#ACTUALLY no what really killed me was when they

[tender-rosiey]

Everyone loves girl dad Suguru, but what if he has a stubborn headed son

block battle — geto suguru x f!reader

a/n: suguru, you shall always have a special place in mi heart + reminder that suguru IS a menace just a hidden one

you’re sat in the living room when you glance up from where you’re folding laundry on the couch, catching sight of your husband sitting cross-legged on the floor with your son.

suguru’s dark hair is tied up, though a few strands have fallen loose, framing his face as he gestures animatedly at the boy who is very clearly not listening as he builds his blocks.

“s/n, I’m just saying,” suguru begins, his tone edged with exasperation,

“if you’d actually let me help, we could finish this thing before your mom gives me the look for the mess.”

your son, a spitting image of suguru down to the determined furrow of his brows, doesn’t even glance up.

“it’s not a thing,” he corrects matter-of-factly, his little hands carefully balancing another block on top of an already teetering pile.

“it’s a fortress. and you’re doing it wrong.”

suguru stares at him, clearly trying to keep his composure.

he takes a deep breath before leaning back slightly. “oh, I’m doing it wrong? alright, young master, show me how it’s done since you’re clearly the expert.”

s/n straightens his back, fully embracing the challenge.

“like this,” he declares, adjusting the block with the seriousness of someone presenting architectural blueprints.

suguru pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering just loud enough for you to hear, “why does this feel like dealing with satoru during mission prep?”

he glances at you over his shoulder, and you can see the faintest twitch of a smile threatening to break through his otherwise tired expression.

“hear that, babe? I’ve been reduced to the role of a laborer. guess I’m not qualified for fortress-building anymore.”

you hum, folding the last shirt. “well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out, assistant. just don’t let him run you into the ground.”

your son’s head snaps up, his eyes widening with righteous indignation. “I’m not bossy! dad’s just slow!”

suguru’s eyebrows twitch at the accusation.

“slow?” he repeats, his tone almost comically even. “me? me?”

he glances back at you, pointing at himself with exaggerated disbelief.

“do you hear this? our son, who couldn’t even hold his own chopsticks until six months ago, is calling me slow.”

you bite your lip to stifle a laugh, but the glimmer in your eyes gives you away. “to be fair,” you say, folding another shirt, “you are taking an awfully long time to help with his…fortress.”

suguru shoots you a look, one part betrayed and two parts pleading, but before he can retort, s/n pipes up again, his voice brimming with the conviction only a five-year-old can muster.

“because he’s not doing it right!” his tiny hands flap in the air in frustration as he points at the blocks. “I said the blue one goes here, and he put it there!”

suguru drags a hand down his face, leaning back against the couch.

“you’re killing me, kid,” he mutters under his breath before plastering on a painfully forced smile. “alright, buddy. let’s start over. where exactly does the blue block go?”

s/n clambers over to the pile of blocks and holds one up like it’s the crown jewel. “here,” he says with utter certainty, placing it on the most precarious part of the structure.

suguru stares at the wobbly creation, his forced smile faltering. “that’s…that’s not gonna hold, s/n.”

“yes, it will!”

“no, it won’t.”

“yes, it will!”

suguru groans, rubbing his temples.

“it really does remind me of him,” he mutters under his breath, throwing you a look that’s equal parts exasperated and helpless.

“why couldn’t he have inherited your agreeable nature? or at least some common sense?”

you snort, unable to hold back your laughter now. “oh, I don’t know about that,” you tease, leaning back against the cushions.

“I seem to recall you, suguru, being pretty stubborn when we were dating. remember the time you insisted you could build that bookshelf without reading the instructions?”

“that’s different,” suguru huffs, crossing his arms like a sulking child. “that was about pride.”

“exactly.” you grin, motioning toward your son, who is now enthusiastically rebuilding the fortress with zero regard for suguru’s input. “and where do you think he gets his pride from, hm?”

suguru opens his mouth to argue but stops, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “this is my karma, isn’t it?”

“absolutely,” you say cheerfully, tossing a balled-up sock at him.

suguru catches it with ease, leaning his head back against the couch as your son continues to fuss over his masterpiece.

“you know, this would be so much easier if he actually listened for five seconds,” he grumbles. “talks a lot, doesn’t listen, and refuses to admit when he’s wrong.”

“I’m not wrong!” s/n shouts without looking up, clearly having inherited his father’s excellent hearing as well.

suguru groans dramatically, flopping sideways onto the floor. “see?” he waves a hand in your direction, presenting the evidence of his misery.

you’re laughing so hard now that tears prick the corners of your eyes. “oh, come on, suguru,” you say between breaths. “he’s five. you can’t let him break you already.”

“easy for you to say,” he grumbles, sitting up and giving you a half-hearted glare. “you’re not the one being micromanaged by someone who still needs help tying his shoes.”

“then stop fighting him on it,” you say with a shrug, walking over to ruffle s/n’s hair. “you know he’s not going to back down. he’s just as stubborn as you are.”

suguru sighs, brushing a hand through his loose strands of hair. “yeah, yeah. I get it. he’s my mini-me, complete with the attitude and confidence.”

he leans back, looking at your son, who is now proudly adjusting the blocks again. despite his grumbling, there’s a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

you kneel beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “at least he has your heart too,” you say quietly, watching as your son holds up the structure triumphantly.

suguru tilts his head, looking up at you with warm eyes. “guess I can’t be too mad about that,” he murmurs, his tone softening.

“papa, look!” your son calls out, running over to tug at suguru’s sleeve. “it’s done!”

suguru looks over at the fortress—or rather, a colorful mess of blocks barely holding together—and gives a small nod of approval. “looks sturdy, buddy. good job.”

s/n beams, his earlier frustration forgotten, and suguru finally manages a genuine smile.

“see?” you say, nudging him playfully. “you survived.”

“barely,” he replies, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. he presses a few kiss across your cheek before pausing and grimacing.

“let’s never make him spend time with satoru.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will sleep on you

check out my buy me a coffee!

[samnoahalov]

Give me a sec.

No.

My Girlfriend.

Yes.

Yes.

Dating.

Shot like my father.

Dinner (Rice and meat).

No.

Yes.

Years ago

Yes.

Yes, 72 hours actually.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

Mix of anxiety, depression, ptsd and sleep deprivation.

I'm celibate.

I have zoophobia. So Yes.

Yes... maybe? Yes.

I what? Not sure what it is hut I'll say "no sure" either way.

Survive.

None. But if I change my mind maybe 2 or 3 (adopted only)

No.

Science.

No.

Chocolat.

No.

Yes.

From happyness? Yes. From sadness? No.

My family.

I don't know, I don't care that much honestly. They are here, we are having fun.

Purple.

Probably. But I manage it well.

Killing somone.

My therapist.

Yes. But there's no third ones.

Forgive.

No.

Six for the CSA. But outside of that... ugh, 12? Yeah around that. I don't like to kiss.

No.

(Did it just skipped the whole 40's? Okay)

Pasta.

Not really, but I like to joke about it.

Writed a part of my book.

No. Never.

Perhaps. But I try not to.

Many. I was the only person who could win my teachers, and not single one in my class was able to stike me down, and I don't even do sports like they did!

I'm aromantic. But I guess it could be true.

I don't know. Don't care much about it.

It doesn't snow where I live. And I hate cold, my bones hurt. So No.

Yes, but I can't.

Not sure, but I would preffer them to not do it. It's weird.

Suffering I supose. It's the only thing in my life.

Not really. I don't dislike my birth name THAT much, tho I preffer to be called by social names or one of my 2 surnames.

My sister? No, not really. But I dislike kisses, so I preffer not to.

Tell my Girlfriend that I have a new boyfriend and now our polycule it's taking shape. Unless he doesn't not agree to it, to whitch I'm sorry but I wont be unhappy for you my guy.

I can even by myself WITH MYSELF. When I learn to do that maybe. But now? No, at least not totally. But he gets me 👍.

My sister.

My cousin.

Nah, but I like to joke about it.

Does a cat count? I would die for a cat. Human? Not really, I can't even kill myself how am I suposed to die for someone else?

(End, and only 60 thingys to respont, :/)

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[mameillieureennemie]

i had been thinking about this all day at work.

fwb!vi x f!reader - 1

summary: looks say far more than words can.

when you and vi first started this arrangement, the way she looked at you was different.

it was a look of hunger; a look that a mountain lion would possess as it laid its eyes on an innocent lamb. to say she wanted to eat you was too kind—she wanted to devour you, tear into your flesh with sharp, and wet her gullet with your blood.

it was possession that drove her to throw you on the bed before mounting you. the desperate urge to keep as she swallowed you whole, bones and all, until there was nothing left of you.

that was months ago, when the arrangement was still fresh. when you firmly stated that this was nothing but downright filthy sex, and vi agreed.

but everything has changed.

vi doesn't look at you the same.

except she does, but it's worse somehow.

while she still pins you down with that gaze of raw possession, it's...softened.

no longer is it harsh and jagged, slicing through your flesh with serrated edges. now, it cradles you, like gentle hands holding the delicate body of a baby bird. cautious, easy...

fond.

it terrifies you.

vi's nestled in the cradle of your thighs, hiding her face in the plush of your stomach. her arms are locked around your waist, tight and assured, and she's humming a tune. it's muffled, but it's familiar; a song that she lets loose when she's happy.

when she's happy with you.

there's a heavy rock in your stomach, pulling you down towards the ground. it may drag you through the earth, suffocating you in the terrifying heat of the earth's mantle. maybe the heat will kill you first, but you'll be killed nonetheless.

this is what your fear feels like. this is what you were afraid of.

vi's shifting on your lap momentarily draws you away from your inevitable breakdown. she's now lying on her back, baring her face back to the world—back to you.

the smile on her face is tender; it's what some might even call loving. the rock in your stomach gains five pounds, nausea pooling at the back of your throat.

no.

"hey, pretty girl," vi murmurs, low and slow, as if those words are her secrets. "what's going on in that head of yours?"

the words sit at the tip of your tongue, scrambling for freedom. they seep into your taste buds, leaving behind the most sour of tastes.

we need to stop this, is what yells to be said. we said no feelings. this was supposed to be about sex and nothing else. so why does it feel like you're in love with me?

why does it feel like i'm in love with you, too?

"nothing," you say instead, mimicking the low and slow, like you're also telling secrets. "just wondering about what i should do tonight."

you stress the i a little too harshly, but vi doesn't notice. or maybe she does and refuses to care. maybe she's acting on her own will, doing what feels right by her standards.

which is unfair; she isn't allowed to do this to you.

"well, if you don't anything in mind," vi says easily. "we could go catch a movie or something? maybe go and grab something to eat from jericho's?" the way she says we is too simple, as if it's always been we and not you and her.

you stare down at her for a moment, really take her in. the slope of her nose, the scar on her upper lip. the soft pinks of her cheeks, and her eyes. wide and power blue and far too expressive of their own good because she's looking at you with that look again.

that look that means way too much.

when you open your mouth, all that falls out is a lie.

"actually, i have to wake up early in the morning." you lie through your teeth because you need to get away from this—from her.

the look in vi's eyes changes, slips into something foreign; something unknown. you've never seen this look before, but you can't find it in yourself to worry about it.

when vi leaves, she presses a lingering kiss upon your lips. her hands grasp at you a bit too tightly, as if feeling you for the last time. then she's gone without a word, and a part of you wonders what that could have meant.

but as the weeks go by and vi goes unheard of, you suddenly realise on a deathly cold morning.

vi was saying goodbye.

[sc0tters]

Be a Brat and Find Out | Quinn Hughes

summary: there is only so much of bratty you that Quinn can take before he teaches you a lesson.

request: yes/no

warnings: mature themes, p in v, swearing, cock riding?

word count: 0.95k

authors note: hello and welcome to the first part of the one shot wonder event! this was so much fun to write, I am not someone who usually writes blurbs let alone smut ones so I really do hope that this is enjoyed by you guys. the idea for this one stuck in my brain for a while so it was about time I got it written out!

This was a sight Quinn swore would have been in his dreams. 

Your whimpers echoed off of the walls of your bedroom “fuck baby you could have had such a good night.” Quinn sighed keeping his hands on your hips, making sure that you couldn’t stop your movements.

You sat in nothing more than your Canucks scarf tears stained your cheeks with your lipstick practically gone now. The folds of your pussy wrapped around his cock “please Quinny.” You begged cutting yourself off as he brought his hand up to tug at your scarf “don’t make me out to be the bad guy doll.”Quinn shook his head. 

The captain raised his free hand up to smack your ass “ahh.” You whimpered feeling him massage the area of your skin that he had hit. 

You had pushed him over the edge that night after particularly rough game. It toppled over the tower of close interactions you had with Cole McWard over the last week. Quinn swore that he was close to killing his younger teammate if you laughed at another stupid thing that came from his lips. But now it was you that felt the brunt of Quinn’s anger. 

That’s how you ended up on his cock because after a long ride home where you were dangerously close to pulling his cock out in the car, when your hand edged dangerously close to his upper thigh. Quinn refused to believe that you deserved to be properly fucked, that’s why you weren’t sat with his cock inside of you. You had fucked yourself on his thigh before, in fact it was one of your favourite things when you craved his attention. 

But now Quinn sat watching how your folds swallowed his cock, desperately rubbing your clit against his length. It was selfish, even you knew that but god were you loving how the hunger in your stomach felt.

Your eyes screwed shut feeling his cock throb against your clit “shouldn’t even fucking let you cum.” Quinn scoffed as he wrapped his arms around your throat slowly the blood flow to your brain “no!” You yelled shaking your head. 

The boy cocked his head “you think that’s the right attitude to get what you want?” He asked squeezing his hand “please Quinny.” You begged almost wondering how coherent words came from your lips. 

Quinn smiled, you were on the right track, “please what?” He pushed your buttons now feeling his strength wavering “wanna cum so bad.” You pleaded with a soft sniffle. 

Your body jolted feeling the head of his cock brush against your let, his precum spreading against your sensitive bud. His hand forced your hips back down, you weren’t allowed to get off that fast “even after you were such a brat all week?” The captain taunted you, using the hand that stayed around your throat to keep you upright. 

You tried everything to rest your head against his shoulder “sorry.” Was all that escaped from your lips “for what?” Quinn chewed at his lip seeing how your slick coated his cock. 

It shone like it screamed to actually be fucked, to be given the chance to feel the walls of your cunt stretch to allow his cock in “just wanted your attention.” It was no secret that the Canucks weren’t doing their best, but Quinn was on edge because of it. 

Quinn frowned at your words “and you thought that this was the best way to get it?” He shook his head watching you drive your hips with even more desperation now. 

You nodded gnawing at the inside of your cheek “please Q.” You begged refusing to let yourself cum into he said you could. 

The boy felt his eyes flutter “you promise you’re gonna behave?” The question stuck to your skin like sweat. 

You were never going to listen to that, like Quinn shouldn’t have been surprised if he was hoisting your ass over his knee next week “promise.” You nodded watching Quinn  bring your face closer to his. 

His lips pursed together “open that mouth f’me love.” This was the first time that night he said something with love. 

So naturally you clung to it, your jaw went slack as your tongue rolled out. But what you didn’t expect was that Quinn would let a glob of saliva go from his lips. It landed in your tongue and he swore he saw stars watching you pull your tongue into your mouth as you swallowed what he had deposited into your mouth. 

A grunt escaped from his lips “make a mess sweet girl.” He cooed sending you a nod. That was all it took for you to drive your hips harder, feeling how the very inch of his cock felt against your clit. You were desperate to fuck him but this was all he said you deserved. 

Your eyes screwed shut when your mouth fell open “right there baby.” Quinn grunted taking over as he began to feel his own high coming fast at him. 

It was almost pornographic how your moans mixed into each other as they painted the walls. Quinn didn’t know who exactly came first as his cock shot warm sticky ropes against his stomach. Your legs shook as your cunt gushed against his dick, not letting your thrusts stop because it was unclear if it was you or him controlling your pace.

You had barely come down from your high as you kissed at his shoulder “shit!” You groaned feeling his cock thrust into your cunt. 

Quinn laughed pressing a kiss against your head “you really thought that you’d get away with all that this easy?” The captain asked, flipping you both over so he could remind you who was really in control.

[ode-to-fury]

Thinking about post veilguard rookanis like I always am and today I'm mulling over Illario and Caterina's reactions because like... there's been very many discussions about whether Caterina would like/dislike accept/not accept Rook and I don't think it's that simple. I think at first she assumes it's casual like it's always been for Illario because surely Lucanis wouldn't be that stupid? Surely he wouldn't fall in love and give himself that big of a weak spot? And then... Rook sticks. They get engaged, they're planning a wedding, Rook is already helping with First Talon things and it seems like that is actually the one thing making it bearable for Lucanis. And how the fuck is she supposed to handle that? Her poor little boy... is Rook good enough to stay alive for him? Should she kill Rook now to avoid heartbreak in future? Lucanis... what have you done?

And then Illario... man what would Illario think? Here is his cousin who has never shown any interest in the myriad of people Illario has seen show interest in him (because lets face it Lucanis is a handsome man there had to have been some Crows going 👀👀) so of course when Rook happens he probably thinks like oh it's a first love infatuation thing I remember when that happened to me. Three months from now I'll have the old Lucanis back and then... thag doesn't happen? Rook is a Dellamorte now. For so long it's only been the three of them and now... Cousin, you're really in love? I just like thinking about the idea that both of them don't really click how deeply Rookanis care for each other until it's way too late to do something about it

[magerightsmagefights]

This reminds me of the sentiment I had when I first played the game, when I got to know both Davrin and Lucanis that I thought, "Hmm. These seem like two petri dishes of Fandom Romance, labelled "Blackwall Concept" and "Blackwall Appearance" respectively.

Let me explain.

I am not saying that either Davrin or Lucanis are based on Blackwall, nor that they are Blackwall cut in half. But in terms of story, and particularly the way the first few scenes treat Davrin/Rook vs. Blackwall/Inquisitor, there are a few striking similarities.

Their first scene introduces us to an (assumed) Grey Warden, who is gruff, action-oriented, and will take control of a dangerous situation without hesitation. Through external storytelling (Assan/Blackwall's recruits) we are also told that this man has a gentler, nurturing side to him, and a goal to protect those weaker than him. This man is not awestruck by the protagonist; indeed, he's comfortable issuing orders to them if the situation calls for it. He isn't recruited by any initial attraction to the protagonist; he agrees to join the team because he has a deep-rooted urge to help, to save, and to protect.

As we get more acquainted with this Grey Warden, we learn more about him: he's comfortable and competent in a command structure, no matter whether he is subordinate, superior, or comrade. He likes animals, is generally laid-back, and carves wood in his spare time. He protects the innocent, and admires those who do the same. He's self-sacrificing to a fault, perhaps to a worrying degree, but that's par for the course with Grey Wardens.

Here, of course, the two paths diverge. Davrin is a woodsman in the Dalish sense, with a love for nature and a soft, mischievious side he thought he'd left behind in childhood. Blackwall is, well, Blackwall, and who he appears to be is different than who he is. But that's what I'm talking about. Appearances. Because the first few scenes are how most people get their first impression of Blackwall, they don't know the truth about him.

All to say, everything Blackwall appears to be at the start, Davrin actually is. Everything you thought you were getting from Blackwall, Davrin actually delivers. Gruff, masculine with a soft side, Grey Warden warrior who self-sacrifices. Love for animals, love for those weaker than himself, and willing to cut his own throat to feed the flower of hope.

And then we have Lucanis. He is nothing at all like Blackwall, except that they are middle-aged men with long(ish) black hair and excellent black beards. There's not much else to say.

It's so clean-cut, it feels like a science experiment. If not for DAV's hellish development cycle, I'd wonder if it was deliberate. Here sit our two petri dishes, and between them sits a question: Is it the character concept, or the appearance?

Given the preceding posts, and the general nature of the DA fandom, I think the answer is self-evident. But this is about more than popularity. Blackwall wasn't the most popular Inquisition romance. This is about who the fandom is markedly aggressive to. On its own, the sentiment "Davrin is irrelevant" is, frankly, bizarre. Others have already mention how crucial he is to the main plot, so no need to retread old ground. This isn't even about relevance, because plenty of DA companions are irrelevant to their main games. That's why you can kill, send away, or simply refuse to recruit so many of them in the first place. Davrin is certainly more 'relevant' than Blackwall, and yet there is far more discourse around him. Davrin is far more crucial to the main plot, and yet there is still that constant string of questions about whether he's "really necessary? Do we really have to pay attention to him? So what? He's the least interesting companion, not because he's Black, it's just because he's badly written."

Is he, though?

Is he?

i'm sorry but the "da fandom is a little racist BUT veilguard holds most of the blame for making davrin so irrelevent in the game" excuse is the weakest shit i've ever heard. no actually i genuinely think this is almost exclusively a fandom issue. like i won't argue that the "davrin vs harding choice is reliant on assan" shit john epler pushed was unbelievably racist and i won't argue that there's merit to the fact that it was tone deaf at Best to have the black man's character arc so reliant on his animal companion but i'm sorry you cannot fucking convince me that the "knight in shining armor with a gentle heart and a cute animal companion that takes you out on picnic dates and carves you little wooden trinkets" character is not almost Perfectly Engineered to be the most popular romance option in any game ever and yes i fully believe the only reason he isn't is entirely hinged on the fact that he's black and no amount of whataboutism towards the devs can convince me otherwise

[lanf1an]

DREAMS lando norris pt.1 When your childhood bestfriend Flo had convinced you to get the fashion design job at her brother's company Quadrant, it finally paid off when Louis Vuitton was announced as the new sponsor for F1.

pt.2 wordcount: 1378

Flo's voice filled the room as she scrolled through her phone, her excitement palpable.

"I'm telling you, this is perfect for you," Flo said, thrusting her phone in your direction.

You squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of the email she was showing you. "A job at Quadrant? Flo, I’m studying fashion design, not... whatever that is."

Flo looked up, her brows furrowed as if you’d just said something ridiculous. "What do you mean? It can be. Look at Tommy Hilfiger. Or Lewis Hamilton—his fashion work, hosting the Met Gala, working with big brands. F1’s bigger than you think, and it’s not just about cars."

"Haha, Flo, what are you talking about?" you said, shaking your head at the idea. "F1 is not really the place I want to be for my fashion stuff."

You paused, realizing you hadn’t really thought about it like that before. You’d never paid much attention to Formula 1, aside from the occasional updates Flo gave you about Lando. It had been years since you'd spent any real time with him. As kids, you'd catch fleeting glimpses of each other whenever he wasn’t off karting or, later, racing. But you knew Lewis Hamilton. He had enormous influence. He’d collaborated with brands you admired and pushed boundaries in the fashion world.

"Maybe not," Flo said, leaning forward with a knowing grin. "But there could be great opportunities"

"And trust me, Quadrant desperately needs someone like you. You’ve seen their merch, right? It’s..." She continued.

"Basic?" you offered, arching an eyebrow, Flo had already showed you the designs before in an attempt for you to improve them.

"Exactly! They’re looking for someone to revamp their designs. You’re always talking about how things could be better.''

You sipped your coffee, considering her words. It wasn’t your dream job, but the thought of improving a brand and the opportunities that came with it was oddly tempting.

"Fine," you said, setting your mug down. "I’ll think about it."

Flo grinned like she'd won the lottery. "You’ll kill it. Trust me."

-

The buzz around Quadrant’s new merch started slowly but picked up pace when a few photos of Lando wearing your designs at the paddock made their way online. Suddenly, it wasn’t just fans buying hoodies and tees, people in the fashion and sports world were taking notice, and journalists started to make comparisons you weren’t sure anyone expected.

“Is Lando Norris the next Lewis Hamilton?” one article headline read.

Another went deeper: “From driver to brand icon: How Lando Norris and Quadrant are reshaping athlete influence.”

It had been surreal to watch the shift, you had worked hard. Max had been supportive from the start, seeing the vision. Keegan had actually become a reliable creative partner, having similar styles and taste. Lando had been the same as when you were kids, you had barely seen him, too busy racing, handling his CEO duties from afar.

And now, after months of hard work, it was all leading to something bigger.

-

The first time at the paddock was overwhelming. The heat, the constant movement, the blur of media, mechanics, and drivers navigating their way through the chaos—it was a world you still didn’t quite belong to. Even though it did bid a uncanny resemblance to the chaos of the fashion world, which intrigued you.

You watched as the photographers snapped pictures of Lando and the team in their latest Quadrant pieces. The collection had taken months to finalize, and the response had been overwhelming—more press than usual, more attention, more recognition.

“You’re the one behind all this, aren’t you?”

You turned at the voice, surprised to find yourself face to face with Lewis Hamilton. He was dressed effortlessly, a silk LV shirt under an unbuttoned suit vest, sunglasses perched on his nose.

You blinked. “I—uh. Sorry?”

Lewis smiled knowingly. “The Quadrant collection. It’s you.”

You hesitated. “I mean… it’s a team effort.”

“Sure,” he said, his grin widening. “But I know talent when I see it.”

Her stomach flipped. Compliments were one thing, but this—coming from him—felt different.

“I’ve been following your work,” Lewis continued, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You’ve got a fresh perspective. Louis Vuitton is partnering with F1. They want to bring in new talent, I tipped you.” Your breath caught. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You stared at him, waiting for the catch, but there wasn’t one. He was just… offering this. Just like that.

“I—” You glanced over at the Quadrant shoot, where Lando was laughing with the guys, completely unaware of the conversation happening across the paddock. “Thank you so much.”

Lewis smiled. “You’ll be hearing from them soon. Excited to work together.”

And with that, he was gone, disappearing into the paddock like he hadn’t just cracked your entire world open in a two-minute conversation. Flo had turned to be right after all.

-

Louis Vuitton had officially announced their F1 partnership, and with it, their campaign featuring a select group of drivers. The second she saw Lando’s name on the list, you knew there was no avoiding it. You hadn’t expected it, even though it made sense after Quadrant’s succes and having already worked together. Still, you hadn’t expected to be working with him again, especially not like this. He hadn't shown too much emotion when you left Quadrant, but you knew he wasn't happy about it.

Now, standing in the Louis Vuitton studio, flipping through the fitting schedule, you could feel his glare when the door opened before looking up.

"From Quadrant to Louis V," Lando mused, his voice light but edged with something unreadable. "Look at us."

You finally glanced up. He walked around inspecting the room, sunglasses perched on his head, fingers brushing against the fabric of a tailored jacket. His expression was casual, like he wasn’t really thinking about what he’d just said. Like it was just an observation.

You gave a small shrug. "Who would've thought."

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he turned toward the fitting area. "Thought you could get rid of me, huh?"

“Alright, first look,” you said, flipping through your notes without looking up.

Lando sighed dramatically. “Do I really need to try all of these on?”

You shot him a look. “Unless you suddenly developed a sense of style overnight, yes.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, grabbing the set from the rack.

You turned you back as he changed, focusing on adjusting the pins on one of the outfits. It wasn’t the first time you’d been in a fitting with Lando, but this was different. The Louis Vuitton studio was quieter than Quadrant HQ, the lighting softer, there was no Max, no Keegan, no distractions.

“Okay,” Lando said, stepping forward. “What do you think?”

You turned—and fuck.

The suit fit him unfairly well. The sharp tailoring, the way the fabric moved with him—it was annoyingly perfect. Which meant you had done a great job.

You forced yourself to be professional, stepping closer to fix his collar. “Hold still.”

Lando stayed quiet as you smoothed the lapels, fingers brushing against his chest. The silence felt thick, aware of how close you were.

“Looks good,” you said, voice even. “But the pants need adjusting.”

You knelt down, reaching for the hem.

You could feel his eyes on you as you adjusted the fabric, fingers skimming his ankle, making sure the length was right. You refused to look up, but you could hear him breathe in, then exhale slowly.

“Comfortable down there?” he asked, voice casual, but you could hear his smirk.

You rolled your eyes, unable for him to see. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Lando huffed out a laugh, but when you did glance up—just for a second—his jaw was tight. Like he was the one struggling.

You stood, smoothing out the jacket. “Alright,” you said, stepping back, regaining distance. “I think we’re done here.”

Lando tilted his head. “You sure? Thought you liked bossing me around now.”

You smirked. “If I really wanted to boss you around, Lando, you’d know it.”

He blinked, caught off guard for just a second.

Then he grinned. “Noted.”

WN: new storyyyy wooooop, literally already had this fashion job at quadrant in my drafts and then the LV partnership was announced i had to implement that and post it

[rainydayathogwarts]

Actually love you having Peter in the poly marauders smut! Everyone forgets about my baby lmao

I need a part 3 lmao I don’t know What I just know it’s a need. Love your writing

1 boyfriend, 1 invitation, 2 interruptions - poly!marauders

summary: you're at a lit party in the common room, and remus knows it's that time of the night when you begin to get needy. but with the full moon just 24 hours away, he can't be the one to fulfil your needs. wc: 3k+ cw: SMUT, voyeurism, exhibitionism, foursome(?), cum consumption, brief fingering... (1 bf, 3 pervs pt.3) read part 1 // 2 - bf! remus, sirius, james, peter

Remus was dripping with sweat, his shirt sticking to his skin in a way that overstimulated him just enough to the point of annoyance. But you were dancing on the other side of the room with marlene, and he knew it was the time of the night when you started to get needy. And even worse? You were ovulating. He could smell it on you. From the moment he woke up, trudging down to the common room, he knew what point you’d reached in your cycle. But Remus couldn’t help you, not with the full moon so close. His bones had already started to ache with the transformation only 24 hours away, and he felt guilty for not being able to satisfy your needs. Your eyes found his across the room, and instantly, a smile was blossoming on your face and you were ditching Marlene on the dance floor to meet your boyfriend. You threw your arms over Remus’s shoulders and pressed yourself on your tippy toes to kiss him deeply. Remus’s hands lingered on your waist and he sighed into the kiss. You frowned, pulling away to look up at your tired boyfriend. “You alright sweetheart?” He nodded, fingers intertwining with yours. 

“Yeah. You alright if it’s not me who fucks you tonight?” Your eyes widened at his bluntness. Usually, you both played a game of teasing touches and long kisses before one of you dragged the other upstairs, giggles warning his roommates of the events taking place in their dorm. “I- what do you mean?” Remus nodded his head across the common room, gesturing for you to follow him. You snaked through dancing bodies until you were stood in a secluded part of the room, where Sirius chatted with the Prewett twins, a cigarette hanging between his lips. Remus threw an arm around Sirius’s shoulders, joining in on light conversation. Sirius glanced towards you, a smile forming on his lips. “Hey, you.” He teased, and you felt your face growing warmer than it already was. You reached across Remus for Sirius’s cigarette. “Can I?” “Anything for you, sweetheart.” He flirted, dropping the cigarette between his fingers and handing it to you.

“You mind if I steal him away from you boys for a bit?” Remus cut in just as you blew the smoke away, tugging Sirius in his direction. The twins shook their heads, saying their goodbyes, and Remus led you by the hand deeper in the common room and Sirius by the arm around his shoulders. You wound up in a small room where you usually spent after parties together, or afternoons with the boys planning pranks and you begging your boyfriend for attention. It was dark. With only one tall window making space for moonlight, and a dim fireplace, it was always the perfect place to share secrets and gossip. No one really knew about this room, so with Remus’s genius and Peter’s ambiverted love for privacy, the marauders decided to create a system where only you and the four boys could enter this room. Which was perfect for Remus’s plan. You thew the cigarette into the fireplace and sat on the only couch in the room, swinging your legs up to rest on the cushions, dress riding up in the process.

Sirius began walking over to you, but Remus held him back, pulling the boy closer to him. “Listen, no matter what, you can’t cum inside her.” Sirius’s eyebrows shot up, and he grinned widely. “You’re letting me fuck your girlfriend?” Instead of answering, Remus just repeated “I’ll kill you if you cum inside her.” “Well can I cum inside you?” The retort came quick, and had Remus jerking away from Sirius in shock. His heart started to race, and despite the fact that he could hear Sirius’s heart racing with nerves, his confident front intimidated Remus. Sirius stepped closer to Remus, putting a hand on his hip as he leaned in close, pressing a short kiss to his lips. Remus froze and his eyes drifted to where you sat watching them, a smile on your face. “Think of it while I make love to your girlfriend.” Sirius teased, turning around to face you. He quickly climbed over you on the couch, immediately capturing your lips in a kiss. “I was worried you guys were going to have all the fun without me.” You muttered against Sirius’s lips, a hand playing with his hair whilst the other hugged him closer to you.

Remus swallowed thickly. He remembered how angry he was last time he saw Sirius kiss you, but now, feeling Sirius’s lips on his? It ignited something in him. A flash of movement knocked him out of his daze, and he blinked a couple of times, watching Sirius throw his shirt somewhere in the room. Remus slowly sat on the floor near the fireplace, where he had the perfect view of you and Sirius: tongues tangling in a messy kiss, hands wandering under layers of clothes. Sirius gasped when you palmed his cock under his trousers, bucking his hips into your hand. “Take them off.” Sirius was off you in an instant, tripping over his feet to take his trousers off. Just as Sirius gripping the hem of his boxers, the door slammed open. “Oh that’s not fair!” Cried Peter the instant he realised what was happened. Sirius froze, unsure what to do, but you were instantly dragging him back onto you by the hand, calling out “Pete, I promise it’s your turn next!” The squeak of Pete’s “Okay!” was drowned out by James’s jealous groan and whine of “What about me?”

The two boys sat next to Remus on the floor, who looked at them and asked “How’d you guys know we were here?” James shrugged, replying with “We didn’t, but Pete got sick of the party so we escaped.” “Ten times better, this is.” Added the blonde boy, taking a swig of beer. You broke your kiss with Sirius, causing his moans to get louder as you continued stroking his cock. “Only ten?” You teased, letting go of Sirius’s cock so that he could tug your dress over your head. You giggled when he eagerly pounced on you, lips connecting with your neck as he shimmied your lace panties off. 

Sirius gripped his cock, one hand on your hip, but his movements were quickly stalled by a call from your boyfriend. “Don’t just stick it in! What, have you never had sex before?” Remus grunted, trying to push himself up from the floor. He winced, and Peter immediately rushed to help him up. Remus limped over to you both, his bad leg suddenly acting up, and he flopped on the couch next to you and Sirius. Sirius’s cheeks were flushed bright red in humiliation as Remus cupped one of your cheeks, a look of adoration on his face as he trailed his second hand down your abdomen and to your pussy. He easily found your clit, rubbing steady circles on you, watching as wetness pooled between your legs, listening closely to the way your breath hitched in your throat. Remus slid his fingers down to your entrance, effortlessly plunging them into you and pumping them inside you a few times. Sirius gasped loudly, watching as you clasped your hand around his dick, stroking him, your own lips parted in a breathy moan. Remus’s fingers slid out of you, and he put them in his mouth, humming in satisfaction as he rose off the couch once more, leaning on both James and Peter’s shoulders to help lower himself into the ground. 

“Go ahead.” Sirius followed Remus’s encouragement, lowering himself closer to you and guiding his cock down to your entrance. He slowly pushed into you, biting his bottom lip as though it would help him control his movements. “Jesus, I’ve been waiting for this forever.” He groaned, throwing his head back as he bottomed out. You moaned, grabbing Sirius by the shoulders and pulling him closer to you, until his chest was touching yours. You dug your nails into his shoulders, distantly hearing Remus scoff “Yeah, I’m still waiting to get that picture back by the way.” 

Sirius immediately set a fast pace, hips snapping into yours with a brutality that would leave angry bruises on your skin tomorrow. “Kiss me, Sirius.” You begged, and Remus watched possessively from across the room as Sirius lowered himself down to connect his mouth to yours in an open mouthed-kiss, tongues hungrily gliding against each other. Remus furrowed his eyebrows: It wasn’t jealousy he felt, no, it was something more powerful than that. lt was a desire, a craving. You arched your back, detaching your and Sirius’s lips in the process, mouth opening in a high pitched moan that had the three watching boys hardening in their trousers. Well, Remus was hard ages ago, but that was besides the point.

Sirius’s lips travelled down your face to your chest, and he cupped your breasts, guiding one of them towards his mouth, where his lips wrapped around your nipple and he started sucking harshly. You gasped loudly, wrapping your legs around Sirius’s waist and using them to tug him closer to you. You both gasped as he suddenly pushed into you balls-deep, and Sirius was instantly cringing from the way he almost burst, bringing a hand down to your cunt and between your folds to find your clit. He shut his eyes in focus until he finally found your clit, extracting an immediate reaction out of you. “Fuck!” Sirius cursed against your skin, stopping his thrusts to grind into you instead, trying to hold himself back from coming whilst making you cum too. 

Sirius switched his mouth to your second nipple, and the second he began suckling in it, you were coming with a loud moan that had James worriedly glancing towards the room’s closed door. You snaked a hand into Sirius’s hair, harshly pulling it in a way that had Sirius crying out loudly, pulling out of you in a hurry to he could release his load onto your stomach, Remus’s threat ringing in his mind. Sirius groaned as he caught his breath, finally making eye contact with you and spotting the smile on your face. You giggled, glancing down at the milky ropes of cum on your abdomen, dipping your finger into it before putting it in your mouth and humming in satisfaction, making a show of pushing your chest out as you shut your eyes. 

Sirius pushed himself up, stumbling away from you as he caught his breath, reaching for his boxers. “Oh god, I need a break. I’ll be back for you though.” Panted Sirius, winking at you flirtatiously as he slumped down on the red rug. 

You pouted, humming with pretense disappointment, before grinning again. “You do? Oh well. Pete, get over here.” The boy stood up quickly, tripping over his feet as he rushed over you, taking his jacket off. “How is she doing that?” Asked Sirius, looking over to Remus with wide eyes. “She’s ovulating.” “Fuck that’s hot.” The mumble came from James, who’d been unusually quiet all night. Remus and Sirius both looked at him, smirks on their faces at the sight of the boy shyly palming his cock through his jeans. “Shut up.” He said, face flushing at the sight of his best friends staring at him. Remus re-averted his gaze towards you, grinning when you tangled your hand through Peter’s soft blond hair. The boy looked up at you through lust-filled eyes, and he leaned down to lick a bold stripe up your stomach, cleaning you of Sirius’s cum. 

Your mouth dropped in shock. You weren’t expecting that from sweet, shy Peter, and you certainly weren’t expecting him to come back up and connect your lips in a sloppy kiss, letting you taste Sirius’s cum on his tongue. You eagerly unbuttoned Peter’s shirt, and he aided you in its removal, peeling off his undershirt too. While Peter busied himself with taking of his trousers, you spun around to lay down your stomach, on your knees with your chest flat on the couch. Peter’s breath hitched loudly, both his hands coming to your ass to grope at the fat, his jaw slack in awe. “Pete?” You pushed your ass back, encouraging the boy to run the tip of his cock through your folds before teasingly dipping into your entrance. Peter groaned, all patience dissipating from his body as he finally felt the inside of your gummy walls pulsing around his cock. 

Beggars can’t be choosers, or in other words, he had been waiting too long to feel your cunt on his cock to be the one teasing you. Since you were well prepared by Sirius, Peter had no trouble pushing into you all the way from the get go. He didn’t recognize the sound that escaped his body; despite his extreme pleasure, it sounded like a mix of pain and discomfort, but perhaps it was just Peter trying to stop himself from immediately coming. You didn’t realise that maybe going for a second round so quickly may have an effect on your body, because almost as soon as Peter began thrusting into you, your thighs had started shaking. 

Peter gathered the hair behind your head in a loose hold, cooling you down despite the hot sweat glimmering on your skin. A steady string of moans escaped you with each slam of Peter’s cock into your pussy. Your body jerked forward, skin painfully pulling on the brown leather of the couch underneath you, but the sting only added to your pleasure. You squeezed your legs together in a desperate attempt to add friction to your clit, and Peter seemed to sense your discomfort, leaning down so his chest touched yours as he wrapped an arm around your front, his other tightly gripping the arm of the couch. His loud pants wrung in your ear and he grunted, pulling your chest off the couch so you could rest both your arms next to his on the arm of the couch. You tried thanking him, but all that came out was a breathy mumble of syllables.

“Fuck!” You cried, suddenly arching your back against Peter’s chest as he found a new angle, the tip of his cock grazing your cervix with each hump of his hips.

“Oh Pete!” You moaned, throwing your head back in pleasure, eyes stapling shut. “Looks like you’ve got some competition.” James muttered to Sirius, now stroking himself underneath his boxers. Sirius didn’t reply, but a grumble vibrated in his chest, making James chuckle. “Don’t worry, when I get my chance with her, she’ll prefer mine over Pete’s.” Sirius scoffed, crossing his arms over his naked chest. “You gonna challenge Remus now too?” The boy fired back, glancing at you when you let out a particularly loud moan. He didn’t receive an answer from James, but Remus, who laughed whole heartedly, slapping a hand on his chest. “You boys are lucky I even let you see her naked.” James and Sirius gulped in unison, shying away from eye contact with Remus “Oh god!” You cried when Peter’s fingers found your clit, rubbing desperately when his thighs started shaking, on the brink of his orgasm. 

“Fuck, cum for me.” He begged, voice breaking, thrusts becoming sloppy. His words were like a trigger for you, activating your orgasm. Peter continued thrusting into you as you moaned loudly until you were telling him to stop “I can’t, I-“ Peter happily pulled out, letting you slump down on the couch as he brought his hand to his  cock, giving himself two good pumps until he was coming all over your back with a broken up moan. “Oh shit, oh fuck, I’m sorry.” He mumbled, catching his breath and looking around the room for some tissues. James threw the box of tissues at Peter, who barely caught it, spurts of cum still shooting out of his cock. Peter fumbled with the box when his orgasm finally wore off before wiping his cum off you. The boy put a hand on your shoulder, feeling the way your body rose and fell with each breath you took. “You okay?” He asked worriedly, helping you sit up properly when you began to move. You nodded your head, watching as James stood up from his place in the floor to pick up your discarded dress. “You boys are my heroes.” You muttered with a teasing smile, glancing around at the four boys in the room. “Yeah?” James asked, approaching you and helping you pull your dress over your body. You nodded, sticking your arms through the right holes and put your hands out for James to help you up.

He gladly pulled you off the couch, one hand securing itself around your waist and you pointed in Remus’s direction. “Take me to my boyfriend, will you?” Remus stood up at your words, opening his arms when you finally reached him and accepting the eager kiss you planted on his lips. Remus groaned quietly, hugging you closer to him and letting you slip your tongue in his mouth. With your lips on his, and bodies so close to each other, Remus forgot about the others in the room, hearing the steady beat of your heart. You broke away from the kiss, leaning your forehead against his whilst offering “How about we shower and go to bed? Make sure you’re well rested before tomorrow?” Remus nodded, and you were instantly sliding your hand in his and guiding him out of the room and into his dorm.

Sirius, James and Peter stood silently in the room, watching you both leave, before turning to each other. “Well, I can’t complain.” Shrugged Peter, tucking himself back into his trousers. Sirius barked out a laugh, muttering words of agreement whilst James huffed in disappointment. “I didn’t even cum!” Sirius wrapped an arm over the boy’s shoulders, guiding him to the couch. “Don’t worry mate, I’ll take care of you.” And James was instantly blushing and taking off his trousers for his best friend, leaving Peter to smoke a cigarette by the open window. 

taglist:

@ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28

[revelboo]

Revel I just wanna say you and other transformers x reader authors inspired me to not just get back into writing but straight up making a song for the first time. I genuinely feel like falling in love all over again when reading the way you describe these bots 🩷🩷🩷🫶

That’s amazing! I’m so happy you like how I write them and that you’re feeling creative!

Even If It Kills Me Pt 15

Armada Starscream x Reader

• “Can you sing for us?” Gritting his denta at your soft request and the pleading chirps from his mini-cons, he looks down at where you’re all sprawled on him as your own personal heated berth. And he’s pretty sure his warmth is all you’re after. The mini-cons are probably just following your lead. And his voice isn’t cut out for singing. You know that. But you’re staring up at him, making your eyes big and he doesn’t really have a defense against that look.

• Hear him venting in annoyance and it’s hard not to grin when he starts singing that same song in his growling, rough language. Laying your cheek on your arms, you feel him ghost a servo against your spine. His warmth and voice spilling through you. Haven’t been able to actually just tell him that he keeps the nightmares at bay. The thrum of his spark and the little sounds of his internal systems soothe you. You’re almost drowsing when he stops and you sleepily lift your head, smiling when he gently presses your head back down with a servo. “No more lullabies. Those are for sparklings. Recharge.” He’s used that word before. Sparklings. Told you his mini-cons weren’t sparklings and not to spoil them.

• “Does that mean babies?” You ask and he vents. Because you’re not resting which means he’s not resting. “Little, helpless you guys?” There’s something in your voice. More than curiosity, but he can’t pin down exactly what it is. “Do you have kids? Sparklings?”

• “There’ve been no new Cybertronians sparked since before the war,” he murmurs, optics shuttered. Baby, alien robots. Trying to imagine if they’re actually babies and tiny needing teaching and care or if they start out full size and ready to go. “If you mean me personally? No, I’m not a sire.” That’s a pity. You’ve seen how he watches over you and the mini-cons. “I’m not sure that we can even create new sparks anymore.”

• Growling softly when you push against his servos and sit up on him, he drapes an arm over his face. Why can’t you rest? He has patrol first thing. “I’m sorry.” Peeking at you, because why apologize for something that’s not your fault? And Primus. Why are you leaking? Can’t even begin to understand how your little, organic mind works sometimes. But you’re upset now. Because there are no new sparks? Do you realize his species is dying out?

• “Stop leaking,” he grumbles, reaching to swipe a servo against your cheek and you catch at it, hugging it to you. “Primus, you really do act like a sparkling.” Pressing your face against his hand, you can’t explain to him why you’re crying. Can’t even really explain it to yourself. Just needing to get it out of your system and he leans forward, sending the mini-cons scurrying and indignantly chirping as he vents to stir your hair. “Please, stop?”

• “Sorry,” you manage, smiling up at him. “I’m okay. Really.” You say that, but you’re still clinging to his servo like he’s safety. And you’re not okay, he’s sure of that. Wants to ask, but something about your expression makes the words fail him. Realizing that this isn’t as simple as sharing old scars. This is something else entirely. Watches you scrub at your face, avoiding his optics, then open your arms for Runway, the mini-con immediately cuddling up against you. What had that been about?

Previous

[angelart67]

OK... So I don't have Instagram, which is probably because it is META owned & if I gave up my FakeBook, it makes no sense why I would just jump to another platform owned by the same entity... YES, I DO KNOW THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS... Only wrote it cause this makes me wish I could ONLY SEE the stuff that is WORTH IT on those platforms... LIKE THIS... Soooooo, that said, THANK GOD, you posted this on Tumblr as well... TY TY TY TY TY

MANY more ppl need to see n read this. BECAUSE, whatever rights or options or do-overs you think you have due you, this fact is MEDICALLY PROVEN...

Abortion STOPS A BEATING 💓🙏💔😇PLEASE don't murder God's Miracles...

OH WAIT... Before someone out there goes off on me because they just ASSume I have no stake in this, don't know what I'm talking about, or think I'm trying to kidnap their uterus... LISTEN UP... PLEASE, & I am NOT calling anyone out of their name, so let's see if we can possibly just stay on track with facts, for once, & not behave like bullies...

I do TY in advance for that...

I gave birth to 4 children, 2 were full term, 1 was "overbaked" family funny there, & 1 was extremely premature (especially for it being the 80's when they knew far less about premature infants) I also have suffered thru multiple miscarriages, & yep BIG DIFF between that happening to a woman & calling for an appt to end things on purpose... Every miscarriage I went thru made ME feel the same way I'd have felt, had I lost any of my living children (like stillbirth), they were ALL DEVASTATING LOSSES... Of my 4 who were born & lived, they are on this earth because my mama raised me to believe, once I am pregnant, planned OR unplanned, it is (in my heart & belief system) God's will, God's miracle, God's choice & MY DUTY... I don't wish to get into ANY debate with ANYONE over religion. Please NOOOO I've still not recovered from my recent political trauma, so have some mercy... So there I was in 4 different situations, at various times between 17 & 30 years old, in my doctors office, being given the news... This part pretty much kills me emotionally, because if only you could step into MY BELIEF SYSTEM for one little minute, please try, IF you were brought up that way, & fully believed that, to have a medical doctor (well 4 actually) not SUGGEST, but almost INSIST you go kill your unborn child you just found out about !!!!!

See... I happened to be born with a rare congenital disorder, which can transfer from mama to baby, BUT rather than even ASK ME about any CHOICE I might want to make, they was ready to pack me off to what I CONSIDER paid killers... If they had bothered to ask me, I could easily have shared that I believe in God, that for whatever reason, (I cannot know in this lifetime) allowed me to be born with this congenital disorder... so MY MIND & HEART reasons this way... out of my mom's 4 kids, only me & 1 brother had/have it, other brother & sister, nary a sign, just fine... Now God allowed me to have it, BUT HE also allowed me to get pregnant with my child... can't you just suppose (pretend again if you must) but if this ALL KNOWING GREATER POWER, I call God allowed BOTH of those occurrences to take place, MAYBE it was so I NEEDED to place my faith in Him? That is what was required, that is what was in my prayers, "Please Father God, just take care of my baby & help me be strong, whatever Your will." When I was a little kiddo, by the way, there was no medical test for my congenital disorder... back then, you got diagnosed by certain characteristics of the anatomy, having to do with skeletal system, cardiac system, vision, & muscular systems. So that is how my brother & I were diagnosed... nobody knows before my dear mom who else may have had it, because really nothing was specifically known 2 generations prior... Yes, my mom died when I was 17, as a direct result of this condition, in fact it was literally ONE WEEK before I discovered I was pregnant, so think again (as me) I am a teenager, just lost my mom last week, then found out I am pregnant, & a medical doctor (who knew those facts by the way) is suggesting I go murder what became my beautiful daughter, not to mention the mama of my ONLY grandchild... My daughter became my shining beam of sunlight & life, thru the death of my mom, helping me have good reason to get thru some of the most difficult days of loss I ever felt... So, anyone out there wanna clue me in about MY CHOICE... Well, that's OK, I only had ONE choice because my Bible instructs me, "Thou shalt not kill", & I assure you there is no clause or addendum attached to that COMMANDMENT that says

A. Unless this is inconvenient for you... B. Unless you have no faith in Me to care... C. Unless you are concerned about money...

Naaaaa... no such deals, not for me, & not for billions of other people raised with similar beliefs, in a menagerie of various religious belief systems... so is it that hard to believe that while there are SOME OUT THERE, I'm sure who simply don't believe in God, but are ONLY bent on stealing your RIGHTS... Don't you think there's a LOT who simply feel it is our God given duty to try & stop what we view as one of the worst crimes against humanity? Is it possible? Cause I'm nice, I swear, I'm not out to get anyone... but when I've spent 30 odd years working in the health industry, & I am so beyond aware of the medical facts, & ALL OF THEM in my eyes, PROVE LIFE FROM CONCEPTION but when I first learned about things like "partial birth abortion" I am HORRIFIED !!! & no, I'm not just saying everyone is going to carry almost to term, or to term in some instances, & then grab the long surgical scissors, (I mean the BRAIN SCRAMBLER) & by the way, that IS DEFINATELY NOT why we are born with a soft spot... but to me, if it's 6 weeks, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, months, no matter, it is the KILLING of a human who is completely unable to defend itself, NOBODY is giving these kids a choice, they call em slimeblobs, to be able to live with it IMO...

I've been there, I HAVE lived it, 1 of my 4 was (possibly) the result of rape, because that happened to me, just around the time I got pregnant... we just did not know until after birth when it could be proven one way or the other, & yes, THANK GOD she ultimately wasn't the rapists child, but I promise you as God is my witness, had I known THEN, like I wasn't in my relationship, so I KNEW... I still could never have ended her life... medical facts DO PROVE life begins at conception, the medical field simply use various terms, to show what point things are at, so even if embryo or fetus sounds like blob to you, it's not, not at all, & if you only be selfless for a little while, my point is beyond proven... NOTHING that isn't alive has a heartbeat or organs forming more each day, & the scientific list goes on...

My brother, who was also born with my same congenital issues, passed away in his early 40s as a direct result of the condition... so does that mean he had nothing to offer this world in his 4 decades? Nowadays, they developed a blood test that gives a definitive yes/no answer about what I live with. There is no more figuring it out from aspects of your anatomy... I've now surpassed the age my brother & mother passed away at, about to be 58 in the spring... I don't know how or why my Father in heaven has kept me going this long, I assure you, I am far from healthy, but I like to think I contributed a LOT of good, in my time here, & I'm blessed my mom didn't just think, "Aww screw it, she might be born all messed up." & do me in... Had that happened, this world would also be (probably) without any of my 3 siblings, their children, grandchildren & and great-grandchildren, without my 4, & without my grandson... & By the way, my kids had the blood test that now exists, NONE of them have it... so I'd have also murdered them pointlessly, had I listened to the doctors...

I'm done, I pray I made an impact with SOMEBODY SOMEWHERE, I pray I at least make others think & reason things through...

God Bless & Keep You, & may He protect those who can't protect themselves, 🙏😇

[r0-boat]

Satan NSFW Alphabet

Well shit You guys really wanted it...

Here you go.

Cw: rough sex, hitting, spanking, mentions of bruises and bleeding.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Am I surprising you, but Satan is actually pretty good with aftercare? Satan will press his lips and look at any injuries he gave you. He'll hold you close and snuggle into your neck. You hear a soft rumble from his body, which he adamantly denies. He becomes incredibly protective and clingy for a while. Any King or not tries to rip you away from his arms we'll have a one-way trip to Lucifer's office. If you try to leave to go to the bathroom or get some water, he will always have his arms around you to the point where he's following you around like a clingy cat.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

As much as he hates to admit it, He agrees with Mammon's obsession with your ass. Tight, pert, and soft; enough flesh to sink his teeth into and leave red with his handprints. He likes the way he jiggles when he slaps it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Yes. In you, on you, breeding you, in your mouth as long as He gets to empty his balls with his favorite stress toy.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Every demon has at least one dirty secret. Satan is no exception. As much as he likes to take pride in being your protector. He can't ignore his sadistic desires. To really mark your skin red and purple. To see The fear and pain in your eyes as you try to squirm away from him.

How badly he wants to make you bleed and lick up your blood.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The way his hands clench when he thinks about slapping you across the face when you're sucking him off.

Satan had had lovers before and after he met Solomon. But once he had you, he kind of ghosted all of them. They're pissed, but honestly,, he could care less. You're all that matters to him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style, cowgirl, face sitting, Anything that frees his hands to do more.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

No, Satan likes to lose himself during sex; if you break his concentration, he will get mad at you. If you have enough energy to school off with him while he's fucking you then he's not doing his job.

Satan shaves once every month or two and then lets everything grow out.

Personally, I feel like Satan should have more hair than he actually does (happy trail, facial hair, etc.), mainly because depressed people go through episodes where they just don't care about how groomed they are for days on end. He's not like Asmodeus, who purposely doesn't was; sometimes, he just can't bring himself to. If he isn't working, he's destroying his own stuff or killing angels for fun.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He only started to care about grooming when you started living in Gehenna. Depressed Satan starting to grow a beard and mustache because you spent two weeks too long in Hades. Only to shave it all off and be happy as a puppy when He hears you're coming back.

Satan has no idea what intimacy even is. He practically froze up when you cuddled up against his body. Even if you tell him what to do what you probably have to He will be extremely hesitant out of fear of screwing up somehow.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't jack off; I know it's surprising, but hear me out. He rather just have a body to fuck; He breaks all of his sex toys in minutes when he's using them and his hand just makes him even more pent up and pissed off.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Other than spanking, Satan has a massive sadism/masochism. Kink, You better hurt him like he hurts you. He doesn't want to have it any other way.

A huge brat tamer, if you try to tease him, he'll take that as an invitation, and trust me, you don't want to know what he's about to do to you.

Fucking loves Free Use

One time when you told him how big his cock was, he instantly came; he came so fast and so hard it bruised his ego, and he was staring at the ceiling thinking about what just happened.

New Kink unlocked🔓 Praise Kink

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere he damn pleases; He's the fucking king. In fact, he'd rather it be in public so he can give a message to other devils to fuck off.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anger, His anger feels him up so full that it goes straight to his dick.

Teasing, he'll take it as a challenge. Satan always takes the bait, hook, line, and sinker. He can't help himself. You send one obscure image of yourself; he doesn't care where he is, in the middle of a war or in a meeting. He will be there in 10 minutes, approaching your location rapidly.

Satan 🤝 Levi jealous sex

Unlike Levi, Who stews in jealousy before acting; Satan just immediately explodes.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Get that softy fluffy sex shit out of here.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Sit on his face... Don't put 10% of your weight down; sit on it. SIT ON IT! MAKE SURE HE DOESN'T BREATHE!

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough till you can still feel him for days.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Anywhere; everywhere; anytime, if he sees that ass and he's horny it's free real estate.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Oh yeah, of course, he'll experiment. It's not that he takes risks; it's that he doesn't care for them.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As long as he damn pleases. Even if he is sore,, he'll keep going.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No fuck those pieces of plastic bullshits; if he catches you using one, he'll use it till it breaks and then say. "I'm not replacing shit. You should be using me; I'm your dildo!!"

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Satan doesn't tease, and Satan does not like teasing. Teasing him is considered a challenge. Satan rather just fuck you till you stop pissing him off. If you really want to tease him you have to tie him down and pray the bindings don't break.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He growls like a feral animal; if Asmodeus fucks you like an animal in heat, then Satan fucks you like an animal with rabies; Yes, he does bite.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

As possessive as Satan is he actually doesn't mind sharing you with only a few people.

The kings if he's in a good mood;

Sitri; but he can't touch you; he must sit and watch.

Amy; Sitri must also be there for free entertainment; Satan will happily stir the pot and let Amy touch or fuck you just to watch the Sitri seething in jealousy and anger.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Satan is a shower, not a grower; As pale as mayonnaise, when his cock is hard, his tip flares so red. It's kind of fun to watch.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His yearning for sex grows with the wrath inside him. You guys can do the math.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Very rarely he will ever feel exhausted enough to fall asleep but usually you guys are doing it all the way till morning.

[ahappydnp]

so sorry but ive seen two different things about this now and im very lost, why did people think they were breaking up/broke up in 2012??? pls help me understand, wise keeper of the lore. thank u so much

response under the cut for general 2012 discussion/too long

basically 2012/2013 used to get (and sometimes still is) generalized as this dark and awful time period where dnp "hated" each other and us, when in actuality it was two very young very scared closeted queer people who were in the process of several major life changes at once while also dealing with a new exploding fan base

there's a few big things from that "era" that people talk about:

deleting old posts- around this era dnp deleted a ton of old tweets/formsprings/dailybooths that could read as them being in a relationship. they were blowing up online and had more eyes on them than ever before, not to mention had just starting working with the BBC (where being queer would have greatly affected their careers). also keep in mind dan was still in the closet to EVERYONE, and now he's got tons of fans going through his accounts and sending shit to HIS LITTLE BROTHER on tumblr asking if dan's gay. anyway people decided them deleting early tweets meant they had broken up

dan's customerservice tumblr blog- in the middle of them blowing up and people finding all these old posts, dan in an effort to control the narrative, makes a new blog for people to anonymously ask him questions (: which went about as well as you can imagine for an extremely defensive closeted 20 year old with undiagnosed depression. basically he said some unfortunately things out of fear

the video leaked again- won't get too much into that because of the subject matter, but the yeah the video leaked for the second time except this time way more people saw it/shared it and dnp actually had to respond to it this time. which is. just fucking awful and heartbreaking all around.

phil persona- basically this was the birth of the amazingphil persona that'd follow phil to the quiff era. he became more sanitized and less personable than original phil fans were used to (which got romanticized into uwu he's sad because he and dan broke up and now he's shutting down)

"no homo"- pretty self explanatory...people asked if they were gay (every single day constantly on every platform) and they would say no because what else are they going to say. this one particular vyou where dan's actually trying to make people think kills me (x) god he was so young. but they'd also started doing the "omg i don't want to see you naked/ew people want us to kiss" and the infamous "you need a girlfriend" "my future wife" etc etc.

the breakup rumors mostly stemmed from and became popular/ treated as fact by younger fans who kind of saw them as these fictionalized characters (which i mean not to blame them because they were literal children and youtubers were still so new that people did treat them like tv show characters you could be friends with). it also got turned into more sinister theories like the "dan is abusing phil" ones and "phil is actually gay but dan isn't and just used phil for attention and fame in 2009"

there was also factors like them moving to london in 2012 (and people were CONVINCED they'd stop being friends in london??), people thinking them getting popular would mean they'd get girlfriends like other popular youtubers (shoutout danrific shippers), and most importantly just them sharing less about their personal lives with their audience. like of course they're not going to live tweet their day/location anymore when people are showing up at their house and trying to find their families.

basically, dnp were putting boundaries between themselves and their fans, but the fans interpreted it as putting distance between each other. in actuality the 2012/2013 era was full of some really amazing memories and content and things people loved (literally the photobooth challenge is from 2013!! sleeping phil saying i hate you is from 2012!!!)

in conclusion, imagine building a forever home with your ex lmao

[bonefall]

the ShadowClan talk made me look through Brokenstar's BB Tags, and. a) is Lizardstripe still related to Finchflight, if you are keeping Finch-Dawn as a couple (with Dawncloud's age redux)? b) i keep seeing stuff about Snowtuft and killing kits, but i cant find anything actually detailing on that on the blog, and one of the older posts also mentions that Blizzardwing is either his son/grandson AND that Lizardstripe's mother was the kit he couldn't kill. what is all that about, im dying to know.

This is info that's scattered across a bunch of different posts, plus more deets and changes I haven't had a chance to dive into. Snowtuft committed an atrocity which would torment his victims and descendants for generations, for both its legacy and its trauma.

SO I wanna put as much of it as possible into one place for now, so you don't have to go guessing based on older posts. Especially since some of those posts are long outdated, but I haven't contradicted them yet.

To start the story of the two families, it begins with Snowtuft and the bloody end of the Crusade Era.

CONTENT WARNING; this is one of BB's darkest tales. It involves depictions of xenophobic violence, child murder, war crime, PTSD, abuse, and kidnapping. BB!Snowtuft's a bad kitty!

SEE: Kitten Stealing

(Also: After writing it out, I kinda realized this would be great as a BB entry on its own. I should come back and clean this up someday.)

PART 1: THE LAST CRUSADE

Cedarstar inherited the Crusades from Houndstar, continuing them more out of respect for her legacy than true zealotry.

He had actually been chosen as a deputy because he would run the Clan while she was off gallavanting.

He wasn't a pushover or anything, just prefered logistics. Him and Pinestar were tragically ahead of their time.

...but like other cats of his time, he was from a culture that didn't extend personhood beyond the Clans. So, he continued the Crusades.

Even though they weren't getting easier.

Crystal of Chelford had already used a new tool to carve a red future for the cats of the town...

and what were once defenseless little targets began to unite into organized, armed response teams.

Non-BloodClan "zones" got rarer and rarer.

The territory and underlings of an influential cat named Jay were among the last holdouts, so it's where most of ShadowClan's raids were launched.

And on one of these raids... it happened fast.

Snowtuft turned an alley and was ruthlessly attacked. He defended himself.

In the confusion, another assailant ran towards him. He acted swiftly.

It was reflex! Instinct! He couldn't tell what was coming at him. It was a split second decision.

He couldn't undo what had happened. The kitten was dead, next to its mother.

And the others were screaming, crying, terrified.

Snowtuft doesn't remember what he did next. He doesn't want to.

But Puffballburr does.

She used to see it every night.

She remembers her name, too-- Pixie. And her mom. And her littermates.

And the look that washed over his eyes when he realized the ragged flesh at his feet was a kitten.

Raw shock, electrifying shame, the dawning horror of knowing you've definitely done something that you're going to get punished for.

And when his white, blood-splattered face turned slowly towards her and her wailing siblings, she recognized that emotion too.

It's a very childlike response, really.

He needed to cover up his accident.

And he almost did, too. It was dumb luck that stopped him as he grabbed her tail and dragged her out from her hiding place. One of his clanmates heard the awful racket, and Pixie had survived just long enough.

PART 2: ONE OF US

They took her away, just like any other "honor kitten," but the Clan cats believed this was different somehow.

Something about the naked horror of what Snowtuft did, maybe. Impossible to ignore.

But it's not like he faced any real justice for it, not that Puffballkit could remember seeing. So clearly it wasn't very different at all.

His mate left him, and the older warriors regarded him with a distant sort of "shame." He was ostracized from many circles.

But Puff's siblings had not been "clan cats" so the Warrior Code did not apply to them. He faced social dishonor, not legal.

Ever-merciful Cedarstar did not want to "ruin" more lives.

"Not when the kit is far too young to even remember what happened," he said. But she did remember.

And her name. Her mom. Her littermates. That face.

She just knew, growing up, that she couldn't know about it.

Because Snowtuft was always right there, just around the curve of the den, just behind the cover of the rose bush thorns, listening.

They're ALL Snowtuft.

To admit she remembers it is to admit she isn't one of them. And if you're not one of them, the law does not apply to you.

As a kid, she couldn't articulate it. But she understood it.

Deep down to her brittle, kittypet bones. Her filthy, stillwater blood.

The ungrateful heart that beat in her chest.

Fear expressed as a constant, calm obedience of authority. A permanent dread, as if living in a pack as a sheep in wolf's clothing

So she was quiet, notoriously so.

Whoever her foster was, Puff was like a little white shadow. It's where the warrior name came from, eventually-- a puffball clinging to someone's fur. (after writing this though, half of me wants to start calling her Lambfur or Lambfrost.)

ShadowClan plunged into the Campaign Era with Heatherstar's invasion of the Mothermouth Moorland, and the massacre of some kittypet family became awkward history. Those old enough to remember still kept a distance from Snowtuft... but war took its toll.

War means death and those older members of the Clan are not replaceable.

Younger cats weren't there to see the horror of what Snowtuft had done... and time would make him bolder.

Finding growing sympathy in his apprentices, spurred on by the hardening of the culture in tandem with the official birth of Thistle Law, Snowtuft started to change history.

The official Educator of ShadowClan (still unsure who this was) had one story, and Snowtuft had one too.

"Details" were quietly changed in his. They weren't "kits" but "young cats." They charged out to aid their mother. Then maybe she wasn't their mother. Who knows.

Pullball's name was left out of these stories, on both sides. No need for the kittens to know that she wasn't one of us.

And if she was? That's a good thing for her. Living the life of a Clan cat.

He wouldn't share if "he wasn't asked," but all of his actions, his language, was a silent plea to be asked.

He wanted to forget the whole thing, because of his nightmares, his constant shame and punishment, how hard the whole ordeal made his life-- but he couldn't so it was constantly coming out of his mouth.

There was a deep resentment on his end, towards Puffballburr. How she was part of the Clan now, always reminding him. Like it was her fault.

In the end, Snowtuft didn't blame himself. He blamed everything else. The guilt was killing him a little bit every day...

But not as much as that WindClan cat's claws did. Those killed him a lot in one day!

But Snowtuft's death didn't bring Puffballburr any peace. She just felt... annoyed. Which was strange to her-- she should feel relief, but, she didn't. She was just thinking about how the next battle with WindClan would be harder without an extra set of claws.

PART 3: GOING HOME

Puffballfur is the queen of low empathy, and her emotions are... hard to predict.

Not in a chaotic sort of way, but in a "Huh, interesting, I didn't think that of all things would get me going" sort of way.

She both lives in constant "fear" but also a persistent banality. It's kind of like being in a cage with a chained tiger, but you've marked the exact spot on the floor where the tiger's chain ends.

Imagine getting nightmares that stop you from sleeping, but you know that they aren't going to come true. So you lay there with a throbbing heart, mostly feeling annoyed that you're going to be tired in the morning.

That's her life.

Sometimes when she couldn't sleep, she'd roll on her back in the nest and critique the assassination attempt in her mind.

Did he think his dumb plan through? Or did he just react without thinking? It was going to be obvious he killed a bunch of kids, whether she survived or not.

Or maybe he would have just said that the rogue killed her own kits to prevent them from becoming Clan cats. They'd probably believe that.

Either way it was sloppy. Could have had more kits if he didn't kill her sibs.

She had connections within the Clan. A foster, hunting buddies, apprentice. She was kind to them, especially when they were useful. But...

It feels like she's not like them. Like they have variables to their behavior that she doesn't. Drives and desires that are pointless, sometimes even frustrating.

Like the concept of "honor." Ridiculous. Every single person who talks about it is hypocritical about it in some way, and it causes unnecessary fights in the camp and on the border because of ridiculous ego.

She just performs it because the other cats value it-- and when people like you, you get what you want.

I'm not sure who her mate was, or if it was even just one. In any case, when she found herself pregnant, she declared Queen's Rights. I feel like she might have had a fling with someone, but got annoyed by their clingy behavior.

When her daughters were born, Bracketkit and Lizardkit, she felt pride.

Because... they didn't belong to someone else. They weren't even really ShadowClan's. They were hers.

For the first time since her mother and littermates had been taken away from her, she felt like she was looking at family. People who would always be with her.

But that didn't last...

...because a chance encounter only a few moons later reconnected her with someone who remembered her.

Not a littermate, but an older sister. Marmalade. She couldn't believe that Pixie was alive.

This is a WIP zone because I'm not sure, yet, if I'm keeping Hal's attack on ShadowClan. In any case, they continued to reconnect for moons.

The fact that she was remembered, that she could talk openly about what happened, and that Marmalade wanted her and her kittens to come home made Puffballburr's stomach flutter with excitement. She felt valuable.

And with the war getting worse and worse, this was absolutely the best choice for her kittens as well. They would be safer with BloodClan than they would with ShadowClan.

No longer would she be Puffballburr. Her name was Pixie.

ENTER: LIZARDSTRIPE

Puffballburr wasn't a bad mother, but it would feel a lot better to be Lizardstripe if she could have the simplicity to just say she was.

Her earliest memories of her mom and her sibling were outside of the camp on a cool, clear spring night, laying in soft marshgrass. Puff was laying on her back with her hind legs bowed out, a kit tucked under each paw, pressed to her fluffy, warm chest. Her face was turned upward, quietly, at the moon, as her daughters slept peacefully.

She's not sure how long after she'd opened her eyes that this memory took place, but Lizardkit looked up towards the bright, starry sky... and she remembered that the light hurt.

Her needs were always taken care of, but Puffballburr hated explaining things.

You learned quick to treat your questions like a valuable resource, and to listen carefully.

Lizardkit was sharp, much sharper than her sister. She caught onto the way that her mother viewed relationships in a very transactional sort of way-- and stayed aware of her balance.

And had to consider the cost of doing the things her mother was fond of, versus what the other kittens and queens in the nursery expected of her.

What Puffball didn't realize when her children were born was that they were family, but they were also ShadowClan. Even if this was not something she had ever felt a connection to.

Deep down, it didn't truly click with her that her children were not extensions of herself.

And when Lizardkit was a child, learning history from the Educator and getting involved in more of the Clan's goings-on, Puffballburr spent less and less time with her. Because she was reconnecting with Marmalade.

When Bracket and Lizard had their apprentice ceremony, Puffballburr was not there.

Lizardpaw's mentor was the infamously powerful, chaotic fighter, Finchflight. Bracketpaw was assigned to Brackenfoot. (There is an earlier post suggesting that Lizi and Finf were going to be related. I decided to make them mentor/apprentice instead.)

Finchflight immediately began to stress the importance of loyalty. Being one of the younger cats who had sympathized with Snowtuft and knowing the secret behind Puffballburr's beginnings, he nurtured a pain within Lizardstripe. Encouraged her to let the distance between her and her family grow.

Eventually, Puffball told her children that they were going to leave ShadowClan. They had family in the town, would be safe there, could start a brand new life together.

And Lizardpaw was shocked.

It was like everything Finchflight had said was true.

And they were going to leave her.

She reacted violently to the suggestion, attacking her mother. Told them that she was going to expose them, lead a patrol right back to their new hiding place, bring them "back home."

In defense of Puffballburr, Bracketpaw brawled with her sister. They fought viciously, until their mother separated them with a desperate, devastating whack to Lizardpaw's head.

Laying dazed on the ground, she heard an apology before passing out.

When she woke up, she was safely protected within a blackthorn bush-- with a nick on the outside of her ear.

She stayed out there for hours, not knowing what to do, where her family had gone, or what she was going to say when she got home.

But, looking at her reflection in a puddle of water, she became so angry at the idea of this being her first scar that she ripped the other ear, on the opposite side.

When the search party found her, they asked what had happened to her. If she had seen her mother or her sister, or if something had gone wrong.

"Nah. Took a nap to get away from them. Ripped my ears on the thornbush."

Later, when she would be interrogated or questioned by people she didn't want to lie to, she would tell a half-truth;

"I did it to myself. Liked how it looked. Last I saw of Puffballburr and Bracketpaw, they were upset I'd done it and left, so I took a nap."

She didn't mind that her Clanmates thought this was weird. She didn't care about whispers that it was all done for attention, or that it was dishonorable to do such a thing and they probably met a predator after storming off, and she didn't even mind the gossip guessing at the "real" reason behind her ripped ears.

The only people who ever got the whole truth were the Forget-Me-Nots. After their disappearance, Lizardstripe didn't talk about her family for years, insisting upon having no further details. Even if it meant that mystery and suspicion would hang around her like a cloud.

BLIZZARDWING: KIN OF SNOWTUFT

Snowtuft's daughter was named Lilyfur. She was a kit when her father slaughtered Pixie's family.

When her mother left her father, she also distanced herself from him. This was something Snowtuft was outraged and saddened by.

But Lilyfur's mother couldn't stand the idea of a kitten-killer trying to stay close to her daughter. How could he look at little babies, the same age as his own child, and kill them?

Lilykit grew up very conflicted. She remembered how much she loved her dad, understood that he was a kitten murderer, but he continued to be so kind to her into adulthood.

It was hard to think of him as someone who could do something so horrible.

Earlier draft had Lilyfur die and her kittens were raised by their kin, Snowtuft, but I'm currently leaning towards Lilyfur being alive but just letting him be an active part of their lives-- in spite of her discomfort.

Because the more time he spent in her life, paradoxically, the more obsessed he became with all the "time he lost out on."

Which ended up including entertaining a lot of conversations about how he'd never done anything wrong, ever, and everyone was mean to him.

Lilyfur: "ok maybe he's not evil but my dad is really annoying <:/ but he's really lonely. He needs me. and i cant take him away from his grandkits"

From this, what Blizzardwing absorbed was the idea that love and forgiveness was always tolerating your family no matter what. This would express itself in his toxic relationship with Hollyflower.

But Blizzardwing now has a sibling. I haven't settled on a name yet-- but I'm playing with him either being Angelshade or Silkflower.

I really like the name "Angelshade" as a reference to the notoriously deadly white mushroom, the Destroying Angel. But also. someone in the audience asked if I could give the prefix "angel" to a cat because it's their name, and I feel a little bad about giving it to a character who is going to be one of the nastiest little background characters in all of BB lmaooooo

i'm so sorry angel (positive), is it okay if there's an angel (derogatory)

ANYWAY, Untitled Blizzardwing Sibling grew up adoring his grandpaw.

Radicalization can be a slow creep. He loved peepaw, so if he was asked when he was young, he would happily repeat the adjusted version of history he was taught.

And then when Snowtuft died, he wanted to remember him fondly. The story slowly changed, becoming more "accurate," just getting more comfortable with the idea of dehumanizing outsiders.

So what, if he killed some kittypet? And if some kits had already been indoctrinated into their kittypet life? It was still a gain for ShadowClan, in the end.

One summer day, without warning, he came home with two little kittens. One was white, one was brown, both had the pinkish tinge of poorly cleaned blood.

He grinned playfully at Brokenstar, and claimed Queen's Rights in a singsong tone.

Because of that rite, no one could ask where he'd gotten those kittens from. But everyone knew he'd done something grim.

Those kits, Whitewater and Brownstone, grew up under the crescendo of Brokenstar's reign, both taking part in the WindClan Massacre.

Whitewater's bloody story includes joining Mudclaw's Rebellion, giving birth to three kits, a souring relationship with her son, condemnation to the Dark Forest, ends in the Battle of the True Eclipse after killing her grandson.

Brownstone's tale includes a relationship with a WindClan cat during the bloodiest period in the history of their two Clans.

And their father's story ends in Chelford, after being exiled from ShadowClan by Nightstar. His canon counterpart is the Unnamed White Rogue from Rise of Scourge, who tries to order Scourge to be his personal servant.

(the other two cats are Braketail, the "Offbrand Brokenstar" pale tabby, and Pirateheart, the gray rogue with green eyes. Glitch Warriors for the pile!)

[moanz111]

i stumbled upon this while scrolling and it's such a well-written post that i just had to share my thought on this too!

first of all, i've been a fanfic reader since i was very young so i know what it feels like to be on the other side. i've been anxious and nervous to reblog or write comments and have never even thought of messaging the authors i read and liked just because i was terrified of being perceived. but trust me, writers are so incredibly grateful for every little interaction they get. i know it can be nerve wracking but you will never be judged for what you have to say! every single piece of feedback and opinion i get means the whole world to me and every time i get a comment, a reblog or an ask makes me so happy, it seriously makes my whole day.

i've been on the writer side since summer 2023 and a couple of months ago i came back after an extremely long hiatus and was so scared and worried because almost a year had passed since i had last promised updates yet i had failed to come back due to many reasons. but then i saw that people still cared and even though i lost most of my readers from back when i first started writing, i was so happy to see that new people were getting interested and were actually willing to talk to me and share their feedbacks. so thank you, to those who have been doing that <3

i don't judge people who decide to stay silent but trust me, there's nothing to fear! writers don't bite, we're human too so of course, naturally we thrive off interactions too, just like anyone else. there isn't a barrier between the two groups - all of us are fans of the same things and share the same interests, this is always a two way relationship.

writing is my hobby and something i like doing but sometimes the silence is killing me especially after coming back from a hiatus 😭 i don't write for notes, i do it for my own enjoyment but still, hearing something nice about your works always feels good and validating!

and about the genres - i see too what's more read and what's popular but it's so sad to hear that authors force themselves to write something that they don't originally really want to just to have someone read their stories. every story is worth giving a chance and authors shouldn't be required to fit themselves into certain boxes just so people pay attention. no one can be forced to read anything of course but my whole point is to be kind to authors and give them a chance because sometimes you can find such gems when you least expect it.

of course, there will always be genres that are more generally liked but we need diversity too so please, writers do what you want and what you love - the right people will appreciate it.

and on that note...i've been mostly writing smaus/texts so i feel like like sometimes it's even harder to get feedback and i think these are not as read as before but i still think it's worth keeping even this genre alive just because it's so fun (at least to me).

i just hope our community here stays alive for longer and starts thriving because it's so sad to see so many people leave :(

just be brave, interact and encourage others to do so too! support your favourite writers because they all are amazing and deserve all the love in this world!

to a dying? atinyblr

i don't usually speak about these things, but a lot of blogs (amazing writers) are leaving this platform or taking time off bc of lack of engagement which serves as a big demotivating factor. especially and specifically in this atiny fandom, some things have come to my attention and i just want all readers and writers to take a look at this post and refresh some reading and writing etiquettes, as well as revive the essence of being a part of this fandom.

feedback:

i understand that there are a lot of silent readers on here, but since tumblr is dying and our fandom is not very huge, the least you can do to show the writers some support is like the post. 

which brings me to the point that the like function didn't even exist in the past. this site still runs on reblogs. as readers, to show your favourite writers some semblance of support, you should be reblogging with tags. a simple ‘#ateez x reader’ or ‘#ateez fics’ is enough. it's literally not asking for much– reblogs are the only way writers can get reach.

if you cannot do that bc of your blog's aesthetic or whatever, side blogs exist. if you still cannot do that, a simple anon ask appreciating the writer sometimes saves them.

also, what has happened to the quality of reblogs? readers consume years of writers’ work and efforts in mere hours and don’t even leave any feedback? art in general in all forms is very underappreciated and with all sorts of problems like plagiarism, ai writing and everything, true art and writing is dying and needs to be appreciated now more than ever. we’re literally the last generation witnessing ai take over in all fields of arts. appreciate content creators before it’s too late, don’t be a content glutton!

updates and requests:

asking writers for updates when they specifically mention that they would prefer posting at their pace is wrong for so many reasons– we all have a real life. you, the reader, do too. just like you don't always have time to read, writers don't always have time to write. do you ever see the writers asking their readers 'why have you not read my latest chapter?' 

most of the times, writers mention in their bio/faq post or elsewhere that they do mind being asked about updates. respect your writers, please, and do a little scroll before you send such demanding asks (also, sugarcoating when asking for updates does not make it any better!)

if you are only asking about updates, it demotivates a lot of writers bc these same people will disappear when it is time for feedback. writing is a form of art. we can write, artists can paint, musicians can compose music, but all of it has no meaning unless it is shared with an audience and appreciated. readers are just as important as the writers but there is no way of knowing fics are valued unless feedback is given.

the same goes for requests. you can only send a request when the requests are open, which is usually mentioned in the writer’s bio/faq post. it’s literally not that hard to check if requests are open and it’s basic decency to not send a request when the writers specifically mention that requests are closed. when sending a request, please be courteous. a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ are examples of being courteous when sending requests.

the fanfics in atinyblr:

i understand that you can read whatever you like, but why is it that in the atiny fandom, fics that do not contain smut hardly ever get attention? as a writer, i enjoy writing and reading smut, and while i am not specifically a smut blog, i have noticed how fics containing smut get far more reach than fics that do not contain smut– not just in my case, but other amazing writers as well. 

there are such amazing fictions in this fandom. all fics are crafted with dedication and care, yet stories without smut often get sidelined. writers are not able to express themselves in their writing freely anymore and they simply conform to a genre they know readers will consume, as they are forced to consider adding smut to their stories so they can get more reach in this fandom. i have heard accounts from a lot of writers who were inclined to add smut to an otherwise smut-free fic just for reach.

this is by no means hate to the smut writers. i am also not placing blame on them. smut drabbles have always been in this fandom, and there are amazing smut writers out there, doing their thing. it is the readers here who are failing the writers. readers are quick to talk about the lack of ‘good fics’ or ‘plot’ yet will not even bother searching for these works. there used to be a good balance and appreciation for all genres alike.

i know that smut is what's hot and trendy these days, and drabbles in general, no matter the genre, are easier to read when you want to take a short break. but there is such a lack of longfics in this fandom, especially as of lately, and as someone who has personally witnessed the ratio of longfics decrease exponentially, i felt the need to point this out. appreciate all writers! appreciate all genres! longfic writers need as much validation and encouragement as drabble writers, and vice versa! don't be too harsh on longfic writers for not pumping out fics at the same speed as shortfic writers.

and on that note, smut drabble writers experience a lack of quality feedback despite the high engagement, so readers, please don't hesitate to point out exactly what you liked about a fic, even if it's a short drabble! be kind to those writers, give them time to write and be kind when sending requests! they may post more often but they, too, have a life.

tags:

this is specifically for the people who will post a very normal picture of a member, no caption, but tag it something like #ateez smut, #ateez hard hours, #ateez x reader. and for the people who tag their asks with irrelevant tags– literally learn to tag your post properly, and stop crowding the wrong tags. you're just proving the point that if you don't tag a post with the smut tag or something similar, it won't get reach. if you've posted with a caption, that makes sense (though it still doesn't warrant some of the tags being used there).

as for writers, also learn to use your tags appropriately. fics that do not contain smut should not be tagged with smut related tags. believe in yourself. i get that there is the problem of reach but do not overcrowd tags with irrelevant material.

disclaimer:

this is by no means about me. if i cared about the notes, or lack thereof, i would have stopped writing a while ago. while it is challenging to be a writer here, especially as of lately, i still enjoy posting whatever i write no matter the genre or the word count. but it's a bit disappointing that my planned out fics get much less attention than a simple smut headcanons post that i wrote in the heat of the moment with my friend in literally a few hours as a joke (which has reached almost 10k notes btw in a span of 2 years). sure, it has exposed my blog to new readers but that's about it.

this post is for all the amazing writers who have left, are thinking of leaving, or are struggling to voice these problems because they are afraid of being marked as 'problematic' or a 'hater' or something worse. i am not afraid to voice my opinion on here, and if you think that i am wrong, feel free to interact with this post and correct me because i am not claiming that i am right about this.

these are just the observations i have made as someone who has been actively writing on this platform for about 4 years now, and since i have a decent number of followers, i hope this post gets more reach. do not be afraid to reblog this if you agree, and even if you do not, reblog this so someone else gets educated. i may have missed some points so feel free to add if you want too.

[thegrunglerr]

(Taken from a quick ramble I had in a discord chat, excuse the mess. I need to develop these thoughts further and put them into prettier words but it’s something I felt was important to talk about. You see the vision.)

I feel like a big thing people miss in the Magnus archives is that it’s a show about how people want to draw lines and put things into boxes to make them feel better when really there are no lines and there are no boxes. like, the fears are the most obvious of this. Smirke’s 14 is merely a human misunderstanding of the dread powers, a vain attempt to fit one being’s pieces into arbitrary boxes. When does the chase of the hunt become the violence of the slaughter? When does the unknowing of the stranger become the confusion of the spiral? Etc etc. the point is that the 14 are bullshit.

this also goes for humans and avatars! Less obvious but still! Everyone wants to fit the characters into boxes. Jon is a human, Elias is an avatar, Nikola is a monster. When in reality, they’re all just things. Humans and avatars are not mutually exclusive, Jon is an avatar and a human and so is Elias. Just because Elias’s actions are evil does not exclude him from humanity, he is still flesh and blood. “Monsters” like Nikola and the distortion are where things become more muddy. They are avatars but also clearly inhuman, Nikola is a plastic mannequin and the distortion isn’t really… anything. I’d still argue that they’re human to some extent. All avatars, human or otherwise, come from the change of oneself. The distortion wears people’s skin and takes on their traits, has to work with what that body gives them. Nikola is a mannequin made by a man with her same goals, who she eventually murders. They’re still born out of humanity, they’re still somewhat human, just an obfuscation and distortion of that humanity.

it’s this idea that characters like Elias are simply following their nature as an avatar and therefore as a monster that irks me. He’s not just a human, he’s not just an avatar, he’s not just a monster. He’s a person, a muddled mess of labels that don’t fit him because you can’t fit these people into boxes. Jon is a human, an avatar, and a monster. So is Elias. So is almost every fucking character in the series. Human, avatar, monster, victim, are all just human labelings of things not meant to be understood. Nobody in the Magnus archives is a mindless monster in my eyes. As distorted and fucked I’m as their view may be, they are still painfully human. Daisy was always a prowling wolf, itching for her next kill. The apocalypse just showed that physically. She still clearly had a mind, though her speech impaired. She called for Basira, the partner always by her ready. She recognized her as someone she knows, not attacking her or even Jon or Martin. Nikola too, breekon & hope too, nobody is mindless. Everyone is human.

It’s complicated yeah, nuanced and messy, but it’s so so SO important to remember upon actual analysis of the show! Jon is human! Elias is human! The Distortion is human! It’s a show about humanity and how it’s never truly lost!

[fear-is-truth]

EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE

— KAI ANDERSON x f!reader

warnings — voyeurism ‧ kai being a perv ‧ very suggestive ‧ MDNI 18+ jackie’s note — tried a different writing style since it’s mostly conversation. hope it’s in character….

“you should change your brand of deodorant.”

the sentence is so mundane it barely registers. you stab at your food, half-listening.

“what?”

“that shit is cancerous,” kai states mildly. he chews thoughtfully. swallows. “you don’t want breast cancer, do you? you wouldn’t be able to breastfeed our baby if you did.”

your fork pauses mid-air. you blink.

“our what?” kai looks at you then, tipping his head, like you’re the one saying something strange. “hypothetically,” he says, waving a dismissive hand. “future tense.”

your stomach twists—not at the words themselves, but at the way he says them. easy. certain. like the thought of you nursing his child is already set in stone. he’s just being practical.

“how do you know what deodorant i use?”

he shrugs. “i pay attention.”

—

you find it that night.

tucked neatly into the corner of your room, angled to catch everything.

a tiny black lens, reflecting the light when you lean in.

you go still. then cold.

you rip it from the wall

—

you storm into his room, shoving the camera in his face.

“the fuck is this, kai?”

he barely glances up from his laptop before looking back down.

“looks like a camera.”

“no fucking shit. why was it in my room?”

his fingers tap against the keyboard. “do i really need to explain that to you?”

his calmness makes it worse. you want him to panic. you want him to lie, at least—pretend this isn’t what it is.

“so i can keep an eye on you.”

“keep an—” you cut yourself off, staring at him. “you are actually insane.”

he hums, noncommittal. “or just prepared.”

“you had no right—”

“relax.”

kai leans back in his chair, stretching, exhaling through his nose like he’s already bored of this conversation.

“it’s not like you haven’t enjoyed the attention.”

“i haven’t enjoyed anything about you spying on me—you’re insane!”

“am i? or are you just mad that i know all the dirty things you do when you think no one’s watching?”

he smiles. fingers drum against the desk.

“oh yeah. i’ve seen what you get up to at night.“

heat creeps up your neck. your skin prickles.

“laying there all quiet, thinking no one’s watching. but you can’t keep still, can you?” he tilts his head, eyes glinting. “legs rubbing together, then that hand slipping under the sheets, moving so fucking slow. teasing yourself. getting frustrated. biting your lip, trying so hard not to make a sound.”

your jaw clenches. you want to hit him.

“you always break, though.” he licks his lips. “always start panting real soft, hips rocking up, so so desperate. and when you finally get there? god.” he exhales, shaking his head, like he’s actually impressed. “you’re so fucking pretty when you cum.”

you feel sick. his voice, the easy, clinical way he’s talking about it, about you. like he’s narrating some goddamn documentary.

“you make these little whimpering sounds—” his head tips back against the chair, lashes fluttering. “like you’re not even fully aware you’re doing it.”

you want to fucking kill that bastard.

kai watches you, taking in the way you shift on your feet like you don’t know whether to run or swing at him.

“it’s kinda hot, actually.” he grins. “you getting all embarrassed, knowing i’ve been watching this whole time. getting off to you getting off.”

he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes flicking over you, hungry. “wanna know how many times i came to it?”

“shut the fuck up.”

“nah, i think you wanna know.”

he leans in, resting his elbows on his knees, watching you like he’s daring you to react.

“i could tell you exactly which night you got yourself off the hardest.” his voice is lower now, almost thoughtful. “you remember it? probably not. but i do.”

he tilts his head, mock-thoughtful. “i could show you the footage if you need a refresher.”

your skin is burning. rage, shame, horror—twisting together, churning in your gut. kai watches your reaction closely, his smile widening like he’s savouring every sweet second of your humiliation.

“you kept whining into your pillow, i heard you say my name, too.” he huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head. “so desperate, so fucking needy. you came twice. back to back. shit was crazy.” he spreads his hands, like he’s telling an interesting story. “could’ve busted right there just watching. actually, i did.”

you lunge before you can stop yourself, shoving him, hard. the chair skids back.

kai just laughs.

“god, you’re fun.”

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.