggie and Lute have a whole ass fight hurting eachother with tables and s***. Unless they’ve been blessed them chairs…
Also where do the souls that perma die go? Detroit? Because if Sir pretentious can go to heaven after dying, what the deal with all this? Is Hell actually hell? Seems more like purgatory.
And then you include the helluva boss lore as they take place in the same universe. And MORE questions get added.
But that’s a can of worms for another time.
More importantly, Charlie, the main character hardly gets any development moments. Her issues are TOLD not showed.
Vaggie is also a mess too, like her whole thing is protecting Charlie, and helping her. But then she gets told that she has to fight For Love and that’s how to win? You mean what she’s BEEN DOING THE WHOLE TIME?!
All the stuff with Angel Dust, the writing for that is fine when showing the messed up situation he’s in, but then after the Song “Loser, Baby” he’s suddenly months sober? Speedrunning a bit too much.
Side note: HOW DOES HEAVEN NOT KNOW HOW PEOPLE GET INTO HEAVEN?!
Like they genuinely seem like they don’t know? From my understanding, there is no Big Man making all the calls. Thats not corruption. Thats incompetence.
So if it’s just angels in charge, THEY should know. Like show that they’re tilting the scale or maybe denying certain people that DO follow the criteria. Because with the incompetency of it, it basically leaves the door open for potentially EVERYONE to get into heaven.
Yet then the show shows how awful people in hell are, like it’s clear there are people that deserve hell. Maybe I’m overthinking it, maybe I’m not thinking about it enough. But it’s a really dumb system.
But the biggest glaring hole in this show is the fact that there is no point for heaven to actually do the purge in the first place.
Hell being overpopulated shouldn’t matter. Only Angel power and weapons can actually hurt angels. Why would they worry about an uprising. Heaven could easily wipe hell. The only people that could probably do damage is Lucifer and the leaders of the rings of hell. And even then… That’s like 7 against ALL OF HEAVEN!? Even if we assume overlords and some high level demons could do similar… Heaven still takes it. (But then again the Lute and Vaggie fight might contradict that. Hard to say it’s so confusing)
That all aside, is it an awful show? No. It’s just so riddled with plotholes and pacing issues.
Would I recommend this show to people? No.
Would I recommend the sound track? Probably, the songs are catchy. Can’t deny that.
Everyone has their own opinions and tastes, but the show has too much of a mess for me.
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mdhwrites · 6 months
Text
Is TOH Worse By Having Character Arcs?
In a story theoretically about inclusivity, finding your space and accepting who you are... Is it right that so many people change as drastically as they do?
This is going to be a bit of an odd topic because pop culture nowadays reveres the concept of the character arc almost above any other aspect of writing. If your characters do not exhibit change, how can they be deep or interesting? Where is the story in a character who mostly stays static? And that's not a bad instinct because a character overcoming some major flaw or corrupted ideal they hold onto is very compelling.
However, character arcs are like any part of writing: They are a TOOL for the writer to use. Just like with any tool, it won't fit every job. Not every story needs large, grand arcs. So was The Owl House a story where this tool should have been applied?
I argue no, despite the fact that its character arcs are such a lauded part of it. This isn't entirely because there is no space for character arcs in its themes but that its goals are... touchy when it comes to the idea of change. That requires us to first ask what those goals are in the first place.
Well, the show isn't always very good at defining these but if I'm being generous, we'll go with: The idea that one shouldn't be ashamed for who they are.
The need for a space where you can feel safe and like yourself.
Self expression and self determination being the greatest virtues in both people and society.
As a base this isn't bad. The middle one is dangerous because it can very quickly become isolationist but they do all point in the same direction of a story that wants to make sure that 'the other' doesn't feel wrong simply for not conforming to what society expects of them. Whether this is stereotypes pushed upon them, anxieties over things like sexuality, generational gaps, etc. like that, there's PLENTY to explore. Even if you want to go less severe, there's just a lot of quirks, especially in modern society, that can lead to someone feeling fake or wrong or weird, including feeling like you lean too much on your own stereotype just because you genuinely like makeup or the like.
The problem for TOH becomes that only the more extreme version actually supports real, long term character arcs. Someone who is deeply entrenched in a toxic element of society figuring out ways to be themselves despite the prejudice before them. In the show, the only person who actually faces anything like this is Eda since the society of the Isles actually DOES push down on what she believes is her identity as a wild witch. Unfortunately, Eda's arc isn't about grappling with her position as a wild witch and how that separates her from the world and family but more about softening up, getting rid of the activities she used to love/kept her alive and becoming maternal rather than embracing the wild side that made her a wild witch in the first place.
In other words, her arc is about flipping her character around rather than about embracing who she is. Which, you know... Goes against the goals of the show.
Pretty much every arc is like this. Amity goes from being extremely driven about magic and caring about her future in this world, as well as having anxieties about her family to the point where she takes drastic action to get ahead... To caring only about her girlfriend and marginally about maybe keeping some okay relations with her family. Instead of any of her drive, intelligence, cunning, etc. like that being refined by smoothing out the rougher edges and realizing she shouldn't be cruel in order to succeed in her ambitions, her ambitions are blamed on someone else and otherwise her character entirely inverts for the sake of... Luz. Which, you know... Luz needing a maternal figure for her found family is much of why, in hindsight, it feels like Eda became motherly. For Luz.
Hunter becomes a soft boy because when he gets his staff back and reminds her that he is a loyal member of the EC, she disapproves. Hell, 90% of what Hunter ever does in the show is for someone else's approval or survival, with him even ending up following after an ancestor almost 1:1, making him probably the least self-accepting character in the entire cast. Lilith falls under similar issues. She was driven and even had appeared to have softened with age, wanting to usher in new witches into their best forms as part of her job, and then... She stops. She gives up on all of her ambitions besides a little bit of a grudge against someone else and is turned into a joke for the most part. Even her trauma is mocked which doesn't seem to have literally ever been something she would have accepted, young or old nor is it something a show about acceptance should include.
And you might notice that most of the problems for these characters I'm describing aren't for themselves. Solving them isn't about self actualization. At best, they are about getting out of shitty situations but you can do that without changing the core of the character. You can have Luz save someone from death but then have who they are reject Luz anyways because of her position in society. People are complex like that. After all, if you wish for acceptance for what you care about, you naturally have to extend that kindness to others and their interests (so long as those interests aren't hateful/harmful, etc. like that. Do not tolerate Nazis.)
Amity for example is at worst a bully. She isn't hateful, she's just mean as a function of how she sees EVERYONE as an enemy. A competitor who she needs to guard against. You can develop her, because not all development forms a character arc, into still being driven, still desiring to be better, but now she understands that she doesn't need to be an island. That she can drop her guard sometimes and when she needs to crush something, it's an actual enemy. Instead, her desires, beliefs, friends, family, etc. are all put to the pyre. They are not allowed to coexist with the 'correct' version of her, not without them having to also change in a similar manner to her. To a state that the show is willing to deem acceptable in a wider sense.
Why is that a thing in a show about self acceptance and realization? How is that self-expression or self-determination? How is that understanding?
And that's why I think in the end, The Owl House's character arcs hurt it more than anything else.
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I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!
I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.
A Twitter you can follow too
And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.
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