#I tagged this as spoilers so you can’t get mad at me if you haven’t seen the episode I wanted to talk about my blorbo

[fuumiku]

They’re really interesting foils in many ways. I’ve always thought that Marcille & Mithrun have underrated dynamic potential. Give me the cringefail dungeon lords. Give me the elves with ears-centric metaphorical self-image issues. Give me the academic elites whose deepest strongest desires will always remain unreachable and the only option is to turn to the corrupt forbidden fruit of a demon pact. I am so so normal about Mithrun and Marcille

I wonder if the resemblance between captain Mithrun and general Hagreus aka Marcille’s fave in Dalclan is intentional… They definitely look very alike. It could represent idealization vs reality? Something something the romanticization of elves and their societal drama in their fiction vs a very real and imperfect product of their military system. The canaries certainly aren’t glamorous next to whatever Hagreus is the general of. I feel like she never had the opportunity to notice the resemblance herself bc within seconds of meeting him he was wrestling her on the ground but. If she had… She would so think he should have been his actor in the tallman stage play of Daltian Clan in that new extra comic hehe. I love the little details like Hagreus’ lips being drawn with extra details because they’re full and pretty while Mithrun’s lips are drawn with extra details because they’re chapped lmao.

This art is all silly and surface level but in my head mithrille is like so dramatic and I make up daltian clan level big plots with them gbdgd. I made a spotify playlist for mithrun if y’all interested, rn it’s mostly centered around cravings that consume and losing yourself and illusions inspired from his time as dungeon lord but it’s branching out. Varied vibes, levels of intensity and degrees of confusion and await you ✨ I would emotionally rant about Chainsaw Man ost lyrics and how they tie in with Mithrun and the winged lion’s relationship but this post is already a monster

I want more of these two please please please pleaseee just one or two interactions in the new canon content coming up… All they ever did was debate philosophy on desires and human self-fulfillment and try to murder each other, please… I never get to gush about them and I can’t shut up so if you want more thoughts I talk about them more below

To get a girl to peacefully accept arrest follow these simple steps: in private, ominously stand above her and forcefully interrogate her, while in public, tell her you’ve met before (untrue and also not a pickup line) and interrogate her with a thin veneer of decorum. If all else fails, threaten and follow through on said threat. My guy needs more than just physical therapy I’m afraid

Sorry if most of these were Marcille-centric with Mithrun standing there looking cool, if I were doing these more from Mithrun’s pov things would be like "She’s a bit much but I guess I don’t mind hanging around her." or "Oh you’re a half-elf? -insert elven supremacist rethoric-" or "I have to keep her from becoming demon stew." immediately followed by "Did someone say demon? Kill kill kill kill kill" since these are set prior to like really knowing another. Then things would be more like "huh she has bad tastes in novels but her magic research is pretty interesting" and "I’m lonely and don’t understand myself— Oh she loves talking about feelings? Oh shi-" That last one is an aspect of why I like Marcille and Mithrun’s potential dynamic lol. She’s very… Emotionally intelligent alongside being impulsive. You think you have no feelings because the world has beaten them out of you? Think again!! Marcille be upon ye! -In a therapy sort of way but mostly in a connecting with people and your own self through interpersonal relationships and talking kinda way. I just think a lively, upbeat, annoying friend way too interested in your personal life would do him good, the canaries are nice but like if Marcille went to prison and was a sort of extra new bunkmate I think that’d be interesting and fun to read is what I’m saying

Unlike Kabru she wants all the useless messy filler of his backstory, eating chips while listening. Like two chibi sets side by side, "me and my fellow canaries, name name and name-" "Hold on that’s too much info we have to compact this" vs "Then we were to sleep on the third floor of the dungeon, which had the look of a mausoleum, and name and name got into a fight over the campfire placement." while Marcille is like uh-huh what next what next while kicking her feet. She thinks of pre-dungeon pompous Mithrun and is like omg you went through a character arc and became better as a person- and then he opens his mouth and she’s like nevermind let’s keep working on that. She would also go "ew ur hair is greasy" and give him a full hair care treatment. What I’m saying is I need them to be forced to spend time in a dungeon together and become besties through a life or death roadtrip

Marcille is insecure about her ears, long, like an elf’s pride should be, but rounder, inelegant. Seeing Mithrun though, the epitome of beauty, with his half-cut ears make it a sillier thought. Not sure if Mithrun is the best person to reconnect with ur elven culture with but it sure is an option Marcille would so appreciate being around someone both cool headed and kind, I genuinely think they’d get along, like not that Senshi isn’t that too most of the time but I think Mithrun would be in a way that’s more refreshing to her. I’d be so curious about them discussing Dalclan, I doubt he’d have read it but she could make him read it, maybe post-canon with the excuse that they’re trying to find him a new hobby hah. He’d tear into the writing and everything but it’d be a fun time, I like to think that it’d make him a bit less prejudiced. Marcille @ Mithrun "👉👈 Soo maybe you don’t know these books they’re pretty recent having come out 50 years ago but…"

I’ve been in a Mithrun phase I want to make and read Mithrun-centric fics and angst so baaad. I razz him a lot here but he’s literally a traumatized military man that became obsessed with revenge due to bad coping and neglects himself in the process idk not much for him going on and some of it is because he has to work on himself, but hey no one’s perfect it all comes from a place of love and relating though I prommy. He’s the one ungodly angsty squeaky toy blorbo with brain damage rep I have don’t take him from me

[xeemaee]

Hey did anyone else hear baby Kabru calling for his mother in the background right before adult Kabru had to eat the harpy eggs cause I thought that scene was gonna make me laugh (and it did) but now I’m sad about his backstory again. My man really just hates monsters.

[charmandabear]

Ascendn't

Summary

I got mad when the game wouldn't let me hug him after the Cazador fight. So I fixed it. Plus a bit more steaminess in the graveyard scene. (Also, yes, I'm insufferable about this title.)

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Tav Rating: M Word Count: 4.5k Tags/Warnings: post-Cazador fight, Act 3 spoilers, blood kink, biting, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, soft dom Astarion, enthusiastic consent

It's been a good 10 years since I've written fanfiction and probably about 20 since I've published any online. This boy got me down BAD. I made an AO3 account for this fucker. (Which you can find here.)

“I can do this, but I need your help.”

You’ve never heard him plead like this. He’s usually so cool and confident. He doesn’t need anyone if he can help it. But this is different. Standing over Cazador, dagger in hand, fear and desperation in his eyes.

“I’ll be free - truly, completely free. Isn’t that what you want?”

He knows how to make your heart melt and break all at the same time. Gods, yes, of course that’s what you want, more than anything in the world. For him to be free to live the life that he never got to have, the life that Cazador stole away from him. He was so young when he got turned. And if he doesn’t take this chance, then as soon as you manage to get these damned tadpoles out of your head he’ll be relegated to the shadows once again. You can’t do that to him.

But this isn’t it. This won’t give him the freedom he so desperately craves, no, deserves. It’s just another form of chains. You take a shaky breath and prepare yourself for his disapproving glare.

“I know you think this will set you free, but it won’t. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador.”

Astarion’s face goes slack, the recognition of the cycle of abuse suddenly clear. His eyes on you soften as he murmurs, “You– you’re right. I can be better than him.” He turns a steely gaze back to Cazador.

“But I’m not above enjoying this.”

With a ferocity that you haven’t yet seen in Astarion, he yanks Cazador’s head back and starts viciously stabbing into his neck. Two hundred years of pent up fury and revenge release in a matter of moments. At a certain point, he’s not even stabbing the man, but rather the idea of Cazador and everything he represents.

Eventually he slows and drops Cazador’s limp body to the ground. The dagger falls with a clatter, and Astarion takes a step back. His eyes finally come back into focus and he realizes that it’s over. Really, truly, over. He’s finally free.

His face is awash with an overwhelm of emotions that you can’t identify. He’s panting, first from the physical exertion and then the sobs that wrack his body. He lets out a howling cry filled with pain and suffering and relief and anguish and he falls to his knees, shoulders shaking. Up until this point, you and the rest of your party have been frozen to the spot as you watched Astarion claim his revenge. But something in you breaks free and you rush to his side. Where you need to be. Where you belong.

You grab him tight in your arms and curl into his neck, your own tears mixing with the blood and grime on his bare shoulder. You think with an almost sardonic humor how often your positions have been reversed. Whereas when he leaned into your neck it was often with hunger, or lust, or even just a flirty playfulness, now all you could bring is a shared pain and comfort. You plant a tender kiss just below his ear and he looks at you with tearful eyes, an unidentifiable question present. You wrap your hand around the base of his neck, fingers raking through bloodstained silver curls. Pressing your foreheads together, you sync up your breaths with his, trying to slow them back to an even rhythm. Gods, you love this man so much.

You finally dare to break the silence, whispering, “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” He lets out a weary chuckle and nods. You take one more look into those wet crimson eyes, bloodshot and tired, and smear some of Cazador’s blood left on his cheek in an attempt to wipe away his tears. He takes your hand and kisses your fingertips gently. You suddenly become aware that the other six spawn have been released from their soul-draining chains and are approaching, just as tired and sweaty as the rest of you. The two of you slowly get up to your feet, each helping the other in the process.

“Is… is it over? Is he…?” The woman you vaguely recall meeting in the flophouse in Wyrm’s Crossing, Dalyria, cautiously peers at Cazador’s body. Astarion lets out one final sigh, his breathing finally returning to normal.

“Yes. He’s gone.” He sounds like he can hardly believe it himself. As though saying the words aloud might somehow break a spell and make them untrue.

“What does that mean for us?” Petras, you think, comes up behind Dal. You do remember meeting him, feeling like he was like a knockoff version of Astarion. Trying all the same moves with half of the charm. You feel bad, now, about that judgemental assessment. He looks like such a lost little boy.

“It means you have a choice,” he says with exasperation. Sibling bonds, even when forged in fire, never die. “You can hide here, living in the shadows, like parasites.” His voice is filled with venom. “Or you can be more than what he made us to be. You can choose differently, of course. But the consequences are on your head.”

“What does it mean for them?” Dal asks, and Astarion falters slightly. 

“Ah. Now that is a question…” You can tell he had been trying not to think about the seven thousand vampire spawn locked up in the dungeons. He was trying to get Sebastian out of his mind since their conversation. You don’t blame him, honestly. Astarion may have been forced to do Cazador’s bidding, but that doesn’t make the fallout from that any less reprehensible. Worse even that he was good at it.

Astarion had taken a step away from you to talk to his siblings, and you can see him beginning to spiral. You close the distance again and lay a hand on his shoulder. You can feel him start under your touch.

“Let’s release them,” you offer quietly. “They deserve the same chance you got.” You have no idea who Astarion would be right now if he hadn’t gotten kidnapped by the Illithid. If he hadn’t been on this journey, seen everything he had seen. Met you. Honestly, you don’t know who you’d even be if you hadn’t met him either. The thought alone makes you run cold.

“You’re right,” he breathes barely above a whisper. “The poor wretches in the cells are innocent. They shouldn’t have to suffer just because I-” his voice catches in his throat and you see him shake off a dark thought, “lured them here.” He reaches down to pick up Cazador’s staff - Woe, you think it’s called - with a hand still stained reddish black with the vampire’s blood. He looks at it for a moment, considering it carefully, and everything this staff had ever meant. Then he slams it on the ground, red waves of energy emanating from it, using its power to unlock every single one of the cells in the dungeon. 

“They’ll need someone to lead them. Take the tunnels into the Underdark. Find somewhere… well, not safe, but less perilous.” Petras eyes light up with fear.

“What? No, we can’t-” he begins desperately, but Astarion cuts him off with a hand.

“Just try to keep them out of trouble.” The exasperated tone is back. How often had he needed to manage Petras’ emotions as much as his own? You vaguely wonder if Petras looked to Astarion as a role model. The other six spawn walk off slowly, exhausted but clearly relieved to be starting anew.

You turn to Astarion, who has just finished redonning his armor that Cazador had stripped him of. His gaze is glassy; you’ve seen this look before, sometimes even when you’re in bed together. He might as well be a million miles away. You gently touch his arm to bring him back to you. He jumps slightly, then a wan smile touches his lips, but not his eyes.

“That’s it. He’s gone. After all these years – these centuries – it’s really over.” He shuffles his feet, antsy and tired at the same time. You hesitate a moment, unsure of the best way to respond, but you finally settle on, “I’m proud of you. You did the right thing.” His smile isn’t free of bitterness.

“I’m glad you think so, because I’m not so sure.” His eyes flick up back to you, but that glassy look has returned. “I just feel numb. What I’ve lost, what I’ve gained – it’s all so much. And gods, all those spawn, free in the Underdark. I need some time, I think. Just to let it all sink in.” You reach out to touch his face comfortingly. Your heart sinks as he gently pushes your hand away, but it settles when he doesn’t let go of it.

“Let’s just go. This place reeks of death and I want to feel alive again.” He gives your fingers a small squeeze and then walks off ahead of your party, making his way down the long corridor into Cazador’s dungeon. Well, not Cazador’s anymore. You briefly wonder what’s going to happen to this place.

At the end of the hallway, you see the Gur standing there, too late to be even remotely useful. You struggle to keep a scowl off your face. You hate how they treated Astarion in your last encounter. You could be sympathetic of their pain, of course; they’ve lost so much to Astarion’s actions. But the fact that they offered no sympathy for him back, the fact that they could barely acknowledge that he was a victim himself? Absolutely despicable. 

Ulma stands at the head of the group, and her scowl matches yours. “You killed one vampire, but released seven thousand of his spawn? Have you lost all sense?”

“They were innocents. To kill them would have been an even greater crime.” Astarion couldn’t possibly sound more tired. You don’t blame him, these are the last people he wants to defend himself against right now.

“Some of those innocents are your fucking kids,” you grumble under your breath, hopefully not enough for Ulma to hear, but just enough for Astarion’s benefit. It’s clear that she couldn’t when she retorts, “And our children? What of their fate?”

“Cazador turned everyone we brought him into spawn. I can only assume your children are somewhere in those wretched cells. You’ll find them in the Underdark, although you may not like what you find.” The grief is plain in Ulma’s face, as well as the rest of the Gur. You feel a little more sympathy for them, but still no warmth.

“This is…” Ulma searches for the right word to capture the enormity of the situation, “difficult news.” She probably could’ve done better. “We will need to decide what this means.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “Thank you for what you have done – slaying Cazador was a great justice. As for the rest… well, time will tell.” Astarion nods curtly, and you’re relieved to be able to push past them and leave.

You and your party finally trudge back to Elfsong Tavern to rest. The rest of your companions are eager to gossip about the day’s events, everyone having something to say. You shield Astarion from their nosiness and distract them while he bathes in the tub in the corner, washing away more than just the physical dirt. 

Later that evening as everyone else is beginning to tuck into bed, Astarion comes to you, finally ready to talk again. You can smell his signature fragrance, an earthy citrus with an undertone of spice, and it’s positively intoxicating. You’ve grown to really love that smell, and even the slightest whiff makes your head spin. For the first time maybe ever since you met, his eyes look… soft. Almost warm, even.

“I should probably start getting used to the shadows, again,” he muses with a light smile. “Who knows how long I have left in the sun?” Your heart drops. This had been your greatest fear, that he would feel resentful of the fact that you convinced him not to go through with the ritual, thereby committing him to an indefinite lifetime in the darkness. You know how much he’s grown to love the feeling of the sun on his skin. Not to mention how it makes his skin look, soft and kissable.

“Don’t say that,” you plead with him. “We could still find a way to control the tadpole.” He shakes his head, his freshly washed curls bouncing slightly.

“Maybe, but even if I could control it, it’s a dangerous game. I’d spend every day waiting for something to go wrong. For the tadpole to find a new trick, reassert itself, make me a slave again.” His eyes grow lighter, discovering the truth of what he’s saying as he says it. “Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price of freedom.” You reach out and give his arm a reassuring squeeze, relishing the feel of his cool, toned arm beneath the warm linen. Even after all this time, being this close to him makes you a little lightheaded. You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and neck, almost as though it’s aching to be drunk. 

“I’ll be with you either way,” you breathe softly. You can’t help but glance at his lips. “I hope you know that.”

“I think I do.” He sounds genuine, a bit of a rarity for him. Lest anyone believes Astarion to have a sincere bone in his body, he adds, “Assuming we survive, of course. Because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.” You playfully shove his shoulder for teasing you. He laughs and gently pulls you in by your lower back and you feel the heat rising again. Your breath catches as his eyes rake over your body and face. He lingers on your lips for a moment before darting back up to your eyes.

“There’s… something I’d like to show you, if that’s alright? Something out in the city.” He cocks his head and looks at you with an almost impossible combination of bashfulness and lust. Being this close to him and breathing in his heady scent makes you dizzy. You manage to recover just enough to quip, “If you want to sneak off for a cuddle, you can just ask.” He lets you go and you feel a significant drop in your internal temperature.

“I’ll try to restrain myself if you do,” he says with a cheeky smile. He takes you gently by the hand and leads you out the Elfsong Tavern.

The graveyard is quiet, almost serene. Astarion walks forward towards a tombstone covered in ivy and, with something bordering on reverence, brushes the vines away to reveal the text engraved in the crumbling stone. 

Astarion Ancunin 1229 DR - 1268 DR

He wipes the dirt off his hands and steps back next to you to get a better view of the stone. You stand together in silence for a moment, as if in prayer.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there.” His gaze is overtaken by that glassy look, the one you recognize to be him reliving his trauma. “I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his.” He sneers at the memory. Then he pauses, considering, “Until today.” 

He comes back to himself with a shake of his head, and his eyes return to this plane. He adds, as much to himself as to you, “Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.”

“And what do you want?” Your mouth is dry as you ask the question. You can hope for the answer, but you wouldn’t dare presume. He might need to figure that out on his own, and if that’s the case, you will respect that. 

He turns to face you, his red eyes full of more warmth than you’ve ever seen. Your heart leaps into your throat as he smiles and says, “You… I want you. 

“You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared.” As he’s speaking your heart starts beating loudly, blood pumping through your arteries at an almost vulgar rate. You know he can tell, and he chuckles softly. Cupping his hand below your ear and gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, he adds teasingly, “You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do.” He pulls you even closer and rests his forehead against yours. You could never get tired of this. As much as you love those moments filled with heat and lust, there’s something so tender about these intimate gestures that aren’t about sex. 

“I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don’t want to lose that.” You grasp at the back of his shirt, looking for purchase as you fall so much more deeply for him. Your voice is barely above a whisper as you breathe, “You won’t. Whatever comes next, I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.”

You two stand there for what feels like both an eternity and a fraction of a second before he pulls away and looks at the grave again.

“Well. I should probably fix this.” He pulls a dagger from his belt with practiced fingers and kneels beside the stone, carving something into it. You kneel beside him and see that it now reads

Astarion Ancunin 1229 DR - 1268 DR 1492 DR -

His new life. For the first time in two hundred years, he can call it his own. You find yourself at a loss of what to do, or what to add, so you self-consciously pick up a nearby wildflower and gently place it at the base of his gravestone. He glances at you sideways and smirks, “Cute.” You both sit back on your heels to admire his work. He heaves a great sigh, letting go of centuries of tension and fear.

“I’ve been dead in the ground for long enough. It’s time to start living again.” He turns to you and takes your hands. “With everything life has to offer.” His voice has taken on that gravelly tone that sends a shiver up your spine. You don’t want to pressure him, of course, but your desire for his touch is getting harder to ignore. These gentle grazes, lovely though they’ve been, have set your skin aflame.

“Meaning…?”

His eyes glint mischievously and that familiar flirty lilt comes back to his voice. “If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded.” Your body leans toward him instinctively, breath heavy in your chest. The words are out of your mouth before your brain catches up, “Sounds good to me.” He gets close to your face and you can feel his breath on your lips before he pulls away suddenly. He’s teasing you, and you know that he’s relishing in the satisfaction of it.

“You know,” he says with a feigned innocence, as though he doesn’t know the effect he has on you, “I didn’t care for you when we first met.” The sudden shift in tone knocks you back to reality, and you can’t help but laugh. He impishly glances up at you through his lashes.

“But I do now. Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance.” He takes your hand, cheekiness gone, and looks you squarely in the eye with a rare earnestness. “I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” You will never tire of hearing those words. He reaches behind your ear and tenderly pulls you closer to him, finally giving your lips the reprieve they’ve been so desperate for. It’s a soft kiss, gentle, yet it still makes you burn up inside. 

He pulls away far too soon, and you gaze back at him with starry eyes. His features is soft and smiley, but in an instant he raises on his knees so he’s towering over you and he takes on that stern expression that makes your temperature rise. He shoves you back onto your elbows before bending down to crawl up your torso hungrily. He kisses you again, this time with more intensity. He pins you down with the weight of his chest and then traps you further by nudging your leg up with his knee, eliciting a small gasp of surprise from you. You couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. And you most certainly don’t want to.

His body presses against yours and you curl your leg around him, pulling him tighter. An almost imperceptible grunt escapes his lips and you smile through your kiss. You can feel his smile in return and you lace your fingers into his silvery hair. He deepens the kiss, rolling his hips harder against you and your mouth opens involuntarily. He takes advantage of this momentary lapse and makes his way toward your neck, marking the trail with kisses. You seize up and your fingers tighten in his hair, encouraging him silently. But he needs more than that, and you know exactly how he’ll respond.

“Use your words,” he hums between kisses. You squirm beneath him, trying to sound even remotely dignified.

“You can,” you manage to gasp out as you try to suppress the moans that his lips are tearing from your throat. He flicks his tongue right over his usual puncture wounds and then gently trails it up the shell of your ear. You shiver with the intensity of it all.

“I can… what? I can’t know unless you tell me.” How the fuck does his voice stay this even? You can bearly even think straight, let alone string full sentences together. And yet he remains calm, nigh indifferent to the effect he’s having on you. But as cool as he is on the surface, you know how much he wants it. You both love the teasing, each night a challenge to see who can outlast the other. 

“You can bite me,” you breathe and he nips at your ear ever so lightly, causing you to choke out the last few words, “if you want.”

“If I want? But what do you want?” He emphasizes the pronouns in a singsongy tone, and even hearing “I” and “you” in the same sentence does it for you. He’s still grinding against you all while assaulting your neck with filthy kisses. You try to remember what words are.

“I want you,” you gasp, trying to keep your words legible, “to bite me.” You suck in sharply through your teeth as he hitches your leg up a little higher. He grabs both of your wrists in one hand and pins them above your head.

“Are you sure?” his tone is still infuriatingly innocent. He knows how much you want this, and you know what he wants in return. You’re not quite ready to give it to him yet. But gods how you wish he would break first tonight. Odds aren’t looking great as his free hand slips behind your lower back causing you to arch it off the ground slightly.

“Yes,” you groan in agony as his lips continues their heinous walk up and down your neck and collarbone. “Please, Astarion. I want you to.” He nips you again at the same time that he presses his thigh right at the apex between your legs. He tightens his grip on your wrists and whispers sharply in your ear.

“Beg for it.”

That’s it. You’ve lost. You cry out in a delicious mix of pain and pleasure. The words come tumbling out of you, unbidden and unburdened.

“Please, Astarion, bite me. Please please please. Bite me. I want to feel your fangs pierce my skin. I want to know the feeling of my blood inside you. Gods, please, I can’t take it any longer and if you don’t bite me soon I think I might-”

Thank the realms that he cuts you off in that moment, acquiescing to your begging, because you have no idea how you planned to finish that sentence. The sharp moment of pleasure as he sinks in, followed by the loveliness of feeling your blood flow into his mouth. It makes you feel slightly lightheaded, and the high it gives you is better than any you might hope to achieve on Elendren pipeweed. The gentle feeling of his tongue lapping at your neck contrasts beautifully with the sharp tension of him sucking the blood out of you. You can feel him starting to get lost in your neck, his grip on your wrists loosening. You use this moment of vulnerability in Astarion to get him back by arching your back even more to move your hips against his. You hear the sudden intake of breath through his nose and you smile to yourself smugly. He knows what you did and isn’t about to take it lying down, metaphorically speaking. 

Once he’s had his fill he draws away from your neck, lips stained red with your blood. He sits up again, one knee between your legs as he looks down on you. He tsks quietly as he shakes his head, drawling, “So naughty. What am I to do with you?” You prop yourself up on your elbows and return his gaze wickedly, your blood tickling your neck as it drips down toward your shoulder. He swipes at the drop with a long pale finger and lasciviously sucks your blood off his fingertip. Your smug grin is back, knowing how weak he is for you. 

His face drops into that stern expression again, but this time a devilish smile plays on his lips. He puts his hand on your chest gently, then takes a hard turn as he grabs you by the throat. Not enough to be painful, nor enough to constrict your breathing, but just enough for him to have control. He studies your face for a moment, admiring its beauty, before he yanks you upward commanding you to look him in the eye. He leans in for a forceful kiss as he keeps his hand tight beneath your jaw. You start to lose yourself in the kiss, melting into him, and he takes the opportunity to sharply push you away, his pointer lingering on your chin to show that he’s still in control of where you look. He lets you go and leans back confidently, enjoying how you’ve become extremely pliable in his hands.

He stands to loom over you for a second more, then reaches for your hand to pull you up. You’re completely under his power and couldn’t be more than happy to give him whatever he wants. You take his hand and he pulls it behind his back, pressing your chest into his. 

“You’d better be good for me,” he murmurs against your lips, once again denying the kiss you ache for. “We wouldn’t want to punish any bad behavior, now would we?” He caresses your face momentarily and then turns with your hand still in his and pulls you toward… somewhere. Honestly, you couldn’t care where. You love him, and you love this, and you’ll go wherever he leads. 

[god-complex-12]

Anomia

— Paring; Sgt. John “Soap” MacTavish x male reader. Fandom; Call of Duty: Modern Warfare III

Anomia: (n.) the inability to recall the names of people or things.

Quote; “John MacTavish.”

Description; When someone is gone for so long, you can only remember so much. Disclaimer; SPOILERS TO THE NEW COD:MW3!! Angst, grief, major character death, sad, established relationship, forgetfulness, loneliness.

Word Count: 0.7k

Masterlist

A/N: No, I haven’t watched anything on the lore part of Modern Warfare III, however I have had plenty of spoilers and I’ve seen the specific cutscene of both Soap and Graves (was it Graves?) and TF141 being all sad and pouty.

It’s been months. Months and yet still grief resonates in Y/N. It feels like just yesterday he was embracing such the warm presence of his now dead lover. Y/N can’t sleep. His tired, exhausted demeanor was evident to everyone, but no one dared to ask what was wrong. They too grieved, but not as hard as Y/N did.

Everything feels so dull. So dull and cold. Y/N lies wide awake in his once shared bed. He doesn’t dare lay on John’s side. Even when gone, Y/N couldn’t bring himself to mess with John’s things. The bed felt so much bigger. He never notices when John was deployed, but the sudden immortality of it left Y/N no choice but to realize it.

Y/N doesn’t talk about John and no one asked about him. Y/N finds himself forgetting how to say the man’s name, or maybe it’s just because the name has become so foreign to him. He’s forgotten the sound of John’s voice, desperately searching his camera roll for any recording to remind him. He’s forgotten what it felt like to hold him.

Y/N hates he can’t remember now, but it’s become so hard. The only thing he can’t seem to shake is when he found out.

Y/N stares at the ceiling. His hand wrapped around the metal slabs with numbers in the name “John MacTavish” indented onto it. He plays with the dog tags, looking at them, his thumb running over his boyfriend's name. He doesn’t cry. Not this time at least.

Y/N holds the tag up, so the moonlight from the curtain makes the words more visible. He ignores the rest, his focus just on that name. The room was dead silent except for the sound of a dog breathing.

“John MacTavish.” He whispered. Y/N’s nose scrunched up, cringing. It doesn’t sound right anymore.

Y/N kissed it. He then rolls over and puts the dog tags back in the nightstand drawer. He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. This catched the dog’s attention. Y/N stands up and puts his shoes on. He clicks his tongue at Angel. “Come on, girl. Get up.”

She happily gets up, excited for a new adventure as she follows Y/N downstairs. Y/N grabs a jacket, quickly putting it on. He puts Angel’s harness and leash on, grabs his wallet, and out he goes.

Y/N has completely convinced himself he’s just getting fresh air. Getting fresh air and buying flowers at a gas station with a light up sign that says “OPEN 24/7”. Getting fresh air and walking a mile away from home. Getting fresh air and standing in front of a rock with that same damn name.

Y/N’s shaky hands lace the flowers in front of the grave. He knows John’s not really buried there, but he can pretend. He sat down on the damp grass, Angel using this as a chance to try and lick his face to which Y/N quickly pushed her away.

He stared at the name. He nudged Angel and gestured to the gravestone as if she could understand. “Say hi to him. I bet he misses you so much.” He then chuckled. “Probably mad you have to sleep on the floor now. He’s not around to convince me to let you in the bed anymore.” He teased.

Y/N ruffled the dog’s fur. He then kissed Angel’s head. “I bet you miss him too, huh? Upset you have to live with me instead of him?” He asked. “Well, I miss him too, girl.”

[roosterbox]

hey! found your blog the other day and i love it<3

do you have any arthut/eames fic recommendations? i rewatched the movie a week ago and can't stop thinking about them

(sorry about the wait!)

First of all, hey there! Hello! Glad you found me, and glad to know you liked Inception. Hard to believe that it’s still drawing so many people in, 14 years on.

Second of all…

Oh baby. Oh man. Not just fic recs, but A/E fic recs? Yesssssssss my time has come.

First, there are a couple of writers whose entire oeuvre you should definitely check out if you haven’t.

Lolahardy, whose Dreamhusbands work is vast and varied, but here are a few of my own favorites (important note: no links because Lola’s fics are currently locked, but they are easily findable if you have an AO3 account, and you should definitely check out all of them, not just the few I mentioned here!):

In Every Universe - the fic that will never die, lol. So many great A/E stories here, but for me, the biggest draw are the other JGL/TH ships contained within. My personal favorite is Forrest/Evelyn, who I almost love even more than A/E at this point. Also, so many tropes and kinks and whatnot. Safe to say, I’m positive you’ll find a lot of different things to enjoy!

Le Mal Du Pays - this one is just lovely. I reread it again for this rec list and boy… still amazing. The chapters set during canon are so good, it’s like watching the movie again, but with the added bonus of actual A/E in the plot, you know?

Love is Strange - A/E by way of Dirty Dancing! I love it when you can enjoy an AU based on a very specific property even without having seen said property. For example, I adore everything about this fic even though I have never watched DD, not even once, lol.

OneWhoSitsWithTurtles, whose A/E work is never anything less than stellar and beautiful, and regularly makes me cry. Also, they have works in other fandoms that are equally worth checking out!

Christmas Without You (Is a Christmas Not Worth Having) - the best. The pinnacle. If ever you (or anyone else, for that matter) were curious about what my favorite A/E fic of all time is? Here’s your answer.

Dream of Me - This one is just beautiful. A simple little somewhat canon-compliant love story. So sugary sweet at times, it runs the risk of being tooth-rotting. But I’m always willing to take that risk.

39 Days to Fall in Love - the survivor AU you didn’t know you were missing. Seriously, it’s so good it might make you want to watch Survivor if you haven’t already, even if you know there’s no Arthur or Eames in it, lol.

Lullaby - Hands down, the saddest A/E fic I have ever read, and certainly in the running for saddest fic period. Seriously, it’s beautiful and worth reading but don’t go in without some tissues.

The Bumblebee and the Flower who Fell in Love - Also very sad, but so very whimsical and sweet besides. A/E works well in seemingly silly setups like this.

And now, for a few more individual recs. Mind you, a lot of my recs are a bit older - I really need to go back and peruse through the ship tag to find new stuff to bookmark - but hey, something something wine metaphors, lol.

End of the Road - this one is so cool. If you like Mad Max Fury Road and ever wondered what it would be like if you combined it with A/E (sort of) and some A/B/O Dynamics, you can’t do better than this.

Quiet Desperation - a lovely little A/E and 00q crossover story! I would read an entire series of this if it existed.

Next Big Thing - A/E as judges on a HGTV reality show. Classic! The exact kind of fairly low stakes drama I can get behind. No spoilers, but my favorite character is Misty Rainbow. For one scene in particular. If you read it, you’ll know exactly which one. Also I wish this show was real.

The Party - heavy subject matter in this one (heed the tags), but getting through the rough stuff makes the eventual fluffier bits almost extra sweet.

Out of Reach - a recent addition to my ranks, but absolutely beautiful. The emotions are so palpable and heartfelt.

And… would it be completely shameless if I included a couple of mine? I don’t like to toot my own horn too much, but since nobody else ever puts me on their reclists, why not, right?

Darling I’m Killed - my somewhat still ongoing Inception/Bond crossover. There are two sequels, and I have no concrete ideas for more yet, but there’s potential.

(I Would Like To) Paint the Way a Bird Sings - the Paint Shop AU that wouldn’t quit, lol. Still can’t believe I actually finished it. Four ships for the price of one in this fic!

Other inception fandom peeps, feel free to reblog and add any fics or authors you like! Especially more recent stuff because I am such a fandom oldtimer, lmao.

Thanks for the ask! I love recommending fics! Also thanks for the follow!

Happy reading!!

❤️

[riverxsong-ao3]

20 Questions (for fanfic writers)

Thank you @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts for the tag! I don't know who else has been tagged/answered, but if you see this, this is your prompt to answer (if you want)!

how many works do you have on ao3 7

what’s your total ao3 word count? 366,485

what fandoms do you write for? Harry Potter and Phantom of the Opera

top five fics by kudos: Horcruxes, Death Eaters, Treasure, The Knights of Walpurgis, A Woman Out of Time

do you respond to comments? I… try. I was very particular about responding when I first started posting regularly, but fell out of the habit. I’m trying to pick that back up again now and am actually going back to some older comments to engage!

what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hmmm… I don’t really write angsty endings, but I have a feeling Pity the Living is going in that direction. It’s either “Harry goes mad due to Voldemort living in his head,” or “Voldemort comes fully back to life and takes Harry away against his will,” so. Not great outcomes on either front.

what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Well, these are the endings I go for, but… I think the Vitae Redux series is leading towards the happiest — I mean, uh, spoilers?

do you get hate on fics? Nothing bad so far. A bit of constructive criticism, but overall it’s mostly positive.

do you write smut? Sometimes! Treasure definitely started out as a PWP oneshot, but I tend to focus more on the emotional side of relationships, with some added smut as an occasional treat.

craziest crossover? I haven’t really written any crossovers, though I do sneak in references to other works. The closest would be in the final instalment of Vitae Redux, not yet posted, when Tom and Harry end up hiding out for a bit on a cluster of magically hidden islands which are a direct element taken from the Sevenwaters Trilogy by Juliet Marillier

have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I’m aware of. I did however once find someone trying to sell a short story I wrote on Amazon as an ebook, and that pissed me off to no end.

have you ever had a fic translated? Someone went through and translated a few instalments of Vitae Redux, and that was very cool!

have you ever co-written a fic before? Not precisely, but I do bounce story ideas off my friends and rework things based on their suggestions!

all-time favorite ship? Tomarrymort, hands down <3

what’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Ugh, if I’m being honest, probably Treasure. That’s subject to change, though, at the moment I don’t know exactly where it’s going but who knoooows?

what are your writing strengths? Dialogue for sure, particularly in weaving in what’s happening in the story around the dialogue. I tend to play out scenes in my mind ad nauseam until I know exactly what, where, and why the characters are doing and saying things long before I ever put digital pen to paper.

what are your writing weaknesses? Worldbuilding? I’m actually pretty thorough with this, it’s weaving it into the narrative seamlessly where I struggle. Aaaand endings. Fuck endings lol

thoughts on dialogue in another language? Love it. Try to add it in as much as I can when I know enough of the language in question. I think it can go overboard, though, and have found it most effective when it’s short, to the point, and easily translated by another character so as not to leave the reader floundering.

favorite fic you’ve written? Vitae Redux, hands down. This story keeps me up at night. OTOH, I have a backlog of writing of favourite fics I can’t wait to get back to once I’ve finished up with this one!

[xentari94]

Okay so I’m going to put in my 2 cents on the matter of the mwiii ending. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t write some semblance of a theory post. Maybe I’m in denial. If so I don’t. fucking. care. Soap may not be my personal comfort character in the same sense like he is to so many others, but finding out about the campaign today has left me depressed as fuck over this ngl. I love Simon and Johnny so much 💀 🧼 ❤️ And quite frankly this was some steaming FUCKING bullshittery that I will never accept. So… without further a-due

SPOILERS!!!!

SPOILERS!!!!

SPOILERS!!!!

SPOILERS!!!!

———————————

Now I haven’t watched all of the campaign yet, so I can’t get a solid feel of how rushed it is like people are saying. I started watching the first mission before I got distracted with the comment section on YouTube, and that’s when I found out what happens and the whole damn thing snowballed from there. Might go back and watch it later for the boys sake mainly, and to gather more accurate information. But I’ve seen enough to form a theory that Soap may not actually be dead.

Again… I know I’m probably just denial typing but if it helps then it helps ya know? And I like to put a bit of faith behind these, else there would be no point in making them.

So to start, we see Soap get shot and fall but to me personally our view of him was never close enough to determine if he was actually breathing or not. Man just got shot twice, at least once critical, any breathing gonna be labored as fuck I’d take it. Our only thing to go by is Price saying k.i.a out loud which- later I thought- Makarov may have been injured and ran, but he could still have men in the area watching the boys, reporting back to him anything that could have occurred after his bitchass self made his little bitchass exit. Soap could still have been alive, but in the moment the need to announce aloud that Makarov did him in was needed to keep his true status unknown to any potential unnecessary ears or planted bugs to help keep Soap that way until the rest of the boys could get him to medical.

The whole scene with Laswell redacting reports? At least I’m assuming that’s what that was, keeping information about the mission secure because the enemy is still out there. I tried reading it as it went, I’ll have to go back later and really pay attention to what was typed before it was marked out. Labeling Soap k.i.a again as possible cover up to keep him safe.

The ashes scene, while heart wrenching, is such an odd thing to jump to imo. Did Soap not have a family waiting for him? Never known otherwise unless I missed something along the way. I mean being realistic here the bodies of soldiers are usually sent back to the families if able. And Soap was still intact. So the team scattering ashes really doesn’t make sense if you really think about it, if Soap was actually dead. Just automatically cremating him would be cruel. Yes Soap was a part of their team family … but not letting a possible blood family get their son back… unless there was a time skip and they were allowed some of Soaps ashes… idk.

On the other hand perhaps a possible family couldn’t be notified of their son’s condition due to their safety potentially being in jeopardy. Now there is the matter of Soaps dog tags of course, who has those? Soaps family? Or maybe Ghost? I didn’t see them nor hear mention of them so it’s still too soon to say what happened with them. And if the boys needed a way to make soaps death look real. Needed to really send it and make it seem untraceable well… tossing what looks to be ashes would be the best choice. While Soap is kept hidden away under constant surveillance as he hopefully recovers. Makarov could have eyes always on them. I wouldn’t doubt that he did.

Just too many plotholes. Too many what ifs. Too soon to tell. Am I mad? Upset? Pissed? You betcha ass I am. I let my hopes get too high in believing the 141 would get some strong plot armor this go around. Ghost survived, can you blame me? A part of me just refuses to accept and believe Soap is gone. That my favorite duo is done. Big chance I’m wrong I know. But always a chance I could be right. A chance I’m willing to take.

[avese23]

Can’t deal with people who act all personally aggrieved that they can’t personalize the entire internet to their personal happy place. Especially people who then go out looking for things to get mad at

(This isn’t about people venting about trolls or harassment. It sucks. I’m sorry. Fuck bullies and bigots. This also isn’t about flash warnings, and anything that keeps people with epilepsy safe)

But like, it’s not other people’s job to read your mind and guess what hyperspecific trigger you have then manually tag everything for one person. I’ve seen people ask creators to tag images with the character their blog is about. Just block the blog. That’s not a safe blog for you.

It’s not other people’s job to explain that fucked up shit in fiction is not real. You’re not a child and we’re not your parents here to hold your hand and reassure you that the actor is only playing dead.

I think a good example of effective content warnings is Hazbin. They’re not gonna put one up every individual episode to tell you a show full of swearing and gore is gonna have swearing and gore. But episode 4 is more graphic than any other episode so it’s given a separate warning. Because someone signing up for the rest of the episodes might genuinely be taken aback by that one.

Or Hashtag Ruthless Productions always putting heavy topics in their politics section. Asking for a warning every episode would be silly when you can just skip the politics section. You know it’s gonna be venting and politics. So don’t be surprised when it’s about politics. But if they talk about dark topics that aren’t typically brought up in that fandom they do give warning. For instance most people wouldn’t expect a discussion about eating disorders when the hosts talk about the cult in Wayward Son. Or a spoiler for Star Trek in a podcast about Buffy. So *then* it makes sense.

It’s social kindness and being stewardess to recognize when you as a creator are putting out something unexpectedly and objectively shocking to people who didn’t consent to it. It’s not other people’s job however, to use common sense for you. Or to read your mind. Don’t click on a video about a movie and get mad at spoilers for that mobile. Don’t read the Bible and get mad about major character death (Christian’s don’t come after me with a ‘well actually’ I haven’t read it 😭)

Speaking of Christianity if you’re someone who gets mad at Christian’s being upset by goths wearing crosses (which is silly) but then get upset by what people are writing about your blorbos on ao3 you might wanna do some soul searching.

So no I don’t care about your DNI list. No I don’t care that you only want virgos to reblog your post about Home Depot. No I don’t care that you can’t tell the difference between an anime character and a person, between real life and a plot point, between internet drama and an actual crime. I find that dude from Friends ugly af to that point I cringe but I’m not gonna go harass fandom accounts or look up every bad thing the characters done and accuse blogs of being bad people. I don’t like a lot of ATLA ships and think both Zutara and Kataang are morally gross af but I’m not gonna say the writers or the fans are sympathizing with pedophilia or abuse. Cuz that’s ridiculous.

When I publish works I’m gonna make it clear what kind of story it is. And then I’m gonna step back and tell the fucking story. I’m not gonna pop up every other chapter to warn people that a gay character calls another gay character a fag affectionately. Or a character in a toxic relationship *shocker* is having a bad time. I’m not gonna tell people that the horror work has gore and a jump scare. It’s horror.

Cuz I’m not gonna infantilize my audience and trust that they can set their own boundaries when it comes to stories they want to consume. No one is forcing them.

Media isn’t sex you don’t have to check in with every escalation. Entertainment isn’t your textbook, Phillip Schuyler is allowed to have no sons. A character isn’t your child they’re allowed to wear what they want and go on dangerous ass quests.

It’s frustrating being told to choose between assholes who project their own privilege onto others and assholes who project their own trauma onto others. Nuance exists.

Now block me dear lord, you’re doing the inventor of the block button a disservice when you get off on being pissed off

[circadiananomaly]

Okay; in commemoration of my blog getting a makeover, I’ll introduce myself!

Hi; Call me Circa/Cicada/Circuit! I go by Any Pronouns; my gender is a Royal Court, and everyone is a Jester in it.

Here is my current blog lineup!

Main Blog: @/circadiananomaly [This place is mainly for reblogging art stuff now! Sewing, writing, digital, you name it!]

Art Blog: @doodlecircuitredrawn [Self explanatory; all my art will be there!]

Reblogging Blog: @releeblogreborn [Reblogging CHAOS! Total randomness! Woo!]

Huge Update as of 7/31/23! See under Read More.

Anyway, here’s some fun facts about me!

I am very partial to Nintendo! (Although I haven’t had much access to consoles throughout my life, lol)

I am in so many fandoms. So many. Video games mostly. I’ll list them off later.

Why the reborn part in my alt blog? I goofed while trying to delete a blog I didn’t use and somehow deleted the original one. Sigh.

I drew my profile pic. It’s brand spanking new, and it took a little over an hour to draw. The banner is just some photo I took a few years ago.

My old username was @/sleepysnappl

I can speak and read English pretty much fluently. I’m currently trying to learn Spanish (I likely won’t be able to accurately respond though.) Perdón; Yo no hablo o veo Español muy bueno.

I have not had a Personal Computer (as in all for me, no sharing, not for work or whatever,) in almost 6 years now. I mostly main my phone and iPad, lol.

I don’t trust Apple at all, my iPad is kinda old for a piece of tech, and from before I knew of their untrustworthiness. It just happened to last this long, lol.

I follow like thousands of blogs, holy crap

Lovecore is one of my favorite aesthetics, the hearts and color scheme are so cute! ^-^

My typing quirks generally include “reversing” emojis and using bracket smiles instead of the usual parentheses smile. Like this! [:>

And that’s about it for fun facts about me (for now!) Here’s all the fandoms I like as I remember (under Read More).

In Stars and Time (NEWEST! The game talks about many heavy issues, so please be careful!)

Super Mario (Update, I have now seen the movie!)

Miitopia & Tomodachi Life (Where’s Tomodachi Life 2, Nintendo? Huh? HUH? /playful)

Pokemon (Mostly play the games at this point. Haven’t seen one of their animes in a while)

Cookie Run (Haven’t been playing recently)

Pizza Tower (Newest fandom currently)

Undertale & Deltarune (I’ve kinda taken my distance cuz of the weirdos at this point)

Friday Night Funkin’ (One of the newer fandoms currently)

Object Shows (BFDI, II, etc.)

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (I don’t know much about this fandom, though! ^-^”)

Welcome Home (an ARG Horror Game by @/partycoffin!)

Minecraft (I’ve been playing since the mid-to-late 2010’s, do with that info what you will)

Kirby (Nintendo)

Stick man fighting (See Hyun’s Dojo. Don’t know much abt this fandom either ^-^”)

Animator vs Animation & Animations vs Minecraft by Alan Becker (check his YT, he does awesome work!)

Steven Universe (I haven’t seen the movie yet, no spoilers please)

Celeste by Maddy Makes Games and Extremely OK Games Ltd. (Impeccable story, do be careful as the DLC talks about death, though.)

My Little Pony (Friendship is Magic is pretty much their current peak, you cannot change my mind.)

Madness Combat (I don’t know much about their lore, but this fandom vibes, ngl.)

Doom the game (I've only seen Eternal gameplay, soo,,,, ^_^")

That’s all I can remember for now!

Damn, I can’t believe I reached max tags with the fandoms alone! I’ll consider that an achievement! I may even have to turn this into a reblog thread to add tags… I shall now return to lurking!

—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Huge Update!! I have created a new Art Blog! The username is @doodlecircuitredrawn! This blog is now to be repurposed for art reblogs! See my reblogging blog, @releeblogreborn for more general randomness and chaos. ^_^

See ya’ll!

- Circa [:

[painedprince]

Rules

The views of the muse do not convey the views of the mun. 

This is not a spoiler-free blog

I’m familiar with all the source material, but I haven’t read the books or played comrades, so. Trying my best w that lol

I’m also trying to catch up with all the final fantasy games, but I’ve played a good handful of them now.

There will probably be sexual and violent content on this blog from time to time, which will be somewhat rare, but I will tag it. Mun is 21+

Timezone is CDT 

Semi selective, but not necessarily exclusive to mutuals. Don’t be afraid to approach me for an rp! I’d prefer discussing through DMs first though, and non-mutuals should not like starter calls. Asks are fine though.

That being said, I do NOT tolerate soft blocking. If it is important to you that we break mutuals when you’re no longer interested, hard block. I can’t trust tumblr not to glitch with follows, so that’s the only way I can be sure you are not interested if you don’t tell me.

Speaking of tumblr glitches, don’t expect me to reblog from the source anymore because it has been extremely difficult to do that with the new updates.

Ships happen based on chemistry rather than planning. Love shipping Noctis with any of the bros. Lunoct is pretty… selective. I’m not the biggest fan of it but I accept it as canon regardless.

I’m open to rping with ocs and other fandoms.

Asks should be replied to with new threads instead of reblogs, but I won’t get super mad if you forget. I just think it ultimately looks better and takes up less space.

I blacklist tw: self harm and that’s about it!

[xyztrio721]

Now that I’ve made it to the first town in the game, I think I’m going to talk about my experience with Pokemon Violet so far!

Warning: Spoilers for Scarlet and Violet under the cut, specifically for one new Pokemon, the story, and one of the characters.

So far, I haven’t had to deal with any game-breaking glitches, but I can’t tell if it’s because I’m lucky or because I haven’t played the game for more than 2-3 hours at a time.

Hierba (my Sprigatito) won his first Trainer battle today! I also won against three other Trainers, including Arven.

I encountered a brand new Pokemon: Tarountula.

Thanks Miraidon, your cry nearly killed me. Had it not been for my Rotom Phone, I would have shattered all of my bones by falling from that cliff.

But I do think it’s cute that you get to feed it (and Koraidon) a sandwich to help it feel better, so I forgive it for that.

WHAT THE FUCK A LEVEL 40 HOUNDOOM?!

Nevermind Miraidon saved me, both from the fight and from being mauled by a pack of Houndour.

So Arven is the son of Professor Turo… I’m guessing he’d be the son of Professor Sada if I was playing Scarlet instead?

And he has a highly suspicious amount of knowledge on Miraidon (and presumably Koraidon if I was playing Scarlet)… how much does he know about it? And why was he so mad that Miraidon/Koraidon got away from him?

Don’t actually answer the above questions if you know the answer. I haven’t even gotten to the academy yet.

By the time I was done playing for the night, I had caught 20 species of Pokemon and fought 23 of them.

My current team members are Hierba (Sprigatito), Lechonk, Fletchling, Tarountula, Hoppip, and a Fidough I nicknamed Pillsbury. This is by no means my final team, hell I don’t even know what my final team is going to look like. Hierba will be on my final team, that’s for sure, but I don’t know what the other five Pokemon will be.

I’m also taking screenshots of all of the photos that you can view in the Pokédex upon capturing a Pokemon, and I’m thinking of posting some of them (or all of them) on here at some point. Don’t worry, any screenshot with a Paldean Pokemon that had not been revealed prior to the release of the game will be put under a Read More, and the post will be tagged.

[violetclarity]

fucking love coming home from a genuinely shitty day to find that yet another person has decided to reblog something from me with a long, nasty addition. like, pretty sure that people are just trawling the reblogs/notes of this one post to be mad at people because they...presumably have nothing better to do?? (this person’s blog no longer even exists, apparently, so I can’t even see all of what they wrote beyond the stupid tiny preview in my notifications, which somehow makes it worse)

((like yes I did misunderstand what the original poster was getting at, and also did not accurately describe what I was thinking in my reblog, however I maintain that a) the post was unclear and b) people were getting mad at people for daring to tag it with an umbrella term so even if I had been clearer it would have pissed someone off))

but hey, spoiler alert: that’s still not an excuse for being a jerk to strangers on the internet! people you don’t know online are still people! you think you can draw conclusions about me based on the tumblr bio I haven’t updated in five years? you don’t know shit about me, and going into an interaction with a stranger having already decided you’re going to be rude to them makes you a mean person

[s-hera]

He's So Pretty! (1)

Child Sanzu Haruchiyo X Child Reader! (7/8 yrs old?)

~ tags. contains spoiler from ch. 241(?), Mention of blood, Fluff, Angst if you squint, Childhood to lovers!

~ wc. 0.6k

~ A/n. From my Alt Account, I already said that i'm going back on this account and write again for my 115 followers.

One | Two

“Ha-haru? Are you fine?” you asked the boy that's crying in front of you.

“No, Onii-chan gets mad at me again…it’s always my fault, i should stop talking to senju”

“Ehhh? Why? You’re the best big brother!”

“I always get scolded because my brother thinks i’m teaching her boyish things”

“Mhhhh…well you don’t teach her boyish things, right?”

“Of Course not! She’s the only girl, she need to act like a lady”

‘But being boyish sometimes is definitely fine and she hang out with you and your friends…and, and your brother is friends with your friends older brother too”

“Yeah, he always hangs out with shinichiro-kun”

“Senju’s older siblings are both boys too, you should expect her to act boyish, your brother should!”

“He won’t listen to me anyways, i not gonna hangout with senju anymore”

“Then senju would feel lonely, don’t you think?”

“...”

You and haru were childhood friends, both of you attends the same pre-school. His house is just a few steps away from you too, that’s why you two often meet, you haven’t met his friend but you already met his siblings, he always talks about how his past few days went like you two were really the closest friends!

One day you saw haruchiyo…with a bandage on his face, the bandage doesn’t look new at all, the blood almost covers it all, crying right on your face while your mom gives him a warm entrance.

“Haru-chan, what happened?” your mom asked him, but she was treated with a silence.

“Are you fine?Do you want something to eat? Or, or replace the bandage?” you asked panickedly since he was treats your mother with a silent treatment and the haruchiyo you know, the akaashi haruchiyo you know is talkative and loud.

“ ‘m fine mrs. l/n…this, this is nothing”

“No, haru you’re lying!”

“y/n, don’t shout at him, do you want some fruits or something? y/n’s father is going home sooner maybe you want some ice cream or something sweet?”

“Ice cream would be fine, mrs. l/n”

“You’re so polite haru-chan! And stop calling me mrs too, call me aunt or auntie…you were very closed with my dearest y/n, treat me as you mom too, ok?and let’s re-do your bandage, if that is fine with you of course!”

“Please, aunt” he said to your mom while looking like an abandoned puppy…

“Stay here for dinner too, i would be cooking something delicious!”

And the time flies as if nothing happened, but he was there on that house couch, on your house couch looking beautiful, like he always been. With his new bandaged face…but his wounds, when your mom looked at it she was shocked too.

“Do you mind telling us what happened?”

“This is no-nothing, aunt! No worries”

“Are you sure it’s nothing?im worried for you”

Lies, you know it was a lie…you didn’t want to push him or anything, thats why you didn’t bother asking.

And after that, after all of that…time really flies, just like three weeks ago haru was in your couch and now you would be leaving him.

“Im sorry, really sorry…my father got promoted, we need to leave and go somewhere faraway. But- but! Don’t be sad, tey won’t sell our house in here! I promise, im gonna comeback here! And buy ice cream with you everyday”

“I understand, no need to explain that much…” but deep inside him, he was afraid, afraid of being lonely, afraid that he doens’t have a people to call home anymore, he’s afraid you won’t comeback or even remember him, he’s afraid of you and your family leaving.he can’t do anything about it, better just to shut up and be silent.

“Forgot to tell you that, haru your face and scar is pretty! Just like your blue diamond eyes!” things you said before going in the car and leave japan.

© 2022 by s-hera━ all rights reserved! comments, likes, and reblog are highly appreciated. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[erule]

The Multiverse of Thieves, part 2 | p.p.

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader, Nathan Drake x reader (not a love triangle)

Summary: you and Peter are going undercover during a mission. Everything is going well, until you get through a Portal by chance and meet another version of Peter.

Warnings: spoilers from the Uncharted trailer, established relationship, comedy, plot twist, Peter/Nate/Reader are 18+, a lil bit of violence (fighting, mention of blood, guns), angst

A/N: here’s part 2!! I hope that Nathan is not too different/strange from the videogame, but since I haven’t played it, I don’t know if I gave him justice. Feedback is always appreciated by a writer! Tell me if you wanna be tagged in part 3. Hope you like it :)

Read part 1 here!

You’d think he would be the one astonished, while you’d be excited to have crossed a Portal, but truth is: it’s the other way around. He’s looking at you with a wide smile on his face, while you’re thinking that Cap will scold the hell out of you when you’ll come back. You’re not a kid anymore, but it seems like Cap loves to think that you still are. Anyway, Nathan, who really reminds you of Peter for his appearance, is now looking at his maps.

“So, you said you’re from New York? Where was the Portal?”

“Do you really believe me? A stranger that was in your bed randomly?”

“It’s not the first weird thing that happened to me,” he replies with a crooked smile. “Anyway, we’re in New Orleans now. This means that we have to reach New York in order to find the Portal. We can’t meet the Avengers, though. They can’t recognize you, because in theory, your other version lives there”.

“I watched Back to the Future, I already know the rules, Sherlock,” you say, more angry at the situation than him.

He raises his hands in front of his chest as an apology: “Sorry, didn’t want to offend you”.

You stand up from the bed, sighing.

“I’m not mad at you, Nathan. It’s just… I had this beautiful dinner reserved at my favourite restaurant and I really hoped to spend the night with my boyfriend,” you say.

“I see. How’s he? Tell me about him,” he replies, while taking some supplies for the trip. “Peter, right?”

“Yeah. He’s very cute and goofy and sweet. You’d like him. Everybody loves Peter,” you say. “He’s a really good guy”.

“There aren’t good guys anymore. You should keep him,” Nathan says.

“You look like them”.

He turns in order to look at you. He’s scanning your face as if he wants to find out that you’re actually lying, but you’re not. A corner of his lips raises up.

“We should go,” he says.

You’re asking yourself if Peter’s looking for you. Probably, he’s annoying Doctor Strange by now, asking him a lot of questions about Portals and time travels. Maybe even Cap is worried about you, even if sometimes he doesn’t really care about you. Since he’s become the chief of the Avengers, he always seems so concerned about everything. Once, the two of you were really good friends. He even helped you to get with Peter, some time ago. Now he’s always so busy even to talk together just for a while. You wonder if your relationship with him is different in this universe. If he seems like your big brother. If you’re with Peter. If you’re an Avenger.

“I can hear the noise of your thoughts, Y/N,” Nathan says. He’s sitting next to you on the airplane. He offers you one of his earphones. “Come on, listen to some music with me”.

You accept the offer.

“I can alredy say that your taste in music is awful. You should listen to Taylor Swift,” you say, one song later.

“You’re so annoying,” he says, rolling his eyes, but then he allows you to pick the next song.

The two of you spend the rest of the flight talking. He’s a very interesting person, so it surprises you that he wants to know about your life and your missions with the Avengers. They’re not so exciting, you think. The most exciting thing, for you, is that you get to share them with Peter. He’s actually the reason why you became an Avenger in the first place. To spend your time with him.

“So, uhm, this Peter guy,” he says, while taking the luggage in the airport, “he seems very cute”.

“You look like you’re trying to be my big brother,” you chuckle. “Don’t worry there’s already Cap for that. He approves,” you say.

“Does he really know him?” He asks you. You stop exactly out of the airport, confused.

“What do you mean?”

Nathan notices that you stopped and he does it too.

“Nothing. It’s just that… maybe things are not always as they seem,” he says.

You open your mouth to reply, but this happens before someone shouts Nathan’s name. You turn around and you see two men with a gun, following him.

“Nathan, what’s happening?”

“Run!”

He takes your hand, leaving the luggage. Your mind becomes blurry, you don’t even remember about New York’s streets anymore. For a moment, you’re scared as never before. So you try to think about something that could help you concentrate. You look up, hoping to see Peter on patrol, but he’s not there. How could he be? And then, something pops up in your mind: if Nathan has got Peter’s face, do the Avengers actually exist in this world?

Nathan takes you behind a building. He’s trying to catch his breath, hands on his knees. You look at him with disgust, while taking a few steps back from him. He looks at you, confused.

“What are you doing? They could see us,” he says, out of breath.

“You lied to me,” you affirm.

“What?” He asks, furrowing his brows. He looks so much like Peter now, but he’s not him for sure. Peter would never do that to you.

“The speech about the good guys and all of that… it was all a lie, right? You’re not just an archeologist who likes treasures. You steal them,” you spit out. He looks pale, now. “Do the Avengers even exist in this world?” You find yourself screaming. “Cap? Iron Man? Anyone?”

“Y/N, please, calm down…” he says, trying to take your hand, but you take another step back. “Don’t touch me. You didn’t believe me just for fun, you wanted a way out. Where you thinking of coming with me through the Portal? You’re not gonna do that, Nate. Not on my watch,” you say.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, but I… if you’d know…”

“Drake!” Somebody screams.

You look behind you, only to see one of the two men with the gun pointed at you. You jump on your left just a moment before he could catch you. Nathan wasn’t so fast, though. One of his legs is bleeding. Even if a part of you just wants to live him there, you’re still an Avenger and this means that you have to protect him.

“Go,” you tell him, taking the knuckledusters that Nat gifted you for your birthday. “I may not be the Black Widow, but Nat taught me pretty well. Meet me at the museum. We’ll find the Portal!” You say.

Then you take a dustbin lid to use it as a shield. You throw it against one of them. It’s like Cap taught you: one breath, one punch, one breath, one kick. If you’d be a witch like Wanda, you would have already finished, but no, you had to be human, of course. And then they say that being an Avenger is supposed to be fun.

You take the gun from the guy and you throw it away. You can hear the sirens of the police cars getting close. When you turn around, you notice that somehow Nathan has disappeared. You hope to find him at the museum. That’s when a punch makes you fall on the ground.

“I thought that your boyfriend had already let you die once. I guess I’m gonna have to kill you again, then,” he says, loading the gun.

Boyfriend? Is he talking about Peter?

Too late for them, though: the police is here. They’re quick to arrest them, but you’re faster than them, so luckily, two minutes later you’re already running away.

Your ribs hurt and so is your chest. You stole a hat from a guy in order to enter in the museum without getting recognized. You don’t how Nate could have cured his wound, but you don’t really care right now. You just want to go home and hug Peter. You see the place in which he was before the Portal ate you alive and almost feel the urge to cry.

You take a deep breath. When things are difficult, you always have to remember than you’re stronger than what you think you are. So you look around, but you don’t see the Portal, nor Nate anyway. That’s odd. How did you end up here in the first place? Who opened the Portal?

“Y/N?” Somebody asks you. Nate looks very tired. “I’m glad you’re okay”.

“Nate, maybe I should call an ambulance,” you say, while holding onto his arm. “Please, let me help you”.

“I’m running out of time, Y/N,” he says. He takes you somewhere private, when other people can barely see the two of you, hidden by a wall.

“The police arrested them, Nate. You’re safe now,” you say, with a smile. “Probably they found your treasure, though”.

“Don’t think about that. I owe you an explanation, Y/N. I lied to you. I knew who you were, because I met you. Well, I met this universe’s version of you,” he says.

He’s on the verge of crying, now. You can see it in his face, in his glossy eyes and in his sense of guilt. His expression is of pure pain, but also full of affection, maybe for your other self. It’s the same look that Peter gives you when he tells you he loves you. Can two different people look at the you in the same exact way? Is there just one way to look at the person you love?

Wait. Does that mean that Nathan has feelings for you?

“Nate…”

“You died, Y/N. I’m sorry. I never had the chance to tell you this, but I’m truly sorry,” he says. “We were partners. Last time, something went wrong and you died. I couldn’t help you. I kept the treasure, because it was an engagement ring. Now, I’d like to give it to you,” he explains. Then, he takes a ring from his pocket and hands it over to you. “Marry Peter, one day. He’s a good guy,” he says.

You try to talk, but turns out, the police followed you and now they’re here. Time’s over. So you take the ring, smiling at him.

“I forgive you, Nate,” you say, giving him a kiss on his cheek.

“Tell Peter I say hi,” he replies, pointing at something behind you. You turn around and you see that a Portal is opening in the middle of the room.

“I’m not gonna leave you here,” you say.

“Does it look like it’s your choice?” He asks you. Then, he pushes you over, where the police can see you.

You start running, while one of them is following you. You don’t look back, you don’t have the time to, but you bet that Nate’s looking at you.

You jump into the Portal a moment before it closes.

***

When you open your eyes, you find yourself in the Avengers’ Tower. You stand up, still holding the ring in your hand. Cap, Strange and Peter are talking in front of you. Cap seems really sad and concerned, while Peter’s trying to find a solution with Strange. Peter’s almost screaming, when Strange suddenly turns around and sees you.

“Y/N?” Strange calls you.

Peter immediately runs towards you. He hugs you, holding you so tight you almost can’t breathe. Your ribs still hurt, but you don’t want Peter to know. You want to live this moment completely. You’ve missed this. You give him a sweet kiss on the lips, caressing his cheeks with both of your hands. You’re wearing the ring on your finger and he notices it.

“Did you get married or something?” He asks you, confused.

“Something,” you shrug with a smile. “I’m gonna tell you everything tomorrow. Now I just want to sleep. And cuddle, maybe,” you say.

“Of course,” he says, kissing you.

But you can’t sleep. You wake up in the middle of the night. Peter’s sleeping next to you in the bed, peacefully. You’re still wearing the ring that Nathan has given to you. You have to know if he’s alright. So you go to the kitchen to drink a glass of water, thinking about a plan to come back, but you find Cap there.

“Cap?”

He looks at you.

“You know, I haven’t really understood why you started calling me like that. Before I became the chief, I was just Steve to you,” he says, while pouring some water in a glass for you.

You swallow.

“I’m not gonna talk to you about this now”.

“I think we should, Y/N,” he says, firmly.

“Y/N?” It’s Peter’s voice. You turn around, astonished. This can’t be happening. Not again. Next to each side of Peter there’s someone: Strange on his left and you on his right, with a gun pointed at Peter’s back. At least, another version of you. “Maybe it’s time you explain to us what happened back there” Peter says.  

“And please, be quick,” Strange adds.

[cjsinkythoughts]

Not Your Captain

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1695

Warnings: Falcon and the Winter Soldier Spoilers!!!!! Lots of Angst in this one, guys, lotta feels, some Fluff to counterbalance it, but mostly Angst, Cursing

A/N: This is Part Two to my previous FATWS writing, His Only Contact. FATWS SERIES STERLIST HERE! This one is from Reader’s perspective and gives you a bit more about Reader’s backstory. There will be multiple parts coming out in the next day or two based just on this new episode because damn. It was loaded!  Due to this and my workload this past week, I haven’t been able to post the first chapter of my College!AU, Erased From the Stars, but I promise it’s coming! This’ll be my main focus for the weekend though! Expect more parts in the next 24 hours! I’ll be making a masterlist for this particular project in that time, too! Taglists are open! Please contact me if you want to be tagged! Thank you and please enjoy, loves! (Not beta’d, so sorry for mistakes!)

AGAIN: SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The moment you saw it on TV, you knew you had to get to Bucky. You weren’t planning on leaving until the next day, but there was no way you weren’t going. So you caught the first plane you could from the base you were staying at.

You’re feelings were all over the place. Steve had been your best friend for more than the past decade. You were the one there when he first woke up. You were the one to help him get situated. You were the one to help him whenever he needed, to go over to his little place in DC when he was having problems, like the time he thought he was having an asthma attack when it was an anxiety attack or when you had to help him find a new phone after he accidentally broke his.

You were that close to falling in love with him. But life went the other way and, in a weird twist of fate, almost as if the universe wanted to spare you of the heartbreak it knew would come if you gave your heart to the dashing captain, you ended up tripping over your own feet for someone else.

Someone you would never tell.

He was the last thing you had left of Steve and you couldn’t ruin that because of your stupid feelings. And you couldn’t ruin the relationship you had now because it was working. He trusted you, more than anyone else. He trusted you because Steve trusted you and you wouldn’t dare break that trust.

You just hoped, with everything going down in relation to the shield - to his legacy - that you’d be able to keep that promise you made to yourself.

You were in front of his door early in the morning - around four - hesitating to knock. It didn’t take long for him to respond the moment your fist did meet the door.

He looked…tired. You wished, oh how you wished, that you could do more. Anything more. He insisted you helped him plenty already; he claimed he never had nightmares when you were by his side. But it wasn’t enough. Not for what he’d been through. You felt as though you were merely putting a bandaid over a bullet wound.

His chocolate locks were short, above his ears. You could remember how hesitant yet eager he was about doing it. It was difficult to not cut his ear off because he kept moving in anticipation. You would know: you cut it. Those blue eyes that made you trip in the first place were outlined by thick lashes, dark ebony bags beneath them, making the azure pop. He was shirtless, as he usually was when sleeping (or at least trying to sleep), his dog tags resting against his sternum. 

You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. His eyes were bloodshot as if he was watching TV for too long and his hair was less messy than it would be if he actually slept.

The moment his eyes found yours, his plump, chapped lips turned up into the grin he reserved for you and he was pulling you in. Your reaction was instantaneous, your arms slipping around his waist, your chin resting on his shoulder as he found home in the crook of your neck.

He was touch deprived. You knew this, but you never brought it up. Especially considering you were one of the only people he touched willingly. You didn’t want him thinking he was broken, more so than he thought he was already. And you definitely didn’t want to push him into fixing himself. So you didn’t tell him, even though you were pretty sure he knew, and you just let him take the lead. 

Sometimes it meant he grabbed your hand in large crowds, or tucked you under his arm when he was threatened. Other times it meant laying his head in your lap when he was tired late at night, or a soft hug in greeting.

Hands slowly tracing his spine, fingers dancing up and down his back, you gave a small smile when you felt him practically purring in your embrace. You could never decide if he was more puppy or kitten. You used to make jokes about the three of them, Steve, Bucky, and Sam, being like a puppy, kitten, and bird that you had to reluctantly pet sit for a friend. You would give almost anything to be joking around like that with them when you went to visit Bucky in Wakanda with Steve.

“Buck?”

He hummed. You didn’t want to pull back, you wanted to stay connected with him for as long as possible, but you had to talk. You didn’t want to talk about it, because that would make it more real, but you had to. You had to.

“Have you seen the news recently?”

His eyebrows furrowed, his lips pulling down. “What happened? Is it Wanda?”

You looked down the hall, your lips pressed together tightly, before nodding inside. “We have to talk.”

He nodded, stepping back and pulling you inside. Seeing the makeshift bed on the floor against the far edge of the sofa made you inwardly sigh, but you didn’t say anything about it. Steve was the same way at first.

“Is she okay? Did you find her? Where-”

“It’s not Wanda.” Turning, you faced him, trying to control your own anger at the situation, knowing it wouldn’t help him any. “It’s…it’s about Steve.”

Those spectacularly blue eyes narrowed, bottom lip being sucked in between his teeth. “What about Steve?”

You gestured for him to come closer, holding out your hand in offering. He took it and followed you as you led him to the couch. A cleared throat and a deep breath later found you gently explaining what happened to him. That the government had taken back the shield and had given it to someone else. A ‘hero just for America’. A ‘new Captain America’.

You could see his features harden with every word, his jaw ticking dangerously, his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring. You squeezed his hand as you finished. “He’s got meetings and stuff with senators and governors. They’re taking him on a tour this week. They-they want me to meet him, considering I’m the last of the original seven. Active on Earth, at least.”

The tears that started forming in his eyes made you swallow your own emotions down thickly. He didn’t need your hatred of this wannabe to fuel his own. He needed your support and comfort. He needed to know you’d be by his side through this.

“Are you?”

You blinked, not expecting his first words to be that question. “Am I what?”

“Going to meet with him?”

“I-I…” You stopped talking, knowing that if you continued you’d end up ranting about how he wasn’t your captain. How he could never be your captain. Debating answers, you decided on a simple, blunt reply. “No.”

“Why…” 

Running your thumb over his knuckles, you leaned over slowly to press a chaste kiss to his bare skin and blood shoulder. “Take your time. Collect your thoughts.”

He responded to your words by taking a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut, his jaw so tight you feared he might chip his teeth. It was a tense minute before he said anything, the room being filled with his harsh breathing. “You said he gave them the shield.”

“What?”

“Yesterday. You told me he gave up the shield. They put it in the Smithsonian. But you just said they took it from him.”

“He did give it to them, but-”

“Why?” His eyes snapped open, his features twisting into ones of frustration and resentment. “Why’d he give it to them?”

You shook your head, knowing Sam didn’t mean for any of that to happen. He had called you a few weeks ago to ask about your opinion on the matter. You told him that Steve trusted him, and you trusted Steve, so if Sam thought that was the right thing to do…you trusted him. “It’s not Sam’s fault. Don’t be mad-”

“Don’t be mad?! Don’t be mad?!” Bucky shot up, ripping his hand away from yours, making you bite your lip and hang your head as he paced in front of you. “Steve gave it to him! And he just gives it away like he’s regifting a shitty frisbee as a Christmas present! And you don’t want me to be mad?! Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?!”

Cringing at the use of your name, which you rarely hear fall from his lips, especially in vexation like just then, you looked up at him, eyes pleading. “Bucky, I get it. I do. I’m mad, too. I’m-I’m furious. But you can’t blame Sam. Please. He just - he’s trying, Buck. Just like me. Just like you. We’re all trying.”

Bucky’s shoulders fell as he stared at you, eyes darting from feature to feature as he studied your face. Before you could say anything else, he was on the floor in front of you, in between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist and face pressed into your stomach.

You could tell he was holding something back - something big - but you wouldn’t push him. You never did. Displaying feelings was always hard for him, even in the early 1900’s; Steve used to tell you stories when you were looking for him after the fiasco in DC. Bucky grew up being the oldest of four and the only boy. On top of that, his best friend was a scrawny, stubborn, punching bag of a boy. According to Stevie, neither of them really learned how to cope or how to deal with feelings. And it showed. Boy, did it show.

Instead of getting on him and asking what was wrong and begging for him to talk to you, your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, as you sat back to make the position more comfortable for him.

“Stay with me. I need you.”

You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his head, nodding into his hair. “I’ll stay. For as long as you need me, Buckaroo.”

Taglist (OPEN):

@happygoreading​, @thatsdarwinism​, @satellitespidey​

[cleverthylacine]

WIP Wednesday

(and yes this is absolutely influenced by the discussion we’ve been having about robot ageing, I added some bits in this morning)

This is from Designs and Persuasions, fourth fic in the Voice of Stanix series and half of the third arc of that series.

I almost spoilered this, but then I realised that Jazz/Soundwave/Ravage is already in the tags for this fic so it’s already spoiled.  It’s first person from Ravage’s POV in this section. (If you haven’t read Voice of Stanix, you should know that in this AU, Ravage and Laserbeak, Stalker and Buzzsaw, Stripes and Sundor, Glit and Squawktalk, Howlback and Garboil, and Pounce and Wingspan were a defunded pre-war military experiment that was sold off illegally rather than being destroyed, and spent the first ten years of thelr lives living as siblings and training together.

The cats and birds were designed to work as partners, and Ravage has never forgiven Stripes and Sundor for joining the Autobots and leaving to follow Orion Pax when he quit the Decepticon movement.)

“I shouldn’t say this,” said Jazz, and before I could tell him not to, if he knew that he shouldn’t, he said it: “Stripes never stopped caring for you. I believe that he still hasn’t. He got into fights with Steeljaw about it.”

“That’s crazy.” I sighed. “I still can’t believe he let the Autobots cassettify him, and that he hasn’t had it undone. Do you know how much better my rotten back feels now that my spine gets to unstretch itself half the time?”

“It was an arms race.” Jazz shrugged. “Soundwave didn’t tell me your back hurts all the time—”

“My chronic pain issues were not his first thought when you were in bed with both of us and the thing you were doing to him was amazing but would have hurt me,” I said, laughing. “But I’ll take it if it means we don’t have to talk about Stripes.”

“We should,” said Jazz. “I think he was in love with Blaster, actually.”

“You’re going to make me pity him. Stop,” I said.

“Ah, but you should. Blaster wouldn’t touch him. Or any of his others. He thinks it’s wrong, and that Soundwave is using you and that he whored you out to Megatron.” Jazz groaned. “Fuck. He hates me now too, I’m sure.”

“He’s always hated us,” I said, “so yeah, so probably. I know what Blaster thinks of us, and I don’t care. But I’m sorry he’s turning on you; the war isn’t over, it’s just gone cold. Sorry but really, he isn’t anyone’s friend.”

“He was Beachcomber’s friend,” said Jazz with a sigh, “and I know Soundwave regrets that. You don’t have to tell me.”

“Then don’t say things like that.” I sat up and hugged my knees to my chest. “Do you really love me, Jazz? More important, do you really love him?”

Jazz shrugged. “I don’t actually know what that means sometimes,” he said after a moment. “But I know I need Soundwave, and I care for him so much more than someone in my old position should ever have let myself care, and he is a part of you, and you are a part of him, and you are very, very beautiful, and kinder than you know.”

His smile went crooked. “And I think I do.”

“That’s fair,” I said, though I was still mad that he’d brought up Beachcomber, who was alive, and well; I didn’t mind that Blaster had been angry, I minded that he couldn’t take the win and give up on killing my conjunx, after three million years.

“You’re mad.”

“I’ll get over it.” I gave him a crooked, frustrated smile, and a long. slow, luxurious blink. “I know it’s hard for you right now. It’s never fun to find out what the people you thought were your friends are, not when you know you were wrong.”

Jazz shrugged. “Yeah.” He did not mention Megatron. He didn’t have to.

“I love what you did for Soundwave when I couldn’t be there. I love what you did for us both at great cost to yourself, and how much you’ve done to end this insanity. I want to know you better than I do, which would be easier if you would stop trying to hide who and what you are. And I love getting fucked by you. But I’m terrified of becoming a triad again, especially since a triad with us is always a little lopsided.”

Jazz laughed. “That’s fair, too. But please keep in mind that I want it lopsided. I don’t want to go where you go when you go there. Not with him or with anyone else. And I don’t want a spark-bond. I don’t like it when things are too heavy, and it doesn’t mean I feel any less, it’s just…”

“I know,” I said. “There’s a war on, even if it’s cold now. And these are immense vulnerabilities, even though I cherish them.”