#I just believe it with all my heart so much that I've convinced myself it's true and everyone agrees

[heartbeetz]

I'm so used to living in my "all the fictional men I like are attracted to men unless stated otherwise, and even then I could change that" world where it's not Actually canon but it is To Me. So any time I remember all the times the antօn.blαst devs endorsed m/m ships with Anton it throws me for a loop. Like oh yeah that's Genuinely real it's not just me deciding it's real bc I said so. Waow... My faggot ♡

[ichigosoju]

🌷

[brunettemarionette]

Idiots Together

💜 pairing. Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

🔮 summary. Eddie's been acting weird and you confront him but when he blames his attitude on being '"tired" you don't believe him.

🌙 tw/ none. just fluffy goodness.

✨ wc. 1.5k

You've noticed it for a while now—Eddie's been acting strange. Since the two of you started hanging out more outside your usual group alone, there's been this weird tension in the air.

It's not the usual kind of weird, either. It's not like the typical Eddie Munson weird, where he rambles about Dungeons & Dragons or talks about the latest Metallica album with that wild look in his eyes.

No, this was different.

Right now, you're sitting on the worn couch in Eddie's trailer, your legs pulled up underneath you as you watch him pace back and forth across the living room.

He's restless, his fingers fidgeting with the rings on his hands, and you can't help but feel like there's something he's not telling you. He hasn't cracked a single joke in the last twenty minutes, which is unheard of.

You lean back into the cushions, crossing your arms. "Alright, spill it. What's going on with you?"

Eddie freezes mid-step, his back turned to you. He's been avoiding eye contact for most of the night, and now he just stands there, staring at the ground.

For a second, you think maybe he didn't hear you, but then you see his shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath.

"I don't know what you mean," he mutters, but there's something in his voice—nervousness, maybe? You've never heard Eddie sound nervous before, not like this.

"You've been acting weird," you say, cutting to the point. "Like, really weird. You're not joking around, can't sit still, and won't even look at me. So, what's up? Did I do something wrong?"

That last part hangs in the air, and you instantly regret saying it. Of course, this couldn't be your fault, but still… part of you wonders if Eddie's mad at you. Maybe you've said or done something without realizing it.

Eddie finally turns to face you, and the look in his eyes catches you off guard. There's something raw in them, something vulnerable like he's been holding back a dam of emotions, and it's on the verge of breaking. "You didn't do anything wrong," he says quickly. "It's me."

That's not the answer you expected, and you raise an eyebrow, trying to make sense of what he's saying. "What do you mean it's you?"

He sighs, running a hand through his messy hair. "I haven't been sleeping much, okay? I'm, like, sleep-deprived out of my mind right now."

You tilt your head, not convinced. Sure, Eddie always looks a little rough around the edges, but he doesn't seem like he's about to collapse from lack of sleep.

There's something more, and you can tell he's avoiding it. "Eddie," you say softly, "I know you. This isn't just about not getting enough sleep. Come on, talk to me."

There's a long pause where Eddie stares at you like he's debating whether to say whatever he's been holding back. Then, suddenly, the dam breaks.

"I always had the biggest crush on you," he blurts out, and your heart skips a beat. "I've had this stupid, massive crush on you for, like, forever. And I don't know how to act normal around you right now because I'm freaking out, okay? That's why I'm being weird. It's not you, it's me. I just… I don't know how to do this."

You stare at him, your mind racing to catch up with what he just said. Eddie Munson—your best friend, the guy who's always been the dorky, playful one who's never taken anything seriously—has a crush on you?

"Eddie…" you start with a slight whisper, but he interrupts you before you can say anything.

"I know it's crazy," he says, clearly frustrated with himself, running both hands through his hair. "I shouldn't have said anything. I don't want to make things weird between us. But I'm tired, and I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore. You're my best friend and deserve to know the truth."

You're still trying to process it all, but the one thing that stands out to you is the look in Eddie's eyes. He's scared—…scared of how you will react, scared of losing you, or whatever this could mean for your friendship.

And in that moment, you realize something: maybe you've always felt something for him, too, but you never let yourself acknowledge it. You get up from the couch and take a step towards him. Eddie watches you carefully, his heart in his throat, waiting for whatever comes next.

"Eddie," you say softly, "you don't have to be weird around me. It's okay." You reach out and take his hand, squeezing it gently. The relief that washes over his face is immediate, and he finally smiles for the first time all night.

Maybe things will be a little different now, but you have a feeling it will be okay. After all, Eddie's always been there for you, and now it's your turn to be there for him—no matter where this might lead.

Eddie stares down at your intertwined hands, his fingers curling instinctively around yours like he's afraid to let go. You can see the tension start to melt from his shoulders, but his eyes still hold that uncertainty—the kind that makes your heart ache just a little.

"You really mean that?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper as if he's still trying to make sense of what just happened.

You nod, offering him a smile. "Yeah, I do. I mean… you're my best friend, Eddie. And maybe…" You hesitate for a moment, feeling the warmth spread through your chest, "maybe I've been feeling the same way. I just didn't realize it until now."

The words hang between you, and Eddie is completely still for the first time tonight. His dark eyes widen, searching your face for any hint of doubt. But there isn't any. The more you say it, the more certain you are—it's like all the pieces are finally clicking into place.

He breathes, almost like he's been holding it in for hours. "Wait—really? You're not just saying that to make me feel better?" His puppy dog eyes stare at you as if begging you not to break his heart.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "No, Eddie. I'm not just saying it. I've been thinking about it, and I think maybe I've always felt something for you, too. I just… I guess I was scared of messing things up."

His expression softens, and that familiar mischievous glint returns to his eyes, a hint of the Eddie you know and love. "So, what you're saying is, we've both been idiots this whole time?"

"Basically," you say, grinning. "but I like to think we've always been a couple of idiots." Eddie chuckles, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "Well, then, I guess we're both idiots together."

You step closer, feeling the warmth of his body next to yours. There's no awkwardness now, no tension, just the two of you standing in his tiny living room. Like this has always been where you were meant to be.

And then, without warning, Eddie gently cups your cheek with his free hand, his rings cool against your skin. His eyes meet yours, and there's no hesitation this time. Slowly, carefully, he leans in.

The kiss is soft and tentative, as if he's still afraid this might all be a dream. But the moment your lips meet, it feels like the most natural thing in the world—like you've been waiting for this without even realizing it.

When you pull away, Eddie's grinning like a kid, his eyes brighter than you've ever seen them. "Well," he says, his voice low, "I wasn't expecting today to end like this."

You laugh, feeling light, like a weight you didn't know you were carrying has been lifted. "Neither was I, but… I think I'm okay with it." he grins, kissing you again as you sigh contently. "More than okay with it…"

Eddie's smile widens, and he pulls you into his arms, holding you close. It's a perfect, quiet moment, just you and him, surrounded by the familiarity of his trailer. The world outside doesn't matter, not right now.

"Hey," he murmurs into your hair, "I know we might not have everything figured out yet, but… I'm really glad I told you."

You look up at him, heart swelling with affection, something that's not new to you. You've always held a level of affection for the wild-haired dungeon master. "Me too, Eddie."

And in that moment, you know you'll figure it out together, whatever comes next. Because you've always been there for each other, and now, as more than just friends, nothing could feel more right.

As Eddie presses another soft kiss to your forehead, you can't help but smile. Maybe things have changed, but it's definitely in the best way possible.

[kteezy997]

The Candy Man- Part Two//W.W.

Warnings: smut, bathtub sex, curse words, some dirty talk, Willy wanting to fill reader with his cum

You couldn’t stop thinking about him. Your candy man, your Willy Wonka. You were convinced that his wonder-filled green eyes were burned into your memory forever. Your mind raced with images of his springy dark curls, his creamy pale skin, and his big cock that filled you to the brim. Your pussy ached just thinking about it.

It was a week to the day that he came knocking again. Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when you opened your door to reveal Willy: brown top hat, purple coat, and the sweetest of smiles.

“I can’t believe it’s you.” you uttered dreamily. Your prayers had been answered: Willy had come back.

“Hey, y/n. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Oh, you’re certainly not bothering me.”

Willy smiled kindly at you, then continued, “I have just been thinking about you, and I wonder if maybe what happened was wrong. I mean, it was absolutely wonderful, but you are a married woman. I would hate for your husband to find out-"

You cut him off as he was speaking, “Don’t worry, Willy. He will never know. It’s our little secret.”

“Oh,” he nodded, “alright then. That’s great. Um,” he looked down at his boots, shyly, “do you mind if I come in? There was something else I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh yes, of course, come in!” you said, maybe a little too enthusiastically, and you stepped aside, letting him by.

Willy walked over to the couch, rubbing his cold hands together. He did look rather cute with his rosy cheeks and slightly pink nose from the briskness outside. “You really should stay inside today, it’s too cold for you to be out there, y/n.” he said.

You blushed at his sweet words, “Should I get you some hot tea to warm you up? Or maybe some coffee?”

“No, no, I really don’t want to trouble you.” he insisted, “Come, sit with me if you would?”

You obliged him, and sat down next to him.

"Look, the real reason that I came by is to ask you if...it was okay, what I did? Was it any good?" Willy cleared his throat, apprehensively, "Did I do a good job?"

You laughed and touched his hand, "Yes, you did. I came twice, Willy. You were a natural. Better than my husband, might I add. And I've been having sex with him for years now. Well, not hardly at all lately, but that's neither here nor there." you shrugged.

"It's just that it was my first time, and I wanted to be sure that you enjoyed it as much as I did." his cheeks became a little bit flushed again, but it was not from the cold this time.

"I definitely did, Willy." you said sincerely, intertwining your fingers with his.

He softly squeezed your hand and nonchalantly looked over to the fireplace area. He shuddered ever so slightly, "That rug."

"Does it do things to you like it does to me? The memory?" you purred as you leaned in close to his ear with an idea creeping into your mind. You bit your lip.

"Yea-yeah, it does. I remember exactly what you looked like laying on that rug.” he turned to look in your eyes. The tension was palpable as your faces were just a few inches apart. “I can't get you out of my head, y/n."

"Ya know, I was about to draw a bath for myself before you came knocking, would you like to get in with me?"

"More than anything." Willy blurted out without hesitation.

.......

Willy had gotten into the hot water first, and you straddled his lap. With the both of you in the tub, the water level was dangerously high. But even if it were to spill onto the bathroom floor, you didn't notice. You were ravaging his lips, and he ran his wet hands all over your body, above and under the water.

Steam rose up from the water, creating a sweltering atmosphere. Your bodies were flushed.

You sank down onto his hard cock, and he rutted up into you. You cried out in pleasure as it slid all the way in. Your breasts bounced, tapping the surface of water and splashing in Willy's face. You grabbed his cheeks and kissed him sloppily as you fucked.

You did your best to grind your hips and keep up with him, but it was a losing battle. You were quickly brought to an orgasm with how fast he was thrusting up into you.

You whimpered as your body went limp, but Willy put his arms around you, and continued to pump his cock in and out. "Oh my God! Willy…Willy Wonka!" you cried, having never felt so good in all your life.

"I gonna come, y/n." he stuttered as his pace slowed and he thrusts became sloppy. He grabbed handfuls of your ass, and gave you a few more strokes as he kissed your face. He groaned in a huff, and you felt his cum filling your pussy.

You hugged him tightly, just needing to be close to him. Willy nuzzled into your neck and you rested your chin on his head. You put your hand on the back of his head, his curls at the nape of his neck were soaked as you pet them.

He looked up at you, his arms still linked around your body, "Kiss me?"

You leaned in and smashed your lips to his, "Mmm." you moaned happily against his mouth. You pulled away and he snuck in another peck to your swollen lips. You put your hands on either side of his chiseled cheekbones, "My angel candy man, dropped on my doorstep, so yummy and cute, with a cock made by the devil." you grinned, kissing him again. You couldn’t get enough. He was addictive like chocolate.

Willy chuckled, "I don't want to be done yet. Need to fill you with more of my cream.”

"Ugh, yes, treat me like one of your fine chocolates, Willy. Fill me, I want it.” you begged, moaning into his lips in another eager kiss.

"Turn over, please?" he asked, in between pecks, puppy dog eyes in full effect.

You couldn't deny his request. He was all you wanted, all you thought about and longed for, and you were going to take him as long as you wanted, as long as he was there. You nodded, swirling yourself in the water so your back was to him. Willy pushed you forward, careful to keep your head above water, and he pulled your hips up. With your ass to the surface and facing him, he held your waist, and slid his dripping wet cock inside you again.

"Ah!" you moaned as he thrusted fast, splashing the water and making it slosh out on the floor. The bathroom was filled with the loud splashing noises he created. You braced yourself on the bottom of the tub with your hands. The bath water sprinkled your face and hair with warm droplets as you took Willy's cock over and over.

After a moment, he let out a huff and you felt him release inside you once more. "Wheeew, sorry y/n. It may take more practice for me to last longer." his breathing was uneven as he spoke. He leaned over your back to leave a kiss on top of your head.

"No," you panted, "it's alright, it was amazing. You bring me more chocolate next week and we’ll practice some more.”

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @chalametbich

[inbabylontheywept]

Realizing in hindsight that the only reason I was so skeptical about your camp story is that being covered in a combination of crusty, sticky pink residue and rotten fish oil for days on end while sleeping on a wooden floor in the Arizona heat sounded like such unbearable sensory agony that I wanted to convince myself it was fake, because I didn't want to believe that anybody had genuinely been through that. I'd have walked out of that place with a rucksack of pink ooze and either find my way back to civilization or become crispy pink buzzard chow after day 2.

Like, legitimately, I think about my reaction to that post a lot. The imagery was so deeply unpleasant that I was desperately scrambling to convince myself it wasn't true like I'd just found out my spouse was a serial killer. There was no torture, no death, no hunger or disease, just a bunch of sweaty guys being covered in sticky fruit-flavored slime, subjected to unpleasant smells, and sleeping blanketless on the floor. And you can't even smell! You were spared a good third of it! Yet your experience still horrified me worse than any war story, medieval torture device or horror movie for reasons I cannot hope to fathom.

idk, I've had this ask stewing in my head for months, but I keep forgetting to actually write and send it. In my heart of hearts, I knew your story was perfectly plausible. I was just grasping at straws, praying for you to admit that no, nobody has ever showered in off-brand Gatorade and then not slept for 3 days while being expected to attend uni lectures. It's all untrue, a ruse, a trick, and such things could never happen outside of the cruelest depths of hell. Santa Claus is real, teachers live in the school, babies are delivered by storks, and the pink sauce incident never happened.

My mom pulls me into a warm hug after I scrape my knee. The plastic egg I found under the couch opens to reveal a piece of chocolate. A dollar magically appears under the pillow where I'd put my tooth. All is well. I am safe. The universe is kind, and whoever's running it loves me.

It's a sunny August day and I'm holding a popsicle on the swingset. I'm using my plastic dinosaurs to act out an improvised battle between good guys and bad guys as I sit on the carpeted floor. I'm playing Fossil Fighters on my dinged-up Nintendo DS in the plush brown armchair by the window.

I add the carrot nose to my snowman. Candy plops into my Halloween bag. The speaker on the classroom wall announces that school's out for summer, and we all bound out the door with wild glee, free at last.

Panting, wheezing, I drag my battered form back into the cobbled-together wreckage of my innocence, only one arm remaining with which to drag myself, blood and intestines trailing behind me as the storm rages overhead, washing my entrails downstream. I huddle underneath what remains of my once-pristine shelter from the cold and wet, pulling the shards back together as best I can as the wind howls angrily, hatefully. It's no use. It's broken. It's gone. It cannot be repaired. My innocence will never return to me. The rain seeps through the cracks and lands upon my face.

The rain is pink, I realize, and I cry.

First off: I haven’t actually been on the receiving end of this before and I have to say, it's an almost literally gripping experience. I felt this rat for the last three paragraphs.

Incredibly well done. Second: If you just didnt' want to believe, that's fine, I barely have room in me for medium fries - a grudge would just pour out the top, too much tea for my cup. But you don't have to like, gaslight yourself into thinking the story is totally normal and believable (I always stretch my stories out a little) or beat yourself up over it for months. I meant it when I said we're good, you and I. It still makes me happy to see a comment or a like or, rarely, a question like this from you.

If it's just something that pops into your mind every now and again, I dunno, don't sweat it. I'd hate to give you a complex. Did I mention that I loved that writing for this? Incredible experience.

[lukolabrainrot]

Calm theory anon here!!! So I was doing some thinking and noticing. I have already touched on how I think a lot of the story line we are getting from Luke and Nic are scary similar. Like both Luke and Nic are linked with early 20 people. Both were photographed with those people correct. And another similarity is the way parts of the fandom are falling these other people Luke Girlfriend or Nicola boyfriend with Luke or Nic ever calling them that. Now we see the way both Luke and Nic have handle that. Both have been seen with these individuals after the initial pap pictures. Both have NEVER ONCE said anything about it. Both have ignored the gossip. And all you Jakola that are lurking that's exactly what it is Gossip until Luke or Nic make it a fact. So the way I process is to put myself in their shoes right. Why wouldn't I talk about this? If JD is an actual BF why would I hide him? I wouldn't there is no excuse I have seen is a reason to hide him. When you truly love in that romantic way you want to share that love why because your heart is sooo full with that love it comes out. So have we ever seen slips or Nic talking about JD or Luke slipping talking about Antonia? No we haven't that haven't slipped once. What we have seen is Nic slipping in Luke into conversation and Luke slipping Nic into conversations. To me that's what indicating that there is true love between Nic and Luke. But the parallels of both sets gossips we have seen makes me raise my eyes brows. I'm having a hard time believing that what gossip we see isn't some type of made up fantasy. Because once is a coincidence twice is a pattern. And the storylines we see are definitely patterning. Just some food for thought.

Calm Theory Anon, always showing up when we need you the most ❤️️

I've talked about this a lot, but I think there are a lot of smoke and mirrors going on. And I definitely agree with CTA, the patterns are patterning atp, and I don't think that is a coincidence 🤔

Everyone has been freaking out today about phone lockscreengate 2.0... My thoughts (all speculation of course):

That is L in some tropical beach area with a white tshirt (sound familiar to anyone? 🤔)... no one can convince me otherwise atp without more definitive proof. And that "enhanced" pic going around is NOT definitive proof that this ISN'T L and IS JD. Period. Also, it's impossible from the video the original pic derived from to get a SS that is clear and not blurry. So, we are basically going to see who we want to see in the pic.

There is a LOT more information that this pic is L based on the full picture of everything we have seen directly from L and N. And a LOT of evidence that N isn't comfortable with the Jakola narrative.

I don't think N wanted people to see her lockscreen, and this pic that very much looks like a "this is my man" pic, but it's out there now, so it is what it is.

Again, just my thoughts, and we are all going to have our own interpretation. Which is totally fine.

[useless-catalanfacts]

One thing that really shocked me when I visited Madrid is that some people seemed genuinely offended when I said I only spoke Catalan. I'm from Germany and my boyfriend is Catalan. As he has a very strong Catalan identity and is very much an activist for the language it made sense for me to learn Catalan instead of Spanish. I don't speak it very well yet, but enough to make casual conversation. Trying to have a conversation with an acquaintance when visiting Madrid, I threw in some of my basic Catalan when English didn't fully work (not to piss her off, because I had no idea it would, but simply to make myself understood as English was failing us and I figured the Catalan might be easier and closer and sometimes even the same words as Spanish). This led to a lot of questions from the friendgroup, but this one person seemed personally hurt that I had chosen to learn Catalan and NOT Spanish. She argued that all Catalans spoke Spanish anyway and that my mindset was childish and "excluding the rest of Spain just to make a point". I thought this was such a strange way to look at it. I know this person is not representative for all of Spain, but I thought it was really worrying that some people think like that. She seemed convinced that there was no purpose of learning Catalan beyond "making a silly, political point" as if there wasn't an entire culture and history that came with it. As if Catalans speaking Catalan were like... being difficult on purpose and not.. you know... practicing their f*cking culture and living their damn lives. Good thing I actually am childish, and spoke exclusively in Catalan to her for the rest of the evening.

That's exactly how many Spanish people see it, it's a shame but your story doesn't surprise me. When I was a teenager I went for a few days to do a thing with other teenagers in Madrid and they reacted in a mix of disgust and offence when they heard me speak to my parents in Catalan on the phone. And I've heard quite a lot of other people explain very similar situations. It also reminds me of a video I shared a while ago (post here) where Judit Mascó explains that when she's working in Madrid and she answers the phone to her mother or friends calling, her co-workers told her it bothers them that she speaks in Catalan to other people, when she's not even talking to them.

Many Spanish people just can't understand that Catalan people would like to continue speaking our language, period. They are so convinced that Spanish is superior, that they believe that for our own good we should want to abandon our language and assimilate to theirs, and if we don't, well, then the only possible reason is that we're doing it for the sole purpose of excluding them, as if they were the centre of our lives.

They can see how they use their own language (Spanish) for their family, friends and the rest of their lives, but they can't give us the same amount of humanity and respect to imagine that we can want to speak our own language for the same purposes as they want to speak theirs. No, according to them, we must do it for bad faith proposes.

And let me say: you are doing very well in learning Catalan for your boyfriend. If your boyfriend speaks Catalan, I assume it's most likely that his family and friends speak in Catalan too, it's normal that you'd want to learn the language they use. This will bring you closer to his heart, because you can understand the words with which he has grown up and that are around him, it strengthens your bond. And it gives you the opportunity to communicate with other people around him and participate in conversation. Why would you not want to learn the language? Why would you, instead, want to learn a different language, and does that Spanish person expect you police what your boyfriend and his family/friends speak so not to exclude you (when you would have been the one to decide not to integrate)? It's just such a self-centered way of thinking from them.

[geopsych]

re: the tumblr ai stuff, please don’t wipe your blog!! your blog has been so important to me and many others as a place of authentic light and beauty and i would hate to lose it forever 💕

there is a way to download the contents of a tumblr blog (it’s in settings, i don’t remember rn, but i’ll find it if you need it) maybe you could upload to another site or a personal site?

i know this is very serious, and i hate how we are unwillingly contributing to synthetic art, but the world would be poorer for me without your pictures <3

Thank you. Your words mean a lot to me.

This is a dilemma for me. I have loved doing this blog and going out to look for pictures and interesting things to bring here has given me motivation and meaning through years of struggle with depression and several kinds of grief. Going out to look for pictures has put me in situations where I have seen incredible beauty, much of which I never really managed to capture. Also, the many warm and kind messages I've received from people all over the world have given me heart and made me feel less meaningless as a person and more connected. Sometimes I've been criticized for buying the checkmarks and giving money to Tumblr but I wanted to do what I could because Tumblr has been my one happy and safe place online. But now this. To me AI in relation to creativity is just a way for well-to-do but untalented people, the proverbial tech bros, to profit from other people's hard work and creativity. It has no redeeming value in relation to creativity and is actively harmful to artists of all kinds. <trying to figure out how to put a read more link here> I don't even count myself among the real creatives, artists and writers and others who have worked hard and put years into honing their crafts, into learning to translate their hearts and unique spirits into their creative expression. I just see beautiful things and take pictures of them. But it would still make me sick to see AI works based on my pictures, on these times and places that have meant so much to me. Recently I saw a set of cat 'photos' on here that everyone was reblogging and exclaiming over but that to me seemed to just be AI art that was more convincing than most. As time goes on more and more output of AI is going to be almost indistinguishable from real works and unscrupulous people will pass them off as real, getting credit for what was actually created by others. Whether they profit from them becomes almost irrelevant at that point because what's worse is that we will have less and less sense of what is real. And as some have pointed out AI will now also be scraping from AI, muddying the waters further from here on in. This is an apocalypse of sorts, an apocalypse of creativity, ultimately likely to kill the joy of artistic endeavor for many who would otherwise produced brilliant, beautiful, funny, and/or shockingly original things. I'm still parsing and dissecting my thoughts and feelings about what Tumblr has done and how to react. Staying and leaving my blog up feels like consent. I am not confident in the integrity of anyone connected with scraping sites for AI. I'm not convinced that a little toggle in settings is going to make much of a difference in the long run. On the other hand I like posting here and I have received enough messages over the years to know that my blog is a positive influence on some lives. I was looking forward to May and June and posting pictures of the incredible beauty of eastern Pennsylvania in those months. And I was planning on making a side blog for posting some poetry I've been working on. It will break my heart to leave.

I haven't decided yet. Believe it or not this whole thing has given me awful physical symptoms. I'll let you know when I decide. Thank you again for your kind and lovely note!

[drakoneve]

Destined Meetings

request: Hey, do you think you could write something where the reader is related to tig somehow, and they're in charming for work or college and they start a relationship with juice? Cute and a little angsty at first?

pairing: Juice Ortiz x Trager!Reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: club crimes, reader's mom isn't the best + suggested childhood trauma, alcohol and drug (maryj) use

a/n: there will be another part for sure, but i might make this a bit of a mini-series, lmk what you think. happy reading!

Tig hardly ever talked about it, but he'd been married once. He would rather die than ever admit he loved anyone but Dawn and Fawn, but he loved her. And you, his sweet, sweet Y/n.

His heart clenched at the thought of you. You were only two years old at the time of the accident. The day your mother decided she had had enough of Tig and the life he came with and that she needed to run.

It was that day, when your mother pulled out of Charming and never looked back. She only made it two towns over before she took a reckless turn right off an overpass into oncoming traffic.

Tig could remember the look on Unser's face as he approached the older man in the TM parking lot like yesterday, and how he wished he could go back and convince your mom not to go. Or to leave you, at least.

Unser had just began working with the club back then, and this case in particular had always stuck with him. A woman trying to escape her outlaw husband with their baby daughter who ends up getting into a horrific accident that ends up killing them both? One of the saddest stories Unser had ever heard.

Except for the fact none of it was true.

Because there you stood, alive and well, right in front of the Chief's desk.

"I know it sounds crazy," you shake your head, hopeful look on your face. "I wouldn't believe it either, actually. And I don't really have any proof other than my memories, but I'm sure it's him."

The aging polaroid in you had provided him of a much younger Tig and a woman he recognizes to be your mother back when she was pregnant with you.

"No, no," he waves your worries away. "I believe you. In fact, I remember your mother, vaguely, and you look a lot like her."

You grimace. "Yeah, I've been told a few times. So do you know where I can find Alexander?"

Chief Unser pulls a pen from his shirt pocket and begins writing on a slip of paper on his desk. "This is the address of the Teller-Morrow, the automotive shop your dad works at. I would take you there myself, but I'm swamped here."

"Oh, it's no issue," you shrug and take the slip of paper. "I can get there myself. Thank you for everything, though."

You turn and begin to leave when Unser calls for you to stop.

"I forgot to mention, your dad goes by 'Tig.'"

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

Juice stretched out his arms and popped his neck while he wiped his hands with a rag. Two weeks of waiting for one part was finally over, and he could get this damn Taurus out of the shop. He tossed the rag into his toolbox when a sleek black car comes rumbling into the lot.

He leaves the garage to get a closer look and notices the car is actually a classic, a well taken care of (or well restored) '69 Chevy. While he admires the car he notices you, too.

Your hair is partly clipped back, with enough loose enough to frame your face in a casual look. You're pretty, and admittedly he'd be more distracted by you but Juice can tell by the look on your face you're nervous. Juice would know, it's a look he's had to learn to hide.

By sight and sound nothing seemed to be wrong with your car, and Juice can't help but wonder why you're here.

You shut the engine off and exit your vehicle, all the while silently composing yourself. Heart thudding in your chest, you wonder if you're doing the right thing.

Juice takes the moment you shut the door to approach further.

"Hello," he greets politely, friendly smile on his face. "I'm Juice, and I'll be taking care of you today. What seems to be the problem?"

"Oh, no," you shake your head and laugh nervously. "Nothing's wrong with her. I'm actually-"

You pause, close your eyes for a second and bite the inside of your bottom lip. Juice can't help but watch you fondly, finding you oddly adorable.

Finally you open your eyes and flash a bright, genuine smile.

Damn, I'm made, he thinks.

"This is gonna sound completely insane," you explain, nervously clasping your hands together. "But, um, I'm looking for Alexa- well, no, Tig, Tig Trager."

Juice raises his brows. "Tig? Uh, I don't know if now's the best time."

It's true, he's currently in Oakland with Jax and Chibs on quick business.

"Look, I know it's inconvenient and you don't know me," you plead. You're closer now and Juice can smell your sweet perfume and practically feel your hopefulness. "But until a couple months ago I had no idea my dad was even alive. And then I found out I was here for weeks before realizing he's here, too."

Your dad? There has to be a story there. Juice raises his hands to either side of your arms, holding you still in hopes to assure you.

"It's okay," he says sternly, but in an endearing way. "Tig's not here right now but he should be soon, so let's head on inside and you can tell me a little bit about you. Just to be sure, no offense."

You smile, relieved to be believed to some extent rather than none. "Thank you, Juice. Thank you."

Juice leads you into the Teller-Morrow through the garage entrance into the larger building. From what you could see on the outside you wouldn't have imagined such a spacious clubhouse inside.

Inside were several pool tables, a couch with mini pieces about, a bar with stools, and other tables each with their own set of chairs. Decorations littered the walls and floors and you laughed to yourself as you noted a nearly full ashtray on almost every surface and a wall completely dedicated to mugshots.

Juice leads you to the bar where he gestures for you to sit as he makes his way around. You slip onto a stool and watch patiently as Juice finds two glasses and turns to you.

"What's your preference?"

You shrug, "Whatever, I'm not partial. On the rocks, though."

He serves you and pours his own drink before setting the bottle down and leaning on the bar on his elbows in front of you.

"So tell me about you," Juice presses softly. He can tell by your fingers circling the rim of your glass that you're not excited for this conversation but he has no choice. "You said you've been here for a few weeks, where'd you live before?"

"Nevada, mostly," you tell him before sipping on your drink. "My mother moved us around a couple times and we lived in Colorado for a while before eventually settling in Sparks."

"Why'd you guys move around?"

You drain the rest of your drink quickly in hopes it'll support you through this conversation. Juice begins to refill your glass without being asked.

"I didn't know it then, but my mom was running from the Sons," you confess.

Juice's eyes widen slightly as he looked you over. What could you know about the club? They were notorious around Charming sure, but with their recent run ins with the ATF has the club struggling and making choices they wouldn't normally make.

You continue, "It wasn't until I graduated high school and I left that she told me my dad was actually alive. Then she told me about the Sons of Anarchy, and everything else I did on my own."

Juice nods, unsure of what to say. He nurses his drink for a moment before reaching for your hand.

"This life is complicated, but we're a family here."

The gesture, simple as it is, riles up all the pent up feelings you've mastered all your life comes rushing forward as tears brim your eyes.

"Family," you repeat and pull your hand from Juice to wipe your tears. "What a weird concept?"

The two of you talk well into the evening and you end up migrating to the couch with a bottle and a large bowl of buttery popcorn. Juice made good company. He's genuine, gunny, and from the way he talks you can tell the Sons are something special to him.

He tells you about himself in turn for the vulnerable information you've given him. You learn he was born and raised in New York before coming to Charming, and he has a little sister behind in the city. Juice tells you he works in the TM garage alongside what he does for the club.

"I'm not stupid," you tell him once you notice his hesitance. "It's not hard to find information on the club from the locals around here."

He chuckles softly, "Yeah, I'm sure. If you have any questions, you can ask me."

Before you can the rumbling of bikes coming into the TM parking lot distracts you. Instinctively you grabbed Juice's hand, but let go just as fast as you'd grabbed him. Luckily before he can say anything the door bursts open and income more Sons.

The first is a younger blond man with piercing blue eyes and you notice the President patch on his left. He greets Juice happily before his eyes look to you, and he looks confused but seemingly brushes it off and goes to the bar.

Your dad walks in near arm in arm with another handsome man with scarred cheeks, obviously older than he is in the polaroid you own, but otherwise he seems the same. Its as if he can feel your gaze as he turns to meet his blue eyes to your own.

You stand, trying to ignore the thumping of your heart in your chest. "Hi, Tig," you greet, silently cursing the waver in your voice. Immediately the polaroid is out of your back pocket and in your hand. "My name's Y/n, and my mom's Y/m/n."

He takes the polaroid from you without a word and holds it carefully in his hands. His friend has stepped away towards Juice, likely for questioning.

"I saw Unser earlier today," you continue on. "He told me that I have a grave here in Charming, so does mom. Funny, considering she always told me you were the dead one."

You take a shaky breath in, trying to keep from bursting into tears. "I just... I wanted you to know I'm not dead, very much alive. I don't, like, expect anything from you I just knew I had to say something."

Tig finally breaks away from the polaroid to meet your eyes again, and it makes you feel a bit better to see his blue eyes are as tear filled as your own.

He raises one hand to cup your cheek, thumb moving to wipe your tears. "Losing you was the worst pain of my life," he admits softly.

His words crumble your resolve, the walls you'd spent your adolescence building to protect yourself fell faster than they were constructed. You practically fall into his arms, and the two of you break down as you hold each other.

As you sob into Tig's chest he merely cradles you the way he wishes he'd been able to all these years. The way he deserved to have been there for you. He holds you tight against him like he's afraid you'll dissipate and it'll be decades before he sees you again.

"We're gonna be okay, baby," he tells you. "We're gonna be okay."

This time, he's not going to be letting you go so easy.

[moonrisecoeur]

carnage — leon kennedy

author’s note: this is a secondary piece to apathy, another fic of mine!! that fic was mostly a vent fic, as i wrote it to kinda soothe myself and my own worries about how i feel as a person. however!! this fic was requested to be significantly darker and sadder, so if you don’t vibe with that, then i have good news for u !! leon and reader actually lived happily ever after in that universe!! the original intent of that fic is that the reader just has the self perception of a bad person but is actually not at all!! but this fic… is not that haha.. 

author’s note: if you see typos, no you don’t. they’re not real. this fic is... really messy. i'm kinda ashamed but i've been working on it so long that i need to just post it lol.

word count: 5.3k 

content: leon x reader, sub!leon, dom!fem!reader, angst angst angst, biting, hickieys, riding, choking, leon gets lightheaded and passes out, violent language. there's also a reference to a scene from apathy but from more of leon's recollection and memory! :)

warning: this fic is dark content, containing the topics and depictions of emotional abuse, manipulation, love-bombing ish, narcissistic reader, along with dubcon as reader doesn’t listen when leon expresses a boundary around choking. 

—

notes:

“you’re killing me here,” he says, a soft tone to his gravel-like voice. he is tired, exasperated. you are ripping him apart, stealing any sense of joy from his aching soul. he gives and gives and gives and he doesn’t know how much longer he has in him before you…  before maybe he admits that you were right. maybe you would ruin him.

you don’t know the half of it, you think. maybe i will really kill you one of these days.

—

leon is growing.. tired of you. 

not really. that’s a lie. he loves you dearly, so much that it kills him. you refuse to open up to him and he respects your boundaries. he just can’t keep begging you to let him in. he can’t do this forever. 

he’s not mad that you’re closed off, that you’re a loner and you’re introverted. he accepts you for what you are. he loves you regardless, but can’t you see this hurts him? can’t you at least make an attempt to make him feel better? pushing him away only hurts him, and why did you agree to a relationship if you knew that all you were going to do is hurt him? 

he supposes you warned him. that beautiful night that he convinced you to let him stay in your heart. he looks back at that moment, how you looked close to tears, pushing him back, telling him that you’ll ruin him and anything else you touch, and all he could think about is how badly he wanted to kiss you, to hold you close and wipe away the tears of frustration. he’s fond of that moment, when you decided to stay with him. when you said you’d take your time, move slowly, but you’d eventually let him in. he just had to be patient.

but its been months, and leon hates being wrong, but he might have been that night. 

–

leon’s always seen the good in you. he admires how gentle and sweet you are. you say it’s just a facade, and you know what? he doesn’t believe you. he knows you’re trying to protect yourself, but you’re lying. the version of you that you think is the real you is actually the facade. he knows it. he believes it, believes in you.

“i will begin to despise you if i let you in, you realize that, right?” you said to him that night, and he just shook his head, smiling. he adores you, almost amused at how you were making yourself out to be an awful monster in hopes he’d have understood that he could never fix you.

“and i will adore every moment of your resentment,” he said, and then followed it up with a whisper, under his breath, one you might not have heard, “i will let you ruin me.”

your touch is lethal, that much he’s certain of. he knows you’re not trying to hurt him, he’s convinced it's not in your nature to be intentionally cruel, “i won’t get better. i won’t change for you. this is what you’re stuck with.”

but what was he supposed to do? listen to you? heed your warning? he’s too foolish, too lovesick.

“it’s okay,” he reassures, reciprocating your harsh touch with his gentle one, fingertips making acquaintances with the way your skin feels in his grasp, the warmth of your touch. he’s starting to feel like this beautiful monster in front of him is a lot more human than she feels, “i like you as you are.”

-

leon doesn’t quite remember when you got so overbearingly possessive. maybe you were a little controlling, a little too demanding. it didn’t really make sense because anytime he tried to be possessive over you, you hated it. you certainly weren’t clingy. leon learned to control the instinct, the one that screamed in his head that you were his.  he gets it. you’re independent, not exactly into the jealous boyfriend type, sure. it only hurts his ego a little bit. 

he doesn’t really even remember when your behavior started going downhill. it was just like.. one day, he woke up, and you had left. not actually, you were just outside, but it feels symbolic somehow. he calls your name, and you don’t answer. he takes a couple steps closer, but he gets this eerie feeling he’s stepping into dangerous territory. he wonders if he should turn back, give you some time and let your soul come back to your body. 

“i don’t love you,” you said to him that day. 

it shattered him momentarily, but he knew your ways. he was aware of how you act and talk, your bluntness didn’t even surprise him anymore. he learned not to try and fight you on this stuff anymore.

that’s not true.. is what he wanted to say.

“…since when?” is what he actually ended up saying. 

you sigh, “i don’t know. i just woke up today and i realized i didn’t love you anymore.”

“do you… feel love for someone else?” he asks, but that’s not what he’s really asking. leon would never believe you if you said you cheated on him. you don’t even like people. you could count on your hand the amount of people you liked to talk to. 

leon maintains being one of them, of course. how could he believe that you made a connection with another man when you can only tolerate him? 

so, what he’s really asking is ‘do you… feel anything right now?’. sometimes emotions go away. sometimes you find yourself sitting outside in the early morning even though it’s cold and you’re shivering, wondering why you don’t love your boyfriend anymore. 

he puts his jacket over your shoulders. that feels symbolic somehow too.

it usually passes, but there’s something so final in your tone. like… for the first time, leon was worried you’re being truthful. he was worried you didn’t love him.

he had every reason to be. you used to pull away and then come right back to him, and now… you almost seem to resent him. crazy, it’s almost like you said this would happen. he hates that he was wrong about you, he hates that you were right. 

you flinch away when he touches you sometimes. your words are harsher than usual, more venomous, more lethal. you’re slipping away from him, you’re running away, and he’s begging for you to come back to him. just come back to him.

and even now, he looks at you and you aren’t the girl he fell in love with. but maybe you never changed. maybe he has just been blind. 

maybe you were exactly who you said you’d be. 

did you even want him? or would you get off anyway on taunting him?

did he mean anything to you?

-

“i am your… sculpture. your muse. i am everything you made me to be,” he says softly, one day during a vicious argument (only one of you is truly venomous), his eyes still red from the tears you made him spill, “if you do not like me, or if you don’t like what i’ve become, it is your own fault. i am only what you… did to me.”

he says pretty words that tug on your heartstrings if only to get some kind of empathy out of you. you’d normally scoff, spitting at him that he was a broken mess before you fixed him up, made him useful to somebody. 

“you act like i ruined you. like i made you worse. i did not drag you down with me. we were both broken. both disasters who just wanted to be loved,” you know you’re bullshitting just for pity points. doesn’t change the face that leon almost falters. almost gives in, lets you win. you were right, in a way. you were just being intentionally oblivious. 

“me wanting to be loved was… so much different. i wanted to be cherished and…held dear to you. you wanted a trophy that would make you feel better about yourself.”

“i am not the monster you say i am,” you scowl, finally he sees your harshness, your cruelty, and your dismissiveness in full force. how was he so blind?

“you’re right…” he says, “you… are so much worse.”

“then push me off of you, make me leave,” you groan, pinning him down like a caged animal. 

“i’m not… i..” i stutters, looking up the ceiling, “oh my god..”

“i am the only god you get to call out for,” you say as you press kisses to his collarbone, “i hold that power over you. i am your god.”

“i won’t worship you anymore,” he gasps, but his hands reach up to hold your hips, latching onto you for support and intimacy, like you are everything he’s ever needed and he despises you for it, “not what you’ve become. i can’t accept this…. version of you.”

“this is me, leon,” your voice is distant. resigned. he’s given up on you. and you’ve given up on him. 

so why do you demand his reverence so desperately? if you didn’t want him to run, why didn’t you treat him right in the first place?

“i love you, you know,” he says, tears pricking at his eyes, “i am just your design, molded to how you wanted me, but you designed me to love you… so that’s what i do.”

“i didn’t ask you to destroy yourself for me.”

“but i did anyway,” he closes his eyes, breathing ragged, “but i did and i did it because i loved you. i did it so that maybe one day you wouldn’t run away from me if i loved you too much. i.. i don’t act overbearing or clingy like i am inside because i am horrified of you leaving me. if i try too hard, if i want you too much, if am too desperate for your company… i will lose you. i can’t live with that.”

“then why do you call me worse than a monster? if you need me so badly?”

“because i..  i wanted you to destroy me and build me anew. recreate me in your image so you could have exactly what you wanted. make me exactly what you wanted!” he’s desperate for you to understand, but you never will. you don’t know desperation like he does, “i.. i just made the naive assumption that you would love your creation more than you loved what i used to be. that somehow.. if i let you ruin me, you’d finally love me.”

“i do love you,” you whisper, voice heavy with a tragedy you are all too familiar with.

“no… you don’t love anyone,” he bites, his teeth grazing his own lip like he would draw his own blood, “not even yourself. you’re incapable.”

“then it is your fault..” you say, cruelty laced into your voice, but how could you not be cruel when leon’s finally biting back? “you did this to yourself. you ruined yourself for someone you knew couldn’t love you.”

he feels broken. betrayed. how is this his fault? how could you hate him so intensely? how could you want him to suffer? do you enjoy watching him suffer? is that the only way he can make you happy anymore?

is that the only thing you want from him? his suffering? his tears?

does he give that to you? just… as one final way to make you happy? he’d ruin himself again and again to please you if you said so.

he’d give you anything.

you push him down, and he stumbles back onto the bed, looking up at you nervously. he notices the look in your eyes, the look of possession, you see him like an object or a toy. maybe he is. a trophy. you look at him like he’s something that makes you feel proud to carry around. leon kennedy. he’s a survivor, he's a killer, been through literal hell on earth. yet… your hands on him make him feel weak. he feels like he’s 21 again, on that bridge holding onto the last girl that dug her nails into his heart. 

“you’re fucking mine,” you growl in his ear, and he gasps and shudders, when did you get so close to him? you can’t put your hands on him like this, you can’t do this, his mind will go numb to the pain you cause and suddenly he’ll be held beneath you, inescapably yours. 

“you.. you need to… oh my god..” he was so close to saying it. so, so close. he tries so hard to push you away. to get you off of him. not in a way that he couldn’t stop you if he really didn’t want this. but that's just it; he’s trying to convince himself that he doesn’t want you for his own sake.

you make it so hard to hate you, truly. 

“you’re mine,” you growl in his ear, your nails digging into him like claws of a predator into its most delicious prey, “i own you. say that back to me.”

he cries like a baby, hating that he was naive enough to believe that the devil could love him, she could never love him and he could never please her enough to make her stay, “i’m yours, and.. and you own me,” he says, sniffling. he buries his head into the pillow. you push him, hold him down like he’s your captive. he might as well be. 

“and that means i own your pretty body, doesn’t it?” you smirk, god this control over him has always been addicting. you.. really own him.

“y-yeah..” 

“that means i can do whatever i want with you, doesn’t it? i can break you in every way possible, like a girl scribbling on and cutting the hair of her barbies. you don’t exist outside of me, outside of my pleasure.”

-

“fuck, you’re so hot when you’re sad..” you groan as you press kisses to his hip, and he didn’t even realize you had gotten his shirt off and his pants pulled down. he must have dissociated again. he sighs, upset but unable to will himself up to stop you.

at least you’re trying to please him, he supposes. your hands wandering all over him makes him feel alive, but he wonders if you’re imagining wrapping your hands around his throat and squeezing until he stops moving. maybe you would take a liking to killing. 

or maybe it’s just because it’s leon. leon is your weak, pathetic boyfriend that you’ll play with like a ken doll until you’re bored of him, and then you’ll either put him out of his misery or leave him to rot. maybe murder is mercy for him. the worst part is he looks just like a ken doll, blue eyes and blonde hair, except he’s a bit more broken. a bit scarred. damaged. is that why you don’t want him? he’s not perfect enough?

and then it happens. 

everything stops, his breath catches in his chest, he flinches almost like he’s surprised you still had it in you, but you kiss him. it’s not possessive and dark and commanding like he expects, like he’s begun to tolerate, but it’s you. it’s your softness, hidden underneath, that gentle lover that he misses so desperately. she’s back. she’s real again. 

you rest your forehead against his as you pull away from the kiss, leon chasing your lips briefly before remembering this is your moment, at your pace, but he’s looking up at you like you put the stars in the sky, his eyes sparkling with magic and passion and hope he hasn’t felt in a while. 

“come back to me..” he whispers gently, “i miss you.”

“i.. know,” you frown, and leon can tell you feel guilty. you are the monster in his nightmares, but you are also his guardian angel, “i told you, leon-”

“i know you did, i- i don’t want to fight with you right now,” his eyes flutter closed as you press your lips to his forehead, god he feels so cared for in moments like these.

but he knows they’re not real. he knows this version of you isn’t real, that your love is a false pretense and he is a fool for being swept off his feet by such an obvious facade. a monster that loves you is still a monster.

and leon knows it. knows that you love him, despite his insecurities and doubts. maybe it was safer or easier to ponder whether or not you loved him, to listen to you when you said you didn’t, instead of realizing that you did… just not enough.

he feels your grasp on his waist, the way your hands and mouth ravage his body. he knows you’re possessive, but it still shocks him how truly cruel you are. 

“please…” he whimpers, “be gentle with me..”

“ah, leon.. survived the apocalypse but can’t handle his girlfriend biting him a little too hard..” you chuckle, and it’s soft and you’re being sweet with him again and everything is okay. 

“don’t be like that, come on. it still hurts,” his voice is shaky, making you smile. such a sadist.

“don’t be such a baby,” you tease.

“just- okay, fine, but i don’t want any hickies or bite marks or anything. n-not anywhere visible, at least,” he stumbles when your fingertips drag across his collarbone, “please, baby. i need to hide them, my… my coworkers will get worried.”

he sees it in your eyes. mercy. begging always saved him.

“hmm… open your mouth,” you say, and he’s not even trying to follow the command, but the surprises causes his jaw to drop slightly, and you lean closer, before spitting directly into his mouth. 

your saliva tastes like your favorite flavor of gum, and leon smiles as he recollects that fact. it’s sweet of you to only do something like that to him when it wouldn’t be entirely unpleasant. maybe you didn’t think it out that far, but he likes to think you did. he wants to think you were considerate. he groans as he swallows it without even having to ask, almost sounding dehydrated, like you are his lifeline. 

your intentions, while a tad bit humiliating, are not cruel. but again, you’re showing possession. leon is yours to do whatever you please with. it’s marking your territory, in a way.

“thank you..” he shudders, hands clutching your arms, keeping you close. he’s not truly grateful, but he’s learned his place. 

“you’re welcome,” your tone is condescending, but leon’s thoughts are too far away to realize that. all he knows how to do anymore is be obedient.

a brief silence settles for a moment, as you rest atop of him, gazing at him like a predator does their next meal. 

“do you… want to fuck me now?” he asks awkwardly, cringing at how completely uncool he is. 

maybe someone else would laugh at his lack of charisma, but you just smile softly. 

“is that what you want?” in truth, he does want this. he does want you. and he prides himself on giving you whatever you want, everything, absolutely anything. it’s too bad all you know how to do is take.

he sighs, feeling heavy-hearted and drained. he can’t pinpoint why, “i love you. do whatever you want.”

you blink, and he wonders for a moment if you feel guilty again, but part of him can tell you’re not.

you narrow your eyes. he seems.. broken down by this point. honestly, ‘broken down’ might not exactly be the right wording. ‘broken in’ might be more appropriate. like a pair of boots that are only comfortable once you rough them up a little. 

it’s at that moment that he realizes the softness he saw in you just now is fading away rapidly, replaced again by the monstrous beast that is his darling lover. at least she’s familiar now. it’s his fault. you are exactly who you said you were. he should have believed you. 

he thinks this is it, that this is the last time he’ll get to have you before you leave him. you steal all of his sunshine like a parasite, robbing him of all of his life energy and taking it for yourself. the only way you can feel whole anymore is to take leon apart and use him for everything his mortal body and soul has to offer. 

he remembers being the light in your life, cheering you up when you were down. you were his moon, and he shined his light onto you like the sunlight gives way to moonlight. 

but that isn’t real anymore. you aren’t the damaged but loving person he used to know. 

“are you… going to leave after?” he asks. he’s pouting ever so slightly but he doesn’t realize it.

you just gaze at him, eyes soft but knowing, and he can’t help but crying. he tries so hard not to be clingy or ‘too much’. makes himself less and less to make you comfortable. 

“please don’t leave me,” he cries, “please, i can’t bear to think about it. my… my love, please..”

part of him feels like if he lets you leave again, you won’t ever come back.

he can’t understand why he’s so desperate for you to stay. he feels your hand around his neck as you lean in close to kiss his shoulder, you don’t squeeze but your presence is known and feared just like you like it, your other hand falling lower and lower until… 

leon can’t fathom just how wrong he was about you, about everything in general, but what hurts the most is putting the timeline together. it starts with him realizing he loved you. you realizing you loved him. the gentle, sweet months he got to spend with you. sure, you were unconventional, but he’s not the nuclear family type either. 

to him realizing you didn’t love him, actually. 

to then realizing that you did love him, but not enough to change for him. that one hurt the most.  knowing that you’ll always choose your comfort over him.

and to finally coming to terms with the fact that your love is strong and real but it is rotten, that you and your heart are corrupting him and made something tragic out of him. 

he sighs, letting it all happen. he might as well let you have what you want. he feels your hand rubbing against the fabric of his pants over his crotch, teasing him. 

he’s almost happy you’re using him one last time for sex. it’ll give him something to distract his mind from the sadness that’s creeping into his heart.

“i think… my boy needs to feel good.. so he can stop thinking sad thoughts..” your free hand pulls his sweats down and feel him up over his boxers, and he hates that he’s getting hard. that he likes this. he likes being taken by the big, bad monster.

he lets you touch him, lets you strip him down both metaphorically and physically, until he’s bare, a blank canvas ready to be ruined. he has literal scars from bites that drew blood, teeth bared into his skin like you’re trying to consume him alive. 

maybe you are.

this isn’t intimate sex between two lovers. this is carnage. this is ravaging, taking what is rightfully yours. it may not be violence in its usual form, but you are no less deadly. 

you really can’t help yourself when you have the urge to grab his throat, can you? hold his life in your hands, why don’t you?

he wants to make love to you, to hold you close like he used to, fuck you until your mind let go of its need to be in control, to be apathetic and composed and cold and just let you be the soft soul he knows is in there, fucking somewhere in there. 

instead of that, he gets something completely different. claiming. ownership. you mark your territory like an violent dog, biting and scratching and ruining him until everyone else in his life got the hint that he wasn’t allowed to play with anyone else. 

you’re violently possessive, that’s the only way he can put it. and even now, when he should be kissing you and moaning in your ear about how good you feel around his cock, how perfect you are for him, how he wants to be good for you, exactly what you want in your man, he.. can’t. 

all he can do is whine and whimper like an injured puppy. 

instead of kissing you, he’s begging for mercy. instead of making love to you, he’s lost in a daze of pain, mixed in with the pleasure of his cock buried inside of you. your teeth fucking hurt when you bite him like a damn vampire. just like the last time you were in a possessive mood, you bite him hard enough to make him bleed.

“i… i love you,” he whimpers after the fact, his voice is shaky like he’s desperate, “i love you but you’re… i don’t like it when you’re like this”

“who do you belong to?” you ask, suddenly. 

it feels unrelated, but even though leon’s eyebrows furrow at the question, he responds, like it’s an instinct, or rather more it’s a response he’s gives hundreds of times, “you. it’s.. always gonna be you.”

“… i love you too, you know. sometimes i think you don’t believe me,” rich coming from the ‘i don’t love anybody’ girl, he thinks, “but i do. i’m always gonna love you. you just don’t like the way i love you.”

“because the way you love me is killing me.”

“i’m not a killer. you asked me to let you in. this is the real me, leon. if you don’t like what you see… then don’t look.”

“i do but i-”

“you wish you were the exception to the rule. you want to be the reason i change. honestly, leon? i’ll never get better. and i told you that months ago, but you never listened. you thought you could fix me.”

“you aren’t broken,” he whispers.

“then why do you insist on changing me?” 

he scoffs, “that’s rich coming from you.” he knows you’ll get annoyed at him for his sass, but he can’t help it. you’re a violent hypocrite and he adores you, but he can’t ignore the irony of you feeling forced to change.

you tighten your grip on his neck, and he should have told you months ago but he hates being choked. brings up old memories that he’d rather not remember. he doesn’t really know why he lets you do it, why he tolerates it. maybe it’s because you seem so pleased to be in control of his life like that. he can’t afford to piss you off too much. you might like murder a little too much. 

“why do you insist on fixing me?” you ask again. loosing up your grip to let him talk.

“i… i never wanted to fix you. i just wanted you to love me. i wanted… to make you happy.”

he lets out the cutest gasp when you finally use your free hand to pull his cock free, not even bothering to pull his boxers down all the way.

“awh, you’re still so soft, baby. do you not want me?” you taunt him, and he quickly tries to reassure you, shaking his head. 

“n-no! i do! i want you, just.. just give me a second..” he stutters helplessly, but his voice gives out when you lean down to kiss his hip bone, and then your lips trail down lower and lower, adoring his thighs with the remnants of your lip gloss, “oh god…”

he’s pretty. pretty like a prey animal. 

you decide that maybe its not fair to him that he’s almost butt naked and you’re still fully clothed, so you undress too. leon appreciates that you do it to please him. 

“i… you’re so fucking pretty,” he whimpers, begging you to kiss him again. can he just pretend like you’re making love? instead of… whatever this is? 

his cock isn’t super big, so it’s not hard to fit inside, especially since he’s just barely getting hard. seeing your body was enough to get him going. he likes everything about you. every beauty mark or mole or freckle, every scar and each divot and curve, he adores you.

your smile isn’t appreciative. it is greedy. avaricious. you.. need more of him. 

“you feel… so perfect inside of me..” you groan, the grip on his neck tightening as he obediently rocks his hips up to fuck you. his hands grasp at the sheets, white knuckles displaying how tense he feels. 

a shaky, almost fearful moan escapes his throat, “please.. please don’t squeeze that hard.”

again, leon doesn’t like being choked.. so many times he’s almost been killed, and yet… you don’t seem to care. you don’t squeeze hard enough to make him pass out, but he’s getting lightheaded, so much so that you’re having to pick up the slack of bouncing on his cock since he’s unable to keep pace. he just lays there helplessly while you steal away his life.

“leon..” you tease, holding in a giggle, and trying to stir his attention, but his eyes get cloudy and he can’t focus on you, can’t look you in the eye meaningfully.

all he can respond with is a half-hearted attempt at a ‘huh?’. it’s honestly kind of cute how easily fucked out he gets. you ease up, and he breathes deeply for the first time in a couple minutes, gasping out ‘thank you’s like you just saved his life instead of almost killing him. 

“i’m sorry you got stuck with someone like me, baby,” you murmur, you’re not really sorry. tears fall down his cheeks, and you lean down to lick them up like a dog drinks her water. he cringes, disgusted at the feeling, but you own him so intrinsically.. how could he ever stop you from doing exactly what you wanted to him? this was your world. he just lived in it.

—

leon wakes up the next morning, expecting to be alone in your shared bedroom after you had left. you’re not completely awful, you clean him up and bandage any cuts after you finished with him… and leon realizes he doesn’t exactly remember anything after you choking him a little too aggressive, he must have passed out. did he cum even while unconscious? he’s almost impressed.

he doesn’t remember you leaving, just the looming thought in his mind that you will leave. there was no doubt about it.

you’re not there, clearly, and he doesn’t hear you anywhere in the bathroom or in the kitchen. the silence is deafening. 

maybe you’re on a walk to clear your head? 

maybe… you’re really gone.

but your stuff is still at home, so he thinks you might still stay. he cant decide if that’s a good thing. sure, he can’t exist without you, so codependent it’s pathetic, but… you’re not exactly good for him. maybe it’d do him some good to pull himself together and get over you. if he even can.

he loves you. helplessly. desperately. but you love his pain more than you love him. that’s the truth and there’s no denying that. you are.. exactly who you said you’d be. it’s his fault for not believing you.

[nomlioart]

I'm sorry...

Hi... I wasn't active because I was healing from everything that happened to me and I was trying to stay safe. I still am. I only come for a short while now, because before I was scared to say anything even though I really wanted to.

Some of you may have heard of the drama with MatchaBunns from twitter, some may not. I don't want to go into great detail about what happened since I don't want to go back to it, I want to forget about it and never go back to it. In short, the previously mentioned person was accused of grooming. And I, naive and thoughtless, defended them, being tricked and manipulated by them, which made me think that there was no grooming. I was trying to defend my no longer friend. Now just thinking about how I didn't realize what grooming really was makes me nauseous. I wanted to help them because I thought that what they were saying was credible, I wanted to trust them. It turned out, however, that I had been defending the wrong person all this time. I feel sick and disgusting of it. They just made my trust issues grow stronger so much. If some friends hadn't reached out to me and convinced me that these actions were seriously wrong, I would have never realized it and been living a lie all the time, convincing myself that the lie was truth.

I want to seriously apologize with all my heart for everything I said, for all my lies, for all the stupid things I did, for just being in touch with Matcha. I don't wanna be like this. I never wanted to be like this. I just wanted to make friends, I always had problems making friends because of my fear and back then I finally felt wanted and appreciated. I just wanted to help, but it only led to a bigger disaster. I'm scared of Matcha. And most of all I seriously wanted to apologize to the victim of all this, who I will leave anonymous. If you're seeing this, you didn't deserve any of this. I don't expect any forgiveness, but I want you to know, all of you, that I seriously mean it, I want you to believe me that I'm really.. really sorry, for all the harm I've done helping them. I am no longer associated with Matcha since April and I made sure I blocked them on all social media I am on. In fact, I myself wanted to break off contact with Matcha since February because I was starting to feel uncomfortable in their company, but I didn't do it because I thought others would turn away from me, thinking that it would be a bad decision. Now I think I could've done it much earlier. Since then I'm not and won't be involved in any dramas anymore and I'll be less active in communities. These last few months it was really tragic for me because of this situation, I had panic attacks many times, I cried every day non-stop, I had four attempts... So far I am getting help, trying not to go back to it and be a better person. I really wanna change, I don't want to be in contact with people who may have a bad influence on me anymore. I'm still young, stupid, naive.. But I still have brains, I should be better than this.

I still have no idea if I'll ever come back here, it may be that I will come back but it may also be that I won't come back at all. My main goal was to say sorry for everything...

However, I am certain of my decision to never return to Twitter, it was a comfort place for me but after a while I realized that it's horrendous. Most of the people there are toxic heartless beings who hurt others.

I will understand if most people don't want to know me now, I don't blame them, quite the opposite, but those who still want to stay, thank you. Thank you so much. You are all important to me, at first I posted and did my art mainly for myself, but seeing how many people support me and love seeing my work, it only lifted my spirits and I did it for you too. I never felt like I would go this far... It was all thanks to you. I love you. And thank you for reading.

nomlio

[gayaest]

I just want to say your Paravolley AU has helped me a lot with overcoming internalized ableism, made me learn about sitting volleyball, and has also gotten me to read and watch Haikyuu again after years. I've been a volleyball person my whole life but I got a sports injury in highschool and now use a cane (and hopefully a rollator walker in the future).

Kageyama Tobio has always been my favorite character and seeing him in your AU hit me really hard. Though we don't have the same injury, I saw myself in your portrayal of him very much.

Your AU had made me re-evaluate the Haikyuu manga and anime through a disabled lense, and made me fall in love with Furudate's story all over again. Even stronger than it was before. And I adore the parallels you decided to put with your own AU.

I've since been searching up if there's sitting volleyball in my area (with little luck so far but dammit I'm going to keep looking). I'm so disappointed that it's never been brought up to me when I got injured. I'm upset that I was convinced that I'd never have a place in volleyball again. I legitimately started crying tears of joy when I learned sitting volleyball existed.

Thank you so much for your AU. I think it'll have a special place in my heart for a long time.

This is a genuinely sweet and kind-hearted message, and I have to thank you for sending it.

It means a lot that my AU brings comfort to not only myself, but other disabled people as well — the idea that my experiences, thoughts, feelings, research, etc is being put to good use to help and soothe people is more than I could ever wish to achieve or want.

I think something so important in my AU with Kageyama is that he wasn’t born disabled, he got his spinal cord injury at one of the worst points in his life, while simultaneously losing his support system (grandfather). He had no idea how to cope with becoming disabled because the people he surrounded himself with previously (MiddleSchool Volleyball Team) all turned their back on him and his drive to still want to play volleyball and feel lost without it. In turn, he turns that anger and fear and disappointment into internalized ableism, and even some outwards ableism he doesn’t even realize he needs to fix, because it’s just something most able-bodied people get told or believe. He pushes himself past his limits, hoping that he could one day be back to his old self, but that old self no longer exists, and that’s something the Karasuno Sitting Volleyball team teaches him. They teach him acceptance, support, community, etc when he didn’t even know it existed before.

I’m glad my AU can resonate with so many people, and I wish I could blab even more about it because it’s always in my head constantly, so if anyone has any questions, feel free to ask about it.

Furudate’s story is truly amazing, and to me, it doesn’t lose it’s charm and meaning for me as a disabled person, in fact, in makes me want to form even bigger bonds with community and other disabled people.

Thank you again for the ask, anon! It’s very sweet.

[kitsuneisi]

I was in the car on my way home from the doctor's when I saw you had posted part 10. I ended up ranting and raving for the 20 minute drive to my support worker, and then some when I showed her the comics when we got home. Since I spent so much time appreciating your stuff today, I thought I would say something about it to you.

I absolutely love everything about it. I am genuinely so, so excited to see where the lore surrounding non-humans is going. I am so excited for all of this, I love all of this.

I cannot pick a single favourite thing about this, it is all too good, but I will say I did cry like a little baby when I first came across this comic because of Scar being disabled. I have never, ever seen a disabled hero who's just a disabled guy. No powers that completely negate any disability, just a type of mobility aid that is actually treated as a mobility aid.

Not to mention, Scar is the one Grian has a crush on. I do not believe I have ever seen a queer story with a disabled guy being sought-after, or just any story of a disabled person being desireable. Seeing that cute, classic 'Oh his fingers brushed mine' moment happening with a character who is like me makes me indescribably happy.

I just see so much of myself in this Scar. So, so very much. We even have similar body types, and that makes me so happy as well.

Your art has just touched me in such a beautiful, meaningful way. I just thought that I should mention it, to let you know that you have made someone so so happy.

Thank you so much.

Just as you share your experience with me I want to return the gesture

Your comment and experience was such a heartwarming and fulfilling. I've always wanted to make stories for people to feel seen and comforted, and to believe I have gotten to achieve this kind of responses truly warms my heart and gives me so much hope

Art school have convinced me that I don't really have something to offer, that I dont have anything to say or that what I do doesnt really impact in any way. So your comment truly moves me.

To have the chance to write this story with my best friend and share it with you all has truly being amazing

Thank you for hearing and seeing my art <3

[dangerous-disposition]

47. “When I picture myself happy… It’s with you.” 💕💕

YES! I'm still working on asks from THIS ask game, and I absolutely will be happy to receive more (since I'm using these prompts as exercises to write short shit without context to overcome my pathological need to write So Much Context)

[ NOW ON AO3 ]

There was something distinctly heartbreaking about playing wingman for the guy who made you believe in the entire concept of soulmates, Eddie thinks as he leans against the trunk of Steve Harrington's Beemer. It's not even that he thinks they're soulmates, but what the dude has with Robin is really convincing. And maybe Eddie is pretty sure Steve is his soulmate, even platonically, even if that thought makes his pining ass want to vomit.

He refuses to pine after a straight man for eternity, and yet...

What's stupid is that Eddie is a shit wingman, so it doesn't even make sense that Steve keeps taking him out with him to bars and shit. Half the women that wanted to even approach Steve were afraid of Eddie, and the other half were fucking mean to him which lost Steve's favour immediately which... hey, Eddie couldn't complain too much about that.

But still, that meant that Steve was striking out every single time and Eddie was feeling bad about it because he was happy about it. He got to spend a whole evening with Steve and sometimes they would spend the night together because Eddie's place was closer and Steve was too tired to drive all the way home. Eddie could pretend this was a real date, that Steve Harrington was dating him.

Jesus H. Christ, he was pathetic.

Steve sighs next to him. "Why is this so hard?" he asks, and at Eddie's questioning look, Steve elaborates, "Dating, getting laid, whatever you wanna call it?"

Eddie huffs a laugh, and shrugs. "Well, I mean, I think I've got it worse in that department, Stevie," he mutters, taking a drag of his cigarette. Steve's known about him being gay for months now, which makes it even more wild that the man still shared a bed with him and took him out to bars almost every Friday night. Tossing his cigarette onto the asphalt and stubbing it out with his boot, Eddie asks, "What are you even looking for?"

Steve pauses, staring at the ground. "Someone who makes me happy, who gets me, who wants to be with me, the real me, y'know?" he asks without even looking at Eddie, which is good because Eddie's sure the way his heart was breaking would be visible from fucking outer space.

Me, that's me, Stevie. Choose me. That's what Eddie wants to say, to shout and scream and even stomp his feet a bit because it's not fucking fair. He's all those things and more and he wanted to be that for Steve.

"Think you might be putting too high of standards too early on these poor girls, Stevie," Eddie laughs instead, grinning crookedly over at Steve and stopping short at the intense gaze being leveled back at him.

"See, that's the thing, Eds. I'm starting to think I've been looking for that in all the wrong places," Steve says seriously, shifting so he's standing in front of Eddie.

And Eddie is sure he's dreaming. He's actually fast asleep and he's going to wake up literally any second and this was all just some terrible dream thought up by his awful, gay, pining, stupid brain. Because it actually sounds like Steve, the love of Eddie's life, is about to confess something huge to him.

"What makes you say that?" Eddie croaks out before clearing his throat, glancing at Steve's lips before meeting his eyes.

"I've always had these big dreams about my life, what it'd look like if I wanted to be happy, and before I always thought of these grand things that involve a wife and a whole pack of kids," Steve says and Eddie feels his already shattered heart break even more.

Eddie manages to laugh, though, even if what he really wants is to crawl into bed and cry. "Okay, so now you're raising the bar even higher on these poor girls?" Eddie asks, shoving Steve's shoulder with his fist.

Steve isn't swayed. "You don't get it, Eds, that's not what I want anymore," he says, running his hands back through his hair. "That isn't what I imagine when I think about being happy."

"Then what do you imagine?" Eddie asks because, apparently, he's a huge fucking masochist.

"Eds... you're really going to make me say it out loud?" Steve asks, almost teasingly, and then he steps just a little bit closer.

Eddie's heart stops, once again struck by how not real this has to be. "Yeah, I'm gonna need you to say it with your outside voice, Stevie," Eddie says. "I'm not a mind reader."

Steve sighs heavily and puts his hands on his hips as he visibly considers his next words carefully. Something comes over his expression that takes Eddie's breath away, something fierce and brave and beautiful, and now the full force of it was turning on him when Steve's eyes meet his.

"When I picture myself happy," Steve starts, stepping close enough that the heat radiating off of him begins to warm Eddie's chilled skin. Steve lifts a hand to cup Eddie's jaw as he says, "It's with you, Eds."

Eddie blinks owlishly at Steve. "What?"

"I think I'm--I've been into you for months, and when you came out to me I got so hopeful, like I actually maybe stood a chance, which is obviously stupid. Just because you're gay doesn't mean you're into me but still," Steve rambles a bit as Eddie tries to form a coherent thought. Steve chews on his bottom lip and asks, "Eds? What do you--is this, like, okay?"

Eddie slaps himself in the face, just hard enough to sting, and Steve jumps.

"Eddie, what the hell?" Steve asks, bewildered.

"Sorry, just checking that I'm not dreaming. Pinching wouldn't've been enough to wake me up from a dream this good," Eddie breathes, twisting his hand in the front of Steve's polo and pulling him close. "You mean that, Stevie? You want me?"

"More than I've wanted anything in my life," Steve confesses easily, and he stumbles when Eddie gently shoves him back.

"Then take me home and we can make out about it in private, yeah?" Eddie suggests, grinning as he scrambles to get into the passenger seat of the Beemer.

When Steve gets into the car, he's grinning, and Eddie leans across the center console. "One kiss for the road?" he asks, batting his lashes up at Steve.

"Absolutely," Steve agrees, and then their mouths slotted together perfectly, like they were made to be kissing each other all along.

And yeah, Eddie was really starting to believe in soulmates actually...

Thank you again for sending me this ask!!! Send me more of these fun prompts? Also, if you like my writing, please consider checking out writing blog -> @gerrystamour

[lemonhemlock]

what are they doiiiing, man

The more I believed I wasn't a book puritist, the more this show is trying to make me one because what are they doing?

Everything is inconsistent from episode to episodo and from season to season, like they're not even trying to make it believable

The only good thing is fr Daemon plot and this does shock me because I wouldn't have believed it before lol

And they're kind of making me feel angry about the green (alicent the most, because what are you doiiing? Not even on a book!alicent point, but from the same shows, she is always something different and it's humiliating really)

Idk, i try to take all with a light heart but... it's still able to make me quite mad

And sorry for all the typos and errors, I'm in a rush dhsjal

i mean it's a really disappointing season

i've said it before in my critiques, we can argue all day about characterisation (maybe some actually see aemond as an emotionless psycho, maybe some actually buy that alicent would sell out her own sons for rhaenyra), but there is little to no buildup for these HUGE changes and they don't even make sense in the context of the story. the greens are so, so emotionally flat and one-note melancholy with stunted dynamics. if they don't give a shit about each other, why and even HOW could the audience? where is the tragedy? ok, you want to make those changes from the books and create completely different versions of these characters: you have to make me believe it, man. you have to put in the work.

but these writers don't even understand the politics of the world they are inhabiting. they're not fixing any plot holes from the books, they're creating more. how the heck is house hightower JUST fine with having TWO members of their family dismissed in quick succession from the small council? who is financing this war? uncle hobert should be writing angry letters to aemond demanding appropriate reparations or else the hightower armies go back to oldtown. if they are not going to advance their own interests further as a house, why are they fighting this pointless war? tyland lannister should have given aemond some lip back for his attitude since house lannister has resources (i.e. armies, ships and gold) that aemond needs. these people have power! we've already seen the riverlords take no shit from daemon and he has a dragon too!

i've said this already to our dear @stannisfactions, so i'm gonna repeat myself here, but if alicent somehow became convinced that aemond was so off the rails he was going to get helaena killed................ there are ways around that that DON'T involve selling out your entire family to rhaenyra (certainly your male relatives, even the ones who didn't do a damn thing to you, like your brother, your uncle, your cousins, YOUR OTHER SON (THE NICE ONE), who are only following YOUR lead at the end of the day, because YOU put aegon on the throne and told them to mobilize forces and declare for him and now rhaenyra will see them all as traitors.

has everyone forgotten how to stage a castle coup? i know vhagar is big and scary, but she's parked way outside KL and aemond is just one man who was NOT shown to hustle for his own connections and personal network of friends. smack him in the damn head and throw his ass in jail!! tell everyone else the now-conscious KING aegon told you to! alicent was ruling queen for many years, it makes no sense for her not to have her own resources and courtiers who could help her do this.

can you imagine joffrey baratheon, surrounded by lannister guards loyal to and paid by tywin lannister, whose war is financed by the lannisters, dismissing tywin or cersei (or even tyrion) from his small council? are you laughing yet? why doesn't alicent have her own private army of hightower guards loyal to HER? unless you want (and need) her to be the stupidest person alive so that you can write your rhaenicent fanfic 🤌

they want to humiliate alicent so much to „punish” her for ~choosing the patriarchy~ instead of her bff rhaenyra and girl power. it's such an overdone storyline. other shows, books, media have done it to death, why is it in my dragon show, too? she can't have been a competent regent for viserys and not know how to do these things or not have acquired the resources to do them if necessary. how can she be both competent and incompetent when the plot requires it? it's giving wanting to still have the cake after eating it and throwing it into outer space

[lesbians4armand]

Electra Heart is an Armand album - a thesis

Some of you may remember my preacher's daughter thesis of a very similar nature. Well, I'm back on my bullshit :) Somewhat for @misslovelace who I think will appreciate this

(under a cut as it will be long)

Bubblegum Bitch

Not a song I have ever particularly associated with Armand, If I am honest, so not the strongest of starts, but the more I think, the more it comes together. It's a very Amadeo song, really.

"Got a figure like a pinup, got a figure like a doll, don't care if you think I'm dumb, I don't care at all"

So much of Armand's self worth is so directly tied to his outward appearance and perceived beauty, that he is so used to playing into it, he simply doesn't care as much any more, he stopped caring even when he was mortal.

"I'm the girl you'd die for"

More than you'd know it. Many have.

"I'll chew you up and I'll spit you out, cause that's what young love is all about"

Knowing his beauty and effect on other men, Amadeo played into it, intentionally seeking out men who desired his youth and beauty as a distraction, only to cast them off. Of course this ends badly for him in the books as it eventually leads to his murder.

Primadonna

This song I don't have a lyric breakdown for as I don't think it fits Armand lyric-for-lyric, but more as a whole, his deep desire to be loved, to be adored, to be given everything, then his misery hidden not so far from the surface beneath. And you know he'd do anything for what he wants, even if it ruins him.

Lies

The first of the darker songs of the album, and immediately a deeply Armand song. I find myself debating what period of his life it fits the best, and I keep coming back to book-loumand's relationship.

"You're never gonna love me, so what's the use?"

Armand wants so much to be loved, to be desired more that superficially. Everyone wants him for what they can take, nobody wants him for what he is. When he meets Louis, he thinks maybe he will be, and in a way he is, they do love each other, but still not as Armand wants. louis is cold, distant, yearning for Lestat, who also brushed him off. What's the use in playing this game?

"Why don't we just pretend? Lies, don't wanna know"

Veering back into show loumand, why don't they just pretend? Armand lies and manipulates so they can pretend that they are happy together and that Armand did not kill Louis daughter and push Lois to attempted suicide.

"Can't let you go, can't let you go"

What is says there, the only thing Armand dreads more than not being loved is being entirely alone. He can't let Louis go even through all of this, as he cannot be alone, he can't.

"I just want it to be perfect, to believe it's all been worth the fight"

Again, if Armand crafts it to his perfections, maybe he will convince himself he is alright as he is, that is is worth everything he is done and that was done to him.

Homewrecker

Again, not one I have much lyrical breakdown on I'm afraid, however it does give me a strong vibe of both Armand's last mortal years in Venice as Amadeo, and also his relationship with Lestat. This one I just have to mentally transmit into your mind. Do you get it?

Starring Role

Okayyy I have a lot for this one. One of the loumand songs of all time, to me. Lets go.

"You're hard to hug, tough to talk to, and I never fall asleep / when you're in my bed, all you give me is a heartbeat"

I am not a loumand bed death truther, however I am a loumand zero emotional intimacy truther. There were whips and chains of all sorts on their walls, but in bed they sit so far apart, barely speaking.

"I've turned into a statue, and it makes me feel depressed/ cause the only time you open up is when we get undressed"

Much the same as my previous comment, but the statue lyric reminds me so much of Armand as Rashid, so still and silent in the corner of the room during s1.

"You don't love me, big fucking deal / I'll never tell you how I feel / You don't love me, not a big deal, I'll never tell you how I feel"

Again and again, lack of emotional intimacy, lack of any communication, lack of real desire.

"It almost feels like a joke to play a part, when you are not a starring role in someone else's heart"

From what I have said, you may be surprised by this, but I do believe Louis and Armand loved each other, I do. I think they'll love each other again, this is part of the tragedy, the horror. The love was there. What I don't believe, is that Armand was the love of Louis' life, and he knew that. He was not the "starring role," so to say, as he wanted to be. He may have wanted Louis more than anyone in the world, but Louis didn't feel the same, though he did love Armand, it was not enough for him, it felt like a joke, a cruelty. This is of course what causes Armand betrayal in Paris. Tragedy after tragedy.

"Sometimes I ignore you, so I feel in control / Cause really I adore you, and I can't leave you alone"

Armand patterns of neglect and abuse to find power he wishes for as he feels it is the only way to have any power combined with his consistent ned to never be alone are a horrifying combination. This lyric describes perfectly to me Armand's treatment of Louis after his attempt in 1973, his neglect so Louis stayed weak and under his command because he would not let him leave him, in any way.

"You're like my dad, you'd get on well, I send my best regards from hell"

This is interesting, as I do not believe that Louis actually is like Marius in any way despite the "Maitre" power play the pair had happening. It is at its core, a badly communicated and deeply fucked up projection from Armand to be a victim again, to want Louis to be like Marius so that he feels loved again in the way he sees love, but also to explain why he does what he does to Louis. They would not get on well, but Armand wants them to. It's all projection.

"I wait for you to open up, to give yourself to me / But nothing's ever gonna give, I'll never set you free"

He waits and waits to be the one that Louis wants, truly wants not just out of spite, but realises it won't happen and resolves to simply bearing, and making sure Louis can't leave him anyway, trapping them both in this prison. He'll never set them free, he's thrown the key away. Until Daniel finds it, of course.

The State of Dreaming

I see TSoD as a very TDV-era Armand song, post-Lestat and pre-Louis. Of course, "my life is a play" is a very obvious lyric, but the entire vibe of the song as a dark dreamlike state of performance you cannot escape is so fitting for Armand's years in a theatre cult coven.

Power & Control

Lesmand. I don't have any more to say here. It's lesmand.

Living Dead

This one is too obvious I fear but I'll mention it anyway. He is. Literally.

Teen Idle

Ah, where to start. Every troubled teen's anthem, a very Armand (particularly bookmand) song.

"I wanna be a bottle blonde, I don't know why but I feel conned / I wnna be an idle teen, I wish I hadn't been so clean"

The blondeness here is metaphorical I think, metaphorical for a sort of beauty that is intention, wanted, enhanced, something that you create, not something cursed to you. Armand feels conned by his beauty, something desired and coveted making many things worse for him, more difficult, causing so much pain.

He wants to be an idle teen, to to have been perhaps. Not as he was, as Amadeo was, so... busy, with so much, so many. Or maybe he wished he had been more so, less clean, less quick, messier. Maybe that would have spared him pain too.

"I wanna stay inside all day, I want the world to go away"

Easy thing to say as a vampire, especially an eternally teenage one.

"I want blood, guts and chocolate cake, I want to be a real fake"

He wants indulgent things, vampiric and human, anything he can get.

"Instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible"

Armand's religious backstory, what more can I say. His loss of faith and difficulties with it are laid so clear here.

"The pretty lies, the ugly truth"

What more is there to Armand?

"The day has come where I have died, only to find I've come alive"

A teenager, forever. Dead, perfect.

"I wanna be a virgin pure, a 21st Century whore / I want back my virginity, so I can feel infinity"

I've been sitting here for minutes thinking of what I can say about this but its all in the lyrics. You already know.

"I wanna drink until I ache, I wanna make a big mistake, I want blood guts and angel cake"

Drinking until he aches has a double meaning to me, both his desire for blood as a vampire and for alcohol as mortal. The big mistake is either seducing Lord Harlech, or wishing to be a vampire in the first place. Then of course, another desire for blood, this time with angel cake. He was always describes as an angel, not quite human any way anyone looked.

"Adolescence didn't make sense, a little loss of innocence, the ugly years of being a fool, ain't youth meant to be beautiful?"

This just sums up Amadeo. It does.

Valley of the Dolls

This is where I move heavy into HC material, especially the hc that Armand suffers from some form of dissociative disorder, making Armand, Amadeo and Arun/Andrei distinct alters. The lyrics "living with identities that do not belong to me," and "pick a personality for free, when you feel like nobody" fit this extraordinarily well.

Hypocrates

I see this song as a very good explanation of my interpretation of Armand and Marius's relationship. Very good.

"You're the lonely, one and only, body in the world / Who can make me, who can break me down into a young girl"

Marius is, in many ways, the only one who holds any power over Armand on a personal level, for so many reasons, but this just brings up the part where Armand describes himself as being afraid of Marius. He still makes him feel like a mortal boy in his service again.

"I know you only want to own me, and that's the kind of love you show me / You tell me one thing and do another, keep all your secrets undercover"

This just sums it up to me. He does just want to own him, that is the only love being shown.

Fear and Loathing

"I lived a lot of different lives / Been different people many times"

Armand is consistently whoever those around him want him to be, he has never truly been his own person. Every new person, every lover he asks the same thing he asks Louis "who am I?", he creates a new life in his death.

"I lived my life in bitterness / And filled my heart with emptiness"

Armand learned, especially from the Children of Darkness, to not find pleasure or goodness in anything, especially not himself. He does not value himself or others, he is nihilistic quite constantly.

"Not everyone is out to screw you over / Maybe, yeah, just maybe, they just want to get to know you"

One thing I believe is intrinsic to Armand and his relationships with others is his fundamental lack of trust in them. He does not trust that they won't hurt him, they won't leave him, s he hurts them or himself before they can, makes them leave before they can choose to, before they can grow bored or fed up with him. He doesn't trust that anyone has good intentions, that ever actually love him.

"Got different people inside my head / I wonder which one that they like best"

Again, see Valley of the Dolls. I do see Arun, Amadeo and Armand as separate identities fighting to be the "real" one in a bid to keep safe if he can make others like them the most.

"And when the time comes along and the lights run out / I know a light will burn on when they blow me out"

There is one thing that Armand does very well, and it is endure. This is about him enduring. He will always burn on.

"Don't wanna be completely faithless, completely faithless"

Faith and religion are so SO important to Armand as a character, his belief in a higher power either blessing him or cursing him, but he cannot function without. He wants so much to hold some faith in what has happened to him, what continues to happen, that it is supposed to be in some way. It's a guide for him, if nothing else.

(Okay here I am going to skip How To Be A Heartbreaker as I do think it is the one song that does not fit, though at the same time Ithink amadeo would have loved it so shout out)

Radioactive

"My heart is nuclear / Love is all that I fear"

Would Armand know love if he saw it, if he experienced it? Or would he think it another trick, a play to gain something as it has always been to him. He fears love as much as he craves it as I doubt he even understands it. But his heart, his love is a powerful thing, a dangerous thing.

Sex Yeah

"Nothing is provocative anymore, even for kids"

'No one though children innocent of sensuous pleasures' :/

"All my life I've tried to hide what history has given me"

The ideas of history are really really interesting in this sound wrt Armand because of how much of his history is informed by sexuality. It's at every turn, every fight, every moment of his past and it is his legacy in many ways, take the painting. But what if he could fight that, could hide it, be something more, reclaim his personhood without forfeiting his sexuality. Maybe he has the time to, and has seen the culture change in so many ways.

Buy The Stars

I have very similar feelings to Hypocrates with this song, and I think it's similar in meaning when thinking of Armand too. Essentially I see this song as a representation of love as possession, a sort of love Armand had with Marius, and how owning and giving is not loving or knowing someone.

E.V.O.L

Devil's Minion song. So DM. "It only takes two lonely people to fuck love up and make it evil / It only takes a drop of evil to fuck up two beautiful people"