#If I'm remembering this right which I never am

[mlyscha]

↳ WHAT A MAN ⭑

𝓼ynopsis. the little sweet things they do. 𝓹airing. enha!member x female!reader 𝓰enre. tooth rooting fluff, domestic. 𝔀arnings. mentions of nude (not in a malicious way), not proofread, english is not my 1st language. 𝔀𝓬. 1k+ 𝓶asterlist.

♡ 𝓪melie's 𝓷ote: hey there! how are you guys doing? excited for enhypen's comeback? because i surely am! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )

― 𝓱eeseung: leftovers? it's his!

you know that boyfriend's who are the definition of a vacuum cleaner? heeseung is definitely one of them ― and it makes you fall even more in love. there's something about him finishing his meal first and waiting patiently for you to finish yours or giving/handing your leftovers to him. in the beginning of your relationship with heeseung, you were kind of taken back by his action, which made you ask him if he wasn't disgusted or something. however, this man looked straight into your eyes and replied: "no? babe, i kiss you every day, how could i be disgusted? i mean, how could i be disgusted of you?" ― how sweet... (╥﹏╥)

― 𝓳ongseong: bathe you when you're tired.

it's not a secret that jongseong is that type of domestic boyfriend or like the materialisation/personification of husband material. with that, usually, when you come back home tired, your boyfriend makes sure to let you rest. he makes you food, then chooses a comfy pyjamas for you before leading you to your shared bedroom. with that, he would slowly and sweetly take off your clothes and reassure you he could do the laundry. jongseong then proceeds to leads you to the bathtub ― already running a warm bath ―, pampering you with butterfly kisses onto your shoulders while both of you wait for the water to fill the bathtub. and then finally you get into the bathtub, enjoying the way his hands massage your shoulders, how his lips feel against your tense muscles and hearing his whispers: "i'm so proud of you, i love you, sweetheart..."

― 𝓳aeyun: calls you layla's mum.

ever since you and jaeyun were friends, he has already called you layla's mum a hundred times, but it never hit you that much back then until both of you started dating. i think it is because of the moments jaeyun usually calls you that, being mostly of the time when he wants to cuddle his two girls ― you and layla. if you're still not convinced that it could be one of the sweetest thing he does, imagine this scenario: both of you cuddling on bed and then your boyfriend suddenly hears small whimpers coming from layla behind the door. and then he gently places a kiss on your forehead and opens the door for her, petting her head while speaking with a baby voice with her as well. "come here, layla!" he pats an empty spot on your shared bed, inviting her. "come here cuddle with your mum! ey~ good girl! jaeyun would tease you saying ― while giggling ― something like: "you're so cute... like your mum," ― literally the sweetest thing ever!

― 𝓼unghoon: remembers every little thing you say.

remember when you said you like that drink? me neither, but sunghoon surely does. sunghoon is known for being one of the introverts, however, he is one of the sweetest that's for sure. in the beginning of your relationship, you remember going out for a date with him, and while walking on the street holding hands, he pulls out something from his pocket and hands you. it was a small pink box. "what is this?" "um... open it," opening the small box, a beautiful necklace was revealed. "what...?" "you know," he would start, avoiding looking at you while feeling coy. "remember when you said you wanted a new necklace because yours was getting old?" your boyfriend looks at you for a brief second, waiting for you nod. "so... i know you didn't ask for me to buy it but... i bought one for you." and that was one of the moments you knew you were loving and falling for the right person: and not because of the necklace, but because of his intention.

― 𝓼unoo: cares about you and your (mental) health.

sunoo loves sharing, he can't forget that sharing is caring. with that, since both of you were just friends he always made sure to share everything with you. skincare products, perfumes, feelings... and you have the most clear memory of him being worried about you while you were out and have ate nothing more than an apple. don't do this to him. sunoo always says to you ― when you complain about your looks ― that he doesn't care, he cares about you! not your looks. ― "look, baby, i understand you. i have my insecurities too and we can work them together; two is better than one, right? i love you, i care about you and i hope you know you can count on me always."

― 𝓳ungwon: kisses your hand daily.

as a way to show love throughout the day, jungwon prefers to give you small acts of love, such as like: forehead kisses, doing the laundry, making the bed and tidying the room up, etc. it's not like he doesn't kiss you, but he doesn't feel the need to make you feel loved only by that. however, he knows how important it is for you, so he usually rather to kiss your hand. like, imagine both of you just sitting on the dinner table having a meal together and suddenly ― while chatting ― he takes your hand and gently places a kiss on it because he felt like it. or, imagine you accidentally cut your finger: jungwon will get a band-aid and give you a little hand kiss, kissing your forehead as well, wishing you feel a bit better.

― 𝓻iki: always covers your legs.

riki is usually wearing his large jumpers/hoodies, and that is for three reasons: 1. because he feels cool; 2. because he feels cold; 3. because he wants to protect you. protect you from what? i mean, you can't really stop a bullet from hitting someone with a hoodie right? yeah, it's obvious, with that, he just wants to protect you from the cold, creeps; mainly when you wear short skirts and you have to sit down on an underground seat or just simply waiting for the bus to arrive. it's this little thing he does that makes you feel cared and loved, even though riki has this playful and sometimes nonchalant personality.

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆

[raysrambles]

on the day the election results got announced, one of my friends wasn't at school. she was the friend that I had the most classes with, and I remember as the hours ticked by the painful knowledge that she wasn't sick, not physically, but that she just couldn't bear to be there that day.

i overheard classmates talking. "how are you?" asked one; in a broken voice, another: "I don't know".

"I'm scared," was the most common sentence I heard that day. "i can't live like this," said someone in the hallway; "we've still got each other," said another in what I desperately wanted to believe was hope.

"I prayed last night for the first time since I was five," said a friend of a friend; I looked out the classroom window at the cloudy sky and wondered if there was a god, and if he had heard them.

I watched people break down crying in the middle of class. by the end of the day, several kids had left school early.

"I need to get out of here," I said to my friends at lunch. "we're not going to make it another four years," said one of them grimly. how dystopian, how orwellian was it that a group of seventeen year olds were so casually discussing their escape from the country they had grown up in, the country that had raised them only to throw them to the dirt before they were even able to vote?

after school i drove to another school for a debate tournament. one of the judges who I hadn't seen in a year and with whom I'd only had one or two conversations came up to me and asked "how are you doing?"

"could be better," I admitted, "but I'm surviving." that was a bit of an understatement; there were tears in my eyes even as I spoke.

"I'm here," she told me, this woman who I hardly knew, and I realized that she was asking because she remembered one of our only interactions, a year ago, where I had casually mentioned being trans--

--and her gaze flitted down to my shoes, where back then I had had beads in the colors of the trans flag, beads that weren't there anymore, not because of any change in myself but that of the world around me.

"I'm here," she said again, and we stared at each other for a few seconds. I managed a "thanks", not trusting myself to say anything else.

that night I went onto Instagram. someone I hadn't spoken to since we fell out over a year ago had texted me a simple "I love you and am with you" type of message. all of my friends and even people I hardly knew were posting about the election, and I remembered

back when Biden was elected, the Republicans I saw online reacted with hatred, disgust, doubt for his abilities

but now all I saw from the ones who had lost this battle was fear

when the other side lost, they had the privilege of hatred

now that we've lost, all we can do is fear.

terrified sixteen, seventeen, eighteen year olds, in flurries of messages to long-gone friends and frantic posts. I had never felt more united, and yet I could not relish in our closeness because I knew it was not the closeness of friends but the closeness of soldiers too young for war, huddling close as their imminent death rained down from the sky, searching for some last comfort at the end of their too-short stories.

"I won't pretend this isn't as bad as it is," I typed out, "honestly I'm freaking scared. But we owe it to ourselves not to let this be the end of our beliefs.

"We still know we're right, even if the government doesn't agree. We're still all in this together.

"Love to everyone who's affected by this. I'm right here with you. Stay safe everyone."

I posted the Instagram story, praying to a god I didn't know that the words were true.

the next night when the house and senate election results came in, I cried, and it was not pretty crying, it was a child wracked with sobs in the dark on the floor of their room because they were only seventeen and terrified for their future.

I spent a long time writing that night, something I do to process my thoughts when everything is too much. I will simply offer this passage, which I think speaks for itself.

"Shall I tell them I am afraid because of the election? Shall I tell them that all day I have felt like a child masquerading as a man, scared of the boogeyman as i am scared of the fascist-like creature whose grasp is tightening and whose claws never cease, closing in on lives like a predator its prey? That I am a child scared of insignificance, of a fate I did not choose, of becoming a meaningless name among many, not of democracy falling but of not being the one who felled it?"

So to everyone celebrating the election, I'm glad that you're happy, truly I am. But I ask you to think of me and my friends, still children, most of us not quite old enough to even have our say in this country, as you laugh and rejoice and mock all of us who you defeated.

How many times must we cry, must we fall, must we watch each other die before enough will be enough?

Will it ever be enough?

[kasagia]

In death's arms

Pairing: Annatar/Sauron x fem!maia! reader Summary: There was nothing Sauron regretted doing. Every nasty thing he did to gain power paid off for him, and given the choice again, he would do it all over again. Or so he thought, until his path was crossed with someone from his past. It turns out that some of his mistakes are destined to haunt him forever. Author's note: A little sth that stuck in my head after watching Agatha All Along... this is pure fiction and probably wouldn't work in Middle-earth, but since I've written it... 😅 I've been completely out of it lately and everything's been going so fast in my life lately, so I'm terribly sorry if I've missed any messages/comments from you! I'm trying to catch up slowly! Anyway, enjoy! Halbrand's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

“Have you come to torment me again?” He asks, gathering the last of his strength to mock you as you appear before him.

From the nasty grin you give him, instead of being angry at his mockery, he realises how bad a state he is in. Morgoth has just put him through one of his tests. Sauron no longer remembers what he had to do. But he remembers his master's anger when he failed. He remembers clearly every cut he inflicted on him, every wound, every spilt blood that stained his skin and clothes, or at least the shreds that remained of them.

He no longer counted how much of his blood had soaked into his clothes and how much into the stone floor and wall behind him. And the seemingly irritating digging of the bars into his neck and skin stopped bothering him as the metal and his body became one.

"Contrary to appearances, your new master is not willing enough to hand you over to me. Too bad. You'd look pretty in your grave, Mairon. Oh, forgive me. Old habits die hard, Sauron."

He trembles when you speak his true name. The name given to him by the Valar. It sounds both sweet and deadly on your lips. A reminder of what he has lost, of what he could have had, had his lust for power been kept in check, had he never left the forge…

"He needs me. He knows that only I can lead his army to the victory."

"Victory, death. What's the difference, right?" You reply with a smirk that sends an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

He feels... uneasy around you. It wasn't something he was used to. Your presence always brought him some kind of comfort and peace, but now... now everything was different. He and you had changed. Not necessarily for the better.

"I suppose it makes no difference to you whether you take me in a dungeon or on a battlefield."

"But your honour wouldn't allow you to be beneath me, would it, my sweet deceiver?" You mock him and laugh, which sends a cold, unpleasant shiver down his spine.

Your laughter is so different from the one he remembers. It is bleak and harsh as the blade he once forged for you, and which you now carry at your side.

He remembered loving to bask in the glow of your laughter, in the halls of the Valar, as you feasted and danced, living as carefree a life as could be. Sometimes he longed for those days... to spend another one like this, so that he could engrave it forever in his memory and cling to it to save himself from total corruption and rottenness.

"Why do you keep showing up? You know that you can't get your claws on me."

"I am aware about that. But every moment like this will only sweeten the day when I finally take you in my arms, my dear deceiver. And believe me... you will not escape once I finally get my hands on you. In the end, all paths lead to one person. And it is not Morgoth. It is not any of your Valar. It is not any being that you know. In the end, you will come to me. And you will suffer more than Morgoth ever made you do, my Dark Lord."

You press your lips to his forehead—the place where Morgoth smashed his skull into the wall and split his head. He trembles as your lips press against raw, bleeding skin. You groan, running your tongue over his wound, tasting his black blood. And he cries out as you send waves of pain through him worse than any Morgoth had inflicted on him.

He holds his breath as your other hand lazily caresses the skin of his arm, tracing patterns with your black nails, only to suddenly dig them into the open wounds Morgoth had inflicted on him. Sauron groans in pain, trembling in your arms. You press your lips to his, drinking in his every cry as you caress him with your gentle touch and send waves of pain shooting through every tiny particle of his body.

"I will drink in every one of your sweet screams, my dearest. I will bask in every pain your being feels. Until all you remember, all you know, is me and my blade." You whisper your promise, and as suddenly as you came, you disappeared.

You leave him trembling and crying on the cold stone floor, dirty with his blood. And though he hated the times you came to mock him, he was relieved that you didn't leave him completely alone. Even if you only came to drive the knives Morgoth had placed inside him deeper.

He needed you. As pathetic as it was, he needed those little moments with you to keep him from going completely crazy during his darkest hours and the tests his master put him through.

But he lived with the hope that one day he would be able to repay you with the same sweet torture. That one day he would be the one to listen to your sighs of pain... or cries of pleasure. He wasn't sure yet whether he loved or hated you more—even though you seemed to already have your mind set about your feelings towards him.

Adar has betrayed him. He has betrayed him in the worst possible way. Sauron lies on the floor, surrounded by Orcs who drive the blades of Morgoth's crown into him as their Lord-Father looks on passively.

This couldn't be the end. He couldn't end like this. He couldn't be defeated like Morgoth had been, not by the filthy stinking Orcs and someone he had considered a friend. His master had been right; if they didn't fear you, you were nothing to them. There was no ally so powerful, so loyal, and true as fear. And now he was learning his lesson once again. In the most painful way possible.

He took small, ragged breaths that burned his body every time his lungs tried to expand and draw in air. Blood dripped from almost every inch of his body. And suddenly, in the distance, a few feet from those nasty orcs, he sees you.

You watch his fall with complete calm. You play carelessly with the blade he gave you, waiting for his end, letting the orcs finish their work. He sees no emotion on your face. Ironic, considering that this is probably the best day of your life. He will finally get his punishment from you. There was nothing he could do to escape you... unless...

He gasps especially hard when one of the orcs plunges a blade into his heart. As if through a haze, he sees Adar above him, who, after making sure that his physical body has been completely destroyed, says something to his orcs. Sauron hears only a screech in his ears as his battered heart gives its last beat. And then there is only darkness. Bleak darkness, which is quickly interrupted by a song all too familiar to him.

"Come, come, my lost soul, you will find your peace. Come, come, down your road, straight into my arms."

Sauron remembers the countless nights after Morgoth's torture, when you sang it to him and mocked him, giving him a taste of what you would do when you could finally take him in your arms.

Once it was a simple lullaby. A lullaby you made up for him when he couldn't calm his mind, when he spent too much time in Aulë's forge, too absorbed in his work to see you. Now you were attracting souls who were about to meet their end.

But he is not ready for death yet. He does not want to go like this. Not when he has known no power, not when the sacrifice he made of himself has brought him nothing at all. He does not want to go into your arms, knowing that he has thrown away everything he had with you for nothing.

"Look where your lust has taken you, my darling." You tell him with a smirk, taking your time as you walk towards him.

He kneels, swaying as he tries to keep his balance. He falls on both hands in front of you, taking in shuddering breaths as the black bonds of your magic close around him, crushing him in a tight embrace.

"I thought you loved my embrace? You told me so. Remember? When we lay together in the halls of the Valar, each held tightly, when you swore to me that you would not yield to Morgoth's influence, that what we have was enough, that you would never dream of more than what we have? Tell me, did you plan to betray me even then, or did you forget your promises in time?"

After each of your mockery comes a blow from you. Sometimes it's a simple kick, sometimes a punch delivered from your fist, and sometimes you pierce his body with a dagger, tormenting him even more and twisting him so that the blade grazes every single muscle of his. You were going for your revenge. And nothing was going to stop you.

"Pathetic. You wanted power. You wanted power so great that millions would kneel before you, and now you are on your knees. You were willing to do anything; you gave up everything just to fulfil your dark desires. Tell me, Sauron, was it worth it? Because I am truly happy with this turn of events."

He gasps as you grab him by the neck, forcing his gaze to meet yours. He trembles, staring into your black, dilated pupils. Your face is nothing like the one he remembers. You look like death. You are the real death. He trembles, seeing what the Vaalr did to you after he left and what punishment they gave you for loving a traitor. He looks away, wanting to momentarily ease his guilt and helplessness, but your tightening grip on his neck won't let him.

"You have no idea how long I've dreamed of this. You have no idea how long I've wanted to tear out every last piece of you just to put you back together and present you to the Valar, to give you into their hands so you could suffer as you should. Do you think that what you became was all your fault? That they wanted to punish us for our love? I asked them to make me something you fear, something you must reckon with. I am what everyone sees at the end; I am what takes everyone, even the mightiest of men. I am the end of Morgoth, the end of all evil, all good, the end of everything. I am death." You growl and throw him across the room.

He groans in pain, but he doesn't try to run away from you anymore. He knows that without his physical form, without any power, he won't hide from you. He was in your world, in the thrall of your power. And if he wanted to somehow escape from your grip, he had to play his cards right.

"I never wanted this for you... I never wanted this for us." He gasps, glancing at you. You walk slowly toward him, your black outfit billowing behind you, giving you an ethereal, trash-like look. As much as he fears you, he yearns to have you by his side. But he's not foolish or naive enough to believe you'll ever be on his side again.

"You left me! You left me to rot in the light of the Valar!! You tore my heart, all my humanity, destroyed everything I was, and left me alone. What did you want then, deceiver? What did you want, if not my absolute destruction, so that the vestiges of my past would not torment you in your greedy quest for power?"

He grunts as you drive your sword through his side. He grabs your hand, the one resting on the hilt, and pulls you toward him. You land on the floor with him, and before you can react, he's straddling you, placing the metal against your neck as he leans over you. His blood decorates your skin as his hand cups your cheek. Any attempts to fight him die inside you as his skin touches yours. You freeze for a moment, unused to someone's touch after so long alone, and he takes advantage of it as much as he can.

"I… I've always wanted… I've dreamed of you standing beside me… as my queen. My equal… I… I would never turn my back on you completely." He mumbles, pressing his nose to your temple. You break your dark vision of death for a moment and show him the face he knew so well, the one he had missed for so long that tears came to his eyes. You kick him in the chest and push him away, trying to regain some control. You reach for your neck and wipe away his blood. Without taking your eyes off him, you lick your fingers clean.

"You would trade me for the power Morgoth had at the first opportunity. You have no heart. You never did. And I was too naive to see you for who you really were." With a flick of your wrist, the bonds around him reappear. His wrists and ankles are bound and he is immobilized as he waits for you to make your final move and take his soul from this world forever.

"I have a heart. As black and rotten as yours. And it beats for you. Always has, always will. Even if you seek to destroy me utterly… even if you are left all alone after you have done your duty to the Valar and taken me into your sweet, hellish embrace." He says, only half-feigning contrition for what he had done.

He loved you. If there was one thing he was certain of about his old life, it was that he had loved you deeply. But not enough to become just another servant of the Valar. He wanted more. He had to have more. If he couldn't have you by his side, he would be content to fight with you. Until death do you part.

"If you loved me, you would never leave me." The slight tremor in your voice gives him hope that this meeting will go as he had hoped.

He lifts his gaze to you, studying you as you stand before him. The dagger in your hand is still a painful reminder of what it could cost him if he doesn't say the right words, but for now all he can think about is how wonderfully terrifying you look, standing before him in all your glory and power.

You captivate him. You tempt him. The Valar knew what they were doing when they made you the Lady of Death. You would be his undoing. He knows it. Eventually he will fall, and there will be no turning back. But before he does... he wants to make sure he remains legendary and eternal.

"It was because I loved you that I had to leave you. I didn't want to taint you with my darkness. You were pure. You were the sweetness that I wanted to drink and destroy at the same time for my own pleasure. You would not have had a better fate with me." He tries to defend himself by touching your most sensitive spot. He sees your ardour slowly subside as you begin to really consider his words.

You hesitate. He can see it in your gaze. He can see that the vision of your dream future he's presented to you is starting to tempt you. If he'd pushed you just a little further, if he'd said a few more words, maybe you'd really join his side? Maybe you'd be a force against the world? Maybe if he hadn't left you completely alone, maybe you could have had it all?

You walk up to him and stop a few millimetres away from him. If he takes a deep breath, his chest can gently brush against yours. He wants so badly to drive the blade into you and simultaneously capture your lips in a kiss that it's a confusing feeling in his current situation. You wanted him dead. That's what you came here for. To take him away. And yet you still had your ways of making him want you.

You lean forward, your hair brushing his cheek as your tongue traces the shell of his ear. He shivers as your cold breath contrasts with the warm saliva you spread before you bite down on his skin teasingly.

"I was soaked in it long before you even thought about leaving, my sweet deceiver. Now, I am just darkness." You whisper in his ear. You move away millimetres, far enough to look him in the eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you raise your blade, preparing to deal the final blow and take his soul forever, locking him away in a cell next to Morgoth, most likely.

So in a desperate act of self-savement, or perhaps out of the lust you've awakened in him, or perhaps out of the pure desire to taste your lips one more time before he leaves this world, he leans down and kisses you.

And it surprises you. Sauron hears the dagger fall from your hand to the floor as you reach for his hair, tangling your hands in it. He groans and tugs at the bonds you've trapped him in so he can wrap his arms around you and take you in his arms like he wanted to all along, but you don't let him move an inch. He growls in rage and bites your lip in retaliation, drawing blood—a random action that saves him from his predicament.

With each drop of your blood, he feels the power within him begin to bubble up again. Before you know it, he breaks your bonds and pushes you against the wall behind you. You groan in protest, trying to push him away from you. You try to summon your powers to immobilise him again, but he plunges his blade into your arm, effectively distracting you.

You cry out in pain, cursing his name, but he has only one goal in mind. He tears your clothes and burrows into your skin, biting and caressing every exposed part, feeding on your blood and power, restoring his soul the vitality it needs.

You are a mess of black blood and tears as he feasts on you, outsmarting you and binding you in your own shackles that you used against him.

"You won't take me as easily as you take these mortals." He growls against your skin, drinking your blood as he uses his knife to carve tiny cuts into your skin, decorating it with both black liquid and hickeys, marks from his bites and fingers.

“You’ll pay for this.” You moan as he bites into your neck, leaving a messy, bloody trail. He licks his lips and grabs you roughly by the waist, pulling you closer so you can feel the bulge of his cock against your thigh.

"Then, my sweet death, you will take me as a happy man." He growls in your ear before smashing his lips against yours in another kiss. You don't register the moment he takes your amulet from you.

His kisses numb you to the point where you don't register anything but him. All that matters to you is the way his hands caress your body, the way his lips defile every little inch of you. It feels so good to finally feel someone's touch on you…so good to finally feel HIS touch on you.

"I think that few people have the privilege of saying that they fucked death..." He mumbles in your ear, drunk on the feeling of you beneath him.

And just when he's about to bring you the greatest pleasure, just when he's teased your core long enough that you clench around his fingers desperate for more, he does something far worse than drive your dagger through you. He leaves you completely alone again.

You scream, furious and frustrated, both for having him deceive you and sexually for not giving you the release you deserved. You pound your fists on the ground and scream long and shrilly—enough that he will surely be able to hear you, whatever pathetic form he has taken since breaking out of your realm.

And driven by hot fury, you know only one thing—he will pay for this. Even if you were to seek him out and ignore your duties. You'll get him in your arms.

There was something addictive about the way people were drawn to him.

Ever since Sauron took the form of Annatar, the people of Eregion had flocked to him like moths to a flame, seeking gifts from the great messenger of the Valar. He liked the power he had over them. How one of his (false) words could turn them into his obedient puppets who would do anything to fulfill the prophecy he had foretold.

However, with the number of creatures circling around him, he had increasing difficulty maintaining the illusion he had cast over the city.

This is exactly what has happened now.

Annatar/Sauron was cleaning up the mess he had made by killing one of the elves who had discovered too quickly what was happening beyond the walls of his safe illusion. He could not afford for the whispers of panic to reach the ears of the only blacksmith whose skills were satisfactory.

Lifting the body, he freezes suddenly as a cold shiver runs through him. The atmosphere in the room changes. The only lit torch goes out, the smell of sulfur begins to fill the air, the rats that were roaming the basement disappear, and the only sound in the room is his breathing. He looks around, trying to see through the darkness of the room, but all he can see is red blood on his hands..

He frowns, looking around him as he realises the body he was supposed to get rid of is gone. He walks over to the extinguished torch and relights it, illuminating the room once more. He looks around for the body, but all he sees are the empty corridors of the underground. He frowns and focuses his senses, trying to sense any additional presence or power that would mess with his head.

And then he hears it. A soft humming from down the hall. He automatically reaches to his side, where his sword is strapped to his belt, and slowly walks toward the sound of soft singing.

"Come, come, my lost soul, you will find your peace. Come, come, down your road, straight into my arms." He freezes in mid-step. Goosebumps rise across his body, and he feels his breath quicken.

Memories—unwanted, painful memories—flood his mind as he stands in the empty hallway, wondering if he should go down. Involuntarily, his memories go back to the day he survived one of Morgoth's most demanding trainings—the day he found out what the consequences of his actions brought to you...

"I didn't know you were a coward, Y/N! Are you going to show yourself? Or should I leave you to your work and go back to mine?" He asks cheekily, trying to get you out of your hiding place. He knows how dangerous you've become, and as much as it fascinates him, he doesn't want to be on the receiving end of your blade... or claws. "I bet you're as busy as I am these days." He mumbles, pacing the empty hallways where your humming still echoes.

He glances over his shoulder a few times, wanting to make sure that you won't surprise him with a dagger to his neck.

Sauron won't admit to himself that he's afraid of you; he just knows the threat you pose to him. There was nothing worse than a mad woman—especially an unpredictable woman. And he was foolish enough to get on your bad side, to betray you, and don't look back. But how could he possibly know that you would get punished for his action? How could he predict that you will be paying off his sins to Valar? That only showed how unjust they were. Not only to you, but to him as well.

"Won't you show me your face?" He asks, still searching for the slightest sign that will give away your presence. But your soft singing, the haunting song that makes his heart beat faster, pumping adrenaline through his body, makes it impossible for him to fully devote himself to the task of finding you. Not if he doesn't want to end up with a sword in his chest. "Valar knows how I missed looking at it."

He turns around and, as if on cue, you appear to him. He presses his lips together tightly, refraining from gasping in surprise when he sees you in all your glory. He swallows hard when his gaze falls on your deformed face that you show him. A bloodthirsty smile, full of black fangs, sunken cheeks, and no nose, is one of the less... drastic forms in which you like to show yourself lately. Sauron knows how much you want to scare him; he hopes he doesn't give you too much entertainment.

"I would have a lot less work to do, my sweet deceiver, if you would just give yourself to me as you should and stopped playing Valar. You won't fool me a third time." You warn him, stepping closer. You see his throat tremble as he swallows, and he gently closes his eyes for a moment to inhale your scent and take in a little of your closeness.

You were so damn dangerous, deadly even... and he wanted more. Even though he knew full well that this desire would probably lead him to his grave.

"But wthout me you'd be terribly bored, wouldn't you?" He asks, giving you one of his smirks. He was playing with death, literally. He wondered how many times he could get out of your cruel clutches before he finally ran out of escape routes.

He freezes when you gently place your hand on his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingertip. He grits his teeth, staring at you wordlessly as you play with a strand of his blonde hair.

"Where's your elf?" You whisper against his lips, leaning in close enough that it’s a challenge for him to stay away from you. You should be a repulsive threat to him, nothing more than an enemy to be defeated. But for some reason, whether it’s your past, the pull that’s always been between you, or the power that’s bound you together, he can’t feel anything for you but pure lust.

"She left." He says shakily, wondering if you were jealous of him, if you watched him and Galadriel, if you planned her death when he declared that he wanted her to be his queen...

"Too bad... I would gladly take her in my arms. I guess I can only wait then. There is nothing more pleasant than meeting them all at the end of their path. They act as if they were truly immortal. You have no idea how surprised most of them are when they cross my path. Almost as surprised as you were when you first saw me in this form."

"I would appreciate seeing you more often if it weren't related to your current… job position." You chuckle darkly and grab his hand at his words.

You lift it between the two of you and pull out your dagger. You cut his palm, and he can only stand there, dazed, watching as you lick his black blood. You hum, tasting your power as it courses through his veins.

"Oh… but then it would be too boringly easy for you, right?" Your voice is velvety, like a balm to his frayed nerves. He allows himself to cling to you, completely forgetting that he should always be on guard with you. A mistake you won't fail to remind him of. "Tell me, Sauron… have you never heard of such a thing as being utterly charmed by death?"

Before his mind can process the meaning of your words, you have already pierced his hand with a dagger through and through. He groans in pain and tries to rip his hand from your iron grip, but you won't let him. You rip off your amulet that he stole from you, which he hung on a necklace around his neck, and you place it on his wound. You chant the appropriate words and drain him of all the power that he stole from you all those years ago—the power that helped him be reborn again.

"Next time you lay your hands on something that doesn't belong to you, I'll chop them off. I think I can find a much better use for them. A more… satisfying one, if you still know what I mean." You mock him, twisting his wrist.

He growls in pain and shoves you back, sending you crashing into the wall behind you. You raise your blade higher, pressing it against his neck as he steps closer to you. You laugh as you feel him press his own weapon against your chest.

"Well, well, well. I see you've learned something after all. Tell me, my beloved, are you afraid of me?" You whisper hoarsely, licking your lips as you lean into him. You make a move to bite into his neck, but he pulls away from you at the last second, frowning at your amused, dark chuckle.

"Only a fool wouldn't be afraid of you."

"Like calls to like, right?" You pose the question, raising an eyebrow at him. You take advantage of his momentary distraction and push him against the wall. You press yourself against him and capture his lips in a bruising, hungry kiss.

He gasps into your mouth and tangles his hands in your hair, pulling you even closer. Your darkness is addictive. He wants to bask in it, to experience it so deeply that he can become intoxicated by it. He wants to bond with you and experience the same kind of limitless power that you possess. A force that borders on death itself.

As the kiss deepens, he begins to feel you slowly draining his life force. He knows he has to pull away, but not yet. He wants to taste your lips, your sighs, and your soft moans as he caresses you through the material of your night-black dress for as long as he can. But he knows that with each little touch, kiss, and soft moan, he will want more, and it will be harder for him to pull away from you.

That's why he's reluctant to push you away. But when he does, he feels how much you've weakened him with that little kiss. He gasps, laughing thoughtfully as he struggles to even out his heartbeat and his breaths. Now he understands all that talk about deadly kisses. But if he had to choose how he died, your lips were a very tempting option.

"Enjoy the time you have left. We both know that eventually you too will find me at the end of your road. On the way… try not to bother me too much with all the dead bodies and souls you've forced me to take care of." You wink at him and blow him a kiss before disappearing, returning to the other side where the soul of the mortal he killed was waiting for you.

Sauron is surprised that you let him go so easily after his last... antics. But he knows that you didn't leave him alive out of the kindness of your heart. You enjoyed the cat and mouse game between you; you enjoyed tormenting him with the idea that you could take his soul at any moment. So he had to think of a way to make it harder for you.

He returns to the forge and absently strokes the box with the 7 rings for the dwarves. If he had divided his soul… left fragments of it in each of them, it would be impossible for you to gather them all and drag him to the world of the dead, where you could torment him as you pleased…

Or perhaps, in time, he would find a way to tame death itself and submit it to his will?

One thing was sure. At the right time, you will come for him. And you will take away everything he has worked so hard for.

Just like you always do.

He had a few centuries to figure out how to cheat death again. And how to make sure that you will be the one to fall into the trap of his arms. Not the other way around.

[utilitycaster]

this may seem needlessly finicky but I do actually believe it's important: calling Verin a himbo is just one of many examples where like, one of the cast says something off the cuff and it's not exactly the right word or it is highly contextual, and that is fine because no one is perfect especially in improv, but then it gets repeated ad infinitum within the fandom when it never really fit in the first place. We have Verin's stats and he's decently more intelligent than average with a 13 (smarter than most of Bells Hells for one; as smart as Pike); it's just he's the guy with a bachelor's degree with good grades followed by military service in a family where everyone has two PhDs - Matt said "himbo of the family" the way in a family where most people are exceptionally tall you'd call the 5'11" child the short one. In Call of the Netherdeep he appears as thoughtful and competent and promoted to a difficult position at a very young age, and in the campaign his appearance is simultaneously as a leader of troops in a dangerous mission, and someone who cares enough about poetry from a completely foreign and distant culture to have tried to learn more about it. I'm sorry, but if you're using the word "himbo" I don't think you're processing a thing about the character yourself; you're just the latest repetition in a game of telephone that's been going on since mid-2021.

And that's not deeply bad on the surface, and I'm using Verin not because he is the character most wronged by this sort of thing but because he's recent and it's really clear where the word came from and that it's not a good assessment, but something I happen to have a decent knack for is pattern recognition in language. I usually find it really easy to pick up on when someone's plagiarized because of the language and pattern shifts. I tend to remember urls and out of place words well. So I do tend to notice when everyone suddenly starts using a single turn of phrase and I tend to flag it. Sometimes that's not bad; sometimes it means everyone came to a similar conclusion and that's the best way to express that conclusion. But like, when Taliesin called the Yios episode a gas-leak episode and the entire fandom started parroting it? The line "bone-dry takes"? The fact that a lot of ship defenses I see were phrased precisely as "I have eyes"? without actually talking about the ship itself? the fact that I've seen a spike in the use of the term "ontologically evil" including in myself and not all uses are actually correct? And extending this beyond strictly language but consider any headcanon with minimal textual support that catches like wildfire (sidebar: remember how we make, or made fun of the SPREAD THIS LIKE WILDFIRE tendency on Tumblr a decade ago? same concept of repetition of a specific turn of phrase without internalizing) all sort of ping this.

And it's fine, truly, to come to fandom and turn off your brain. I know this will sound sarcastic from me, and that's because I don't personally agree, but I do strongly agree that you can do what you want in fandom and you don't have to listen to my opinions so in the end, yeah, it's fine because I am not the arbiter of "fine". But I think critical thought is a vital exercise and I think precision with language is part of it and so if you find yourself using the same exact words and thoughts as everyone else, that should, ideally, trigger a process of "but are these the right words? what do I see when I see this character and how would I describe them? do I agree with this assessment?" Fandom is an interesting and easier microcosm than reality in which to start doing that.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

It hurts to feel, to think, to know I may be nothing

(a kind of fix-it for 8x06)

The knocking on his door is insistent, almost angry. 

Tommy looks at the alarm clock next to his bed. The glowing digits, the only and quite pale light in the room, show 2:45 am. Who would knock on his door at this hour? There's this little tiny heart stumble that gives him a name in response, which he immediately suppresses. Tommy, who is lying on his bed fully dressed and can't sleep anyway, just hopes it's not him. Not … Buck. He couldn't bear that, not now. No pleading from those Bambi eyes, no broken voice with a stutter worse than ever. He wouldn't be able to look at the man and think of him as detached as he had called him when he left, he wouldn't be able to see anything other than Evan, and that would be wrong. Tommy weighed this thought back and forth in his head, trying to make it somehow more correct. 

The knocking is still energetic, it just won't stop. Tommy sighs. He considers just lying there, playing dead and staring at the ceiling until whoever is at the door leaves. But if it's Evan, if it really is him, then he can be trusted to knock all night. Or to try to break down the door. Although... No, he wouldn't do that. Unless he was drunk. Tommy remembers the story of when the Bachelor party got out of hand and a door was kicked in. His thoughts go round in circles, and he sighs again. It sounds theatrical in his empty bedroom, but that's the way it is. He slowly gets up, swings his legs out of bed and shuffles to the door. 

This little stab in his heart, which is not relief but disappointment, is pathetic. It’s not Evan, of course not.

It’s Eddie.

Definitely, the first thing Evan would do is go to Eddie. Then, probably in the early morning, to Bobby. Or to his sister. Heck, he’ll see all his friends because he can; and that thought somehow hurts even more. Tommy isn't afraid that Evan will make him look like a bad guy. He has every right to grieve and seek comfort. It's just that he can. From whom does Tommy find comfort?

In any case, Eddie, who looks a little disheveled and a little drunk with his red cheeks, doesn't exactly appear like someone who wants to console him. 

“Have you checked the time?” Tommy asks gruffly. 

“I did, but have you checked your brain?”

Eddie taps him on the forehead with two fingers, then pushes past him without being asked, casually dropping onto the couch in the living room. 

“This isn't the best time, Eddie,” Tommy says wearily. Yes, he is tired, even if he can't sleep. 

“Might be. But that's what this is all about, isn't it?”

That hurts, and Tommy feels anger building behind his forehead, which will be a decent headache in a few hours. Unshed tears, that's how Abby used to call it. Abby, with whom everything began and somehow everything ended. All the shame and anger about himself make Tommy's muscles tense. 

“Don't think you’d understand.”

Tommy stands there with his arms crossed, defensive, as he has been all his life, but Eddie is not impressed. Of course not, why would he. Eddie has told him stories of Afghanistan and the dirt he's been through. One man’s defensive attitude hardly impresses him. 

“Why not?”

“Because you've never been in that situation, quite simply.”

“Oh, so you want to use my non-existent queer experience against me, do you? Shallow.”

Tommy lets out a long breath and growls, “What exactly do you want, Eddie?”

“I want to know why.”

A simple sentence, a simple statement, but Tommy feels like he's been deflated. He searches for words, but they are hard to find.

“Listen,” he finally says, ”I know you're here as E… as Buck’s friend. That’s sweet, but…”

“That's true,” Eddie replies surprisingly soberly, ”but I'm also here as your friend. Sometimes we need our people to tell us we're being silly.”

Of course, he speaks from experience. That's kind of the point, and now it's bursting out of Tommy. 

“I managed well on my own for years,” he says, the words tumbling out of his mouth. “I've been through it all, the self-denial, the shame, the half-hearted relationships. Evan will never have to experience that, and I'm grateful for that. But still... this guy just stumbled into my life, no, rather rolled through it like a steamroller.”

"He broke your barriers," Eddie interrupts him. 

Tommy gives him a look. Eddie actually understands. Why is he so surprised? Tommy doesn't give away his friendship lightly, and Eddie is more profound than he pretends to be. Or even than his friends sometimes think. Which, by the way, is also true of Evan, which is where he starts chasing his own tail, right?

“He did. And he comes with a lot of luggage.”

“Oh yes,” Eddie laughs. Then, he narrows his eyes, watching Tommy intently. “Wait, you don’t  mean his past and all?”

Tommy drops into the armchair opposite the sofa and shakes his head. 

“We... actually didn't really talk much about the past. It was more like...”

“The heat of the moment?”

Tommy doesn’t have to ponder about that, because it’s true. Every new relationship is like this, everything is exciting and full of icing. You don't use the time you have with questions. They didn't have much time, that's the curse of shift work and a life as a first responder. 

“Suddenly, half a year has passed,” he says with wonder. “And then he says he wants to move in with me.”

“Were you afraid of the next step?”

The way Eddie phrases this question tells him that Evan hasn't fully understood what happened. He's sorry for that, but he's sorry for so much, it's just more grief on top of a big pile of sorrow. 

“I'm just afraid of losing my heart,” Tommy returns, and strangely enough, Eddie laughs again.

“Do you think that's funny?”

Eddie raises his hands defensively, “What I actually find funny is that you lost your heart a long time ago, Tommy. You left the man standing outside the restaurant and gave him a second chance anyway. You’re the first contact in his phone. You're the one with the ice packs, the one who buried his stupid curse with him.”

“You would have done all that too.”

“Sure, except for the part about the funeral maybe, but only because Buck and I are on terms where you can tell your friend that he's being stupid. You, on the other hand... you have heart eyes when you see him. You stroke his hand in passing, you hold back on the kisses when anybody is around only to protect him.”

“You noticed that?”

“I noticed a few things,” says Eddie. “Especially that Buck feels the same way about you. There comes a point in every relationship when you take off your rose-tinted glasses. The only mistake you've made is convincing yourself that this will end anyway.”

“But it will,” Tommy replies dispassionately. 

“Because you're his first? That's stupid, Tommy.”

“What would you know about it?” Tommy replies heatedly.

Eddie tilts his head, “Didn't you listen when I told you about Shannon? I married my first love. I know what you're thinking, of course, it didn't end well, yada yada. But it wasn't because we didn't love each other, Tommy. We were very young and very stupid, and it hurts me to see two grown men like you, who also love each other very much, behaving so stupidly.”

Tommy sinks down in his chair.

“He acts impulsively,” he interjects. “He doesn't know what he's getting himself into, and in the end, when he understands that he needs more, he'll leave. And that will hurt a lot more.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says and stands up. As unasked as he came in, he steps up to Tommy's fridge and rummages through it for a can of beer. Then he points it at Tommy and says, “But not having loved will hurt more. Being too much of a coward hurts.”

“I'm not a coward.”

“Yes, you are, because you're running away from your own feelings. And not even giving Buck the chance to prove to you that he's worth brightening up your lonely life.”

“Now you sound like a guy in a soap opera,” Tommy says sourly.

“Nah, I sound like someone who has screwed up so much in his life that he should be the last person to give advice to others. But this is Buck we're talking about, and he's just a whining misery sleeping on my couch. And it’s about you, a friend I’m fond of.”

He takes a deep sip and grimaces.

“I think you've had enough for today,” says Tommy. 

“Guess you're right.”

Eddie gets up, and to his credit, it has to be noted that he doesn't sway. Or just a little bit. 

“Let me summarize the whole mess like this: you fucked up, Buck doesn't understand why, and honestly I don't quite get it either. But what I do understand is that you should work it out together. Tomorrow morning… no wait, in a couple of hours. Sleep, then come over, and bring breakfast.”

“I don't know if that's such a good idea.”

The worst part is that there is a certain hopefulness in Tommy's voice, it almost cracks. Evan hasn't done anything wrong, and it's probably only right that he at least tells him that. Even if it hurts. Because Eddie is actually right - it will hurt no matter what, and it's better to love than to grieve over a love that could never evolve. 

“But I do.”

There is so much confidence in Eddie's voice. Something has happened to him, and one day Tommy will ask him about it. Now he holds on to his own door and nods weakly.

“Let me sleep on it,” he says. 

Eddie winks at him as he leaves.

[morganski-19]

"I'm straight"

Yeah, sure you are dude.

Jokes aside, I know exactly what logic both Eddie had in this scene, and also why the writers chose to include this.

Eddie says it because he truly believes that he is straight. He grew up in a family that shoved traditional gender roles down his throat. He grew up in a society that would not have accepted him. Going with the rough estimation Eddie did for his last confession, which was 23 years ago, that would have been 2001. That man was growing up in the 90s through the 2010s. In Texas. He was taught that being gay was wrong.

And what do queer people do when they are taught that who they are is wrong? Hide and delude themselves that it isn't true.

Eddie believes he is straight. He believes that everything he's felt has been normal for a straight man to feel. He believes that this performance that he does is what everyone goes through. He believes that this guilt he holds is what he deserves for being different, even though he doesn't know what being different means right now. He believes he is straight because there was no other option for him.

Now to why it was written in that he says his sexuality.

It was written to establish that it is what Eddie currently believes because they are going to start undoing it.

As much as it pains me, we live in a society where straight is very much still the default. In every show, there are going to be people who are assumed straight without even saying it, just because it is the default. Just looking at this show alone, there are so many examples of it. Bobby never had to say he was straight, we just know that. Same goes for Athena, or Chimney, or Maddie.

And if we look at the most prominent queer characters from the beginning, Hen and Michael, they don't even say their sexuality unless necessary. Hen just casually drops that she has a wife, and therefore we can assume she is a lesbian. She then confirms that, I believe for the first time, in Hen begins. When it is part of her very incredible speech asking for the old 118 to see her as she is, a black lesbian woman. It was necessary in that moment. Michael only says he's gay because it's important to his storyline. After the coming out arc, I don't remember him saying the specific words, I'm gay, afterward. Because it isn't necessary anymore, because it's known about his character.

Then there's Buck, and the wording he uses to describe himself while discovering who he is. He constantly emphasizes that he was an ally, a very straight term. Even after he figures out that he likes men, he continues to use this term. Because he is still processing the fact that he isn't straight, he isn't an ally, he's part of the community. They put it in when it was necessary for Buck and the audience to work through.

Furthermore, after coming out, Buck never says how he identifies. We as the viewer can interpret him as being bisexual from the way he acts. He has been in very meaningful and real relationships with women, where he didn't show the signs of feeling like a fraud or being guilty in the relationship (for sexuality reasons at least). He doesn't have to say he's bisexual (even though I am begging for him to say it in canon just to hear it) because it isn't necessary for the audience to hear. We already know.

So why is it necessary for Eddie to say that he is straight? Because we as the audience need to hear the before and after. It's no longer going to be assumed that he is straight, because he tells us. It marks what Eddie believes and will have to work through with the audience.

His sexuality can no longer be assumed, it must be stated.

It must be stated so that the general audience knows where he is, and then can follow him as he dismantles it.

[lara4eclipze]

“cause I'm a jealous girl”

— ( 🎙️ ) " it didn't feel like that when you were talking to her" she says her eyes almost looking hurt and mad

— ( 🖋️ ) fluff and angst , arguing , jelous lara , swearing, possessiveness (?) , some parts are lyrics!, drugs , drinking , party ,if I have forgotten any tags please tell me mwa

— ( 🎬 ) new theme! hope you guys like it ^^ , my themes are heavily inspired by @/ninguitar so please do check out their blog

the party was packed—people were squished together , many were passed out drunk and not to mention some were taking drugs

the only reason you came here in the first place was for your girlfriend lara, she loved parties and lively energy that surges throughout the place—it kept her alive and thriving

as usual lara was drinking and having fun with some of her friends, you decided to stay in the corner with some liquor in your hands , taking a swig — the burning sensation quickly made it's way to your throat making you wince

"you look amazing!" you hear someone compliment lara, she in fact looked amazing—she truly is a masterpiece in your perspective

"thanks!—i could say the same about you" lara replies her hands are now on the woman's waist — a little too much for your liking but you trust lara she's just naturally friendly right?

"ooh someones jelly" manon teases as she looks at where you were staring, "am not" you said with the same playful tone , you were , actually you were very much jelous — lara should be with you not with her either way you let it be

"whatever you say — besides you are practically just sitting in the corner the whole night! , talk to people you might just make new friends" manon suggests which you took into consideration

wasting no time you lift yourself off the couch and walk towards the table where some drinks were placed , men were glued to this spot which icked you but you saw some girls here earlier , maybe they'll come back

"hi there!" you hear a woman say behind you , you turn around to be greeted by a short woman , you knew her she was talking to lara earlier — either way she looks nice and honestly someone you wouldn't guess goes to parties like these

"hii~ I'm y/n how about you?" you ask giving her a warm smile , "ezrela! , you're lara's girlfriend right??" she replies with the same enthusiastic voice

"yep! , and you participated in the dream academy too right??" you ask a bit of doubt in your voice since you weren't sure , "sure did! — it was honestly very fun" ezrela replies to which you ask more about

a good 20 minutes passed by and you didn't even notice ezrela was really nice and friendly, her humor was a lot like yours

you felt a pair of eyes glued to you , surprise surprise it's lara she was watching you and ezrela talk like you two had been friends since birth , gosh her rbf was stronger now

"i hate to say this but I have to go" you said frowning at ezrela, she smiles instead and asks for your number to which you gave her "see you soon??" you ask , "sure!" she replies

you walk towards your girlfriend who looked like she would beat the fuck out of you , you knew she could never but she just looked so mad

"you remember me?" she says her voice dripping in faux surprise, here it starts, you could never catch a break can you? , "what do you mean? love don't tell me you're mad"

"what — I'm not just curious what you guys were talking about , you were smiling like a stupid kid" she replied, first she said you look like a stupid kid which A. you didn't and B. shes just mad , second she was very jealous

"we were talking about her experience in the dream academy" you replied hands on her arms , you can smell the air around you it smelt like cheap beer and sweat but lara smelled amazing like a musky and fresh one

she didn't reply for a minute seemingly thinking about what you said her face was still — like rbf? or maybe confused you didn't know

"oh her experience?" lara said emphasizing her , her fists curl into a ball , you knew she wasn't mad at ezrela she could never that woman was like the sweetest soul you know next to yoonchae

"baby why are you mad?? — you know I love you right?" you said reassuring her , as you take her hands into yours massaging her palm with your thumb

"it didn't look like that when you were talking to her" lara says her eyes looking hurt and mad , you messed up big time

"baby I love you so much" you tell her kissing her lips, repeating the words like a mantra , "I love you so much, I'm all yours don't worry" you said as you place the last kiss on her hands

"really?" lara asks there was no doubt in her voice , you knew that she knew you loved her

"really, now can we enjoy ourselves — I can't waste the night when you look so pretty" you say a giggle escaping your mouth you walk her towards the middle and dance sensually to the song

"baby I'm a gangster too and it takes two to tango"

"you don't wanna mess with me (mess with me) cause I'm a jealous jelous jelous girl" she repeats the lyrics

[torakowalski]

Swimmer Steve - Part 11

And we're back! Where have I been? No clue. Well I've been right here but my ability to make words has... not. So we're starting slow, easing into it and hoping they don't notice me creeping up on them.

(part one | part ten)

Steve's part of the Olympics lasts six days, then he turns up at Eddie's door, lays his three(!) medals down on Eddie's dresser, crawls into Eddie's bed and falls asleep for ten hours.

He wakes up, eats some fried chicken that Eddie went out to buy, then goes back to sleep for another four hours.

Eddie, usually never ever able to stay still, discovers that lying on his belly next to Steve, watching him snore softly is way more soothing than any of the herbal teas Wayne likes to press on him.

"Morning," Steve says, blinking sleepily at him at like, ten at night.

"Morning, doll," Eddie says. "Sleep well?"

Steve yawns. "Hm, kept dreaming I was at the Olympics." He blinks around himself, exageratedly. "Well, what do you know?"

He looks so sleepy and smug that there's nothing Eddie can do but scoot over and kiss him. Steve makes a happy noise and hooks an arm around Eddie's neck, pulling him closer.

Steve stripped down to just his boxers before he fell asleep the first time, so Eddie's got nothing but smooth, hot skin under his hands. He still mourns Steve's chest hair, but maybe Steve can grow it for a while now and Eddie will get to experience it, at last.

"Did I dream it, or did we have the best friend chicken ever, at some point?" Steve asks.

Eddie would be more offended that Steve's thinking about food while Eddie's making out with him, but the poor guy has been living the high protein, low carb training diet for way too long now.

"You didn't dream it, but it was only maybe the third best fried chicken I've had here."

Steve's eyes light up when he grins. "You've gotta take me sightseeing before we go home. I want to see everything you've seen and eat everything you've eaten."

"Then your wish shall be granted, good sir," Eddie promises.

"Yeah, talk nerd to me," Steve says and hauls Eddie into another kiss, which Eddie happily gives him until Steve bites his lip, pulls back, and says, "Hang on, I need to piss."

Eddie laughs, rolling off him and flopping backwards onto the bed. "That the kind of romantic way you speak to all the girls, Harrington?"

"No," Steve says. "But I don't feel like I've gotta pretend with you."

Well shit, Eddie thinks, as Steve climbs off the bed and heads for the bathroom. Who knew Steve was gonna be sincere?

He lies on his back, watching Steve's ass unashamedly as he makes his way to the bathroom. He leaves the door half ajar, while he's peeing, because first and foremost: jock.

"I'm gonna shower," Steve calls. "Wanna join me?"

Eddie feels a laugh punch out of his chest. Hell yes, he wants to join him, but he's pretty sure Steve's joking.

Then he remembers that, wait, Steve doesn't have to worry about the Olympics sex curse anymore. Maybe he does mean it. Eddie's half way to sitting up, when Steve pops back into the room.

"No?"

"... Can't tell if you're teasing me," Eddie admits.

Steve looks at him then looks over at the dressing table. "Remember what you said the first time we kissed?"

"Was it oh my god, am I dreaming?" Eddie asks, racking his brain to try to work out what it actually was.

Steve grins at him. "You said you'd shower with me, if I brought home a gold medal." He reaches over and picks up the one gold, sitting it between his two bronzes. He takes a second, seeming just to need to look at it, then holds it up. "I know it was for a relay so I only won like, a quarter of it. But does this count?"

Holy fuck, Steve does mean it. Eddie always gets a little hard when they make out, but now he's hard hard and it maybe robs him of his ability to breathe. Or to answer questions.

Steve grin starts to fade. "But totally no pressure," he says, hand curling tight around his medal. "Sorry. Stupid joke, or well, not a -"

Eddie rolls up onto his knees and holds his hands out demandingly. "Give me my prize, Harrington."

Still with that half-grin only, Steve's eyebrows draw together and he lifts up the medal like a question.

Eddie nods. He can breathe now, but it's coming fast, and he feels hot all over.

Steve steps forward and loops the ribbon around Eddie's neck, murmuring, "Congratulations," like Eddie really is winning a gold here. Let's be reasonable though, if this is going the way Eddie thinks it's going, he definitely is the one who's winning.

[emile-hides]

Okay one more Hatoful Poll and then I'll shut up

[icewindandboringhorror]

Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~

(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)

[mlyscha]

SIDEWALK THEORY ✦ P.SUNGHOON

𝓼ynopsis. in which the sidewalk theory is proven to be true by your boyfriend, making your heart flutter. 𝓹airing. p.sunghoon x female!reader 𝓰enre. tooth rotting fluff. 𝔀arnings. not proofread, english is not my 1st language, reader is kind of annoying and amelie is out of creativity tbh ( ;´ - `;). 𝔀𝓬. 93O. 𝓶asterlist.

♡ 𝓪melie's 𝓷ote: remember when i was thanking you guys for the 60+ followers... we are close to hit 100, WHAT?! thank you guys <3 ya'll are truly amazing (,,>﹏<,,) i also wanted to mention that i mainly use british english but i wrote pavement as sidewalk because i like this word better, you can judge me...

sunghoon loves you from the bottom of his heart. he is in fact so deep in love that he recently begun to create possible scenarios that could include you and him in the future ━ such as marriage.

okay, let's just not go that far. i might emphasise that, if you are expecting him to show affection in front of others or constantly do so in a daily basis, your fate is to be frustrated. the thing is that he just doesn't feel like doing it to prove his love for you. still, it's not like he has no necessity to kiss you, or hug you and all. he simply think different than most of people.

one of the things sunghoon figured out since he begun to fall in love with you and date you is that: protecting means loving, safety means forever. with that being said, he mainly prioritise protecting you more than everything; because, safety means forever, right? and he wants you to be his forever because he loves you ━ and loving means protecting.

also, since he was a little boy his mum taught him how to be a gentleman, and you can confirm your mother-in-law did a great job at it. sunghoon is just so polite, respectful, always respecting your boundaries ━ but still acting like that characteristic playfulness of a young boy when he feels acting like it.

talking about his mum's teaching, i might mention one thing that he learned, said his mum back then: "if someone you love is in this part of the sidewalk" she reefers to the part closer to the street. "and you want to keep them safe, make sure to switch places with them ━ just like i am doing with you." little sunghoon checks which part of the pavement he was walking on. "see? you're away from the danger of the streets, you know why?" "because you love me...?" "right! good boy!" ━ sunghoon from the future might not even remember this little lesson his mum taught him a long ago, but it glued to his mind until it became a normal thing to do.

now, dating this amazing man for almost two years, the sidewalk theory became your roman empire. you heard about this theory on tiktok, and from that point, you never felt the same way. i mean, since both of you were just friends he always did that, however, it was never that deep, you know? and since the beginning of your relationship you've never really figured this thing out.

so, nowadays, going out with your boyfriend is something else. sometimes you just want to feel that giddiness one more time, asking for a midnight walk to the convenience store with him, just to see him unconsciously touching your shoulders and gently switching places with you ━ and eat an ice cream. that scenario actually became kind of usual, but never failing to make you feel the same special way.

"hoon...?" you called his name hesitantly, not wanting to ruin his sleepy state since it was late. "baby?"

"mhm..." he groaned.

"can i ask you one thing?"

"mhm,"

"why do you do that?"

"mhm?"

"that, sunghoon, you know what i'm talking about!" you whispered-yelled, looking up to check on him, being met with his closed eyes and frowned brows.

"mhm-hm..." he denied.

"come on... you know? the sidewalk thing?"

"what sidewalk thing?" he spoke with a groggy voice.

"you know, when you switch sides with me..."

"i do it?"

"yeah!" you saw his right eye peaking at you, then closing again.

"mhm," sunghoon took a deep breath before asking: "what about it?"

"why do you do that?"

"i don't know," he shrugged. "may i ask why...?"

"because i like it..." you replied, admitting.

"why?"

"is cute,"

"mhm..." a cheeky grin was held in by him.

"why are you trying to hold that smile, mr. sidewalk?"

"hey!" his cute giggle echoed and that big grin found its way to escape. "don't call me that..."

"huh? want me to call you what then?" you teased, feeling his hold onto your waist gently tighten and his head snuggle onto the crook of your neck. "oh... someone's feeling a little clingy today, mhm?" his touch immediately went away. "noooo~ come back, mr. clingy man!"

"okay, stop this, don't call me those names,"

"i asked you which name would you want me to call you, mr. grumpy man..."

"call me baby, okay?! call me darling, sweetie even cupcake, i don't care," your boyfriend spoke impatiently. "now let me sleep, woman."

"eh? woman?"

"baby... baby, let your boyfriend rest, 'kay?"

"okay, you can sleep..." you squinted your eyes. "call me woman one more time and you'll be called mr. dumped man!"

bonus scene! ★

"[...] and i told her! but then she was like: "i don't know about any of that bullshit", and i was like-"

"yeah, right," casually, sunghoon places his hands on both of your shoulders and move you to the other side of the sidewalk. "...and then?" noticing you subtle silence, he continued, wanting to know about what was going on with your friend.

"um... and i was like..."

"you were like...?"

"you did it again!"

"you told her that?"

"no! you did this again," you looked down at the pavement.

"paid attention? what?" poor sunghoon, got confused about what you meant.

"the sidewalk thing!" you were trying to make him figure out what you were talking about a few days ago.

"oh? did i?" he checked himself, slowly figuring it out.

"yes, you did," you nodded while smiling.

holding a big smile, he scrunched his nose and cleaning his throat. "anyway, tell me what you really told her then, baby."

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆

[ef-1]

girlhood

[raiiny-bay]

attempting to learn particle systems.....

[vampiricsheep]

so since I may be free this summer after all, would anyone be interested in an RP event that's a potluck? I've been wanting to do it for ages but there's never any interest compared to other themes

for a discord rp, I would make a separate server explicitly for this purpose so you don't have to be in any guilds or anything! I would also delete the server (or at least channel, if people would like an event-planning server long-term) after a week - enough time for people to read over their stuff but not preserved forever and ever.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[bylertruther]

kinda cool how in season one eleven escapes the lab thinking she's the monster & in season four eleven escapes the lab again knowing she never was and that none of what happened was ever her fault.

and how in season two she goes on a journey to figure out part of her past and is told by another of the lab's victims that she needs to find strength in pain and anger & in season four we saw that it was her mother calling her by her real, human name and telling her that she loved her that gave her enough strength to overpower evil and banish it from their dimension, not the hurt and rage she felt at her being taken away. and that again, she was able to perform a miracle and bring her friend back to life by thinking of the love she showed her and the way she had always treated her like she was a human being.

she and her story are just really cool, methinks.