this is supposed to look different but i don't have enough time

maniacaltoaster  asked:

Do you think it's kinda weird that even though the characters in Villainous don't TECHNICALLY have good designs, while that kind of thing destroys other cartoons, in this one, it seems to work in its favor? Like, they look ridiculous, over the top, and crazy, but that feels like exactly what they're supposed to look like.

oh sweetheart let me tell you a little secret

the people who genuinely think the Villainous character designs are bad don’t know a damn thing about designing characters for animation

STRAP IN FOLKS IT’S TIME FOR ANOTHER RANT LESSON ABOUT ANIMATION CHARACTER DESIGN WITH NOVA (brought to you by SCAD: “I pay $35,000 a year to learn how to make cartoons so trust me I know what I’m talking about”)

The first thing any character design class (including the one I took) will teach you is “have a strong silhouette”

You can probably recognize almost if not every single one of these characters just from their outlines! So let’s take a look at the silhouettes of the Villainous cast…

HOLY SMOKES THEY ARE HELLA DISTINCTIVE!!! And here we even see what is probably the design reason for Dr. Flug’s paper bag and Demencia’s huge fluffy ponytail - they add to the strength of their silhouettes immensely.

Now let’s examine both the shape language of the characters AND how they’re likely divided in terms of their digital puppet rigs (as Villainous appears to use both the hand drawn and rigging techniques), because the former is the second thing any character design class will teach you and the latter is incredibly important to the modern digital 2D animation process. (Apologies if my rig estimates are off, I haven’t had as much experience with 2D rigging as I have with hand drawn.)

Black Hat has the most variety out of the cast, but broken up he’s really just a combination of rectangles, triangles and one or two circles. His hat is also kind of a shape in and of itself, one that comes very naturally when drawing his head. Like a lot of villain characters his sharpness is highly emphasized.

Dr. Flug is ALL about squares and skinny rectangles, with his only rounded shapes being his eyes and shoes. Normally when you see boxy characters they’re on the very masculine or muscular side, meant to seem strong or imposing, but Flug is a wimpy, scrawny twig. That’s really unorthodox and something I like a lot about his look.

What’s super interesting about Demencia is that next to 5.0.5, she has the most circles and rounded shapes. Sharpness is added in her details which makes her design look a lot more complex than it really is. What’s great about digital animation and 2D rigging is it makes characters who have a lot of specific details like her much simpler to animate, so she really isn’t impractical at all provided you’re animating her using a computer.

And finally we have Beariplier Markibear 5.0.5, who I’m sure surprises no one by being a big old round baby full of circles. His nose and snout are of course triangles though. I like how he’s the most intentionally simple out of the cast, even going so far as to have a different eye style that almost makes him look like something out of an ultra-cutesy anime. He doesn’t fit in with and stands out a lot from the others, which is entirely the point.

To sum up, the Villainous characters are both simple enough to animate on a budget/deadline and interesting looking enough to want to watch, the perfect combination for modern 2D digital TV animation. These designs were MADE for a 2017 Cartoon Network show in every sense, with just enough early 2000s influence to feel fresh and new as well as classic and nostalgic. I want these guys to represent and become iconic of CN the same way Finn, Jake, Mordecai and Rigby have.

on the new Iron Fist series

So after binge watching a ton of Marvel’s new Iron Fist series, I went onto tumblr, wondering what the fandom was up to now, what with all these new gifs and stuff to make. ‘Maybe I would find some fan art or something’ I thought innocently to myself,


instead, I was greeted with SO MUCH DISCOURSE on how Iron Fist ‘needs a chinese-american actor’ or ‘has terrible dialogue and is slow’.

the best part is when I found out that some of y’all are trying to get this show boycotted like ‘????’

Now as a Chinese-speaking Asian female, living in Asia, with an Asian background and a good know-how of Chinese history, as well as a decent knowledge of comic books, (although I confess I got into the animated series first) I’m here to end the discussion before y’all get your full rage on and start fighting fans of the show like it’s Lord of the Flies up in here

So keep reading if you want to be educated or if you just want to fight me before you know what you’re even talking about


Uhhhh…no? I’ve seen a few episodes and I mean so far there isn’t really anything that screams ‘insult’ or even offensive in the slightest. Besides maybe the fact that they take the beliefs and twist them a little bit but honestly even that ain’t that bad as to what I’ve seen elsewhere.

I’ve read the boycott post and let me say that yea, they dressed him with an eye for Asian elements, but maybe that’s because it’s supposed to be resembling Asian clothing? I mean how is that offensive? Is it the part that it looks Asian? Or that you simply feel that white people that direct these shows should not be using Asian stuff for entertainment? Because I hate to break it to you but it’s still not offensive. Even the dragon tattoo is totally fine because it’s supposed to resemble Asian elements yea but also have y’all read the comics? Because he punched through a dragon and basically took it’s heart. So I mean a dragon tattoo kinda matches the theme.

I mean in the first episode they speak almost flawless Chinese for Pete’s sake! Hell, I was surprised that they even had it in them to have a non-Google translated line. Sure the accent was a little overdoing it cuz not even I have that thick a Chinese accent but I’ll excuse it since he was apparently learning and speaking 15 years. (I speak it maybe a few times a day for like the last 14 years or so only)

So no, the show doesn’t really insult Chinese culture, sure they might be ignorant, but you must understand that after generations of stereotypes and misconceptions that that can’t just go away with one show

“Danny Rand should be played by an Asian guy/be a Chinese-American”

I can’t even begin to tell you my frustration about this.

Y’all do know this show is based on the comics right?

You know, the one with the white guy.

I know Marvel is infamous for not including enough representation in their shows but seriously? This is like the Harry Potter thing all over again with Hermione being black, it’s not that we don’t want representation or anything, but it’s the fact that this hero that us comic fans have come to already love has been replaced. Or at least it feels like it. Like when a movie is made from a book and people go crazy because character XYZ suddenly has different traits or isn’t quite what was described as compared to the book.

Frankly, it sucks.

So even though yes, Marvel should have more Asians in their shows, don’t expect them to completely give the main character a makeover, even if the makeover was supposed to provide representation. And honestly? I don’t want them to change him because I really freaking love Iron Fist, just as he is.

“This show just villainizes Asians”

So you tell me that my race is being made villains because Marvel decided that most of their Asians on their shows are evil ninjas (aka the Hand) and at most there are like 3 sorta good Asians. Oh and I’m sorry, you want more Asian men that are good guys? You want a balance of Asian heroes?

Well I guess that would be kind of hard to fit into the story since, oh, I don’t know, everything happens in the USA?

If you want more Asian characters well then look no further because you do have them. Daisy Johnson from Agents of Shield? What about her extremely brave mom? Or maybe Colleen in Iron Fist? Everyone seems to be blatantly ignoring her badassery and only seeing the part where she’s a sorta love interest.

Facts are, there are Asian characters, you’re really just looking hard enough. I agree wholeheartedly when you say that more Asian men need to be in the Marvel universe that aren’t part of the bad guy team but you gotta say that they are still awesome.

Does anyone even remember the Japanese ninja yakuza guy from Daredevil? Dude got set on fire and STILL came back to kick ass. That’s a plus in my book because even though he’s considered bad, he’s been proven to be cunning, smart, and overall awesome.

“The show has terrible stunts/acting/dialogue/fight scenes”

From here on out it’s mostly just me trying to explain why the directors and writers of the show made decisions in the show to make it what it is, so let’s dive right into it.


Actually the stunts weren’t half-bad. If you’ve seen other shows or movies that are heavily reliant on stunts and action, and compare it to this show, they really aren’t that much different. Sure it might seem a little unbelievable sometimes like they’re breaking physics or something, but he already has a glowing fist. I think we’ve crossed the line of believable long ago.


I have nothing to say about this except that go and take some acting or drama classes before coming and criticizing these awesome men and women who did indeed try their best


Now I get the dialogue might be a little weird at times and what not, but you must understand that this show was partially written with the Defenders series in mind. So almost everything that was said in the show is meant to lead to something more. Thus, you must take it as a bigger picture. Sorta like how everyone said that Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them wasn’t as good as they thought it would be, that movie was also meant to lead on to a bigger story so you might want to excuse the weird speech and cryptic lines at times.


Okay seriously people, please read the comics. Danny Rand is supposed to be an accidental hero, one that doesn’t want to fight unless he really has zero choice in the matter. So yea, the fight scenes won’t be that interesting, but only because the character in question is more interested in ending the fight than anything.


So there you have it, my whole slightly angry info-dump on Iron Fist and Marvel’s representation problem in general. If you want to correct me or scold me even then by all means message me or shoot me an ask. But just keep in mind that Marvel can’t make all your problems go away in one show, and please for the love of all that is good read the comics before coming to rant okay?

#awkward #pining #ministry

Prompts: @tera2
Author: @queenofthyme

Harry read the article again. He didn’t know why he put himself through it. Rita Skeeter’s outlandish claims never failed to make him angry. And he’d already forced The Daily Prophet to run a redaction days ago. 

No, he did know, actually. It was the accompanying image. The one with Draco Malfoy staring right into the camera, unblinking, a challenge in his eyes. It was familiar but at the same time nothing Harry had ever seen before (except during his many rereads of this particular paper). Malfoy had aged. Matured obviously since he was now a Ministry official. There was just something about his face. The same but different. Harry was drawn to it.

“Auror Potter." 

Harry looked up to find that same face at his doorway, focusing a steely gaze on Harry. He was so shocked he forgot he was holding a cup of tea. It dropped to his desk with an embarrassing clatter, spilling its contents, all over Malfoy’s inked face.  

The Malfoy at Harry’s office door – the real one – didn’t move. His eyes flickered down to Harry’s desk, watching the spill unfold passively.

Harry jumped to his feet and quickly bundled up the wet paper, throwing it face down into a waste basket at his feet. He wasn’t sure if he’d been fast enough.

He looked back up to Malfoy, searching for any sign he might have seen. Nothing. But that hardly meant much. Harry suspected Malfoy’s emotions didn’t play so obviously on his face anymore. He nodded in what he hoped was a professional courteous manner. "Dralfoy.”

Harry froze, the awful blunder hitting his ears just as it came out of his mouth. He could feel himself blushing, his palms getting clammy, his knees weak. Was simply Malfoy’s presence enough to make him come undone these days?

And just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, Harry, not quite sure how much longer he’d be able to stand for, slumped back into his seat - or at least attempted to – but misjudged the position and ended up plummeting to the floor instead.

The only saving grace – if there was any positive to the situation at all – was that at least on the floor, behind his desk, he was hidden from sight. He wondered if he crawled under his desk and stayed there, if Malfoy would get the idea and leave. Harry was seriously considering the option when Malfoy came into view again, stepping around the desk to loom over Harry.

He offered a hand. Harry gladly took it, forgetting for a moment the current predicament of said hands. And sure enough, after Malfoy helped Harry to his feet, he quickly let go and wiped his hand on his trousers.

Harry wanted to close his eyes and crawl up into a ball in the corner of the room. He never wanted to look Malfoy in the eye again. In less than a minute, he had made himself look like a complete fool. And all it took was for Malfoy to walk in the bloody room.

Malfoy cleared his throat. “I just came by to say hello. I thought it was polite given we work in the same building now. Which, of course, you already know.” His eyes darted to the waste basket. Shit.

“I had The Daily Prophet write a redaction,” Harry blurted out, as if that would help. Although at least he managed to get the words right this time.

“That was you? I should have guessed. You never miss an opportunity to save my skin.” Malfoy’s lips quirked upward for the smallest moment before his composure returned. “Well, it was nice seeing how the other side lives. I suppose I must get back to it.”

“Right,” Harry managed to nod. “I’ll get the door for you.”

They both stared at the open door.

Having already committed to the pointless task, Harry hurried forward and tripped over his own feet, falling right into Malfoy’s waiting – his reflexes were still as fast as they were in Quidditch – arms. Could Harry be more embarrassing?

Malfoy righted Harry but kept a firm grip on him – perhaps he thought Harry might slump to the floor otherwise, which was probably an accurate assumption at this stage.

There was amusement in Malfoy’s face now, a lightness in his eyes. “Are you always this clumsy, Potter, or am I special?”

“You’re special,” Harry answered quickly as he didn’t want Malfoy to think this was how all his mornings went. Although, after he realised what he’d said, he quickly tried to take it back: “No, I mean, wait, I mean, that’s not what I  -“

Malfoy took a step back, dropping his arms. “No need to be so flustered, Potter,” he interrupted. “I keep all the newspapers with your face on them too.”

Harry’s brain short-circuited. He must have stood there blinking at Malfoy for a solid five seconds before he was able to ask: “All of them?”

“Thirty-four and counting.” Malfoy winked. “You know, Potter, if you were to take me out to dinner, I’m sure the outing might be scandalous enough to make the front page. We could add to both our collections.”

“If I – you – dinner?” Harry repeated, a little discombobulated.

“Why, Potter,” Malfoy said, a cheeky smile appearing on his face, “I thought you’d never ask. I’d love to.”

Harry blinked – it was the only action he was capable of.

Malfoy laughed lightly when Harry didn’t reply. He made to exit, but paused briefly to call out over his shoulder: “I finish at six.”

Only when Malfoy was out of view did Harry let his knees give in.

more like this l @queenofthyme


Title: Aftermath
Characters: Hanji Zoe x Levi
Genre: Humor / Angst
Rating: T

@levihanweek​ Day 2: Nightmare

Levi’s Nightmare: Having a heart-to-heart with Pastor Nick.

“Are you worried about your wife?”

The question shocked him out of his musings.

Levi looked up, “My what?”

But the pastor was already speaking, “You’re obviously beside yourself with stress – and it’s understandable. Not knowing if your wife has survived-”

Levi cut him off, “My what?”

The pastor hesitated, apparently realizing he’d made some mistake, but misunderstanding precisely what it was. “Your…wife? The woman we traveled with before? She’s ah – forceful. You two uh – have the same, er – strident personality. When we first met, she dangled me off the wall.”

Keep reading

birthday wishes ;

SO THIS LITTLE DIDDY IS DEDICATED TO MY MAIN BITCH @mermaidsonships!!!!!! we’ll consider it a belated birthday present, even though i’ve been working on it for roughly three days – her birthday was yesterday SO I FELL BEHIND ON MY DEADLINE! AS ALWAYS! but yeah. this is for N! i love you bitch! ain’t never gonna stop lovin u bitch! i also hope the rest of you enjoy, it’s cute and fun whether it’s your bday or not. we all have them at some point 💘 

It’s somewhere around half an hour later, and you feel like the two of you have really only been going in circles, but you never once questioned it. Your eyebrows furrow when Harry ends up just pulling into his driveway, though, and you look over him with a confused expression. “You know it only takes ten minutes to get to your house from my flat, right? And that’s when there’s traffic,” you deadpan, and he just smirks, shaking his head.

“I know. Had to make you feel like we were going somewhere else, though,” he explains, and you’re left feeling even more confused.

“So you made me dress up and drove me around for half an hour just so we could come to your house?” You question, and his bobs from side to side like he’s considering whether or not that’s what he’s done.

“I suppose so, yeah,” he answers, and you roll your eyes.

“There’s not gonna’ be some sort of surprise party when I walk in the front door, is there?” You press, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“Nah, ‘s just us. Just like you told me. I promise,” he assures, and you hold your pinky out and his eyes flicker from the finger to your eyes, just staring at you for a moment, before he locks his pinky around yours.


Harry grants Y/N the birthday wish she’s had since she was thirteen

6k+, fluff, smut, heart shaped sandwiches, and a plot synopsis of 13 going on 30

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anonymous asked:

Hey I don't mean to bother, but I was wondering if you had a list or so of your fav Bellarke fics(AU)? I love all your fics (Bellarke and Stydia) <3 Thanks!

AU?! Oh, man. I assume you mean non-canonverse AU. And I’m not much of an AU reader, but here are a couple of my all-time favs.

Take Me to Church by @hawthornewhisperer | M | priest-in-training!Bellamy is definitely not supposed to develop feelings for the girl he goes running with in the mornings. And they probably shouldn’t have sex either. He knows this, and yet. (link to all 6 chapters in the link) 

I Choose You by winterwaters | M | 17k | Clarke’s a society girl who doesn’t want to get married, despite her mother’s wishes, but then a farmer shows up, with a deal that intrigues her. (I’m an arranged marriage AU hoe and this one is so sweet. I’ve read it like a bedtime story many times.)

Worth the Trouble and Worth the Pain by @ponyregrets | T | 6k | Princess Clarke has one year to get married. Her personal guardsman is not pleased about the situation, but there’s not a lot he can do.

like ships in the night (passing me by) by viansian | T | 11k | He met her seven different times. Once when she was a child, twice on her deathbed and four times in between. (Alternatively, The Fic Where He’s Immortal and She’s Not)

I Make My Own Luck by somethingofatrainwreck | M | 23k | Poker Night was simple enough. Show up at Clarke’s every Thursday night. BYOB (no cans, always bottles), turn your phones off, don’t get in the middle when Mom and Dad start to bicker, never mention Mt. Weather, and for the love of God don’t bring any randos…It was simple. It really was. The thing about rules though? People can’t help but break them.aka five times someone ruined Poker Night and the one time all bets were off.

i’ve seen love go by my door (it’s never been this close before) by safeandsound13 | M | 5k | Every story begins somewhere, usually with a shared look from across the room and the exchange of names. Theirs starts with an abduction and a set of handcuffs. Or, the less fancy version of it: Clarke and Bellamy plan Murphy’s death while being cuffed to a bathroom sink. (this is kinda a crack fic, kinda just really funny, and i love the author so lemme throw it in there)

Keep Your Enemies Closer by PaintedGhostOrchid | NR | 51k |  Bellamy and Clarke are co-workers and bitter rivals who live to compete with one another and can barely be civil- at least, until their respective partners start having an affair and Clarke and Bellamy have no choice but to team up to win back their cheating lovers. (I have a massive boner for this one, don’t even ask why because idk.)

Don't sass the Angel of Death

The characters in this are Azrael the Angel of Death (played by Y) and Dareios who is possessed by a snake demon/deity that calls itself Leviathan (played by me). Dareios is immortal thanks to Leviathan, and Azrael doesn’t like immortal humans, so Y and I are trying to figure out how they would interact.

Y: Okay but Azrael’s blades usually conceal themselves as scissors imagine a typical teenager in a hoodie (Azrael’s human appearance) threathening Dareios with scissors. I wouldn’t be sure whether to laugh or call the cops.

Me: “Well as long as they don’t run with them” - Dareios

Y: I think that’s gonna be the least of your concerns somehow buddy

Y: Honestly tho I know for fact that the first thing Azrael says to Dareios is “the fuck are you”.

Y: (I have this idea that Azrael is the only angel who swears)

(here’s where we switched to actually being IC or OOC)

Dareios: “I could ask you the same question, but I already know the answer: rude.”


Me: I love it when Dareios goes all sassy.

Azrael: “Politeness gets you nowhere, certainly not when facing death.”

Y: But seriously Azrael looks like a moody teenager so I doubt that would be taken seriously

Dareios: “Assuming I will answer your question…”

Dareios/Leviathan (talking at the same time): “…Which of us did you ask?”

Azrael: “Cursed be the English language. The ‘you’ was plural.”

Y: ‘Cursed be the English language’? Who says that???

Me: Azrael, clearly

Dareios: “That is a very old-fashioned phrase for a kid like you”

Azrael: “Now who’s the rude one. Show your elders some respect.”

Leviathan: “Excuse you!?” (pretending to be insulted)

Azrael: (snickers) “You clearly haven’t seen me before. Understandable, since you’re immortal, you don’t know what Death looks like.”

Dareios: “I know what Death looks like, but it never holds me long enough for me to register its true appearance.”

Azrael: “Well now you do. And now I have to correct the natural order.” (takes out scissors)

Dareios: “Going to cut my thread of life, or whatever it’s called?”

Azrael: “Oh no. I take offense to immortal humans, I’m going to get up close and personal with this.” (separates the blades of the scissors and turns them into a dagger and a sword)

Dareios: “Well, you definitely shouldn’t run with those.” (makes magic sword appear out of thin air)

Azrael: “I’ve been doing this since the dawn of life. You should be worried about yourself.”

Y: Dawn of life, is that even a thing??

Me: I guess it is

Dareios: "I’d like to see you try. Maybe I will stay dead this time. I doubt it, though.“

Azrael: (suddenly holding the dagger to Dareios’ throat) “Don’t patronize me, WORM.”

Leviathan: “I take offense to that.”

Azrael: (steps back) “And I take offense to you. We’re even now, huh?”

Leviathan: “Guess so.”

Y: Okay but (her other two characters) standing on the sideline watching these two duke it out

Leviathan: “Question. Can an Angel of Death die?”

Azrael: “Are you an idiot? Of course I can’t. If I died, no one else would. The natural order would be a mess.”

Leviathan: “Another question. Do you think you’d be able to kill a god?”

Azrael: “I’ve done it before. The real question is; is it your time to go? I know the human passed his long ago. That must be corrected.”

Leviathan: “My dear host will not pass his time until I allow him to.”

Azrael: “Unfortunately for you, you’re not in charge of either fate or destiny. All I have to do is wrench control from you for just a second. Then he’s gone.”

Leviathan: “Gone for how long?”

Azrael: “Forever. He’ll be dead.”

Leviathan: “Will he? He has died thousands of times before, and I brought him back every time.”

Azrael: “This time is different. You haven’t dealt with me in person before. When I close the gates, they won’t open for anyone.”

Leviathan: “I’d like to see that happening.”

Azrael: “I told you, didn’t I? You’re not the one in charge. I am.” (reveals wings)

Leviathan: “Oh, really? Who is stronger, an Angel or a God? Time to find out~”

Azrael: “Such arrogance. I was here before you, and I will be here after you. Those words, I’ve heard them before. Yet I am here, and they are not.”

Leviathan: “Were you here before me? Well, I suppose you were in this exact location before I was, but that’s not the point.”

Me: Leviathan no. Stop sassing the angel of death.

Azrael: “The moment life was invented, I was there, ready to claim it. Such is the natural law of things.”

Leviathan: “Would that make you the first or the second creature alive?”

Azrael: “Second after God. I was a force of nature at first. Then I chose to serve Him.”

Leviathan: “That makes sense. Now, I guess we have talked enough…”

Azrael: “You are a fine conversation partner, I must say. Not many people ask me things other than 'why me?’.”

Leviathan: “I know the answer to that already, so I don’t need to ask. Now, are you going to kill me or not?”

Azrael: “Yes.” (runs him through with the sword)

Me: Well that escalated quickly.

OITNB Season 5 spoilers !! Don't read if you haven't finished the season yet

Okay, I just have to make this post to get it all out of my system.

First thing, I wanna talk about Bailey going to visit Poussey’s father. This is after he’s cried for help from his parents, two of the old guards, and even attempting to turn himself in and kill himself. This guy is all kinds of fucked up from what he did. I cannot stress enough how upset I was while watching the episode that Poussey died in. She was great, but so is Bailey. The poor guy was 21 years old, under trained, in the midst of a protest going ary. He was just trying to hold her down cause that’s what he was supposed to do but he was also getting punched like crazy by Suzanne. So he unintentionally was putting more and more pressure on Poussey while trying to face Suzanne to block her fists. Should he have tried to stand up and deal with Suzanne full on? Yes, there are many things he could have done differently. But never the less, it WAS an accident and clearly from all the aforementioned things he feels H O R R I B L E about it. Now, back to my initial point of wanting to talk about him visiting Poussey’s father. I understand his reasoning behind going there AND I also understand the way the father reacted. I know that if I had a daughter and I was looking in the eyes of the man that looking in the eyes of the man that killed her, I wouldn’t wanna hear a single word he had to say. But my god.. the look of UTTER devastation on Bailey’s face as the door was being closed on him.. I wanted to hug him so god damn badly. Should he be charged in some way for what happened? Absolutely, fact of the matter is despite it being a total accident he DID kill someone.

Second thing, Piscatella. I know that he doesn’t like Red, she hasn’t exactly been polite to him. And I don’t agree with the homophobic slurs she used against him throughout his time of being a part of the show. But holy fuck, what he did to her in episode 10? That was some SERIOUSLY fucking twisted ass shit. I’m all about horror films, gore, and so on. I can take that. But maybe it’s cause I’ve had a long time to see Red as a person idfk but it got me feeling NAUSEOUS. That was so over the top I needed to take a breather to cuddle my cat and watch a little bit of Family Guy so I could calm down. Like I seriously don’t understand what exactly his problem was with Red that caused him to feel justified in doing anything remotely close to that. What I felt would have been reasonable was getting her sent to max. But Jesus… I can’t really say I’m GLAD he died. Cause the fact is after everything he did decide to peacefully walk out of that room. But he was a fucking monster.

And here I am scrolling a moment ago through the oitnb season 5 tag on here and NO ONE is talking about it. 90% of the posts are about fuckin Flaritza. Claiming how iconic they are and how heartbroken they feel that they got separated at the end. They’re two of the most vapid girls I’ve ever seen in my life. They give absolutely no fucks about anyone but themselves. Only getting upset about things when it directly affects them. Fuck that

This show got me feelin some kind of way, and idk where they’re going next with it. But damn, I’m gonna NEED this year till the next season to recover

anonymous asked:

Something I've been confused about for months is the people saying that Cursed Child is a queerbait. I only guess I don't understand the term properly because I thought it meant that writers teasing that a character was gay and then not delivering? Albus/Scorpius were close but it wasn't like they were definitely hinted as being gay and then it was pulled away? There's something I'm missing? I thought you would be ok to ask and explain if you knew?

I must stress that this really is my own personal opinion; I’m really not trying to upset anyone with my train of thought on this…it’s really just how I see it from my own perspective.

Albus, Scorpius and Scorbus really deserves its own post - but I’m going to deviate slightly, because the issue with the ‘queerbait’ in Cursed Child for me isn’t completely about Albus and Scorpius.  

Their relationship, whether romantic or brotp, is beautifully written, and depicts two teenage boys in a very different fashion to what we saw in the original series (e.g. Harry and Ron’s brotp).  It’s beautiful, it’s kind, it’s caring and it’s loving.  And it’s perfectly fine if it did evolve into Scorbus, but it’s also equally fine for it to be a deep friendship between two people without any romantic or sexual element.

The issue with queerbaiting and the Potter franchise is complicated.  I lived through Section 28 - and there is no way on this planet that anyone could’ve written an explicitly queer character in those first few books back in the late 90s.  I fully appreciate that Harry Potter is of its time - and its time is a moment when the UK was very uneasy with the issue of sexuality, particularly representations that were aimed at children.

However, the end of Harry Potter came at a time where there was a huge social shift.   Our society came on leaps and bounds between the 1990s and the 2000s.   As the series was wrapping up, we had legislation to protect us, civil partnerships - and then incredibly, recently, we gained marriage rights.  

That’s all brilliant - but it dates Potter horribly.  You read it now, you look at it and think, “Wow, there’s no queer representation in here at all.”  But y’know, I’m sure we’re all mature enough to look at the front and say, “Ah, published in 1997!  No wonder!”

But Cursed Child was published in 2016.  Cursed Child was published years after JK told us Dumbledore was gay.  Cursed Child was published years after this:

…but yet again, we’ve gone through a whole book without a single character who is clearly queer.

The issue, as I see it, isn’t so much that people are solely disappointed/sad/upset/angry that Scorbus wasn’t a thing…but that they as queer fans nodded their heads during those early years and said, “It’s ok, there’s nothing JK could’ve done - she couldn’t have written us some representation in the books; her hands were tied.”

…but now? 

If I was being generous, I suppose there’s an argument that any Potter book is going to sell in huge numbers.  The play was less certain, and perhaps they were advised against featuring any queer characters lest it affect how the play was received.  Perhaps.

I also suppose there’s an argument that JK has stated that she sees Dumbledore as gay, and there’s a Fantastic Beasts series in the pipeline, and it could be that she’s decided to write her queer representation in that instead.

But at the end of the day, there’s an awful lot of queer kids who grew up with the series who felt they had to nod their heads and say, “It’s ok, I understand why you can’t show me,” - and that was hard enough in 1997, frightfully difficult in 2007…but doing so in 2017 feels ridiculous.

So, to answer your question, it’s not really that Albus and Scorpius were coded as queer and then turned out not to be (admittedly, they are certainly coded very differently to a lot of male brotp pairings that we see in the media, which possibly made it more difficult…at times it did feel as if there was more to it than just a friendship)…

…but it’s almost that the franchise sort of whispered that us queer kids were part of it, and we all secretly understood why it couldn’t say it out loud…but right at the moment that it was given a platform and a golden opportunity to prove it stood with us, it backed out.

The small Dork and the Artist pt.2

I wanted to continue what @That-Punny-Cookie started, even if it was my other account that I deleted, I had a feeling nobody would believe me and all.
Just saying, the One-Shot wasn’t supposed to be submitted, it was a draft ;w;
But, just saying, the day I found out you replied…




Error poked the chocolate softly.

It looked yummy.

And Error wanted to eat something.

Error gently picked up the chocolate while Ink watched, curious for what his rescuing to chocolate will be. Error took a small nibble of the chocolate (that wasn’t wrapped) slowly and cautiously. His eye lights lit up slightly at the sweet taste. Instead of chomping down the chocolate greedily, Error instead took quick but small nibbles of the chocolate. Ink giggled at the small glitchy child.

”Hey, what’s your name?“ Ink asked, “I’m Ink. You can call me anything but shorty.”

Error looked up at Ink, blinking a little, putting down the (very tasty) chocolate bar.

Error sat down a little more properly, sitting on his bum. (Is that more proper, or does it not make a difference? I don’t know, whoops-)

“My NaMe iS Error,“ Error murmured softly. Ink leaned in a little, humming in question. “What did you say?” Ink asked politely. Error tooonin a deep breath and looked Ink straight in the eye with slight bravery.

”Error,“ Error repeated confidently, “My NaMe Is Error.”

Ink smiled brightly, crawling closer to Error. ”That’s a great name! Do you mind if I call you … Hmm … RuRu, perhaps?“ Ink asked. Error rose his ‘eyebrows.’ “WhO Is ’RuRu’¿” Error asked back. Ink giggled, scooting a little closer to Error.

“Your RuRu, silly!“ Ink smiled, pointing to Error. Error pointed to himself, “mE¿ bUt, I’m ErRor!” Error protested, “nOt rUrU!”

Ink grinned, “If I call you RuRu, you can call me anything you want. If you like, you can call me shorty, even if I’m taller than you,“ Ink suggested, scooting until he was normal length from Error.

Error puffed his cheeks and and crossed his arms, “I-i’m nOt GonNA aLwAyS bE shOrT! I-i’lL grOw Up!“ Error huffed, “i’lL grOw Up TO bE tAlL!”

Ink rolled his eyes playfully. “Suuuuuure. Hehe. Anyway, want to leave this awful place?“ Ink asked Error. Error gasped and stood up quickly, “yEs PleAsE, InK!” Error smiled, which Ink returned. The artist stood up, and realized how short Error was. Even wearing shoes, Error was just a little shorter than Inks elbow.

’Oh my gosh,’ Ink squealed internally, ’He’s so short!’ Ink internally fangirled at how cute Error is. ‘But, I also wonder, will Error be able to go through the portal himself?’ Ink asked himself. He shrugged and opened a portal using his paintbrush. Almost immediately, Error hid behind Ink.

“WhAt Is ThAt… ?” Error asked nervously, grabbing onto Inks clothes. Ink turned a little, looking down at the nervous child.

“That, RuRu, is a portal. It will take us away from here,” Ink smiled happily. Error still hid behind Ink.

The artist turned around completely, grabbing Error and placing him onto his hip. Error squeaked and grabbed onto Ink for his dear life.

Ink looked at Error, “Are you ready? We’re going to walk through the portal.“ Error nodded, grabbing onto Ink even more tightly.

’He might fall asleep when we go through the portal,’ Ink thought, ’Probably because of his unsteady magic.’

After that thought, Ink stepped through his portal, entering his guest room in his home.

Which was thankfully not covered in enough papers to not be considered a room anymore. The room was quite plain. If had a twin sized bed in the middle of the room, pressed against the wall. On the right of the bed was a desk, papers and pencils scattered around the wooden surface. It was a plain looking room as mention earlier.
Ink turned to check if Error had fallen asleep.

Yup, he is.

Ink picked up Error and placed him onto the guest bed, tucking him in.

Ink sat next to Errors bed, just in case Error wakes up and gets scared, or something along those lines. Ink wants to be next to the glitchy skeleton, he wants to know if he’s okay, he wants to make sure nobody is messing with Error.
The artist stroked Error’s head in a comforting manner, hoping too sooth the skeletons nervous nerves from going through portal earlier.

“I will watch over you, no matter what. Your my small little dork.”

Before y'all start screaming about stuff I messed up
I thought that Error wouldn’t have hapephobia(? Is that his you spell it?) because he wasn’t stuck in the void for a heck of a long time. So he didn’t mind the touching. (Or, maybe I didn’t want to write angst/feels ;w;)

(I’ve gotten sucked into child!error x Ink to the point where I’m drawing them in class XD)

Submitted by  ask-error-and-ink-the-nerds

Unu says: You didn’t have a title so I felt free to name the story, haha. I’m good at naming things, did you know that? |D

Anyway, this is just so cute! You guys keep submitting so cute fanfics to me and just… hnnngh <3<3<3

Thanks for continuing the story. And you’re welcome for the response, I guess? Though I’m still recovering from that train hitting me last time and stuff~

“I don't know if I can ever let Papyrus into the Royal Guard.”

So, I’ve always seen Undyne’s unwillingness to allow Papyrus into the Royal Guard a bit differently than I think the usual consensuses are. While it seems to be taken as a way of showing Papyrus is cinnamon roll too precious too pure innocent bean so oblivious protect him, I always felt like it was more… the opposite?

I could (and almost did, a few times) go into a larger rant about this, but I think if you play UT without knowing anything about it, vs knowing a little about it, Undyne and Papyrus are both meant to be seen a bit negatively until various turning points. Papyrus is probably meant to be seen as stupid and inept and weak, all things that he is not, and through his fight, his date, his friendship and calls, and eventually Undyne’s confession, the fact that he is not all of that is revealed. He’s not in the Royal Guard because he’s too nice. Not because he’s weak. Not because he’s stupid. Not because he’s inept.

(but if you go in already knowing Papyrus is (and monsters as a whole are) nice/sweet/cinnamon roll, I think it has the opposite effect of making him seem weak because he is nice. I don’t think that’s the message at all the scene is meant to convey.)

That moment is supposed to be a final affirmation of who Papyrus is as a character, a nice guy who isn’t the right fit for his dreams because of his morals and good character, not because of his (supposed lack of) abilities. This moment is also the start of softening and revealing Undyne’s character, showing the level of care and concern she has for the people around her, which, to this point on a pacifist run, you likely would not have seen.

So basically, what I’m saying is, I don’t think this was meant to be a sign that Pap needs to be coddled and infantilized, but a sign that he doesn’t need to be. He’s tough, he’s competent, but he’s just not a solider. 

But there’s more to it than just that…

While Undyne cites the fear that Papyrus would just let himself be killed as a motive for why she doesn’t want to let someone so nice into the Guard, I feel like this was also an early hint at the nature of LOVE. LOVE changes souls and causes them to harden and change, and it’s effects on a human are strong enough to be noticable, but it seems likely that monsters, who are more in-tune with their souls, would react even more to gaining LV. Wanting to protect Papyrus and his innocence and niceness likely goes beyond just a worry that he would allow himself to be killed if placed in that position. 

Because if it’s kill or be killed, and Papyrus did kill (because Undyne trained him seriously as a solider, instead of just cooking lessons and roughhousing), he would gain LV and probably lose the part of his personality that Undyne admires. That nice, innocent, friendly part of Papyrus’s soul, would be chipped away, and Undyne perceives that that would be her fault for placing him in that position. 

So I think it’s a lot more than just Papyrus being seen as too stupid to protect himself. I think Undyne’s considered both options, but the other doesn’t come up because you aren’t meant to know the nature of LOVE at this point, and because she’s not going to go into the minutia of her hard-thought decision to an eight year old.

Don't Do Something Stupid (Robb Stark x Reader)

Also on AO3. Always better if you read it there:

The Riverlands were beautiful. Green grass stretched from horizon to horizon, and the rolling hills seeming to stretch on forever and a day. (Y/n) had never been this far south before, being a handmaiden of Lady Catelyn Stark of Winterfell, and she wondered at this strange and beautiful land. Day by day, she soaked in the warm sunlight and gained a new perspective on the world as she knew it.

That is to say, (y/n) was lathered with sweat for the better part of the day, her skin cooked in the sun like tender meat, and she lay bare at night, wishing for the cool stone floors of Winterfell instead of the hot, humid climate of the south.

(Y/n) was no southron girl, after all– she was built for life in the north. Blustering winds, summer snows, and bitter cold nights she could handle. This blasted heat? The hot soup that the southron simpletons called air? These, she could not.

“(Y/n), my dear, close the flap of the tent, you’re letting in the heat,” Lady Catelyn called, fanning with her hands.

Or letting in the breeze, (y/n) thought, but kept it to herself as she followed her instructions.

“Yes, Lady Catelyn. I only wanted to hear the song of swords in the distance, my lady. If you listen, you can hear it…and the screams. You can almost tell to whom the screams belong, if you really concentrate.”

Lady Catelyn’s cerulean eyes looked over at her concernedly. “That’s morbid child, far too, too…disturbing, for a lady your age to think about.”

(Y/n) stared back at her lady with a challenge issued unashamedly in her (e/c) eyes. “But a lady my age is old enough to watch an amputation without milk of the poppy, old enough to sew up a wound as long as my forearm?”

“You sound far too much like my sons.” Lady Catelyn smiled wistfully, her auburn hair shining as she stood. “Promise me, dear, that you will keep your spirit. You’re a thing of the North, wild and free. I know the south disagrees with you, but don’t let it melt you down to nothing.”

“Never fear, my lady,” (y/n) smiled. “Ro–His Grace says I’ve got ice in my veins. If so, I’m in no trouble because of the early autumn.”
Lady Catelyn chuckled. “Robb always has said your heart was frozen solid.”

Yes, His Grace indeed.

Robb Stark. The Young Wolf. King in the North. The perfect, prideful, problematic golden-child of Winterfell. Disgustingly honorable, as thick-skulled and dim-witted as men are made– His Grace was quick of wrath but slow of thought, ineffably maddening. (Okay, perhaps that last bit was a mite unfair. Robb was a smart lad, he was just positively awful when it came to understanding the obvious.)

And yet how I will miss that scoundrel if he dies.

If he died…Lady Catelyn would be devastated. She might even lose her head in more than the metaphorical sense, for death was the penalty of a traitor. Arya and Sansa as well…and probably Bran and Rickon too. Everything was on Robb’s shoulders, on the shoulders of his soldiers, now. Perhaps that was why they’d won every battle they fought– the northern army had so much more to lose than the Lannisters if they were defeated.

“My lady?” (y/n) began hesitantly, fiddling with the bodice of her gown.


“When do you suppose the men will be back?”

Lady Catelyn sighed, and in a moment’s time she seemed to age twenty years. “I don’t know. Could be moments, could be hours, could be– wait.”

The sound of hoofbeats filled the air, and (y/n) got her answer.

Back at Winterfell, when (y/n) thought about war and battles, she’d thought that the hardest part would be sending the men and boys off to fight. She was woefully, dreadfully wrong. It was seeing them coming back in bits and pieces instead of whole–it was smelling the shit and gore and death that followed the men like a ghost– that was the hardest. As (y/n) stepped out of the tent, she was met with all that anew, and she fought the inevitable wave of nausea that came with it.

The Greatjon, Lord Bolton, Lord Karstark… Where’s Robb? He couldn’t possibly–
(Y/n) yelped as she caught herself from nearly stumbling over Grey Wind, Robb’s direwolf, who snarled, his bloody maw pulling back to reveal even bloodier teeth.
(Y/n) put her hands on her hips. “You listen to me, you little shit pup, I’ll not be growled at by some mutt who thinks he’s got a whiff of fresh meat. If you bite me, I’ll beat you bloody for it and I won’t even taste any good for all your trouble.”

“(Y/n), (y/n). Are you threatening my direwolf?”

(Y/n) closed her eyes, but it was all in vain. Apparently Robb could still see her even if she couldn’t see him.

“Yes, Ro– Your Grace, because the mongrel growled at me,” she huffed, turning to face her king. “He doesn’t like me, and I won’t have him being rude and ungentlemanly. Can’t have your men thinking he’s less than tame.”

Robb rolled his eyes– the same eyes as his mother’s. They shone like gems in the sun, with all the gentleness of his mother and a masculinity that was all his own.
(Y/n) wanted very, very badly to punch him in the throat.

“For a handmaiden, you sure don’t act very–”

“I’m sure I’m a flawed woman, Your Grace, with many faults in many different areas,” (y/n) snapped, tired of the small talk. “You have my sincerest apologies for threatening and insulting your wolf. Would you mind pointing me in the direction of my brother so that I may relieve you of my obviously burdensome presence?”

Perhaps it was a flash of pain in Robb’s eyes in that moment. Maybe it was anger, or confusion, perhaps. Whatever the case, the emotion was gone in a second, and the King in the North pointed across the camp.

“Should be that way. Good day.”

“Good day, Your Grace.”

(Y/n) wanted to laugh. How perfectly daft.
She was an only child.

Several days later….

Robb was having a very, very bad day.
The Kingslayer was gone, escaped. The single most valuable bargaining chip he’d had slipped right through his fingers in the course of a night. What was worse, he’d had his mother, who had willing confessed to the crime, arrested for it. And to top it off all, his cock was achingly hard for the, what was it…fourth or fifth time today? He’d lost count. Battles always left him that way, and he’d had no chance to gain any relief, not with that bloody handmaiden of his mother’s taunting him, making him feel a thrice-damned fool every second they spoke and then, as though torture in the daylight hours wasn’t enough, lurking about at night, walking from tent to tent doing only the gods knew what.

“Probably fuckin’ ev’ry man ‘as willin’,” Robb heard some of the men speculating. “No other reason for prowlin’ about. Wish she’d give me a try any’ow. Never comes by my tent.”

That notion made him angrier than it probably should have. It was none of his business, really, who (y/n) spent her nights with. He was promised to another woman– to a Frey of the Twins. (A woman he’d never so much as seen, but a woman no less.) And, in any case, (y/n) was a foul thing, if fair to look at. It seemed she would rather spit venom at him than even consider that he might be a decent bloke on most days. And that self-righteous Your Grace of hers was as cold, mocking, and disrespectful as a drunk in a sept. She was awful, scathing, and prideful. Seven hells, she’d even made up a brother to avoid talking with him!

So why did he care so much about what anyone thought or said of her?

Not important, Stark, Robb told himself as he walked into his private tent, securing the flap. You’ve got other plans tonight.
Talisa was the plan, actually, but his mother would never have to know.

Talisa, Talisa. There she was, laying across his table, looking at him with those dark, reflective eyes. Foreign, beautiful, intelligent, sweet– she was everything a man could want. Robb knew he should feel guilty, laying with a woman that was not his wife, but his gonads were going to shrivel up and fall off if he didn’t put them to some use. And who better to suit his needs than this beauty? In the golden glow of the lanterns, she could be a goddess.
Just as Robb began unlacing his breeches, the flap of his tent was ripped gracelessly, violently open.

“Pardon my intrusion, Your Grace, but I must have a word with you alone. A message from your lady mother.”

And just that quickly, Robb went from spending stolen moments with a goddess to the devil’s daughter herself.

Once Talisa left, Robb rounded on the handmaiden with somewhat undue frustration. “What is so important that you barge into my tent unannounced, without permission?” he demanded, crossing his arms. “I certainly hope it was important, for your sake.”

Without so much as a blink, (y/n) sat at the table and rested her elbows on it so that she could fold her fingers together. Her (e/c) eyes flickered in the lantern-light, and in that moment she had the look of vile enchantress, full of malevolence and rage.

“Oh, it’s of paramount importance, I assure you, Your Grace,” she intoned softly, her words a dagger behind the silk of her voice. “It’s a message about maintenance of a kingdom. The reputation of a king, the adherence to an agreement made only weeks ago. I’m sure you remember now that I’ve said something. I’m only here to remind you of it, Your Grace.”

Realization didn’t so much as come to Robb as sock him right in the balls. “You did that on purpose!” he exclaimed, incredulous.
“Did what on purpose, Your Grace?” (Y/n) asked innocently. “I do everything on purpose unless it’s an accident.”

Robb felt blood rise to his cheeks. “You– you knew about Talisa, and you came in here under false pretenses–”

“And who said my pretenses were false, Your Grace?” (y/n) snapped, slamming her hands on the table. “Lady Catelyn gave me my instructions long ago. I’m making sure you don’t do anything stupid and throw away a kingdom. Your Grace.”

“It was only for a night,” Robb replied, walking to the table until he leaned over it threateningly. “I’m a king– I think I have some right to my pleasures. I’m not married yet, and can do as I please.”

(Y/n) scoffed, her lashes fluttering against her cheek in a way that should not be so alluring in the middle of her total and complete disregard for his authority. “That’s the problem with kings– always thinking they have a right to this or that. Let me tell you this, King in the North– you only have a right to what your people give you, only for as long as they freely give it, and you have been given a wife. Not a whore, not some random stranger that you’ll fall head-first in love with. A wife.”

“Damn you, woman.” Robb felt guilt claw at his chest, but he could do nothing but stare at this bold, foolish handmaiden who seemed to think she knew everything. That her language could cost her life now seemed of little consequence to (y/n), and Robb fought the urge to threaten her with it purely for the sake of their childhood acquaintance.

“Your mother told me to keep you from doing anything stupid,” (y/n) began again, somewhat more gently. “And she also told me to– to offer an alternative, Your Grace.”

Robb froze. Surely not…

“If you are so weak-willed that your cock controls you and not your brain, I might not be much but I’m what you’ve got.” (E/c) eyes bore into his own, and Robb felt as though he might be sick.

“No. You and my mother have gone mad if you think that I would take you against your will to save face for some treaty made with a crusty old codger that would trade half of his children for a milk cow,” Robb ground out, folding his arms. “I’m insulted that you both think so little of me. I had thought I seemed more honorable than that.”

“Oh, gods help, I’ve ruffled the peacock’s feathers” (y/n) snarked, rolling her eyes that shone with light from the lantern flame near her face. “You’re insulted by everything. Why would you assume it would be against my will, hmm, Your Grace? Shouldn’t I be chomping at the bits to get to fuck a king?”

She really has gone mad, Robb thought, slightly disturbed. “(y/n), really, you don’t know what you’re sayi–”

“For the sake of the gods, Robb Stark, stop telling me what I do and don’t know and listen to your mother. She sent me here because she was concerned and she asked me if I would offer an alternative. I said yes.” (Y/n)’s eyes were molten as she stood, walking around to the other side of the table. The silence that ensued was deafening, and Robb could hear his own heart pounding in his chest.

“Robb, you’re a handsome man and a king, and you might be useful for some things. Sometimes.” (Y/n) shook her head, as though clearing her thoughts. “Whatever. Don’t be a fool. I’ll do the north this one service. If you need to wet your willie, by the gods get it over with.”

Robb wanted to make some comment about how crude she was, to mock her or refuse her in some way, to find the strength to do the right thing, but he couldn’t manage more than to say, “And the lion becomes the lamb.”

Her hair was silky soft beneath his hands, and her eyes closed at his touch.

“Do you want this?” he breathed, looking for any signs of a lie. “If you don’t, I swear to you I won’t do anything ‘stupid’ as you say. I can control myself, but…if you’re willing, I would gladly use your company.”

“I want this,” was her only reply.


It never occurred to (y/n) how large Robb’s hands were. They were large enough to nearly wrap around her head when he held her face as they kissed. One of them wandered to the small of her back, pushing her into him so that she could feel the cock straining in his breeches, and (y/n) was no longer sure if she would be standing upright if she were supporting her own weight. Her sheer breathlessness alone would surely have left her crumpled on the floor– for Robb Stark did not kiss like a gentleman. He kissed like a street rat, like a fishmonger’s son, all taking and no giving, and he left no time for things such as breathing and swallowing.

“If… it helps you,” he breathed into (y/n)’s mouth, capturing her tongue. “You can pretend…I’m Jon. I know…you used to have feelings…for him.”

“Used to.” With all her might, (y/n) pushed away from Robb, gaining least a few inches of personal space. “Right now, there will be no pretending. We are what we are, and not all the pretending in the world can change that.”

Oh, the fire in those beautiful eyes of his at those words. Roughly, Robb snatched (y/n) to him and began to kiss at her neck…if one could call it kissing. (Y/n) felt as though she were being consumed as his teeth scraped her skin, and as his beard scratched at her neck, she decided that being consumed felt incredible. So distracted was she by Robb’s attentions to her neck that she didn’t even know his hands were up her skirt until her moved her knickers aside and touched her.

“Seven hells,” Robb swore, drawing back his hand. “You’re so wet…and for me. Not for anyone else– for me?”

(Y/n) nodded, a little surprised herself.
Robb brought his fingers and licked her wetness from them, using his other hand to rip off her dress.

“Ah, so the wolf does have claws,” (y/n) chuckled softly, unlacing Robb’s breeches. “I wonder if he’ll mount me like a bitch in heat.”

Robb growled at that, yanking off the last of her clothing. “You have quite a mouth, don’t you?”

“Your cock doesn’t seem to mind.”

“My cock doesn’t mind anything at the moment,” he confessed, pulling his shirt over his head. “Before I– before we do this…are you sure you want this? It’s not too late to back out.”

(Y/n) wanted to roll her eyes, but instead, she leaned close to Robb, her mouth at his ear and her breasts touching his chest, and whispered, “Yes, Your Grace.”

Swift and sure, Robb lifted her onto his lap by her bum and claimed her mouth again before leaning back on his hands.

“In here, I’m Robb. Not ‘Your Grace’ or any such nonsense. In here, with you, I’m just a man and you’re just a woman. No more, and no less.” He pursed his lips in thought for a moment. “No pretending, as you said.”

“Very well, Robb,” (y/n) said, rolling her hips. “It’s your roof, your rules.”

When he took her, it was fast and hard and without mercy. As soon as Robb entered her, he drew almost completely out and drove right back in, over and over and harder and faster. His hands were everywhere, his mouth drawing patterns in spit and red patched where he’d bit, and (y/n) was lost. She knew her nails were digging into his back but she didn’t care as long as he kept this pace. Her pleasure was building low in her stomach, and she came while Robb’s thrusts were still steady and showed no signs of stopping. She would come another time before his thrusts began to falter, becoming more erratic, signifying the coming of his release. Just before he did release, though, he pulled out and finished on her belly, leaving quite a mess between them.

“It seems,” he said, locking eyes with (y/n), “That someone here besides the wolf has claws.” He reached back to touch his shoulder, and his hand came up bloody.

“Excuse you, I was holding on for dear bloody life,” (y/n) challenged, folding her arms. “That was quite a way to lose my maidenhood, if I do say so myself.”

Robb went deathly pale, and (y/n) once more felt the urge to roll her eyes. It seemed to be a common theme with the King in the North.

“(Y/n), I had no idea, I’m so sorry–”

“Robb, if I’d wanted to be fucked like a virgin, I’d have told you I was a virgin,” (y/n) clarified, finding a cloth to wipe off with. “I wanted you to take what you wanted– needed– and you did. You have nothing to apologize for.”

For a moment, Robb was blissfully silent, and (y/n) could enjoy the view. The King of the North was truly beautiful, if a bit daft. He lay there completely naked, his perfect cock lying flaccidly on his sculpted belly, his rich, beautiful auburn hair curling messily atop his head like a crown. Even his skin seemed to glow a pleasant gold as it stretched around the corded muscles of his delicious thighs, his bulging arms. No word but perfect could describe him in that moment.
It was almost sad that (y/n) had to leave.
“If you’re finished for the night, Your Grace, then I will take my leave.”

As if in a daze, Robb nodded. “My name is Robb. Just Robb. Thought we agreed on that.”

“Fine,” (y/n) half-smiled, pulling on her clothes. “Goodnight, Robb.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Robb asked, rising to his feet.

“Is that what you want?”


(Y/n) smiled. “Then yes.”


The next morning, Robb thought surely that night had been a dream. The gashes on his back quickly proved otherwise.

What a woman, he thought as he bathed and dressed himself. She’s more wild than Grey Wind.

Throughout the day, Robb saw no sign of (y/n). It was as though she’d left the camp. Robb almost worried that she had, until night fell and she emerged from his mother’s tent like some night flower. She said nothing to him, didn’t even walk near him, but her eyes said it all.

Go, and I will follow.

As quickly as possible, Robb found an excuse to retire early to his tent, only to wait maddening moments more until (y/n) stepped in, silent as a shadow.

“Good evening, (y/n),” he greeted her softly, standing from his seat.

“Good evening, Robb. Your mother is distraught, you know,” she commented breezily, as though talking about the weather and not a very sensitive subject. “She worries you won’t forgive her.”

Robb walked closer to her, trying to quell his rage at being confronted. Breathe, Robb. “How can I forgive an act of treason?”

“How can you not forgive your mother?” (Y/n) shot back defensively. “Go to her. Tell her you still love her and that you forgive her. You don’t have to remove your guards or anything. Just ease her heart. She’s lost all her children but you, Robb.”

“Who are you to command me, in the affairs of my family and my kingdom no less?” Robb demanded, feeling a knot form in his stomach.

(Y/n) let her fingertips glide over the table, not meeting his eyes. “Just a woman.” She then looked up, fixing him with a hard glare. “Just a woman who won’t fuck you unless you make peace with your mother.”

“You think I need you? Need sex?”

“No. But I think you want it badly enough to do the right thing.”

Angrily, Robb stormed out of his tent, leaving (y/n) standing there by herself. He wanted to forgive his mother, he really did. He wanted to just forget all of it and go back to the way things were before, but he couldn’t. He was king now and he had to act like one. Keeping the respect of the men that were sworn to him was vital, and he couldn’t keep acting soft or he would lose that respect in an instant.

But she was his mother.

Damn that stupid girl, Robb grumbled to himself as he sought his mother’s tent. Why must she be so bloody right about everything?

When he entered Lady Catelyn’s tent, he found his mother crying, eyes red and cheeks swollen.

“Robb, I–”

“I love you, mother,” he interrupted her, walking to her side. “And I will always love you. I forgive you, but…I can’t do anything to outwardly show that forgiveness. To the men you’re–”

“A traitor, I know,” Catelyn sighed. “I’m sorry Robb, I truly am, but I’d do it again a thousand times over if it meant the safety of your sisters.”

Robb wanted very badly to cry. He felt as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and more than ever he wished that anyone other than himself were king.

“I know. And I respect that,” he sighed. “I just don’t understand it.”

“One day, when you have children, you will,” his mother replied, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. “Get some sleep, love. You’ll need your strength.”

When Robb returned to his tent, he found (y/n) lying down, already naked.

“I trust your visit went well?” She teased, sitting up with all the grace of a cat.

“It did. Thank you– you were right,” he admitted, somewhat reluctantly.

“Oh ho ho, I must be dreaming,” (Y/n) laughed. “Robb Stark, admitting that someone was right besides himself? Unheard of!”

“Oh, shove off. We have other things to worry about, don’t you think?”

(Y/n) nodded with a graceful smile. “How will it be tonight? Like last night? Fast and wild?”

Robb shook his head, smiling despite himself. “I was thinking more slow and intense. I want to thank you for your…patience, last night. You were treated rather roughly, and I want to show you that I’m not all carnivorous beast.”

“Interesting. Show me.”

Oh, and he did.

First, he kissed her and languidly explored her body with lips, tongue, and teeth. That in itself was rewarding if only for the wonderful sounds she made when he dipped his head between her thighs and brought her so close to the edge that she nearly cried when he pulled away.

“Oh gods, Robb,” she cried as he gathered her in his arms. “I can’t– I want–”

“Shh,” he soothed her, threading his fingers through her hair. “I want you to come on my cock, again, and again, and again…as many times as your body will allow.”

Her beautiful (e/c) eyes went wide. “What about–”

“I can handle myself,” he chuckled. “Tonight is about you. Tell me truly, (y/n)– do you know how bloody arousing it is to know that you’re bedding a girl brave enough, wild enough, to threaten a direwolf?”

Again, those lashes fluttered against her flushed cheeks, and Robb’s heart threatened to stop.

“Do you know how arousing it is to be bedded by the King in the North? By the man that other men all but worship?” (y/n) asked as he entered her. “That isn’t something any woman could boast of.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch, the worship part,” Robb chuckled nervously, ever modest.

“Is it? Or are you talking about my cunt?”

After that, there was no more talking. All of Robb’s attention went to his lovemaking. In a way, he supposed the moans, the sighs, and the gasps were a language of their own. They certainly served a purpose in communication of some form. In any case, the only real words that were said before he came were from (y/n), and they were the sweetest words he’d heard all day.

“Inside me…Finish inside me. I want–oh gods.”

Robb didn’t need to be told twice.
A few moments after it was all over, (y/n) moved to stand, presumably to leave, but Robb trapped her in his arms.

“Stay,” he rasped. It wasn’t quite a question, but wasn’t quite a command either.

It was an invitation.
“But your mother–”

“Doesn’t need you as much as I want you.”

For a beat, there was silence, and Robb though that (y/n) might leave anyway.

She didn’t.

That night, he slept the best he had in months.


(Y/n) always swore she’d never let a man make a fool of her, but she’d be damned if she wasn’t a fool for Robb Stark.

It had been months since (y/n) had started sleeping in his tent, and she found herself wishing she hadn’t. Of course, she enjoyed it– (y/n) had learned to love chasing pleasure as much as anyone– but she began to enjoy it too much. The kisses they shared were still savage and passionate, but they were now also sweet and tender beneath the roughness. The sex became more than just something to satisfy needs– it became loving and powerful beyond words. (Y/n) was becoming too attached, too emotionally invested. She dared not think of what that implied, and she certainly dared not think that he could feel in any way the same.

For the sake of the realm, she prayed to the old gods and the new that he did not.

Love had always come with difficulty to (y/n). It seemed that no matter where she looked for it, it was denied to her, and when it wasn’t, well…it seemed her affections were ill-placed. She always loved the beasts, the bastards, and the broken things, all of which she either could not have or did not want. It was maddening.

Not to mention the insidious monster that is man’s love of scandal and gossip.

Lady Catelyn began to question (y/n)’s absence from her tent in the night immediately after the first night (y/n) spent with Robb Of course, when asked, (y/n) told her the truth, and Catelyn only smiled.

“Serve him well, dear. You’ve always been strong-willed, so I trust you’ll be able to keep him in line better than I will.”

(Y/n) felt the need to say that her sway over Robb didn’t come from her will so much as a tight grip on his balls, but that seemed somehow inappropriate.

But there were others whispering besides Lady Catelyn, and (y/n) knew it. They whispered awful things. Things that were completely and utterly true, for the most part.

It bothered Robb.

“They call you a whore,” Robb told her one night, angry and self-righteous as always. “They have no right to call you anything, least of all a whore.”

“No,” (y/n) replied with a grin. “You don’t pay me a single copper. That makes me a slut, not a whore.”

Oh, how angry he’d been at that. (Y/n) could still feel his handprint on her bum if she thought about it hard enough. She smiled at the memory, and stopped as soon as she realized how fond she was of Robb. This had to stop, this warm, bright feeling in her chest. (Y/n) couldn’t go on like this– it would kill her when he married that Frey girl if it did.

Things had to change, or something horrible was bound to happen. (Y/n) couldn’t allow herself to walk along with Robb where she was allowed to follow, prattling on about this or that. She had to stop poking fun at him, kissing him frivolously whenever they were alone, treating him like she would a lover.

It was going to hurt worse than the seven hells combined, but (y/n) could not allow herself to love.


Robb had never felt like this, not even that one time with that whore from Lys.

“Oh seven hells– bloody fuck, girl. Ah–stop, gods, are you trying to–”

“Suck your brain out through your cock? Yes.” (y/n) smiled cheekily.

Robb took her face in his hands and kissed her soundly as he positioned himself at her entrance. “I love you, you foolish girl.”

As it turned out, Robb was the fool, as usual. (Y/n) went completely still against him and looked him straight in the eyes.

“Don’t say that, Robb. Especially not if you mean it.” Her voice was as cold as the Wall, and Robb fought off the urge to shiver even as his body flushed in preparation for his confession.

“But I do love you,” he murmured, brushing the hair from her face. “You must know that.”

“I didn’t. Even so, it doesn’t matter– you’re promised to a Frey, remember. That’s why I’m here.”

“(Y/n), I don’t think you understand,” Robb sighed as he pushed into her. “I would call off that agreement in a heartbeat for you, if you felt the same, damn the consequences– do you? Feel the same?”

Robb’s whole world collapsed with just two words.

“I don’t.”

Robb swallowed. “Look at me. Look me in the eyes and say you don’t love me.”

(E/c) eyes met his own, hard as Valyrian steel. “I don’t love you. You will marry that Frey girl, and she’ll whelp you litters and litters of little wolf pups for the north to dote over,” (y/n) spat bitterly. “I don’t love you. Never will, Robb. I’m sorry.”

“So be it,” he murmured, his chest physically aching. “Leave me.”

(Y/n) moved away, standing to dress.“Yes, Your Grace.”

Robb caught her hands before she could move them, and he stared into her eyes as she looked down at him. “My name is Robb to you. Always.”

Without another word, she left.

Robb’s heart hurt so badly that he could not even cry for fear that he would shatter like glass.


(Y/n) could do nothing but cry. Her own words echoed in her head and stabbed her in the gut every time she thought them.
I don’t love you. I don’t love you. I don’t love you.

The gods had given (y/n) a gift for lying. She could do so without hesitation, spinning tale after tale until she had convinced the world that the sky was red and the clouds were piss-green. Sometimes, she almost fooled even herself.

And now, thanks to that, Robb Stark thought she didn’t love him when he was the only thing she wanted and would ever want again.

It was incredibly good of Lady Catelyn not to question her– the sweet Lady of Winterfell only rubbed soothing circles on (y/n)’s back as she cried, occasionally whispering words of comfort. (Y/n) would never be able to thank her enough for that– without the comfort Lady Catelyn provided, (y/n) would surely have done something foolish. Likely, she would have fled back to Robb’s tent, begged his forgiveness, and told him the truth. Then he would, what, throw away a kingdom for her? There was no way in the seven hells she’d see that happen, and yet…for love, she just might have. The whole concept terrified (y/n)– she’d never had anything that she would watch the seven kingdoms burn for.

The things she would do for love…


Robb had never been more miserable in his life. All day, every day, he had only one thought, one all-consuming wish– he longed for the night and the woman he would spend it with. And all night, every night, when he was with his love, he longed to be apart from her, for being with her gave him as much agony as being without her, knowing that she didn’t love him. It had been two months since (y/n) had smashed his heart to bits, and every day since then seemed worse than the last. The only moment he found peace was when he was making love to her, letting his hands roam her body as hers roamed his. Nothing else existed then– when they were together like that, there were no secrets, no lies, no playing pretend. Only the truth remained between them.

(Robb wasn’t sure what the truth was, but it was all he had, and he clung to it like a drowning man to a plank.)

Tonight’s moment of truth had been short, but not so sweet. It left Robb feeling more hollow than before, if that was still possible, and it felt like mockery.

As he got up to put out the lanterns, Robb afforded one last look at (y/n), who lay sprawled across his furs for the moment. She was the very picture of a queen, with skin as smooth as silk and twice as shiny with sweat.

In a few minutes more, she would leave. He would beg her to stay, kiss her and hold her and beg as much as a king can, but still she would go. The next night would be a repeat of this one, and the next, and the next, in an endless cycle of pain and pleasure, of misery and miracles.

Eddard Stark, Robb’s father, used to tell him that if he loved something, to let it go. If it came back, Lord Stark said, it loved him back.

(That was the only lie Robb’s father had ever told him. Every night, faithfully, (y/n) always came back, but she did not love him.)

Just as Robb laid down once more, (y/n) stood, pulling on her clothes.

“Don’t go.”

“Is that a command, Your Grace?”

“A request. One I make every night, and every night, you refuse me.” Robb didn’t bother to hide the pain and accusation in his voice. He was useless at being subtle anyhow. “Stay with me, my love.”

“Robb, I am not ‘your love’ and I can’t stay because if I do I’ll–”

(Y/n) froze but for shaking her head as she pressed her lips together.

“You’ll what?” Robb asked, leaning up. “What is it?”

It was difficult to see, but after a moment Robb saw that (Y/n)’s sweet, precious eyes were filled with tears, and, unable to stay away, he went to her, wiping her tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

“I can’t do this,” she sobbed, looking up at him with pain in her eyes. “I just can’t, it hurts too much and I’m n-not strong enough–”

Robb gathered (y/n) into his arms, and she sobbed violently into his chest– it was the screaming sort of sobbing, the kind that came from only the most acute pain. Robb wished he could take it all away, wished he could take on all her burdens, all her cares– his heart ached at the thought of her pain.

“Sh, there, dove. My sweet, sweet queen, don’t cr– oomph.”

She shoved him. That little wildcat shoved him from her. At first, Robb was angry, but (y/n) had stumbled so far backwards that she’d fallen into a heap on the floor, where she looked up at him pitifully.

“Don’t call me that. Call me anything but queen, Robb, please.” her voice was so raw and broken…it scared the shit out of him.

Before, either of them could react, though, one of the guards asked permission to enter, saying he had urgent news. Once he’d put his breeches on, Robb invited him in, and the guard wore a grim expression.

“A raven came, your grace. The Twins were invaded last night, and every last Frey was slaughtered in the struggle. Here’s the message, written in the hand of Lord Tywin Lannister himself.”

Robb read the letter six times over before he truly began to believe it. Every last Frey, gone…Robb knew he should feel something– grief, joy, whichever– but he felt only numbness.

“Thank you for informing me, ser. See that you tell each of the lords and arrange a meeting of the war council at first light.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The guard bowed, and once again the two lovers were alone.

The tent was silent as a tomb.

“I no longer have to marry,” Robb thought aloud. “I don’t know if I should be happy about that or not.”


“Robb?” (y/n) sniffled from the ground, clutching her legs to her body.

“Yes?” He answered hesitantly from the bed, where she had all but ordered him to stay while she cried.

“Will you– will you hold me?”

“Of course.” He walked over, scooped her up, and carried her to his furs, where he lay with her, their bodies entwined.

“Robb? Do you still love me?”

Robb frowned bitterly. “You ask me that as if I could stop.”

“Truly, you do love me? Still?”

She knew that would make Robb angry, but she needed to know beyond doubt. (Y/n) was so afraid that her heart felt nigh to bursting. She hoped Robb couldn’t feel her whole body tremble as she was pressed against him by one of his strong, powerful legs.

“Yes. For as long as I still have breath, I will love you.”

“Even if I lied to you?” she asked, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “Even if I hurt you because I thought it was the right thing to do?”

“(Y/n) what are you saying?” Robb demanded as he sat up, his hair sticking up in a thousand different directions.

“I’m saying that I lied, I’m saying that I hurt you, I’m saying that I’m sorry, but most of all, I’m saying…I’m–” (y/n) struggled to speak through her tears, and failed miserably.

“Saying what, dear one?” he prompted, kissing her temple.

“That I love you.” she whimpered softly.
“I love you, Robb, I really, truly do, I love you more than I have ever loved anyone ever before and–”

Robb stopped her with a hand. “You love me?”

“Yes, Robb, I love you,” (y/n) replied, all but falling into his deep cerulean eyes. “I lied, before, when you first asked me. I didn’t want you to call off that marriage and destroy everything that you’ve worked so hard to build and I–”

Robb cut her off with a bruising kiss, all but throwing her on her back with his knees on either side of her. He looked like an animal, a predator, ready for the kill. He loomed over (y/n), his eyes searching hers, and he must have found what he was looking for, because he kissed her, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth as though looking for answers to the universe.

“I will make you my queen,” he growled into her ear, literally ripping off her dress. “You will bear me litters and litters of wolf pups, not some inbred southern woman. If you love me as you say you do, I will make you my queen, my wife.”

“Yes, Robb,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering shut as he took her for the third time that night. “All of that, I want it all.”

You’ll have one of those pups you were talking about a little sooner than you planned, (y/n) thought giddily to herself, but she didn’t see any reason to ruin Robb’s fun with the announcement.

“Say you love me.” That was not a request, but (y/n) found herself unable to care.
“I love you. I’ll always love you, Robb. Now and forever.”

The two of them climaxed together, and Robb stayed inside her, filling her to the hilt the whole night through.

(Y/n) never slept better.


“Pregnant? Pregnant. Okay, okay, you’re pregnant, seven hells… We’re going to be parents!”

“Robb, darling, seriously. This is our fifth child.”

“So? It’s just as exciting as the first time,” Robb laughed, smiling so wide his face hurt.

(Y/n) smiled the kind of smile that he lived to see. “And does that mean you have to say the exact same words you’ve said the last four times I told you I was pregnant?”

“Yes, absolutely. Because nothing else sums it up as well.” Robb’s heart filled with joy and pride and he touched (y/n)’s stomach. “Maybe another girl this time? Three’s a lucky number…”

“You just love to spoil your daughters,” (y/n) laughed, looking over to where Lyanna and Brienne played in the trees. “They’re as wild as you were.”

“Or maybe another son…Ned and Jon need someone to pick on besides one another,” Robb laughed, watching the boys spar. “Either way, when it comes down to it, their Aunt Sansa is the worst at spoiling them. Even worse than mother, and that’s saying something.”

“I still can’t believe I’m mother to little princes and princesses. I can’t believe I’m wife to a king,” (y/n) smiled wistfully. “I never dreamed of amounting to much. Now look at me. Queen of the North.”

“Darling, you were always queen. It was only that no one knew that but you,” Robb japed.

“Shut up,” (y/n) smirked, elbowing him.

“That’s not fair. I can’t elbow you back because you’re pregnant. Oh my gods, you’re pregnant.”


“Yes?” He grinned cheekily.

“Shut up.”

Robb laughed. “Never.”

(Y/n) leaned into his kiss, and thanked the gods as she did every day for the wonder that was her husband.

Long live the King in the North.

AO3 link:

diego luna films i've seen rated by his moments in them
  • Y Tu Mama Tambien: He is a main character and in almost every scene. Wow. You see so much, possibly TOO much of Diego, so watch out if you're a minor or just don't like sexual scenes in films. Definite gay vibes with co-star played by childhood best friend Gael García Bernal. There's a wonderful and powerful confrontation scene between the two men around an hour in, Diego's acting is WOAH. And everyone thought he was the ugly one, we were so wrong. AND SO MUCH SPANISH. The phrase 'no mames' is uttered approximately 178 times. 9/10
  • Frida: Salma Hayek plays artist Frida Kahlo in this unique film. Diego plays her young lover Alex in the beginning of the movie; they have sex in a closet at some point, wild. Their relationship is cut short after a tragic bus accident which leaves Frida crippled. He brings her flowers and they break up, and Diego's role is finished. But I just had to keep watching because of how special the cinematography of this film is! The bus accident is so well directed it blew my mind. I don't know enough about Frida Kahlo to know how accurate this film was, but it was certainly a once-in-a-lifetime experience. But since this is a list about Diego, low points ought to be given. He really isn't in this movie a lot. Let's see, 2/10.
  • Havana Nights: A true cinematic treasure. Also known as the worst movie you will ever see and you will love every second of it. Bad script, zero plot - but Diego does his best and fucking nails every moment in this film, carries it on his back. Apparently no one told him that he was supposed to act robotic, so everything he does is sweet and natural and he makes it look easy. All the while dancing himself into Castro-era Cuba, which he does SO well that Jonathan Jackson, who is supposed to be his romantic rival, actually seems TURNED ON whenever he sees Diego dance. Nice. Sweaty group-dance sequences, cutish one-liners. Actually makes out with dance partner Romola Garai in front of her PARENTS, after a very erotic dance routine, like how savage. 10/10
  • The Terminal: Diego plays airport employee who befriends Tom Hanks, and probably charms the pants off him, because he is wonderful in this secondary role. During the 2 hours of this film, all he wears is a jumpsuit/uniform and makes it look like a fashion statement. Has quite a lot of one-on-one scenes with The Tom Hanks himself, and is in love with Zoe Saldana, which is sweet, if not a bit generic chasing the girl type of thing. There's a scene where he absent-mindedly starts speaking Spanish to Tom Hanks who of course doesn't understand him, and Diego's very very cute about it. LO AND BEHOLD: one hour in, he changes into a suit while pouring Catherine Zeta-Jones too much wine. A breathtaking moment. 6/10
  • Mister Lonely: A very strange film about celebrity imitators. Diego plays a Michael Jackson impersonator in the film, his voice and looks imitating the singer and dancer. The movie introduces us to a surreal world of people living the lives of the famous people they dress up as, blurring the line between impersonating and becoming. He's rather in the center in the first and last bit of the movie, but the focus shifts in the middle with the story of "Marilyn" and "Charlie Chaplin". This film is a true risk-taker, which means it's not for the masses. Very thought-provoking though! 7/10
  • Milk: Diego plays Sean Penn's gay lover, and he's only in this movie for a short period of time. Kind of mentally unstable in this role, he tells Sean Penn he loves him without actually knowing what his name is. The movie deals with gay rights and is set in the 1970s, resulting in everyone having funny hair. This is an important LGBT film, but I hate Sean Penn, so there you have it. He is admittedly a skilled actor though. However, the lack of Diego in the majority of this film has to mean low points. 3/10
  • Rudo y Cursi: Another Diego-Gael movie. This time, it's about football. This is an excellent and very sad film set in Mexico that discusses the world of professional football playing. Diego is very different both in looks and in character from how he is in his other films - it's like he's a different person! That says a lot about his acting skills really. This film is also in Spanish, Diego shouts a lot (and very well too) and calls everyone 'chinga' and 'güey'. 8/10
  • The Book of Life: What a film! This animated feature has Diego portray main character Manolo Sanchez and makes you swoon basically. Since he's present in voice-acting only, you don't get to see his pretty face, BUT his voice is gorgeous both in speaking and in singing. A lot of songs are sung by Diego in this movie, and it's so so good. The Apology Song made me cry. Fun fact: Zoe Saldana is once again a love interest to Diego in this film, and their duet No Matter Where You Are is short but earth-shattering. 9/10
  • Casanova: Yep, Diego plays Giacomo Casanova in this TV movie, so you get the idea. It's about Casanova starting over in Paris, but things do not go well. Diego is very charming and rather authentic as Casanova. He makes out with women and climbs on rooftops in heels. Lots of close-ups to his face, I approve. However, this film confuses me. It's set in France, yet people speak with a British accent, except for Diego of course, who speaks with a Mexican accent BOTH in English and in Italian. The latter bothered me a bit, seeing as he is supposed to be a native Italian. All that aside, his performance is overall lovely. This film also has nice cinematography and a pretty solid script. Lots and lots of Diego seducing not-so-innocent maidens. 10/10
  • Rogue One: The greatest movie you will ever see. Diego has the role he deserves as he steals all our hearts as Captain Cassian Andor. You guys know the scene he gets all wet in the rain and then loads his gun on the ship? Sign me up. Warning: you WILL cry. 100/10

anonymous asked:

Can you do one where harry is your husband and is oblivious to the fact that your "friends" Mistreat you and you just don't say anything because they're the only friends you have left And harry finds out one day and it's a lot of loving from him Pleaaaaase I'm dying to read something like this

I’m so sorry this took forever and I think it might be a piece of shit? I hope you like it though!


“True Friend”


You were sitting on the corner of the couch, surrounded by your friends who were supposed to be over for a movie night. After moving in with Harry and starting a new job, it had been pretty difficult to get to know new people. He had encouraged you to start hanging out with some girls from work so you weren’t so lonely when he was gone for the day, so you’d invited them out for dinner one night and things had progressed from there. But not necessarily in a good way.

You had always been paranoid that people didn’t like you. The slightest glare or sarcastic comment had you worrying that there was just something about you people had a problem with. However, this was different; these girls pretended they wanted to hang out when all they really cared about was belittling you. You weren’t sure if you really hadn’t caught on until recently, or if you were just in denial the whole time.

“Let’s just save the movie for another night and head to the bar!” One of them suggested, and the others cheered in agreement. Your heart sank, because you’d put a lot of planning into that movie night and hoped it would help change their minds and show them that you were just as ‘cool’ as they were.

You tried to protest, but it seemed that once the idea of getting drunk off their asses was in their minds, they weren’t going to be able to let it go.

“I mean, we can just go without you. It’s not like you’ll be much fun, since you’re in a ‘committed’ relationship and everything. I mean, you usually don’t get much attention from guys anyway.”

The way they all giggled after the last comment made you wonder what else had been said about you behind your back. As much as you didn’t want to let it affect you, their words stung. You were in an even worse mood now than you had been before, and you definitely didn’t want to spend any more time around them, so you halfheartedly told them to head out without you. They were out the door within minutes, leaving you alone to pick up the empty soda cans and rethink your idea of ordering pizza for dinner.

It wasn’t long before Harry came home, and he tentatively walked down the hallway expecting to see a big group of girls giggling on the couch. Instead, he found you curled up in a blanket alone while he tossed his keys onto the kitchen table.

“Where is everyone?”

You put on the most realistic smile you could manage, and turned around to meet his confused gaze.

“They decided to head to a bar.”

“You didn’t want to go?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, trying not to let on that anything was wrong.

“I’m just tired, that’s all. I wasn’t in the mood for drinking tonight.” You lied. You weren’t in the mood for drinking, that was true, but only because you got the feeling they didn’t want you to go anyway. Your time at the bar most likely would’ve been filled with their nasty comments, and you probably would’ve been forced to stand alone while they danced with anyone they could get their hands on.

Harry sat down next to you and cautiously placed his hand on your leg, studying the look on your face. He could tell you weren’t happy, but he didn’t really consider the fact that your 'friends’ were the reason you had seemed a little off lately. He’d believed you when you insisted that you were just stressed and overwhelmed after the move.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” He asked.

You nodded convincingly and looked into his caring eyes. You knew you wouldn’t be able to resist breaking down if you stayed close to him much longer, so you quickly stood up off the couch before tears could well up and made your way to the kitchen before you spoke again.

“I was planning to get pizza for everyone, do you want me to order some for just us?”

He gave his approval and you were quick to dial the phone number before Harry could ask you what was wrong again. By the time you were off the phone, though, he was standing in front of you with his hands on his hips.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” He prodded. He had a serious expression on his face, but you knew by the look in his eyes that he was genuinely concerned.

“Baby, I’m fine. Just bummed I didn’t get to watch that movie.” You joked, managing a small laugh as you turned back to him and smiled.

You knew he wasn’t entirely convinced, but he could tell that you didn’t want him to press it any further. If something was really wrong, he was confident that you’d tell him whenever you were ready.

“We can still watch the movie.” He suggested quietly, not waiting for an answer before he went to spread some blankets and comfier pillows over the couch.

You managed to watch the entire movie without being distracted by the situation from earlier, but the ringtone of your phone made the bitter feeling come back again. You answered the phone as cheerfully as you could, not totally surprised when you recognized the slurred voices of the girls you were trying to forget about.

You managed to decipher their speech enough to know that they needed a ride home, and of course they hadn’t hesitated to call you and use you as their chauffer.

“I’ve gotta go pick them up, they’re wasted.” You sighed, pushing your blanket aside as you unhappily unraveled yourself from Harry’s arms.

“Do you want me to go with you?”

You quickly shook your head as you slipped on your jacket and shoes, assuring him you’d be fine and it shouldn’t take more than an hour. Truthfully, you were just afraid of what they’d say to you now that the last little sliver of good judgement had been taken away by alcohol, and you didn’t want Harry to know that the only friends you made since moving here weren’t friends at all. It was almost like you failed.

The drive to the bar wasn’t long, and as soon as it came into view you could see the familiar figures standing outside. They clumsily piled into your car, giggling while they all tried to speak at once.

“What are you wearing?” One of them asked from the back seat, and you sighed when you realized you hadn’t changed out of Harry’s shirt and sweatpants before you left. You certainly wouldn’t hear the end of it, but you hoped none of them would remember by the next morning.

“Hey, that’s Harry’s shirt! I’m surprised it fits you! He’s so thin and you’re… not.”
They all erupted in laughter and you tried to take a few deep breaths as you drove off. The entire car ride was filled with their snide comments and them constantly trying to talk over eachother’s slurs.

It seemed like it took hours to drop them all off, but you were on your way home in record time when you finally let some tears fall. You couldn’t believe these were the only people you could call friends. There was nobody else you’d met that seemed remotely interested in talking to you, and you were terrified you’d have to spend the rest of your life with no one else but those girls to spend time with.

You drove around the block a few times while you tried to calm down, but it finally become clear that you had no choice but to tell Harry. It would be much too painful to keep this inside forever, and knowing Harry, he’d probably know exactly what to do.

You unlocked the door, wiping a few tears from your cheeks but deciding you wouldn’t bother trying to hide the fact that you were upset. As you stepped inside, Harry rounded the corner.

“I made some ice cream sundaes if you want to- hey…” He immediately frowned when he saw your tear stained cheeks and sad eyes.

You sniffled as he walked over to you and tilted his head a bit while he waited for you to say something. What he didn’t expect was for you to fling yourself into him, but he was quick to wrap his strong arms around you and hold on tight.
Once your cries and sniffles had quieted down a little, he kept you tightly pressed to him while he looked down at you and spoke.

“What’s wrong?” He asked carefully, afraid to set you off into another round of crying if you tried to explain. By now, he was pretty sure he knew the source of your sadness lately but he didn’t want to push you any farther than you were ready for at the moment. You backed up to look up at him but quickly avoided his gaze.

“I think I need to talk to you about something.”

You could see him tense a little, because you knew it always scared him whenever you acted serious about things like this. You were generally a pretty laid back person, so if there was something you really needed to speak to him about, it usually meant it was a pretty big deal.

He slung his arm around you as he led you to the couch and invited you to sit on his lap. You cuddled into Harry’s chest and his arms held you close to his body, while he rested his cheek on top of your head.

“This is about the girls, isn’t it?” He finally prodded. All he got in response was a teary eyed look from you, and he knew he was right when the wetness threatened to spill down your cheeks again. He stared at you sadly, wiping a few tears that fell before you were ready to speak.

“They’re not my real friends, Harry.” You sniffled, leaning back against him as you watched for a reaction. He nodded slowly, rubbing his hand gently up and down your back.

“You could’ve told me.”

You frowned as you turned to look at him again and saw his eyes filled with complete concern and sadness.

“I know, but I just.. I have no friends, Harry!” You whined, hiding your face in his neck while the emotions seemed to hit you all over again.

If his heart wasn’t broken already, it definitely was now. Obviously he’d meant no harm when he encouraged you to make friends, and he never wanted you to feel down about yourself if things didn’t work out as expected.

“Baby, no, it’s okay. Don’t cry over them.”

He held you tight until you had calmed down again. He didn’t want to ask what was said during the car ride, and he didn’t want to know what else they’d put in your head over the past month. So you both sat in silence for a while until you finally looked up at him.

“I don’t want you hanging around them anymore, okay?”

You normally would’ve argued, but you knew you’d be much happier if you never had to see them outside of work again. Now that the barrier had been broken and Harry knew the truth about them, there was no sense in keeping up the charade that you actually enjoyed their company.

Your comment from a few minutes earlier hadn’t been forgotten; he kept hearing you say “I have no friends” over and over again in his head and it was making his heart hurt.

“And I don’t ever want to hear you say you have no friends, okay?” His voice had the sweetest, most gentle tone possible and when you opened your mouth to speak, he knew exactly what you were going to say. So when it slipped out that you really didn’t have any friends, he had the perfect response.

“You’ve got me.” He argued, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“I know it’s not the same, but I love all the girly gossip and random stories you tell. And you know I’m always here for advice when you need it and I won’t mind those awful movies you girls watch, because I’ll always enjoy watching them with you. I know I’m your boyfriend and that’s not quite the same as being your friend, but I’m always going to be here for you, angel.”

The end of his rambling had you smiling up at him.

“You’ve always been my best friend, Harry. My true friend.”

Killian, the Bail Bonds Assisting Barista

Happy Birthday @emmasfairytale! This isn’t exactly fluffy but it is a coffee shop au so I fulfilled one of those things! Ily angel and I hope you had a great day! ♡

He’s an unarguably good looking man and that pisses her off. A lot.

She hates when skips are good looking. Not because she’s worried she’ll find herself attracted to them; that’s never a problem for her. It bothers her because she knows the type: shitty person, blessed with naturally good looks, uses said good looks to manipulate women into ignoring their horrible personality and accepting their ugly behavior.

Knowing what this man did—beat up his girlfriend and get himself arrested for aggravated assault—she’s entirely certain that his good looks were what convinced the girl to be with him in the first place. With his light green eyes, tousled dark hair, and a nice smile, she can see just how a certain type of woman would fall for his total lack of any other positive attributes.

The longer she sits there, at the two person table in the corner of the coffee shop near her office, listening to this man try to charm his way into her pants, the more frustrated she gets.

She looks around, trying to focus on anything other than the man across from her lest she lose her temper too soon, and realizes how nice the place is. The skip had already been seated with two coffees when she arrived (red flag number 1, ordering for her) so she didn’t have much of a chance to examine the place other than the points of exit. It’s a simply decorated place, nothing too kitschy considering the fact that it’s named The Jolly. There’s a simple, long black board behind the counter displaying the menu, an array of black chairs and tables around the open space, and the only indication of a seafaring theme, a row of nautical mugs displayed across the counter.

A barista with bright blue eyes and a tray of coffee in his right hand passes their table and gives her an assessing look. She shrugs delicately and returns her attention to the idiot across from her.

The guy said he came to this place often so the barista probably just recognized him and wondered why she was here with him. He’ll find out soon enough. 

She’s ready to pull the trigger, her hand resting on the cuffs strapped to her leg beneath her flowing, a line dress, when the same barista walks by, tripping and spilling the entirety of a mug of coffee into the man’s lap.

Chris, the smarmy bastard, jumps out of his seat, toppling his chair over in the process. 

“What the hell, dude?” he shouts, shaking out the leg that received the brunt of the mess. “What the fuck kind of place are they running here that this shit happens?”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” the man says, not looking the least bit apologetic.

“You sure as hell should be!” he grunts, no longer as loud but still as forceful. 

“Here,” the barista offers, pulling a towel out of his back pocket.

Emma intercepts it.

“Let me help you,” she says with a coy grin. She gets out of her own seat and kneels next to Chris.

With one hand lightly dabbing his pants, she pulls the cuffs off her leg with the other. Mr. Macho Man is too busy being a smug bastard, grinning wildly to himself about the girl kneeling next to him and helping him dry off, to notice her actions.

“That’s a good loo—”

She cuts him off with the clank of the cuffs around his wrist before he can finish saying what she can only assume to be “that’s a good look for you.” And before he understands what’s happened, she’s got the other wrist trapped behind his back in the cuffs as well.

“Thank you,” she says to the barista standing dumbfounded next to her and ignores the indignant sputtering of the wet man in favor of his awed “No problem, lass.”

She marches the bail jumper out of the coffee shop with as little fanfare as possible. The man’s undeniably an idiot but he seems to have enough sense to realize what’s happening and how unlikely he is to get out of the situation.

It was a fairly easy catch, as far as these situations go and after getting rid of Chris Brown 2.0 she finds herself equal parts grateful and curious of the man who helped her. She heads back to the coffee shop with the intent to thank him. But when she walks in, he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Hi,” she greets the pretty, red headed girl, with a name tag reading Ariel, behind the counter, “I’m looking for the man who was working here earlier today.”

She looks confused for a moment then a look of realization dawns on her face.

“You must be talking about Killian! Dark hair, blue eyes?”

“Yes, is he here?”

“He’s gone for the day,” Ariel explains. “He actually wasn’t supposed to work but Ashley called off because her baby was sick so he had to come in.”

“Oh.” She tries not to obviously deflate but she is disappointed she won’t be able to thank him.

“Did you have a problem?” she asks, concerned.

“No. No, I just… he kind of unknowingly helped me out with catching a bail jumper earlier and I just wanted to give him a nice tip.”

“Oh! You’re her!” she exclaims, eyes widening in excitement. “Killian always says it’s improper for the owner to accept tips but I’m sure he’d like to talk to you. Let me go get him. He’s right upstairs!”

The girl doesn’t exactly run around the counter and through the door leading to what she assumes is the stairwell but she doesn’t walk either. And after a few moments of standing there awkwardly, Ariel reappears with who she now knows to be Killian.

“Ah, you’re back. Here to arrest anyone else?” he asks with a smirk and she notices that he as an accent.

“No, I just wanted to thank you for your help… and I was wondering if you did that on purpose.” He raises a brow. “You know, spilling the drink on him.”

“I did,” he says evenly, nodding his head.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why?”

He bares his teeth in what she can only call an unamused grin.

“He’s in here often enough that I know what he’s like. Peevish, rude, a terrible tipper. He went off on one of my baristas the other day when I wasn’t here. Probably would have banned him from the establishment if she didn’t insist on me not doing so. I noticed you looked uncomfortable so I just did the first thing that came to mind to help you out of the situation.”

“Mmm,” she hums, unsurprised at his description of him. “Maybe next time if a guy does something like that, ignore the baristas wishes and make sure he stays gone.”

His eyes widen slightly at her suggestion but otherwise, he doesn’t seem to disagree with her.

“As you wish.” And then after a brief pause, “Do you mind if I ask what he did to end up in cuffs being very nearly pushed out of my establishment?”

“He beat the shit out of his girlfriend and skipped bail.”

“And that would make you a bail bonds person?” he questions tilting his head to the side in a manner entirely too endearing. He got the phrasing right and everything so it’s a little hard for her to resists his charming mannerisms.


“Terribly sorry if this is too forward, lass, but do bail bonds people enjoy coffee or do they have a different choice of beverage for dates?”

She should tell him she hates coffee and walk out. She already thanked him for his help. But there’s something appealing about him that she can’t quite pin down. Maybe it’s his stupidly good looks, maybe it’s the way he had enough sense to wish to ban an aggressive man from his place of business, or maybe it’s the way he spilt hot coffee down a man’s lap to help a woman that appeared to be in distress, and it could possibly just be his damn good coffee. So instead she surprises herself and doesn’t walk out.

“Most bail bonds people enjoy coffee, myself included, but what this bail bonds person really enjoys is hot chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate?”

“With cinnamon.”

“Aye, of course,” he says, grinning wildly and moving behind the counter.

“If you’re going to make me drink hot chocolate with you, then you’re going to tell me what made you chose the name, The Jolly,” she tells him with a grin she can’t stop from forming on her own face.

“I’m fairly certain I’ll be open to answering any questions you have.“

anonymous asked:

Hiya! ^^ I would like to request hc's about an MC who is a kpop star or part of a group. I imagine they'd all be super surprised to see them at the party! I hope you both are well, and you don't have to do my ask if you wouldn't like to! Oh sorry, I'm starting to ramble again aren't I? Hahaaaa;;;

A/N: IM SO READY FOR THIS, FUCK ME UP (and dont worry i ramble a lot, I don’t think you were rambling sweetheart <3) ~Admin 404


           -He’s a big big fan of kpop

           -Follows all the popular groups and stars almost religiously

           -So when you (or Saeyoung) tell the group what your name is, he’s hYPED


           -You just couldn’t tell him right off the bat that yes, you were that person

           -You decided to surprise him at the party instead!

           -Because nothing is cooler than finding out you’re dating an idol of yours, right???

           -So when he sees you at the party he actually squeals like a little kid because WOW YOU’RE THERE AND YOU’RE AMAZING

           -“YOU KNOW MY S/O HAS THE SAME NAME AS YOU” “Yoosung it is me, I’m MC, I’m your s/o”

           -Poor baby faints right then and there. From then on he’s just always so in awe every time he looks at you. Always telling his friends about you; “Hey did you know i’m dating-” “YES YOOSUNG, YOU’RE DATING MC. THE MC. YES YOU LOVE THEM. YES THEY LOVE YOU. WE GET IT”


           -Yeah he’s heard all the popular groups and stars

           -Has a ton of respect for them all

           -After all, he is a music man himself musicals are different than pop music though zen

           -He’s also a firm believer of “He can date whoever he wants, famous or not”

           -When he’s down in the dumps and you come over to his house to cheer him up he’s really surprised

           -Why is there a famous star on my doorstep?? What do they want?? Are they here to say bad things about me too? whaT IS HAPPENING

           -You have to quickly calm him down and explain that no, you’re just MC and you’re here to cheer him up

           -He’s so confused and stays like that for a solid hour. He talks to you and he’s excited and all but he just…. cannot process that the MC he’s developed strong feelings for is also the famous star MC

           -You’re waiting for him at his home while he brings back some snacks for the two of you and he bursts through his own front door



           -The moment she knew your name, she was suspicious

           -Isn’t one for blindly believing something

           -So she thought it was merely a coincidence that you shared the name of a famous star

           -Except when she saw you in person at the party

           -She kept asking around to make sure that she was seeing you correctly

           -Not to mention she never remembered anyone mentioning the invitation of a famous kpop star???

           -“Jaehee, it’s me. MC. I helped organize the party, I didn’t realize I had to put myself on the list”

           -You helped whAT

           -Then and there is the moment she realized that your name wasn’t a coincidence and that she had asked planned on asking a famous kpop star to be her partner in opening a coffee shop

           -But she doesn’t treat you any differently, not at all. She just kind of fangirls in silence (until you catch her later at the party)


           -“Are you part of that famous group that’s all over the radio all the time?”

           -I guess that’s one way of greeting me, Jumin

           -When he saw you in person it just solidified his assumptions

           -Doesn’t treat you any different than he would have before, because you’re still you

           -You just happen to have a title as well. That doesn’t change who you are inside, ya know, the part he loves

           -But, the fact that you’re famous and you have no body guards concerns him to all hell??

           -That day on you’re surrounded by more body guards than you can even see

           -He actually admits to not hearing any of your work and you just sit there in awe

           -“Jumin do you live under a rock?” “Don’t be ridiculous, I live up here in my penthouse”

           -He actually buys all your albums and anything you’ve ever made later that day. Falls in love with your music and he’s so cute like he wears your merch when the two of you are relaxing at home


           -Knew from the background check, there’s no be reveal for you this time MC

           -Though he was REALLY REALLY excited that you’re the famous kpop star because he loves your music

           -Actually seen you live before which makes meeting you 10x more exciting

           -He throws in lyrics to your songs to try and let you know that “hey, mc, i know who you are but im keeping it a secret from everyone else”

           -HYPED AS HELL! The person he fell in love with is also the celebrity he had the biggest crush on

           -But that also scares the hell out of him because of his job??? He’s supposed to be in the shadows??? How would this even work out?

           -Despite it all, he still came to the apartment to protect you

           -You expected a big “wow i can’t believe its you” but instead you just got ignored and you’re just left there kinda like???? dude???

           -But when the two of you head out to Mint Eye headquarters, your music started to blare in his car and he couldn’t turn it down fast enough

           -EMBARRASSED AS ALL HELL, he’s as red as his hair and finally admits that you’re his favourite recording artist and has been for years. Even admits that he’s the owner of your fanclub fucking dORK


           - can he even see you

           - im sorRY I HAD TO THROW THAT IN JUST FOR 626

           -Really really surprised to see that you’re the famous MC

           -Actually enjoys your music a lot and has photographed you at a few of your shows

           -Never sold the pictures though because those are personal to him what a fanboy

           -He feels TERRIBLE that you got caught up in all of this, he doesn’t think you deserve the trouble at all

           -When he meets you in person, the first thing he does is apologize profusely

           -After a very long time, and the two of you end up together, he didn’t even realize that one day he wore a t-shirt of yours until you pointed it out

           -Immediately starts to stutter and turn bright red. The gig was up so he decided to show you some of those pictures he’s taken as well

           -He’s your favourite photographer at every show from then on and he’s loving the hell out of it <3


           -Also knew from the beginning

           -He’s not into kpop, he’s into some harder music, forget that MC

           - somebody’s being a LLLIIIAAAAAARRRRR

           -After a while, when the two of you get close, you catch him listening to a few of your songs

           -You never say anything though because if you catch him, he gets embarrassed and just walks out of the room

           -Hates publicity (or the public population in general, take your pick) so he avoids it at all cost

           -But he does think it’s pretty cool that you’ve created music, like he wishes he could do something like that

           -Protects you from his fanboy of a brother who’s always hanging all over you

           - calm down saeran it’s in an idol-appreciation way

           -Literally does not care if you’re famous or not. He has no more fucks to give. None I tell you, none

anonymous asked:

For your summer requests, merman Laurent and sailor/pirate/fisherman Damen? Don't really know 😄 hope your summer gets better :)

Thank you so much for requesting! At the time when you sent this it was better, now it’s meh again, but I’m travelling tomorrow, so hopefully it’ll get better again. Thank you though c:

I was actually hoping someone would ask this.

I stole from Pirates of the Caribbean because it’s my fave pirate related series, along with Black Sails.

I hope you like this. It’s too long and elaborate but eh. I’m sorry it took so long. I couldn’t write for days and then I sat down and spit it all out. Also, screw proof reading (as always).


“I’ve heard that a kiss from a mermaid gives you eternal luck and happiness. Or was it eternal life?”

Nikandros frowned. “That is the complete opposite of what I’ve heard.”

“And what is it that you’ve heard?” Damen asked, crossing his arms.

Nikandros had to take a deep breath to calm down. He kind of felt like Damen was messing with him. “They kill you and eat you.”

Damen smiled, swinging his arm around Nik’s shoulders. “I guess we’ll find out when we get there, won’t we? It will be fun. We just have to go in, grab the jewel and get out. Easy!”

Nikandros wasn’t impressed. He sighed, shaking Damen’s arm off. “If we don’t get killed first.”

“Have a little faith,” Damen said. Then he went on board to give the order.

* * *

On their way to the cave the rowboat wasn’t attacked. It made everyone on it more relaxed, except for Nikandros. He found that suspicious and he didn’t like it. He didn’t pay attention to the scenery, instead kept frowning at the surroundings, expecting an ambush.

On the other hand, Damen was mesmerized by the beauty of the place. The water sparkled in the light of the setting sun. It was so clear that it looked like the rowboat was gliding over wavy glass.

Furthermore the light reflected on the walls of the cave, creating a blue reflection which danced across the stone. Nikandros didn’t see it as a beautiful sight, to him it was more of a spooky gleam.

As Damen admired the illumination, the rowboat hit the rock and Nikandros took it upon himself to order debarkation and set a man to watch over the boat.

Damen was ahead of the small crowd, even though the person with the first torch was a few paces behind him. And Damen found the place so beautiful and so enchanting that he seemed drawn to go forward, ignoring Nikandros’s calls behind him.

Only when he found himself in complete darkness did he notice that he was alone. He tried going back and calling out, but after a while he had to admit that he was completely lost. He was starting to remember something about the cave being enchanted.

But of course it would be. A cave which holds greatest pirate treasure in the seven seas would definitely be enchanted.

Damen sighed and took out his compass. In the dark he could see little, but he heard the sound of the arrow spinning uncontrollably.

Of course it wouldn’t work in an enchanted place. Of course.

Then Damen saw blue light ahead, the kind that danced on the stone. Damen was foolish enough to think that it was an exit.

It turned out to be an isolated pool of water. Just when Damen turned around to go back, he heard a voice and immediately froze.

“It’s hopeless.”

He slowly turned back around finding himself face to face with a mermaid. Although… it was a lot different than he’d expected it to be.

First of all, it was a he.

And he didn’t look threatening at all. He was lazily sprawled across a rock, swinging his azure blue tail left and right. His hair was blond and sticking to his face and neck. He seemed to have a tattoo around his arm, but it could have biceps a bracelet, Damen couldn’t tell from afar.

He wasn’t trying to attack Damen. He was just throwing small stones into the water

Since Damen didn’t say anything and just stared at the merman, he decided to look up. That look sent shivers down Damen’s spine.

“Your friends are lost and so are you. Without a guide, you’ll all just die in here.”

“A guide?” Damen said as soon as he could speak again.

“A guide. Me.”

“Who are you?”

The merman shifted, sat up and looked at Damen like he was the last idiot on Earth.

“My name is Laurent. This is my home.”

After a beat, Damen tried to say. “And I’m–”

“I know what you are. Trespassing pirates. I don’t care about your name.”

Damen balled his fist, but he didn’t react to the insult. “Everyone has their price. Name yours.”

“I don’t need anything. I especially don’t need anything from thieves and rapists,” Laurent said, once again looking into the water instead of Damen.

“We aren’t–”

“Whatever. Are you going to keep bugging me or go die already?”

Damen had to pause before speaking. He didn’t want to sound angry. “You must really hate humans.”

That time Laurent paused as well. No witty comeback right of the bet, he hesitated. “Not all humans, I suppose. I haven’t… Met any, other than those who come in here.”

“And you haven’t once helped any of them?”

Laurent seemed to be hesitating again. Then he said sharply, “No.”

“I have a feeling that’s a lie.”

“Like I’d tell you.”

“You don’t have to. You could tell me how to find my friends and get out,” Damen said calmly. He had realized that this Laurent isn’t the type you can threaten or torture into doing something. You’d have to win in an argument.

Laurent stretched and yawned, then kept throwing rocks in the blue pool before him. “I have no reason to do that.”

“What if I gave you a reason? Something you want most?” As he said that, out of his pocket he pulled out a compass. He tossed it over to Laurent, who dropped a stone in order to catch the compass.

He opened it, studied it for a while, said, “It’s broken,” and threw it back to Damen.

“It isn’t broken. It doesn’t show the north, it shows what you want most in this world. It will lead you to it,” Damen said as he threw the compass back.

That time Laurent kept it for a little longer. “And you think that I don’t know what I want?”

Damen realized that he was trapped. But before he could even think about a way to get out of the situation, Laurent spoke, “I like this thing. I’ll take it.”

“In return for leading us out.”

“If you have this thing, why can’t you use it to show you where the exit is? Or where your friends are? Or where the treasure is?” Laurent asked without looking up.

“It doesn’t work in an enchanted place.”

“I see… For a moment there I thought this little thing has outsmarted me. Alas, you still need a guide.”

“I very much do.”

Laurent put the compass around his neck and flopped into the water. “Then come over.”

Damen frowned. “Over…?”

Laurent smirked, once again making Damen shiver. “You didn’t think we’d be going by land, did you?”

Damen paused, then nodded. “No, of course not.” He reluctantly got into the water. Laurent swam over and placed his hands on Damen’s shoulders. The grip was suspiciously tight and for a second it made Damen wonder if Laurent was really going to help him.

But there was no time to think or change his mind. Laurent said, “Hold on,” and dived in.

The ride was fast and blurry. Damen could only see blue and he could only feel the lack of air in his lungs. And after a while, he felt water in his lungs.

And then it was over. He was coughing, gagging, spitting out salty water and, finally, taking a deep breath.

“I thought you’d kill me…” Damen muttered.

“A deal is a deal. I am not dishonorable, like you pirates,” Laurent said. He was leaning against the wall of the cave, splashing around in boredom.

Damen didn’t say anything to that and looked around. He climbed out of the pool and gaped at what was before him. Piles of jewels and treasure and a shining, large sapphire in the middle of it all.

Damen turned to face Laurent. “I told you to bring me to my crew, not here.”

Laurent seemed surprised, furrowing a brow. It was a curious sight, since he seemed to constantly have a blank expression. This emotion was genuine. “You don’t want the treasure? That is why you came.”

“But… If this is your home, then isn’t that stealing from you?”

Laurent blinked. “I suppose.”

A moment of silence passed as they just stared at each other.

“It isn’t my home. It’s my prison.”

“Why can’t you leave?”

“I have to be released.”

“By whom?”

Laurent shrugged. “Anyone. But no one wants to. Everyone wants the treasure, they don’t want me. Why  would they?”

Damen sat on the edge of the pool. “I can release you.”

Laurent frowned skeptically. “And what will you want in return?”

“Nothing. Just that you get me out of here, as we’ve agreed.”

Laurent looked baffled. For a moment he just fidgeted with the compass around his neck. At last, he said, “You can take it,” he nodded towards the jewel. “If I’m leaving, I don’t mean to come back.”

For a split second Damen wanted to do the right thing. The he stood up, snatched the sapphire, put it into his satchel and jumped back into the pool.

Laurent’s look was judgmental, but a lot softer than before.

“Take me to my crew and to the exit.”

* * *

“You trusted a mermaid because he’s blond and has blue eyes.”


“Don’t ‘Nik’ me! He could have killed you!”

Damen stole a glance at Laurent, who was swimming by the rowboat. “But he didn’t.”

“And what do we do now with him? You can’t fuck a mermaid, you know that?”

“I - know - but–”

Nikandros sighed. “You didn’t think this through.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not staying,” Laurent said casually.

Nikandros didn’t seem bothered at all by the fact that Laurent was listening and had heard everything.

“But you gave him the compass.”

“It was a deal. We would have died in there.”

Nikandros wanted to complain, but he had to agree that a price had to be paid. He was alright with it being just a compass. Even if it was magical…

“About that,” Laurent said. He handed Damen the compass. “You freed me and I showed you the way out. That’s a fair deal. The compass is out.”


“I’ve already gotten what I wanted. I’m free.”

Damen reluctantly took the compass, not taking his eyes off of Laurent. He wasn’t looking back at him.

Once they reached the ship and everyone climbed on board, Damen stayed in the rowboat, him and Laurent left alone.

“You could… Come with us,” Damen blurted out.

Laurent once again looked at him like he was an idiot, but the look was a lot different than before. “How?

“Right…” Damen looked down, embarrassed.

“I might try to find a sea witch to give me legs. Until then, I’ll be out and about. If I ever see your ship, I’ll come to say hi.”

Damen looked at Laurent hopefully. “You will?”

Laurent nodded. “You… Aren’t such a horrible person.”

Damen smiled. Then the smile disappeared as he slightly leaned forward. “Listen, we… Aren’t rapists. We really aren’t. We try not to harm the innocent–”

“Then why are you pirates at all?”

Damen shrugged. “We love the ocean and we hate the crown.”

Laurent smirked. “So, basically, you’re just angry teenagers?”

“Oh, y–”

Before he could answer, Laurent’s hands were on the side of the boat, pushing himself up and almost turning it over. He pressed his lips to Damen’s and then jumped right back into the water, leaving Damen rocking dangerously in the boat.

“See you on the horizon,” Laurent said.

Damen caught a breath. “See you on the horizon.”

Then he was gone.


Send me summer themed requests!

anonymous asked:

107. Rowaelin

Well nonnie, this was sent to me on 2/18. This is what you all can expect from me, re: fic requests lately, and why they are currently closed. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little drabble. :)

Prompt: It’s a real shame no one asked for your opinion.

AO3 place where I stick these things


When Aelin decided to get up in the middle of the night and make a cake, Rowan had simply turned over and thrown his pillow over his head.

When she had come around to his side of the bed and torn the bedding off him, he knew he wasn’t getting back to sleep.

In the last few months, she had taken it upon herself to learn how to do small things: roast a chicken, scramble eggs, boil water. She had decided that her successes at those endeavors meant that she was ready to take the leap into baking, a choice Rowan hoped she forgot every day.

Padding into the kitchen after her, he blinked himself into more complete consciousness. She was already pulling bowls out of cabinets, bags of ingredients littered the counter, and she stood with her hands on her hips.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I don’t know if we have enough hazelnuts,” she replied.

At the word hazelnuts, time stood still. Not hazelnuts. Anything but hazelnuts. Because if that’s what she was looking for, that could only mean one thing.

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thebeth02  asked:

Hi! I really like your account and I had a couple questions. I'm starting high school soon and I'm kinda worried over it and some other things, do you have any tips or advice? If you don't that's fine. Oh and, who's your favorite paladin?

Hi hi back!! Thank u for the kind words!!! :3c And to answer your question, if I had to choose a favorite Paladin, it would probably be Allura! I love Keith but by GOD he frustrates me sometimes. Anyway, onto the advice!!

Middle school and high school are VERY different, but the differences tend to be either incredibly obvious or more subtle. Like, the kind of subtleness where you’re in sophomore year and you look around you and you think ‘hm. Sixth grade feels very far away.’

Because you’re starting high school I’ll only focus on freshman year, if that’s okay!

For the most part, freshman year is like a underhand throw. They’re trying to ease you into things. High school, after all, means waking up at the most ridiculous hour of your life, depression, and puberty Really starting to take off. For the most part, adults know that you’re going through more stuff than school at the moment. But it’s up to the individual teacher to decide how understanding they’re going to be.

Now where to start… How about academics? If you care about your grades, freshman year is essential for starting off on the right foot. Most of your science/math/English placement was probably decided in middle school, but your freshman year is where you prove where you belong. Basically: you will probably stay at that level of math/science/English for all four years of high school unless you bust your ass and study and move up. (And by that, I don’t mean moving up a math level during the school year, I mean qualifying for honors math for sophomore year, etc.)

If you don’t really care about that sort of thing, okay. But if you want to be in all honors classes or AP classes for your junior and senior year, you need to start working immediately. My biggest regret of high school is that I spent my freshman/sophomore/part of junior year working in an aimless direction, and just went with the flow. Which was fine at the time, but it came back to bite me in the ass once I reached the end of my junior year and started the college process. You don’t have to commit yourself to one specific college from the moment you turn 14. But if you want to go to a good college, or if you want to win scholarships, you have to start planning and working towards that. I don’t mean to give you a lot of anxiety, but my high school was Very competitive and honestly pretty toxic, and it’s influenced my viewpoint.

On a lighter note, take the time to look at all the available classes, even the ones you can’t take yet. If you like biology, consider taking honors/AP bio as an upperclassmen, and plan accordingly for that. What prerequisites do I need to complete? Do I have to be at a specific level for math/science? When am I eligible for the class? That sort of thing.

Also: finish your requirements as fast as possible!!! I hate art classes, and I put them off until my junior year, which was a Mistake because junior/senior year is The Year Of Electives. Well, at least in my school. So instead of taking tons of cool electives, I had to take this goddamn photoshop class to fulfill my requirement. Freshman year me was thrilled about having a free period every day; junior year me cursed my fourteen-year-old self. God. Hindsight really is 20/20.

Another thing… teachers! Try to be kind to your teachers. Unless they’re raging assholes who spit toxic one-liners or seem to single you out in class just to embarrass you. Those teachers can burn in hell. But for the most part, high school teachers are either pretty nice or completely neutral. Any supposed ‘evilness’ will most likely be your angsty hormonal self projecting on them. For example, I hated my freshman year geometry teacher. I thought she was a b word, I thought she was incapable of teaching, I thought she was annoying. In hindsight, I was just shitty at geometry and took out my frustration on her. I joined my classmates in mocking her and the class behind her back, and my convinced 'holier than thou’ self decided I was too important to ever stoop to the level of asking her for help. Because of my big ego, I only got a B+ in math, and it started a pattern for the rest of high school.

Like… there’s honestly no point in making fun of teachers. Yeah, it’s fun to do, and it helps you bond with classmates but… it also gets in the way of you asking for help. Which, by the way, I cannot emphasize enough: always ask for help. Especially during your first few weeks of school, because again: freshman year will set a lot of patterns for the rest of your high school career. It is essential that you ask for help. Sure, your teacher scribbled some comments in the margins of you B- paper, but she was also grading 30+ other papers at the same time. Do you really think her comments are deep enough for you to fully understand where you went wrong? Ask to meet with her, comb over your paper with her, and walk away with a better understanding of how to write papers. Advice and knowledge like this can only help you in the long run. Suck up your pride and push it down; you’ll be better for it.

I focused a lot on academics so let me touch on some other things… like puberty! For the most part, that ball started rolling for everybody back in middle school. But it’s in high school that you really start to see those hormones get expressed. Everyone goes through puberty, and life, at their own pace. Sometimes you’ll feel like you’re falling behind, but you’re not. It’s not a competition. This would be the world’s shittiest race otherwise. Don’t worry about others, and focus on yourself. If you don’t feel comfortable asking questions about your changing body (because lord knows the American education system will never have an actually effective sex Ed course), google it!! There are always answers for those who search them out. Again: worry about yourself.

Another thing: friends! High school is a place where you’re going to meet a lot of new people all at once. You will make new friends. It’s statistically impossible for you to not make a new friend. If you want to speed up the process, join clubs! You’re a freshman, so no one actually expects you to maintain a totally active presence. Do what you can, drop what you can’t, and carry on. Also: the people you were friends with in middle school may not stay friends with you in high school. I ended up drifting away from most of my middle school friends; I still hang out with them, but we’ve lost a lot of closeness. It’s sad, but it happens, and the only thing you can do is move forward. Every lost friendship makes room for two new ones. I can honestly say that the bonds I made in high school were 10x stronger than the ones I made in middle school. And any close friendships I kept from middle school also became 10x stronger by senior year. My theory is that everyone is their worst self during middle school :p if your group can survive that, you can survive anything.

Finally… some health tips! Take care of yourself. It’s important to try to eat as healthy as you can as early as you can. Again, and I know I’m repeating myself, it helps you in the long run. Make sure to drink plenty of water and do not. I repeat, do NOT. Pull all-nighters when you don’t have to. The all-nighters I pulled during middle and early high school have ruined me. Also, don’t drink coffee. You will get addicted. All my friends are coffee addicts and it’s honestly disturbing how much they rely on a simple beverage. Drink hot chocolate instead, if you must! I love Dunkin’ Donuts. :3c

Anyway, this is a bunch of general advice/tips. If there’s something specific that’s bothering you, feel free to hit up my dms at any point!! I may not be fast, but I’m sure to respond. I like helping :3c

Imagine: Benny Turning You

Request: So I saw that your requests were open and I couldn’t resist. Could you do an imagine where the reader is like dying but she doesn’t cause she asks Benny to change her and he does and he helps her adjust and live a ‘normal’ life like he does?? Thanks 

Pairing: Benny x Reader

Word Count: 2,500

Warnings: Blood, near-death experience, basically dying to become a vampire, being a vampire? Is that a warning?

@weirdnewbie sorry it took so long, hun! I loved this idea so much and wanted to really get it right.

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