#about 'i don't know how to *love you* but I LOVE THE BONES OF YOU'

[hai7ani]

Continuation | cw bonten universe, smut, sex work, murder, mdni

愛的最高境界是心疼

i. Earned It

Rindou is gentle with you today.

He always is, though 一 he never goes too far with you even in bed. He never treats you less than a human. He says one thing the night before, make you overwork yourself like the Daddy he is, and the next morning you'll find a few extra digits than what was originally promised sitting pretty in your bank account. Rindou is always gentle and generous with you.

His hands are sweet and sticky as they latch onto your skin, never letting go off your arms while he wipes you down gently in the bath. He rubs your cheek with wet thumbs and combs your hair with so much care in the world. He has never once tugged on them as harshly as the man did; never once hit you for pleasure in his own bed. Never. Maybe a few spanks on your ass here and there as a little foreplay or when you're being a tease, but he never hits you.

Rindou is so gentle with you.

"How's your throat?" He asks. Your bubble pops and you look at him dazed. "Still hurts?" He reaches a hand up to check on your skin. You move your neck away before his hands can reach you 一 almost as if you're scared.

He feels a foreign ache creep up his chest. His heart palpitates weirdly behind his bones. Your pupils dilate and you hide your neck with your arms. You shiver despite the warm water engulfing your body.

You are so frightened.

"I-" You swallow, feeling the sour ache going down your throat and you rub on your neck unconsciously, eyes squinting as you wait for the pain to pass. "I'm fine." Your voice is hoarse, very deep and broken, and he almost didn't hear you.

"The doctor's waiting out front. Want him to check?" He doesn't buy into your white lie at all. It's obvious it still hurts a lot and you won't let him touch you, or even see you. But you nod anyway and his shoulders relaxes a little.

ii. Million Dollar Man

"You're fucking insane!" Kokonoi is furious when Rindou waltzes into the room. "Blowing off a multi-million dollar deal for a whore, you're fucking nuts, Rindou!"

Mario Ricci is tied up against a wall, mouth stuffed with a bloody rag cloth as he struggles against the tight ropes wrapped around his figure.

"Yet you didn't proceed with it?" He questions in a sarcastic tone, an eyebrow raised and Kokonoi scoffs. "How could I? Gotta let these bastards know Bonten can't be fucked with. If I let him go more people will do it again."

Kakucho clicks his tongue from where he seats, next to Takeomi who is busy rolling up a blunt. "The deal is off the table now. No point arguing. We'll kill this guy and move on to the next. Keep everything quiet."

He stands, calves pushing against the heavy chair and it screeches loudly, sharply, against the concrete floor.

"But what about you?" His voice is low and dark when he addresses Rindou. He stares him dead in the eye.

"You're the reason why we have no deal. What are you going to do about it?"

The air is humid with Kakucho's anger 一 everyone in the room knows that much. For once, Sanzu is silent. He does not mess with his weapons loudly nor does he make a noise to pitch in his idea. Mochi's eyes are bright and sharp from where they burn holes into Rindou's back 一 he can feel the sting already. Ran is leaning against the wall behind Rindou while he plays with his set of keys in his pockets.

But Rindou remains stoic from his position. He is not afraid of Kakucho at all. He eyes the gun on the table next to him and snatches it off, soon realising that it belongs to Kakucho himself.

"I'll kill him, since that's what you want."

He aims for Mario's neck in one swift motion upon loading the gun. He sees the shimmer of desperation in his orbs, and he struggles to escape even further. His voice is muffled against the cloth shoved deep into his mouth but Rindou still hears him clearly.

"Please don't kill me."

"You're a fucking moron." And he pulls the trigger.

iii. Love song

Rindou returns to his quarters very late into the night. You're still up at this hour despite having taken heavy meds a couple of hours ago, when he'd monitor you swallow the pills with an immense amount of pain in your throat.

He finds you in his kitchen scavenging through the cabinets and fridge for a little something to eat, like a sneaky little alley cat. His penthouse is ice cold, the servants have taken their leave long ago, and he dismisses Tsuji, his trusted right-hand, with a wave and an assuring nod.

Your sleeping gown (one that he got for you as a gift) hugs your curves beautifully under the white fluffy cardigan you like to keep yourself warm with.

He watches in silence, hiding behind a wall as you simply be yourself, alone, away from the eyes of just anyone at all. You give up scurrying for seasoning after a while, settling for the bowl of plain white porridge a servant had prepared for you earlier.

Rindou watches as you lean against the countertop and play with your feet, crack your toes out of habit, hum a soft melody, as you slowly eat your food. It's endearing to see you like this. You're quiet, you're calm, but you're alone and you're by yourself 一 and a smile nobody has ever seen him do stretches across his lips when you put down the bowl to do a little twirl. Your humming gets louder and he recognises the tune shortly 一 one that you have always liked playing on the piano sitting in his massive living room.

You're a slut, but you're also just a girl.

iv. Glory Box

Rindou is still so gentle tonight when he wraps you in a blanket and smooths a warm hand down the back of your head. Your scalp is still sore, so he doesn't run his fingers through your locks this time.

You're almost asleep when he makes a noise. Low, but comforting. His chest vibrates against your cheek.

"Do you want to leave?"

You're confused by his question. "Where?" You move your head away from his chest and look at him 一 eyes clouded with sleep, and you blink twice to see him properly again under the moonlight. The windows are closed but he left the curtains open. He likes doing that a lot.

"Follow another man, pleasure him instead. Or just leave, find something else to do. Pick one. I'm giving you a chance to live."

His voice is stern and this is how he chooses to start the conversation 一 by threatening to kill you if you do not make a choice right now. He is sudden and he is stubborn.

It's not like you want to, anyway. You're not afraid of him.

"No." You frown. "I want to stay here, with you."

He is nonchalant at your response, and you look like you're about to cry.

He does not respond or react.

"Are you giving me away?" You push.

Rindou finally lets out a breath he did not know he was holding in when the first tear finally rolls off your rosy cheek. "Please don't give me away. I'll be good, even more better for you. Today was a mistake. I didn't know anyone would be there. I was waiting for you to come."

He hates that you're blaming yourself for what happened to you earlier.

He hates that you're downplaying your trauma just to amuse him and make himself feel better, a little trick you had learned to use during your time while working in this industry.

He isn't enlightened, not at all 一 because he knows exactly what you're doing.

He'd ended the life of the man who'd put you in pain, but it does not mean that killing Mario Ricci would take the pain away from you.

The foreign ache from earlier has not once subsided from his chest. It remains, sometimes growing even more suffocating and frustrating. Like when he had to sit through the meeting hearing Kokonoi and Kakucho 一 mostly Kokonoi because he was at the scene, and he is still very unsatisfied with Rindou's behaviour 一 going back and forth about getting rid of you like you're just some giveaway slut because they claim he is being distracted from the real job at hand, while his eyes are constantly flickering between the two who are shoving accusing fingers in his face and the leash that Mario Ricci had tied you in sitting at the corner of the room.

You have managed to engrave yourself in all parts of his heart 一 every little nook and cranny, you are there.

The girl he's tried sleeping with earlier to make himself feel a little less bad about having to kill you as an apology to Mikey, doesn't feel the same. He keeps telling himself that you are just like any other girl from the many who are working under Bonten's establishments.

Yet the second he pushes in, he pulls out, away, and he leaves. He throws her a stack of cash anyway and makes his way back immediately.

Because she isn't you. She does not look at him like you do. To her, he is just like any other rich man paying her for quick pleasure. To you, he is everything gentle and soft and warm.

You have managed to capture his attention the first few nights you've spent together 一 two years ago, as a temporary replacement for the girl he had originally booked for that night.

And then he keeps coming back. Again and again for two whole years, and now you're looking at him like he'd just broken your heart. His heart beats wildly in his chest and he ushers for you to come closer to him.

The way you would hold onto him while he drills into you frustrates him. He likes that you always let him have his way in bed, but manages to make him cater to your likes in the end every single time, and he has to remind himself that he is the one paying for your services, but he never cares, because it's you. He puts an extra zero when transferring funds into your account and he handpicks your gifts. Your eyes are always so glossy and full of hearts when they'd gaze into his purples. Your mewls are always so sweet and only for his ears when you'd try to moan quietly even when you're alone in his lonely, freezing penthouse.

And you won’t fucking leave him.

You're a gentle, quiet girl, and you make him want to be gentle and quiet with you too.

You straddle him and pin him to the bed. You want him to take you seriously this time. "I am yours." You try to make yourself sound stern but your lips end up pouty and red and hot tears are dripping on his face.

He tried to, really. He really wants to take you seriously. But the collar of your dress is low and your milky breasts are showing. Your lips are so kissable and he folds.

He presses one hand down your back and guides your upper body closer to him.

"You don't wanna leave?" He asks, rhetorically. His voice is muffled when he buries his face in your mounds to kiss and suck on your tits. He sneaks a hand up under your dress to fondle with them, to grope your soft flesh and listen to you whine like an angel on his lap.

"Don't wanna." You pout.

He reaches under your dress to rub a sweet thumb on your clit 一 messy figure-eights and sticky circles, pressing down just the way you like it 一 through the thin fabric of your panties and watch as you unfold so beautifully before his eyes.

His favourite, pretty girl.

His heart starts beating normally again. It hasn't beaten like this for a very long time 一 not since he was a teen.

Haitani Rindou wonders just when did he ever lose the ability to love.

"You'll be my liability now."

[cicadabooks]

aaaaa finally i feel justified for reluctantly finishing the first Monk and Robot book with a :/ face, and then feeling even more :/ :/ :/ about reading the 2nd book. Which I did not read, and it looks like this was the correct choice, for me.

"Underbaked" is a decent summary of the first book - people (....often white people I feel like....) would recommend the book and how they loved it, and when I finally read it, I was just like.... This author is over-reaching and floundering around in areas she doesn't know much about. (And also this book felt very White Person writing world building to me.) Even the final pep talk by Mosscap rubbed me the wrong way. It was obvs just Not the Book For Me. (Also winning a Hugo.... It's not the worst book, but...? I think people are being bamboozled a bit.)

I remember the author's approach to nature was weird. I remember thinking "people live in nature, we're part of nature, and to just have the two drastically split is disturbing. Also I don't think this author has ever actually walked through the woods, or at least not more than three times."

OP's line above ("The Robot Side is kept wild and humans are discouraged from going in there because humans can't be trusted not to ruin Nature.") is making me specifically remember what I didn't like. :( wtf. Are indigenous people and their land stewardship a joke to you. Where were you when the Dakota Access Pipeline protests were happening last decade. That was a large amount of news. At this point, this is a you problem, Becky Chambers.

Also shoutout to "also tbh I think Becky chambers has also just never gone fishing in her life and was not curious enough about her own concept to research how you're supposed to kill a fish" in the comments section from OP -

Because, as I mentioned earlier, I had the same reaction even in book one!? About doubting if the author actually spent time in nature, or considered nature a lot, or knew much about nature (for a book that... spends time in nature...). Neither the first book's vibes, or this wretched fish thing, are the vibes of people I know who spend time in the wild (as a hobby or professionally).

(Also, I think those people I know, and me, and many other humans, would be miserable being cut off from wild nature. Some things are just in the blood. I was always yearning for the ocean growing up, and I swear it was handed down to me by blood from my mother who grew up on an island. When I finally lived in a place near the ocean and got to be in ocean waters a lot more, I was like YES I AM HOME and happy in my bones. Every time I get too sad it's because I have spent too much time away from ocean and some proper wilderness.)

(and we're not even getting into how much human culture, esp indigenous cultures, have cultural transmissions tied in with nature.)

(Like I know OP's essay was more examining passivity and the implications at large in these books.... Whereas looking back, I think I got stuck on "Humans aren't allowed to go into nature" in book one and I was horrified by this and I never got past this part. This book was a dystopia for me.)

Anyway OP thank you for summarizing the 2nd book, yikes and also that was fun to read.

Also this is all ironic/sad because I actually liked the author's first book! When I read it years ago. (A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet) It was fun! I love me a motley crew of people in space ships becoming friends and having adventures. I had issues with the handling of sex/gender stuff, but at the time I gave it a pass. The rest of the books in that series didn't stand out to me, but I picked up whatever the author wrote anyway. I was disappointed when I picked up these monk robot books more recently. We're not even having, like... having that much fun here :( There's apparently fish dying in bizarre ways.

ykw i am having so much fan watching you be a hater, that i’ve decided to ask for more. PLEASE give us a rant about a book you hated.

Haha aw I'm honored. And uh I hope you don't have any particular attachment to Becky Chambers. Sorry in advance.

But A Psalm for the Wild-Built won a Hugo and I do not get the love. Book 1 was nice enough, yeah. Book 2 had me tearing my hair out.

Sibling Dex is a restless Tea Monk who serves the God of Small comforts on the science-fantasy planet of Panga. I genuinely love the idea of a tea monk - part therapist, part confessor, travels around to the different towns, mixes tea blends for people, lets them talk about their worries and fears and stresses, and gives them, if not advice, then sympathy and a listening ear and some calming tea. This is meaningful work but they're unhappy. After doing this for a while they're still unsatisfied with their life, so they go into the woods searching for self-actualization, and meet a robot named Mosscap, a wild robot that lives in the woods. See, hundreds of years ago, all the robots "woke up" and became sentient one day, then they staged a quiet rebellion against humanity's greed and industrialization by walking into the woods and never coming back. Now, the continent is split in half: humans stay on the Human Side, and robots stay on the Robot Side. The Robot Side is kept wild and humans are discouraged from going in there because humans can't be trusted not to ruin Nature. The rpbots are welcome to come to the Human Side, they just never have. Dex is the first person in a While to venture into the woods of the Robot Side, and the first human since the great walkout to see a robot. Mosscap gives Dex a lot of philosophical pep talks about not pushing themself so hard, about allowing themself to just rest and appreciate the world without feeling like they need to be Providing A Service to justify their existence. It's a nice theme. Underbaked, imo, but nice. Relateable.

Book 2 was a goddamn mess.

Book 1 mostly takes place in the wilderness of the woods, so it's okay if the nice utopian human community Dex comes from was sketchily-built. It Just Works, and everyone Is Just Nice, this is a science-fantasy parable. There were some issues I had with it - like the strict ideological and physical divide between Nature and Humans, and the fact that Dex's religion seems to be the Only Religion In The World, and it's vaguely secular-humanist with the gods being not "really" gods but names given to primordial forces and philosophical concepts, and the religion not really making any demands of its adherents in any way except to become their best selves and devote themselves to what they like... it's potentially interesting, but overall kinda lazy. It felt like Becky Chambers was aware of the idea that having an enlightened-atheist sci-fi utopia is Problematic, so she made there be a central religion, but she also didn't want it to have any of the ~icky~ things religions have, like belief in anything supernatural, or dietary restrictions, or creeds, or codes of behavior, or expectations to make any kind of sacrifice in any way. All the gods "ask" is that humans observe and appreciate the world. But whatever.

In book 2, Dex and Mosscap return to Dex's society, and the book seems to want to explain how the world works, and oh my GOD is Chambers not prepared to do this.

"Observe and appreciate" is all anyone is asked to do. Book 2, A Prayer for the Crown-Shy, is an ode to ultimate virtue of Doing Nothing. There's this attitude I see in a LOT of utopian fiction, where the author is bluntly just not a good enough author to imagine a utopian society where people act like people, so in the world of Panga, utopian society is achieved through 1) homogeneity 2) no one giving a crap about anything.

As far as I can tell, there is the one religion. Most people are Fine with this. Most people are Fine with anything. There are no characters with distinct personalities. There's no money, except there is, except it's not real money and no one will deny you anything if your balance is in the red, even though your balance is available to be seen by anyone - this does not cause any kind of shame or pride or competition in any way, and Dex doesn't understand why it might. There are no hierarchies or governing bodies, people just volunteer to step up when things need doing (this is portrayed as great and not deeply concerning). There are different communities, but in them, everyone is uniformly nice, friendly, and helpful at all times. There are some parts of nature, like the seashore, where people are not allowed to go because they'll ruin the environment, and this is accepted as correct and necessary. Most people live in hippie, pro-recycling, high-tech, end-of-history green communities; there's one group they visit, however, that doesn't trust technology, and lives in a vaguely sci-fi-Amish way. You might think, Dex travelling around with a robot, this might cause conflict! It does not. The people from this community calmly explain their anti-technology position, Dex calmly explains their pro-technology position, and they politely respect each other. "Not bothered either way" is a phrase that turns up in various permutations a lot and is held up as the good, mature, responsible way to be.

There's a scene where they catch a fish for dinner, and instead of killing it, the scifi-Amish guy says "We let the air do that for us, and they let the fish slowly suffocate to death in the air while they all look on solemnly and sadly. This is portrayed as a deep, beautiful moment of them witnessing and honoring the final moments of a living being's life. And not. y'know. them torturing a living being to death so they can keep their own hands clean.

This is what I mean about the valorization of passivity: observing is all you are ever obligated to do. Letting a fish die in the air is better than killing it quickly and humanely, because doing things gets your hands dirty, while letting things simply happen is the Correct way to do it.

At the end, Mosscap and Dex blow off all their promises and appointments and just hang out at the beach chilling out instead, because do what you want forever, you don't have to do shit. This is the happy affirming ending. Mosscap you fucking said you'd meet with the city leaders as the robot ambassador to the humans, did you tell them you were blowing off this commitment because you didn't feel like doing that anymore??? Did you even let them know??????

It is SUCH a baffling book. The theme wants to be "you are more than your job, you deserve to just Be" and ends up feeling like "you don't have to do anything ever, and no one can make you do anything you don't want to do if you don't feel like it, and you don't owe anyone anything and searching for a purpose in your life is just making you stressed out so chill at the beach instead."

The thing that drives me crazy is like. Mosscap cheerfully tells Dex about robots that spend twenty years in a cave watching stalactites form because they think it's beautiful, and those robots are just as much a valued part of society as anyone else. Appreciating beauty and wonder is good enough, you don't need to be productive. And I'm just. fuckin. like. Humans are not robots! Robots don't need to eat or sleep! Humans need food, and clothes, and shelter, and medical care, and if we don't have SOMEONE working to provide that, we Die! Nice as it would be, we CAN'T just all do nothing forever until we feel like it! We can't do that!

And at the same time, the book bizarrely treats wanting a purpose in life as like... almost disordered. If you are seeking a purpose in life it's because you just haven't let go of your guilt and relaxed enough. It's bizarre. Valorization of passivity. Humans aren't meant to be in nature so we just Shouldn't. Doing nothing and having no strong opinions is the most self-affirmed you can possibly be. Letting a fish suffocate is more moral than quickly breaking its neck or spiking its brain. Someone else will do it. Who, if we're all supposed to be resting and only doing what we feel like? Don't worry about it.

"The heart of this book is comfort [...] There is nothing in it that can hurt you." YOU LIAR BECKY CHAMBERS THE FISH SCENE STILL DISTURBS AND UPSETS ME TO THIS DAY

[mooshkat]

i haven't watched the episode. don't really care to. but apparently eddie is looking at houses in el paso?? and i've always related way too much to buck and the way people in his life leave so much so.

listening to 'please don't go' by abbey glover while writing this is devastating btw. highly recommend to add to the hurt.

tw for suicide attempt.

Buck drops Eddie off at the airport and then just...doesn't go home. He doesn't think as he drives, taking turns and just alert enough to be safe on the road, but honestly? He has no fucking idea how he ends up in the mountains, parking in the small dirt lot at the end of the hiking trail.

Everything feels numb. Static fills his brain and spreads down his neck, all the way to the tips of his fingers.

He turns off the Jeep and takes out the keys. Drops them carelessly into the cup holder.

He should've seen this coming, right? People leave; they always have, and always will. Everyone from his own sister to his ex-girlfriends, and his ex-boyfriend. Now his best friend.

There's just something buried deep into his very being, something built into the coding for Evan Buckley, that makes people leave him. No matter how much he clings and wants to fight for it, they'll walk away from him and his love.

It's him, it has to be.

Buck leaves behind his wallet, his keys, his work bag. Everything is left in the Jeep except for his phone, because no matter how much people leave him with barely a goodbye, it goes against everything that makes Buck, well, Buck to do it himself.

He knows this trail. Tommy and he have been on it before, once or twice after Buck dragged him along with him. They'd stopped at the top, where a small cliff overlooks the beautiful scenery with LA off in the far distance.

He remembers the way Tommy pushed him against a tree and sank to his knees, looking up at Buck with an adorable, bright grin with scrunches up his nose. Buck misses that grin fiercely.

The sun is just beginning to rise as Buck starts his walk. He doesn't go up the mountain with a specific plan in mind, didn't wake up to take Eddie to the airport at four in the morning, and think I'm going to kill myself today, but the higher he gets on the trail, the more he knows.

It's early enough that he has the trail to himself. That's good. It's not, he needs to turn around and go back to the Jeep, go home but his feet keep moving him up, up, up. There's nobody around who will have to see what he's about to do and be traumatized by it.

He's seen more than his share of deaths through work, he knows how badly it can fuck you up. He doesn't want to do that to someone else.

When he gets to the top, Buck stops and just breathes. The air is fresher up here, cleaner. It makes some of the buzzing in his head quiet down. He can feel his fingers again, feel the way his heart pounds from the cardio workout of climbing, and make his hands throb.

He walks to the edge of the cliff and sits down, his feet dangling over the edge. There's a boulder a few feet away from the edge that holds memories of him leaning back against it as Tommy kisses him, holding Buck's hips with hands hot enough to brand him.

His very soul feels branded by Tommy. His chest aches every day, making his stomach sink with a homesick feeling he hasn't had since before he moved to LA. His apartment is still full of the baked goods that he creates every time he has to try to not call or text him.

He doesn't stop himself from calling him today.

Buck almost thinks it's going to go to voicemail before it's picked up at the last second.

"...Go for Kinard?" Tommy answers, clearing his throat. His voice is sleep-rough and deep, and Buck hasn't heard it in so long that it's like applying balm to very shattered, torn edges of a wound. "Hello? Who is–Ev—Buck?"

"Did I ever tell you," Buck starts, and he sounds just as rough, but he's more awake than he ever has been, despite the bone deep tiredness that fills him, "about the fact that I was made to be a savior baby for a brother I never met? My parents made me in a science tube so that they could use my bone marrow to heal my brother, Daniel, but it didn't work. I thought for a little while after I found out that it was because I was defective, but I get it now."

Sheets rustle on the other line before Tommy sits up again. "What are you talking about, Evan? What's wrong?"

Buck continues talking, bowling over Tommy's questions like he didn't hear them. "I think there's something inside of me that's toxic. Toxins drive people away, it makes them sick, it's the only thing I can think of that makes sense for why everybody I love gets sick of me and leaves. It has to be me, right? Nobody stays, not forever. There's something wrong with me and I've finally figured it out."

"No, Evan," Tommy says, voice soft. He can hear the concern, though, the urgency hidden under his tone. There's the sound of jingling keys and a door opening and closing. Tommy's too far away to stop him.

"Sometimes, people leave. It's just what they do, it is nothing about you or what you've done. It's them. Their problems. My problems, that we should–we should sit down and talk about. Evan, where are you? I'm worried."

He almost doesn't want to tell him, but maybe it'd be better for someone to come out and collect his body so he doesn't ruin the trail. Leave it as you found it, or whatever. He gives Tommy his location and ignores the way it starts a mental countdown in the back of his mind. He doesn't have long now.

"It is me, Tommy. I want to believe you, but I can't. Not when hard evidence for almost my entire fucking life says otherwise. My parents emotionally left before I was even born. Maddie. Abby. Other girlfriends. I even lost the 118 at one point–thanks to that stupid mistake with the lawyer. Everybody leaves. And–and now with you, and Eddie. I'm tired, Tommy. I'm so goddamn tired."

Tears drip down Buck's cheeks. It's exhausting, viewing every relationship as a ticking time bomb waiting to go off, waiting for them to exit left out of his life. He thought things might be different with Tommy, it was one of his longest relationships, but he was wrong.

"You know, when you broke up with me that night, you said you'd be my first, but not my last. You were wrong. I-I love you so much, Tommy, even though you broke my heart. I hate you for leaving just like everyone else, but I also love you. You'll always be my first and last now. It's my turn to leave."

"Evan!" Tommy shouts into the phone and Buck cringes. "Evan, please, don't do anything. I'm on my way, okay, baby? Please just sit still and wait for me and we can talk–about everything. Please."

It'd be so easy to lean forward and let gravity do the work to drag him off the edge. The side of the cliff digs into the bottom of his thighs and he kicks his feet, knocking against some of the dirt and watching it tumble down.

His phone starts buzzing insistently in his hand with texts. Tommy must have sent out a message. He doesn't look at any of them as he pulls his phone to set it on Do Not Disturb before putting it to his ear again.

He doesn't know what to do. He wants the hurt to stop, he just wants it all to stop, but he's afraid. What if he's too weak to commit? Just like he's too weak to not let people back into his life, even if he knows they'll just leave again.

Weak and toxic.

He drops his phone onto his lap and hunches down, elbows pressing into his knees as he covers his face. He can hear sirens in the distance getting closer.

A strangled sob rips its way from his throat and he makes his decision.

"Okay. I'll wait for you."

There's an audible sigh of relief from Tommy. "Thank you, Evan. I'll be right there, okay? Keep talking to me, baby."

He doesn't know what to say anymore and tells Tommy as much.

"That's okay, Evan. I-I heard from Howie that you were baking lately? What have you been baking?"

Buck knows what's Tommy's doing. He's stalling so that Buck doesn't kill himself before Tommy and the first responders can get to him. He's done it dozens of times before to people on the edge while he's rescuing them.

"A lot of bread, really. Pumpkin bread, banana bread, butternut squash. I even, uh, have a sourdough starter that I've been feeding for a couple of weeks now. I named it Billy because it looks sometimes just like the, uh, boils I got from the curse when it expands."

Tommy lets out a watery laugh. "Of course, you'd name your sourdough starter." He clears his throat and the sirens are suddenly much louder in Buck's ears before they cut off abruptly. Quiet, rushed talking that Buck doesn't understand before Tommy starts running. "What else?"

"I made baked Alaska pretty soon after we broke up. It took me hours to make, and the entire time it was setting in the freezer, I had to bake other things to stop myself from calling you. I-I don't know if Chim told you that's why I started baking, but it is."

When Tommy responds, it's not through the phone. He comes to a stop beside him. "It sounds like your coping mechanism was more productive than mine, at least. Want to get away from the edge for me, Evan?"

He holds out his hand and Buck takes it with a shaky laugh. "Oh, yeah? What was yours?" The knowledge that Tommy was moping just as bad as Buck makes him feel...something.

"Eating entire pints of ice cream by myself on the couch while watching rom-coms." Tommy pulls Buck to his feet and wraps his arms tight around him. Buck can feel how badly Tommy is shaking. "Thank god you're okay. Thank you so much for calling me, Evan. Fuck."

Buck hugs him back and ignores the paramedics lingering behind him. He knows he's going to be taken away in the ambulance and put under a 72-hour hold because of this. He doesn't think about that, or what it means for his job when he's let out.

He focuses on Tommy and the way he clings to him. He came back. Sure, maybe he'll leave again when the initial scare of everything fades away, but it's more than most people have done in the past.

Tommy pulls away first and holds Buck's face gently in his hands. There are tear tracks on his cheeks and more spill over as he looks Buck over. "I love you too. I didn't say it earlier and didn't say it then, but I am now. I love you so much, Evan Buckley.

It doesn't fix everything, doesn't even scratch the surface, but it raises something dangerous in Buck's chest.

Hope.

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Pack: Chapter 6

Trigger Warnings: none

The journey home was insatiable. It was awkward and quiet. Seungmin had even attempted to turn on the radio while he drove back but Felix turned it off with a huff. There were too many thoughts going around his head. Why did Minho bring her to his home? Why couldn't Minho have warned him? What is she thinking? Does she hate humans? Is Olivia going to pry? What's mum going to think? Felix felt stressed and conflicted. He wasn't annoyed at Y/N whatsoever but the situation put pressure on him. "So how's Chan hyung?" Seungmin asked as he put a dent in the awkward silence. "Jaehee's breaking his bones today. He's not healing. She's worried one of the wolves may have had a poisonous bite and that's caused Chan to struggle to fight the infection and heal." Minho answered plainly as he played with Y/N's hand. Minho looked up and gave her a soft smile as he squeezed her hand. "Why didn't Jaehee pick this up before?" Seungmin asked, there was concern in his voice as he thought about the weeks his alpha was suffering. Minho sighed and looked out of the window. "Because Chan is stubborn. He didn't want Y/N to worry so he's been trying to fight it. He even asked me to try and cut parts out of his leg." Minho stated. "You did what?" Y/N asked worriedly. "I told him it was stupid," Minho muttered. "The things you do for love!" Seungmin clicked his tongue. "Oh. You want to talk about doing things for love. The last time you did something for love you nearly killed yourself." Minho growled, smacking the younger beta's head.

Y/N could see Minho really cared about the younger wolf despite his aggression towards him. It made Y/N smile as she saw the beta glare through the wing mirror. "If puppy asked to sacrifice me in a ritual I would do it," Seungmin stated proudly while the three of them looked at him with concern. They were slightly disturbed by the confession. "That's not normal Minnie," Y/N stated. "She's right," Felix added. "What? It doesn't matter. Anyways. My love is exclusively for Y/N only." Seungmin answered causing them to roll their eyes, but the concern of Seungmin's confession didn't go unnoticed by Minho. Minho was aware of Seungmins intense emotions but he was worried about how this would lie with Y/N, because once Seungmin becomes obsessed he never lets it go. As soon as Seungmin is fixated on something, he will not stop until it's deep within his grasp. It worried Minho and right now Y/N seemed oblivious to it. She seemed unfazed by his words as if he joked about them a lot, and he did make slight comments about her. About owning her. It was strange, but Minho didn't want to alarm anyone, not yet at least, but was it Seungmin he needed to worry about or another wolf in the house?

Seungmin pulled up to the side of the house, parking next to Chan's car before snacking his car door against Chan's car. "Careful." Minho grumbled, causing the beta to shrug. Y/N shook her head and got out of the car noticing Hyunjins car had gone. "He's gone to the shops with Jisung to get you a phone," Minho said. "A phone?" Y/N was confused. "Yeah, because how else are you supposed to know where we are if we're late? It's also easier for you to get a hold of us without using one of us." Minho explained. "Oh." Y/N nodded as she shut the door. "Wait," Felix called as he grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him so that he could embrace her. His head fell straight into her neck tightly. "Felix!" Y/N cooed as she stroked his hair affectionately. "I can explain. Hear me out. There's a reason I never told you and you probably worked it out when you smelt them. And I never wanted them to know or you to find out. And I-" "Felix calm down. It's alright. I don't care what they are. I just want to understand. That is all." Y/N promised as she lifted his head up, looking into his frazzled eyes. It was a secret that some of the wolves didn't know and it was a lot for him to reveal it. "Felix. I want to know." Y/N pleaded. Felix nodded and nudged her towards the car. He could feel Minho listening and he didn't like that.

Y/N opened the car door and sat on the back seat, watching Felix climb in. He was nervous. Y/N could tell. It was the way he kept looking back as if he was going to be caught. Felix took a deep breath and rubbed his face as he built up the courage to tell her. "My father is an omega and my mother is human. My mother doesn't know my father is a werewolf. Fuck. I don't know how to explain this." Felix looked up at the roof of the car as he tried to find the right words. "My father came from an omega pack. He was a part of the revolution against alphas. There were nineteen in their pack, but they were divided in beliefs so a schism happened. My father stayed with his pack. I think there were six or seven. I can't remember what he told me but apparently war happened with a head alpha and when the head omega wanted to take them out my father ran away. He ran because he didn't want to be executed. My mum was carrying Rachel, so he couldn't do that to her. My mum believed he got into some trouble growing up so they moved into the house you saw. Then I came along and then Olivia came." "But how are you a werewolf? I don't understand." Y/N whispered. "I don't know, but my father picked up on the signs and tried to teach me everything he knew. My father believes I could have been a beta because of a recessive gene but who knows? Chan found me through my father who was looking for a werewolf pack at the time to teach me. The thing was Chan had a high opinion of omega packs back then, as long as I was loyal to him, Chan would never hand over my father." Felix stated with an awkward smile as if the whole situation was tough luck. He looked at Y/N whose brown eyes watched him as she tried to piece together what he had said. "I didn't tell you because I didn't know how you would react. Many werewolves are prejudiced or fearful of omega packs. Even Minho hyung despises them along with Hyunjin and Seungmin so it wasn't like I could say anything to them. Only Chan and Jeongin really know. The others have speculation but have never asked. I guess I also worried because of what happened with you and Ateez, I didn't want it to escalate further and target my family." "Oh, Lixie. I'm not mad. I was hurt for three minutes but I knew there was something more because we promised we would always tell each other." Y/N reached out and cupped his face in her hands. Her warmth made him close his eyes. "What I think is an omega pack is pretty cool and I support that because us omegas are treated badly you know."

Felix grunted lowly at her obnoxious thoughts. He didn't need her deciding to rebel against them. "My love. Don't even think about it. You are treated well. If not spoilt." Felix grumbled. "Me spoilt? Definitely not it depends on what you categorise as spoilt." Y/N stated causing him to roll his eyes. "I am sorry I didn't say anything when you came into the room. I kind of panicked and I couldn't exactly say you were my girlfriend when Seungmin had his hands wrapped around you, but then I felt guilty. So. So. So guilty baby. Not only that Rachel is so judgemental and I didn't want her to even have those thoughts about you." Felix stressed causing Y/N to roll her eyes. "I mean technically I am a whore-" Felix put his hand over her mouth, silencing her with a glare. "Do not ever say that. Ever." Felix growled. "Yes, Lixie." Y/N teased as she kissed him. She missed his kisses. They were always so loving and tender. They were delicate, like him. "Do you ever worry something may happen?" Y/N asked. "My father expects it but I worry for my mother and sisters. They never asked to be apart of this world and I want to keep it hidden from them." Felix answered. "If they do I will rebel," Y/N stated as she crossed her arms. "If you do. I can punish you now. You've been claimed." Felix said as his yellow eyes glowed slightly. "Um. Hello. Seungmin is that you?" Y/N teased, causing Felix to growl and chase her out of the car. Things were starting to get better despite the small cracks that were starting to show.

Taglist for the iconic readers:

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[arceus-insanity]

Endeavor Deserves No Sympathy!

I don't understand how anyone can think Endeavor was ever a good dad. It also always comes off as incredibly victim blamie, especially towards Touya, and often Shoto too.

He literally only got married and had kids to use them. He never gave a shit about their well being, never even thought about it until he had the one thing he cared about and was still miserable. I've already gone over the math proving he gave up on achieving his dream himself at 21 at the absolute latest. (https://www.tumblr.com/arceus-insanity/763259515356512256/i-liked-endeavors-character-when-he-was?source=share)

And basic math will once again be used to prove just how little this waste of flesh actually tries.

This time the focus is on how quickly he abandoned Touya and immediately went to emotional abuse via neglect & literally replacing him, and once again risking that more children be born with self-destructive quirks.

For context we only see Endeavor doing anything with his kids that's not him literally walking through and ignoring them in two circumstances. Once when Fuyumi's a newborn and Touya is attempting to crawl (not walk) over to her. And training. Those are the only times he tries to spend with any of them, even after he starts his 'atonement'

Now comparing Touya in the scene of them training and himself as a toddler and all the child imagery this series loves to use instead of actually saving imperfect victims, Touya is at least 3 (probably closer to 4) when he's taken to the doctor and they are informed of his condition

Natsuo is 4 and a half years younger than him.

We know for a fact Natsuo (& Shoto) was conceived after they got the news, not willingly either. Pregnancy takes 40 weeks average, so Touya would still be 3 when Natsuo was conceived. So once again it took this 'man' less than a year to give up and have another child he hoped to use as a tool, and was explicitly making to hurt his existing son. And as I have said plenty of times before, risking that the new kids could be born with the same disorder, I hate how convenient it is that Shoto gets near zero negative quirk side effects.

Want to know what we never see, Endeavor doing something else with Touya and Touya demanding training, it's always him walking past/ away from Touya. Considering all of the shit they've pulled to soften Endeavor's abuse both in the manga and even more so in the anime, they wouldn't skip something like this. It's not hard to tell that Touya's 'obsession with training' is really about spending time with his dad, you know like a human child that literally needs love, proven by numerous studies and research in the real world.

He throws all parenting responsibilities onto Rei, adds more children to that load, and when Touya suffers for it (like everyone else) he does nothing, doesn't even hire a nanny

Another are you kidding me take I've seen is that somehow Touya's quirk issues are worse than Midoriya's and Yuga's. Touya managed to train his quirk to produce blue fire at 13 with zero equipment and less than no help, and only lost control of it, because of the mental abuse Endeavor had inflicted on him leading him to a mental breakdown. And/ or the theory I've only seen once of AFO using his ability to force quirk activation (seen with a passed out chapter 90 during his first confrontation with All Might)

Midoriya was breaking his bones all the way into the Shie Hassaikai arc and was only able to fight because Eri and was breaking support equipment in the following arc as well. Yuga had a support belt all the way back in the entrance exam and was still struggling with that.

Speaking of Yuga let's compare parental effort here, because as much as it backfired Yuga's parents tried a whole lot more. For starters they nearly bankrupted themselves to get him a quirk, so he could feel equal. All For One is a mythic man prior to his arrest, and those who knew of him were shown to be serious long-term villain groups, so they had gone to quite a bit of effort to find that he existed to begin with. They also got him support gear (the navel belt thing) as a kid to help him with said quirk, he literally had it in the entrance exam. Endeavor never looked into that, Endeavor is not only rich too but he's a top hero he would have direct access to support equipment companies that would jump at the opportunity and it never even occurred to him.

Endeavor's name is an irony as endeavour means to try hard to do or achieve something. He never tries hard he gives up incredibly quickly the second there's any road block, but instead of moving on he makes everyone suffer for it. He's a toxic pageant mom who'd rather force their child into a toxic world and a role they don't want than work on himself

And what finally makes him change? Getting exactly what he wanted and still being miserable, and he still expects through his actions his family to cater to him.

Not his son getting a major disability due to his actions, no, he decided to double down, mentally abusing and neglecting the son he supposedly loves, raping his wife who didn't want more kids or participate in this abuse, and again risking that Natsuo & later Shoto might have that same issue. Not when his wife breaks down and permanently scars his precious masterpiece, who proceeds to rightfully blame him, and he just thinks of it as a tantrum despite it lasting a fucking decade. Not when his eldest literally dies as the result of his selfishness. Not literally during any part of this entire process!

Dabi is 23 when Endeavor finally starts to 'try' to be better, that means that for at least 24 years he has only been caring about his fucking precious number one spot in a popularity contest that he couldn't even bother to try to be likeable for, this wasn't one bad decision, this was him constantly choosing to be so insanely selfish that he found ways that shouldn't even be possible for over two decades. And it was all him.

[darkkitty1208]

This art has been on my mind since I saw it, so... *drops this* *runs away*

~

It's a new thing, this relationship of theirs. Serizawa has never felt more nervous or thrilled about anything in his life.

Reigen and him are, well... a thing, now, he supposes. They've never really talked about putting a label on it, but what he's sure of is that they're definitely past calling each other friends and most definitely past what Reigen used to make him assume is a normal, professional coworker-to-coworker relationship. Which for the record, their previous so-called coworker dynamic wasn't exactly the conventional kind.

There's only one problem, though. Despite going out for dates sometimes, staying over each other's apartments, holding hands and sharing meals and kissing a few times... perhaps kissing a lot of times—neither of them have ever really... confessed. The traditional kind. With the three, simple words that seemed so climactic in romance movies.

It's not like he's afraid that Reigen won't say them back—their time spent together is proof enough that his feelings are reciprocated—but it's just that... the words feel too precious. Too intimate. Something meant to be reserved for grand, special moments. Something climactic. Like in romance movies.

Sometimes Serizawa finds himself holding the words back. They’re always in the simpler moments, too ordinary for something that holds far too much meaning. In evenings where they cuddle on the couch as the TV drones on, neither of them really watching. In times where Reigen laughs or smiles—the genuine kind, not just the ones he puts on display for clients—and Serizawa finds himself breathless at the sight.

In times like this, after they've gone out of their usual bar with one too many drinks; or at least, Serizawa drank three glasses of whiskey and is a little tipsy but holding himself pretty well, and Reigen drank a non-alcoholic lemon sour and is currently tripping balls.

It's raining when they left, and Serizawa's glad he has an umbrella on himself at all times. When they're sharing it like this, under the canopy that is the umbrella, clumsily making their way back to Reigen’s, he can't help but be hyper-aware of their proximity. The way the three words wait at the tip of his tongue, desperate for release. 

Reigen's babbling. Loudly, so he could speak over the rain, but Serizawa isn't really listening anyway. He's too busy tracing the lines of his face with his eyes, the barely comprehensible jumble of words coming out of those lips. There's something endearing about Reigen like this, slightly disheveled and hilariously talkative. More so than usual, really, but Serizawa has never had a problem with that to begin with.

Maybe it's the liquid courage in his bones. Maybe it's because he's not just a little tipsy. But this time, Serizawa finds he can't hold those three, precious words back.

"I love you," he blurts out before he knows it. And then the realisation hits him—deliberately, as the alcohol in his system slows everything to a trickle—and immediately begins to panic. "I— I mean, you— you don't need to say it back or anything, it's just—"

"I love you, too."

Serizawa's head turns to look downwards so quickly he has to reel himself in from the whiplash. There, under the shade of the umbrella, the gentle orange light from the streetlamp overhead casting a glow behind him, with a light dusting of pink on his cheeks that could be from the chill or the alcohol or... something else, stands Reigen, staring back at him with parted lips and a look of something like wonder.

"I love you, too," he repeats, slightly lower enough he would've missed it amidst the loud rain if not for how close they are, and Serizawa feels his own cheeks heat up.

Reigen's pupils remain steadily on his face as Serizawa's dart around to search his, and the next moment, they're kissing. He doesn't know who initiated it first; he leans down the same time Reigen reaches up on his tip toes, and their lips meet like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Distantly, he hears the clink of the umbrella as it slips from his hold and onto the wet ground, but he can't bring himself to care enough about the downpour subsequently wetting their suits and hair when Reigen's hand reaches up to cup his jaw. He can't bring himself to care enough about the chill that goes down his spine from the cold when Reigen angles their heads to deepen the kiss, pressing their bodies flush to each other until all Serizawa can think about is every point of contact between them. The way they mold together into one piece. Like two, perfectly fitting puzzles; made for each other.

His hands find themselves gripping onto Reigen's waist, trailing one backwards to the small of his back and up along a shoulderblade to push Reigen impossibly closer. His heart is thundering loudly in his chest that he's almost sure Reigen can hear it even with the rain loudly beating against the concrete.

It feels a little cliché. Like he's in one of those B-rated romcom movies Reigen likes to put on sometimes. It’s something he’s imagined so many times. It doesn’t feel as climactic as he had expected, if anything he feels the same way to Reigen as he had before, and it’s not anything he would even consider particularly special, but it still makes butterflies erupt in his stomach and his heart burst like confetti. It’s perfect. He wonders stupidly why he’s waited so long to say those words. 

It must be ridiculous to an outsider; two businessmen, fully suited but drenched from head to toe with rainwater, kissing under the rain as an umbrella lays casually on the ground beside them.

Serizawa can't help it, then—he pulls back, a sudden giddiness bubbling in his stomach and rising up his throat, and he giggles. He can barely blink his eyes open, assaulted as they are by the rain, but he can still make out the look of slight surprise in Reigen's face before he, too, is giggling.

And now this must look even more ridiculous to an outsider than before, and that just makes him giggle even harder.

He's breathless by the time Reigen wraps his arms around his neck, pulling his head back down until their laughter mingles together in the slight space between them and their wet foreheads bump to the other's. He can't tell whether he's tearing up or not from how hard he's laughing as the rain continues to drip down his face. Reigen only seems to pull them closer together.

"God, look what you've done to my suit," Reigen loudly complains, shoving his shoulder playfully with a sluggish hand. "We're so drunk. This is ridiculous."

Serizawa's laughter has reduced to small, rumbled chuckles now. With a gentle direction of his fingers, he floats the umbrella back up to hold it above them.

"Sorry," he says, but grinning still. 

“Oh, won't you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?

And when you get a taste, can you tell me what's my flavor?

I don't believe in God, but I believe that you're my savior

My mom says that she's worried, but I'm covered in this favor…”

——————————————————————————

Hi tumblr, it’s been a bit but I wanted to share this today! So take SeriRei but kissing in the rain

[romana-after-dark]

heyaa!! for your follower fundraiser game i have found 4 titles!! (i hope im doing this right)

ghost of you (5sos), yellow (coldplay), apple (charlie xcx), and burn (ellie goulding)

if i got all those correctly, can i request for Logan howlett please? i would love anything dark about him. thank you!!

Hi Hi Hi!!!!!

Roman's 1000 follower fundraiser game

Thanks so much for playing! ghost of you is actually from MCR, and Apple came out (i think?) after Apple did, but yes to the other two!

thats 200 words for you, and $2 to smile train! After writing, this still ended up 550 words lol

Here is some dark Logan for you! I expanded on dacryphelia logan I did months ago

Let it Out

Logan Howlett x gn!reader

Main Masterlist : Logan Masterlist

Follow @romana-updates and click follow, join my tumblr community or ask to join the tag list to keep up!

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi : Go Fund Me

Summary: You're crying to Logan about your family rejecting you as a mutant. Logan isn't helping.

Warning: Dacryphelia, maybe some trauma kink? But shes not talking about sa or anything. jerking off subtly. Nothing sexual really happens to reader. mentions of family not accepting reader as a mutant, (lgbt allegory?) Logan doesn't non con or anything but she's not consenting to what he's doing, even if they are mostly unaware. He's kinda goofy and silly in this one I won't lie.

******

"I just don't understand, I'm their child!" You sob onto Logan's plain white T-shirt as the two of you sit on the couch. Love is Blind is forgotten in the background, your attempts to reach out to your parents after years of rejection leaving you a sobbing mess.

Unfortunately, the sight of you had him rock hard in his pants. It wasn't his fault, really! He can't control when he gets a raging erection. He can't control that he gets it while you cry against his shoulder, so vulnerable and trusting...

Your parents had rebuffed your latest attempt to reach out, rejecting you for being a mutant and you were distraught, no reason for him to get bricked up on a Tuesday afternoon. And yet. here he was.

He needed to take care of business before you noticed he was hard. Logan reached down, rubbing his aching cock as his other hand cradled your head, trying to be comforting but also kinda holding you there.

"I know baby, I know... I sorry..." His voice hitched a little bit when his palm ram down the length of him, full pressure, trying to make himself cum in his pants as quick as possible. He glided over himself, feeling cock desperately twitching in his jeans, begging for your mouth as salty tears ran down...

"He was never there for me, I think he kn-knew something was wrong with me even before my mutation showed..."

Faster, harder. Logan's breathing grew a little ragged as his release neared, getting harder by the second when he could feel your tears on his peck. "It's not fair. He was always gonna b-be mad at you, no matter what you were... hmm..."

"Lo, are you okay?" You tried to lift your head up to look at you, but he holds you down shushing your worries in a strained voice.

"Don't worry bought me baby, just m'old bones creaking. Just let it out." I'm so close... he thought to himself. Part of him wanted to drag it out, relish in the pleasure of how good your voice felt crying to him, his own hand making himself feel good... but you were already calming down. He needed to make this quick. He needed to egg you on a bit. "I mean, he tried to kick you out even before they knew you were a mutant."

Bringing up this trauma caused a fresh bought of tears from you, leaving you wracked in sobs in his arms.

Rubbing himself quickly, Logan bit his lip HARD as he came, stifling the moan but not his abs flexing in the process. Warm filled his leg and he felt embarrassed, wondering how he was going to get out of this was a wet spot now. Oh well, a problem for Logan a few hours from now, not for Logan now. Now, he revealed in his release, the ache releaving as he stroked out every last drop he had in an attempt to prevent his short refractory period from causing issues again.

Now Logan had his baby in his arms and could relax and try to make her feel better.

"It's okay sweetheart... I'm here for you now."

***********************

@tomhockstetter7-111 @hornystan @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @del-ightfulling @madamerubrum @journal3sposts @and-claudia @yeaiamme2 @xoxabs88xox

[shaunamilfman]

the ghost you dressed up as [8]

pairing: Jackie Taylor x Shauna Shipman x r summary: Continues off where seven ends. Just smut really. note: last chapter, and the smut you've been waitinggg for masterlist

“This is sick, even for you,” You comment idly, tone far too casual for the accusation. Still, you don’t bother to move your hand from where it cups the side of her face, enjoying the feeling of her warm skin against your hand.

It shouldn’t surprise you how quickly she switches between predator and lover. Really, if you think about it you wonder if there is even a difference for her. Isn’t the violence just foreplay?

Shauna gives you that infuriating grin, utterly unashamed as she leans back against the car door. Her messy hair and swollen lips paint a clear picture of what has her breathing hard, both of which have nothing to do with the murders you’ve just committed. There’s blood smeared across her cheek, but you’ve come to expect it at this point.

You’ve had to bat her hands away more than once, refusing to let those still-bloody fingers find their way to your skin. Her eyes are focused on yours, something dark and amused present as she just watches. It makes something in your stomach twist in a way you wish it wouldn’t. There’s such a thrill in it, and you can’t find it in yourself to deny it.

She revels in the bloodshed she causes, even more so in the way you're still standing by her side afterward like you might just kiss her again. You can still picture the way Jeff had looked as he bled out beneath you, those dumb, trusting eyes wide with a mix of fear and betrayal. He hasn't even had time to scream���just a few gasping breaths as he went down. He’d hit the ground so hard you almost feared he’d somehow fall through the floor, but Shauna was quickly there to urge you on.

The body was still warm when you left; Jeff barely finished bleeding out. But that’s not what unsettles you. It’s her. Always her.

“You liked it,” Shauna says, sounding excited at the very thought of it. 

Her head turns just slightly to the side, studying you with a look far too intimate for the situation. It’s like she can see everything, all the way down to the bone. Dissecting you with just her eyes. You shift uncomfortably, feeling stripped of all of your pretenses.

It’s that knowing edge to her smile that makes you want to wrap your hands around her throat, if only to keep her from speaking. It wouldn't be hard. You know how much pressure you'd need to apply and how long you'd need to squeeze until she just stopped being a problem. Stop being a thing that threatens to unravel you. 

You hate when she hints at things you don’t want to admit.

Shauna smiles again, like she can tell what you're thinking. Some part of her would welcome it at first, you know. She'd love the fight, the raw intensity of it. The way she'd gasp for air as your fingers tightened, and tightened. She wouldn't give in immediately, not Shauna. She'd claw at your hands, punch at anything she could reach. Until you didn't let go. Until you just keep holding on and the panic sets in. Even then, some part of her would still want it–would crave the moment she couldn't fight back anymore. 

Don't you just want to give it to her? 

Your fingers twitch with the urge, hands up to her shoulders before you even realize what you're doing. You press her back into the car, pulling her head back with a handful of her hair. She gasps as her head arches back, eyes wide with delight. 

“You like this, too,” She whispers, glancing down at your lips. Not a taunt, just the truth. “Don't you hide from me.”

Her head tilts back, neck exposed, showing off the mark you'd sucked into her skin last night. 

“Did you like it, Shauna?” You say finally, a thumb on Shauna's chin as you turn her head to the other side. Leaning down to mouth at the empty side of her neck, you add, “Knowing I killed Jeff?”

Shauna's breath catches in her throat, her fingers tightening around the shoulders of your shirt. She pulls you closer, like the mere mention of the memory excites her again. The answer is obvious: in the way her body arches, in the sounds she makes, the gleam in her eyes showing everything but remorse. She wants it. She loves it. 

Just like you. 

You wrinkle your nose in distaste as Shauna grabs at the side of your face, leaving bloody smears across your skin. It's warm, sticky, a constant reminder of what the three of you had done tonight. But the look in her eyes–wild, dark, the lingering thirst for violence–makes all of it worth it. Her grip is firm as she lowers you down to your knees, unrelenting in her desire to have you. 

“You showed up to a murder wearing a dress?” You ask, the corners of your lips twitching into something of a smile as you work her panties down her legs. 

Shauna rolls her eyes, propping her knee over your shoulder as she grabs a handful of your hair. “Jackie likes it,” She says simply, like that explains everything. It does, in a way. Jackie likes it, so Shauna wore it. You know what it's like to bend to Jackie's whims, happily doing things you'd never normally do just for a glimpse of that pleased smile. Shauna's no different: both of you marching to the beat of Jackie Taylor's drum. 

You laugh under your breath as you follow Shauna's insistent tugging up her thighs, leaving as many marks on her skin as her impatience allows. Her breath hitches, her body reacting to your advances even as she's still urging you higher. 

Shauna's leg tenses around your shoulder, her thigh rubbing against the remnants of blood on your face and smearing across the inside of her thigh. As she digs the heel of her shoe into your back, you finally close the distance as you bury your face between her thighs. She lets out a quiet noise as your tongue makes first contact with her wetness, bucking into your face until your hands firmly pin her hips back against the cold metal of the car door. 

The hem of her dress bunches around your shoulders, brushing teasingly against the back of your neck as you mouth at her cunt. 

“Hate that you're so good at that,” Shauna grumbles as your tongue flicks at her clit, as much of an encouragement as it was a reproach. The way her thighs tremble gives her away regardless, nails digging into your scalp as she loses herself in her pleasure.

Shauna's hand pries the fingers from one hand away from her thigh, bending your pinky back until you yelp and let go before she leads it pointedly up to the hem of her dress. You wish you could see the way she's looking at you, knowing how intense her eyes must look. 

“How many?” You ask breathily, pulling away just long enough to speak, lips brushing against her skin. 

“Three.” 

“Three?”

“Three,” She insists impatiently, tugging at your hair in reproach. You're nothing if not obedient in this, and only this, brushing three fingers against her skin before pressing into her. 

Shauna cries out, the sound mixing together with the lewd sound of her wetness. It cuts off into a whimper as she bites at her hand, regrettably cutting off those wonderful noises as her teeth sink into her knuckles. 

You take her back into your mouth, the taste of her drawing you right back in as you relentlessly circle her clit. You gave it to her hard, furiously, almost punishing–just the way she likes, as she still revels in the violence she's caused. There's something so terribly hot when she gets like this, desperate to hurt and be hurt. 

She responds just as violently, hips bucking as you struggle to keep her up. You can feel her slick heat against your chin with every roll of her hips; you can hear the car window rattling behind her. Shauna gasps loudly, the sound traveling even from around her knuckles as she teeters on the edge. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Shauna whimpers, trying to draw you closer with her leg as she squeezes it around your shoulder. You're supporting almost all of her weight by this point. If you weren't here to hold her up, you're sure she'd be a puddle on the floor. 

Shauna slams her hand against the car door as she comes, over and over, as the door rattles beneath the force of it. She's dented it at this point, there's no doubt in your mind, but poor Kevin Car-nold has seen more than its fair share of dents at this point. She gets so violent when she comes like this, like the sheer force of it is too much for her to handle. If she can't sink her teeth into your shoulder, then whatever’s close enough to her fist is going to take the brunt of her release. 

She just can't stop herself. 

Her thighs are trembling, almost sitting on your shoulders as she leans heavily back against the door. You can hear her ragged breaths even from your knees, wondering what she must look like as you're still hidden beneath her dress. 

You jerk away at the sound of crunching leaves, nearly taking Shauna down to the ground as she stumbles forward with her leg still over your shoulder. 

“You guys started without me?” Jackie asks, sounding utterly betrayed, cellphone and mask still in hand. You groan against Shauna's thigh, who pats your head sympathetically. 

… 

You laugh breathlessly against Jackie's jaw, the sound muffled against her skin as she lets out a frustrated whine into Shauna's mouth. She squirms in your lap, straining against your arm around her hips as she tries to chase after Shauna as she pulls away. The way Jackie shudders when she’s denied what she wants yet again is enough to make you smile, enjoying her little sounds of discontent more than you thought you would.

You soothe the ache Shauna’s retreat causes as you nip at a patch of skin just under her jaw, teeth running across already bruised skin. Jackie turns on you almost immediately to tear your mouth away from her skin, tightening the grip she’s already had on your hair as she tugs you toward her. Her lips crash into yours, messy and frantic, as she tries to pull you impossibly closer. She’s almost shaking as she presses into you, all gasps and sighs and bitten lips.

Jackie was growing desperate as you and Shauna passed her back and forth–playing with her–each kiss ending just as she got into it before the other would pull her away. She always complains, but you both know how much she loves being treated as a prize. Every time she reached for one of you, the other would respond, leaving her practically trembling as she grabbed at you. Her nails dig into your scalp, taking everything you’re offering and still finding more.

Shauna brushes her fingers across Jackie’s back as she finally has to pull away for breath, sweeping her hair over one shoulder before pressing a kiss against it. 

“Look at you,” Shauna murmurs against her skin, a slow, deliberate phrase that makes Jackie shiver.

“Shauna,” Jackie whines breathily, turning to capture her lips only to be evaded again. Shauna laughs at Jackie’s expression, sharing a quick look with you as she jerks her head. 

You maintain eye contact just long enough for Shauna’s eyes to start to narrow, a warning, before you answer her unspoken demand, sitting up and shifting Jackie off your lap to lower her onto the bed. Jackie’s sheer delight at the position–clearly hoping she’s finally getting the attention she’s been angling for all night–is quickly squashed as Shauna leans over her to kiss you instead.

Jackie’s gasp of surprise is swallowed up by the press of Shauna’s lips against yours. Her hands come up to cup the sides of your face with an uncharacteristic gentleness that’s almost entirely for Jackie’s benefit. Jackie’s hands fist in the sheets as she stares up with wide, impatient eyes, her chest heaving with each breath that leaves her.

“Mean,” Jackie mutters, an ever-familiar note of petulance entering her voice. She rolls her eyes as she props herself up to start working at the buttons of her jeans. You pull away from Shauna to watch, your forehead resting against hers as your eyes watch Jackie’s nimble fingers make short work of the button and zipper.

Shauna’s quick to help, reaching for her ankle and nearly pulling Jackie off the bed in her eagerness to deprive her of her jeans. You grab at Jackie’s shoulders to keep her from ending up as a puddle on the ground, a delighted giggle leaving her mouth as she nearly becomes airborne. 

“Careful,” You chide gently with a laugh of your own, glancing at an unrepentant Shauna over your shoulder.

Jackie’s peal of laughter turns into a sigh as your lips press against her collarbone, trailing down her skin as you take full advantage of the way her shirt’s twisted around in the chaos. You reach for the first button of her shirt, lowering your head to her chest as you follow each one with a kiss against her skin.

Each one’s rewarded with a sigh from Jackie as you move down her chest, her body responding eagerly to the attention. She grabs at your shoulder as you pause to give the sliver of her breast that peeks out of her bra attention, an impatient noise leaving her mouth even as her back arches up against your mouth.

“Greedy,” Shauna comments idly, settling up at Jackie’s hip to get a better view. “You already rushed us through killing–”

“Never mention a boy when–” Jackie starts, only to gasp as you mouth at her chest through the thin fabric of her bra, the words getting stuck in her throat. “When I’m half-dressed ever again. Actually, just don’t in general.”

You can’t help but laugh against the curve of her breast, grinning with delight as Jackie pointedly digs her nails into your shoulder in reproach. She squeals as your cold hands slip beneath the side of her shirt, trailing across her back as you tug at the clasp of her bra. She’s squirming too much from the brush of your fingers for the move to be as smooth as you imagined when you started, but her bra gives way nonetheless, freeing her chest for your attention.

Jackie’s hands find their way back into your hair as she gives herself over to your attention. She’s firmer this time, more insistent, tugging you along as she leads you where she wants you. There’s no need for words to be spoken. The way her nails scrape against your scalp as she moves you lower still says more than words ever could. 

Her breathing gets heavier as you finish off the last few buttons of her shirt, looking down at you with blown pupils as you rest your chin against the tops of her thighs. You grin up at her, making sure she’s looking before you hook your fingers in the waistband of her panties. She lifts her hips off the bed, just as eager to get them off as you are to take them. You pull away just long enough to toss them in the direction of her jeans, but it was long enough for Shauna to strike: her hand already slipping into the place you’ve just vacated, palming Jackie with deliberate pressure.

Jackie gasps, hips jerking into her hand as she braces a foot against the mattress. Her head falls back against the sheets, lips parted as her eyes slip shut. You watch with a mixture of amusement–leave it to Shauna to let you do all the work and sweep in to take the credit–and arousal as Shauna’s fingers work their magic. There’s something undeniably hot about watching her when she’s like this. 

She’s slow, almost teasing as she drags out reactions from Jackie.

You can tell the moment she’s finally slipped her fingers inside, watching as Jackie grabs at Shauna’s arm with a noise that’s just on the verge of being pained. Shauna seems to love giving Jackie just a little too much too quickly, watching with something achingly familiar to the look she gives her victims as Jackie writhes in response. Jackie never complains, clearly just as content to take it.

Rising to your feet, you slowly climb up next to her. Jackie’s almost flailing in her effort to reach your hand, tangling your fingers together as she turns her head for a kiss you’re more than happy to give. You relished the sounds she made, even as muffled as they were–the little whimpers as she pleaded with Shauna to continue, the whines torn from her throat when Shauna angled her fingers just right.

Jackie responds immediately, hips lifting to meet the rhythm only to be pinned back down against the bed by two left hands. She writhes in complaint, almost aching to buck into Shauna’s hand as she pushes at your shoulder. You let her push you away, eyes trailing down to watch as Shauna’s fingers move. “Does it feel good, Jackie?”

“Yes, please, yes.” Jackie clings to your shoulders, caught between her pleasure and her constant desire for more. She sounds so pretty when she begs, her voice barely more than a needy whisper. Her hips move as much as they can beneath your hold, yet another plea she doesn’t even bother to voice. You brush a hand lightly through her hair, scratching your nails against her scalp as she trembles beneath you.

“Always so eager, isn’t she?” You ask almost conversationally as you look at Shauna. Shauna smirks, glancing down at the desperate look on Jackie’s face. She leans down to whisper something in Jackie’s ear, low and teasing, something meant only for her, but the way Jackie’s body jerks tells you it was filthy.

“She just can’t help herself,” Shauna agrees, earning another moan from Jackie as she lazily grinds her palm down against Jackie’s clit.

“You’re just so pretty like this, aren’t you?” You ask softly, watching as Jackie shudders at your words. She nods jerkily, too lost in Shauna to even form words. Jackie lets out a breathless whine as Shauna does something with her hands, legs trembling and toes curling into the sheets but still stubbornly hanging on. Her eyes flutter open, unfocused but clearly so needy.

Jackie likes to hold on when she gets like this, forcing herself to revel in your attention for as long as she can keep it. She got some perverse thrill out of it, in being able to withhold her pleasure till she couldn't stand it anymore. You've never quite understood her reasoning behind it–as if either of you wouldn't come running if she spread her legs. 

“She’s close,” Shauna murmurs, eyes glinting as she watches Jackie closely. She enjoys this almost as Jackie does, enjoying the way Jackie’s body betrays her as she teeters right on the edge.

You lean in, your lips brushing against Jackie’s forehead as you ask, “Please?”

For a moment she resists, body tensing as if to fight against it, but then Shauna’s fingers press just right, and Jackie cries out. Her entire body jerks, hips bucking wildly as the two of you work to keep her pressed against the bed as she falls apart.

She goes slack beneath you, breath coming out in ragged gasps as the aftershocks tear through her. Jackie slaps away Shauna’s hand as it lingers just long enough to make her twitch, a weak glare on her face at the dark look of amusement Shauna gives her as she retreats. You trail your hand across her flushed skin, fingers ghosting across her hips and down her thighs, enjoying the way her muscles twitch beneath your light touch.

“You never make it easy on yourself,” Shauna comments, her voice low and affectionate as she wipes her wet fingers across Jackie’s stomach. Jackie groans grumpily at the action, eyes flickering down to catch the glistening marks across her skin Shauna’s left in her wake before quickly looking away. She’s just the right amount of embarrassed, her pretty face flushing as she squirms, but still undeniably pleased with herself.

“Come on, Jackie,” You complain teasingly, squeezing her thigh meaningfully. “You’re not done yet, are you? I haven’t even had a turn.”

Her head lolls to the side to look at the two of you, still breathless as she bites at her lip thoughtfully. Finally, she nods, letting you spread her legs again as you take your place between them.

If this is what a few murders gets you, who are you to complain?

[luckhound]

gintoki + relationship headcanons.

↻ pairing ✦ gintoki/gender neutral reader

↻ request ✦ I read your rules and stuff, and I hope I read it right gsusvjddn can I request some relationship headcanons for Gintoki? I can't watch the final movie for Gintama yet and I am devastateD —anonymous

↻ warnings ✦ mild suggestive content, blink and you'll miss it; terrible attempt at humour

author's note: this is several years late but i Just started a rewatch and was reminded of my love for this story and its characters. so uh, better late than never?

First of all, you deserve a medal for perseverance. You managed to do the impossible by entering into a relationship with this man, who dodges romantic entanglements without even trying to despite the many possible love interests in the source material

Now you have to deal with a cheapskate who doesn't have a single romantic bone in his body. Congrats!

Don't expect to be taken out on a date any time soon; his idea of a good time is to recline on the couch and read Jump. Unfortunately, that doesn't change even when he has a partner who he could be spending his free time with

When the two of you do go out, maybe sit down somewhere for a bite to eat, Gintoki expects you to pay. What? He should foot the bill? With what money? Any cash that so much as brushes his hands is snatched up by the old hag (Otose), or gobbled up by the brat with the bottomless stomach (Kagura), or swallowed up by the pachinko machines that the idiot hits up (Gintoki)

Rarely do you have privacy. At any given time, a revolving door of characters will intrude upon your finite alone time with Gintoki; if it isn't the rare client asking for help, it's one of his friends annoyances (or so he calls them) stumbling into you two, or some two-bit villain hatching the latest evil plan that's plaguing Edo this week

Then there's Shinpachi and Kagura, who stick to the man like gum on a shoe. Sure, you do adore them, but babysitting two kids while trying to spend quality time with Gintoki can get old—you're dating a penniless samurai, not a struggling single dad!

Don't bother expecting him to get jealous or possessive; if someone were to flirt with you in front of him, it'd go right over his head

You would have to spell it out for him after the fact, and even then he'd stare at you with those dead fish eyes, wondering what you wanted him to do about it

Wait a second, you must be thinking. All of these bullet points so far have only listed the cons of dating this bastard! Where's the good stuff? What are the pros?

There aren't any, sorry to say. You're better off dumping him like yesterday's garbage and moving on to someone worth your time

Which is probably what Gintoki would say, if forced at gunpoint to answer truthfully; he has no clue why you tied your fate to him of all people

You, on the other hand, might reply with:

He's constantly finding excuses to touch you. His head in your lap while he reads Jump on the couch, his ankle brushing yours under the table when dining out, his arm tossed around your shoulders as you walk

As much as he loudly complains and huffs and rolls his eyes, he doesn't stop you when you steal food from his plate. He'll even let you swipe some of his parfait, despite threatening to make you pay for another. It'd be easy for him to slap your hand away, but he never does

Romantic he may not be, but you know just how much he wants you by the way he can't keep his hands off you when the mood hits; his every touch elicits shivers, his mouth never strays far from yours for long, his gaze dark and intent on you

There is no one more doggedly loyal than Gintoki. No one who cares more about your wellbeing and happiness. No one else who would put you first when it matters, protect you from anything or anyone that may try to harm you

For those reasons and more, you'll deal with the many downsides that come with dating Sakata Gintoki. Not always happily, mind you, but you'll do it anyway

("Why do they even put up with him?" Shinpachi wonders aloud, watching the two of you bicker for the fifth time that day. "Stockholm syndrome," is Kagura's immediate answer.)

[zombiesthetic]

THOMAS HEWITT WITH A PLUS SIZE S/O . . .

pairing . . . thomas hewitt x plus size!fem reader

warnings . . . hoyt ( he needs his own warning ) , no insecurities or self doubt but mentions of having "bad days" because let's be real, we all have those days.

comments , likes , and reposts are appreciated !

★ let us be real for a moment. thomas would 100% love a woman who has some meat on her bones. someone he doesn't have to treat like fine china.

★ you have curves? he's running his hands over them.

★ you have hip dips? perfect place for him to put his hands.

★ you have nice, soft, plush thighs? it's a perfect place for him to rest his head after a long day of hunting and killing.

★ you have a soft stomach? another amazing place for him to rest his head. it's like his own personal pillow and he loves it.

★ oh. and don't ever let this man see you in a dress. your curves, your soft stomach, your wide hips, your full breasts that threaten to spill out of the top and sides, oh dear lord. it takes everything in him not to stop what he's doing, throw you over his shoulder, and take you to the basement to do ungodly things that luda mae would definitely not approve of.

★ luda mae would definitely talk to him about you having nice "birthing hips". it would confuse the hell out of him. how did she know you had nice birthing hips just by looking at them? but once that idea was planted in his head . . . it's game over.

★ he loves it when you sit in his lap. the feeling of your weight being on him makes his head go fuzzy. ad you better believe that if you don't put your full weight on him, he's tugging you down til you're fully seated.

★ he just loves you. he loves every single thing about you.

★ he loves you even when you have your bad days. you know the days where you don't feel your best? he's right by your side and in his own way, he's telling you he loves everything about you. sure, there's a huge conversation barrier, but you know what he's trying to say.

★ if hoyt even dares to make a snide comment, thomas is locked and loaded, ready to take his brother/uncle down to the basement to butcher him.

★ after a close encounter with tommy's chainsaw, hoyt never said anything again. at least not when tommy could hear him.

★ but all it takes is for you to threaten to tell tommy and hoyt is shutting his mouth. that man really doesn't want to become a victim.

★ when it comes to cuddling, tommy likes to be little spoon. nothing you say can change my mind.

★ after a long day of killing and butchering, all he wants is to lay down on top of you with his head buried in your chest while you run your hand though his dark curls.

★ he's so used to be forced to "be a man" by hoyt, he likes that he doesn't have to be a big macho man when he's with you.

★ of course, he'll put on a "i run this relationship" act in front of hoyt, but when it's just you two. man, is this boy whipped. you tell him to do something, it'll be done within the hour. and of course, it's the other way around too.

★ in the beginning you had to sit him down and tell him that relationships don't have an "owner" and a "pet" like hoyt had always told him.

★ because of hoyt's constant talk of how relationships are "supposed to be", tommy didn't really want to be in a relationship. he didn't like the idea of having to "own" someone.

★ but after you had a nice sit down conversation with him, he liked the idea of being in a 50/50 relationship. you respect and love him and he respects and loves you.

★ in reality, you had to teach tommy a lot of things. but the good thing is . . . tommy is a very fast learner. in more ways than one. *wink* *wink*

★ tommy is really good with his hands. no, not in that way. get your head out of the gutter.

★ if you liked a piece of jewelry one of the victims were wearing but it didn't fit you, tommy would craft it to fit you. you mentioned a ring you liked, but it was a few sizes too small? this man is cutting the band and making it adjustable.

★ you like a necklace but it doesn't quite fit your neck how you want it too? he's stealing a chain from another victim and adding it to the necklace so it'll fit you.

★ you liked a piece of clothing but it's too small? this man is cleaning his sewing machine and creating an entire new piece of clothing with you. ( after he has luda mae get the blood stains out because that woman is scarily good at getting blood stains out of things. )

★ his love language is acts of service and gift giving, obviously.

★ he likes doing things for you and he really loves giving you things.

★ after he's done working in the barn, during his walk back to the house, if he sees a flower that sprouted in the yard, he'll grab it and give it to you.

CREDITS . . . divider by @cafekitsune

MASTERLIST

[jaal-ama-daravv]

Apologies if you have discussed this before and I just missed it, but how do you feel about an unromanced Emmrich ending up with Strife?

I haven’t experienced that world state, so I don’t know much about it, but I am speculating about the intensity of their relationship. Is it another casual thing that Emmrich is no stranger to, or is Strife the love of his life…the love he’s been waiting for.

Are there any hints about Emmrich’s struggles with mortality or lichdom with Strife?

I’m very curious about it and can’t help but feel it takes away from the relationship with Rook a little. I feel like it fits Emmrich’s character more to be one of the companions who doesn’t end up with anyone if he doesn’t get with Rook.

Thoughts?

I've experienced it on my Lucanis playthrough and I don't get the feeling that Strife is the love of his life like Rook would be. It comes accross more casual and comfortable. I don't see Emmrich having those arguments with Strife about death and being scared. And I'm not saying that because they are similar in age, I actually don't think age plays a role here there if it was between Strife x Emmrich. I think an argument like that just wouldn't ocurr because the connection wasn't that deep.

It's implied in the cutscenes that Emmrich courted Strife with a knife gift, chose a date spot at the waterfall, and they boned. It continues as a relationship but I don't see nor feel it being that deep. It just feels like comfort for Emmrich in a trying time. Keep in mind he does tell us during our date in the Memorial Gardens that he hasnt seen 'anyone serious' in several years, but its inferred he still has flings. It can be interpretted as either way, but regardless Emmrich is still capable of flings. Regardless if it's not what he truly desires.

Additionally, I don't see it as the love of his life connection because Emmrich doesn't take Strife to see his parents, or the date in the Memorial Gardens. Instead Emmrich takes him on a date to a place that Strife is comfortable in, not Emmrich. Emmrich's vulnerable in the Memorial Gardens, his favourite place in Thedas.

I doubt Emmrich asked Strife what he thinks his parents would think is best for him in terms of romance and life.

I do agree, where I feel like it fits his character more to end up alone if he didn't romance Rook considering his personal quests have two majorly different implications. I was just glad to find out that Emmrich didn't end up with Bellara. Like, I know there's nothing 'technically' wrong with it. But the thought just rubs me the wrong way. My entire first playthrough, I was like, I'm gonna blow up if I hear one flirt dialogue between them. But I was glad that the devs didnt even consider that and their entire 16minutes of dialogue banter is literally just nerds geeking out over magic.

[dog-bimbo]

shiu kong x fem!reader 18+ only — imagining shiu being put on a sex ban or something like that mfgghhmmfmh >////<

minors and ageless blogs dni !

a/n i love writing shiu being sleazy but im going through something rough as of late so i made it a bit fluffy, just a little though he's still a bastard in this fic <3

he hates his clients, he hates the assassins that he brokers, he hates the clean up crew and most importantly, he hates condoms. what he doesn't hate is having his balls deep in you after a long day even thinking about your gummy, wet walls has him leaking cum through his boxers. a sex ban right in the middle of his commision is just cruel...

"i'm on birth control," you meekly reply. you're usually quite open with him, he's a great guy to be around but right now? his head is practically exploding you've never seen him be THIS devastated by something... but he quickly masks it after swallowing a lump in his throat. "two weeks, i can do that." he replies with a shrug. "you can just wear a condom if you're that bothered, y'know?..." but that's the last option for him, his final resort.

the first week was hard on him. it felt like the client and the assassin wanted him dead instead of the target—this feeling really was an exaggeration (atleast to some extent) being blue balled is what really drove him crazy. he always reeks of cigarettes, for sure, but it has definitely gotten worse... with that pretty pastel blue sundress of yours, how could he not bend you over the counter and hump you in broad daylight? when you're sitting on his lap while watching a show that you both love, how could he keep his hands away from stroking your clit through your panties with his thumb? when you're reapplying your lipgloss while you're on a date with him, how could he stop himself from pulling you to his car to make you kiss his cock? restraining seemed unnecessary in these areas yet, it seems like he's taking this as a challenge of sorts... it's strangely uncharacteristic of him since he's a no BS kind of guy.

he's not a sex addict trying to recover, he's just a bit ashamed that he's thinking about nothing but sex with you out of all people. you're an absolute delight to be around, all lovely and soft and dreamlike. he never allows himself to loosen up but with you, it's quite natural for him to relax. you're more than just a one night stand—you're the light of his life. also, that condom remark felt a bit patronizing. it was like you were throwing him a bone out of pity.

him having bad days meant that you'd be put in a mating press. he could feel his stress melting away as he buried himself deeper and deeper in you with each thrust but now? he's found better ways to cope with it. all you wanted for him to be less reserved but when he's that exhausted after sex, you don't get much out of him. he's talking a whole lot now— about the clients, about the assassins, about the stupid dinner meetings and the clean ups and the indepth reason why he left law enforcement.

the second week was considerably simpler for him. first of all, the ashtrays in your shared apartment was no longer overflowing with cigarette buds, and shiu no longer wanted to kick the client's teeth down his throat each time he opened his mouth.

but it's you who's going crazy now. he's such a gentleman, a master at being dominant and assertive even while he's not doing anything sexual. everytime his huge hand rests on your waist, hip or thigh, you want him to bunch up your skirt and pound into you already. he's all man—the scent of marlboro reds and cologne drove you insane. you wanted him to press his huge body against yours already... your slit weeps for him and he's just so, so good at licking it all up—he gets high off the sweetness of your cunt. when he lifts his head up after eating you out and making you cum on his face, his pussy drunk expression is everything.

he's also good at noticing things and he knows that at the end, you're the one who's all needy and desperate.

he wraps his hands around your waist as he kisses you. it wasn't sweet, it was rough and hot and you could feel his hands going down to reach the hem of your skirt. he was stingy with the people he tolerated and extremely generous with you—you're his sweetheart after all. it's happening... maybe he's gonna give up on this little abstaining phase of his.... but he pulls away, "just wait for three more days n' i'll fuck you till your brain melts out of your ears, yeah?" he's got that shit-eating grin when he lets go of you.

you're no saint—you're just as desperate for him as he is for you and he wants you to know that.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

i’m obsessed with your paul fic!! i loved the subtle lines from the song weaved into the story, you’re a wonderful writer 💓 part 2?? :)

alright, twist my arm 😂

pairing: Paul Lahote x human!reader

cw: smut, biting, trauma dumping, semi-public sex/ voyeurism (the werewolves can hear you)

Part One

Paul spun the two of you around, pressing you up against the wall as he claimed your mouth again. Every pass of his lips, every swipe of his tongue, it felt like he was putting you back together again.

He kissed along your jaw, nudging your head up with his nose to start spoiling your neck. You dug your nails into his shoulders, clinging to him, and he made a low growling sound in his throat.

He turned his head suddenly and you felt his blunt teeth sink into your skin. Bright pain lanced up your shoulder. You yelped, but his tongue glided over the aching spot, soothing the bite mark he'd just made.

Heat pooled between your legs. He just bit you, and you fucking loved it.

He chuckled against the skin of your neck, an warm, melodic sound. “Liked that, hm?” He mumbled, trailing soft pecks back up to your lips.

You nodded, showing him just how much with a filthy kiss. He smiled against you before wrestling your tongue into submission.

You were light-headed from all the sensations. Pain, joy, fear, bone-melting desire, him.

Footsteps plodded up your front porch. “Hey, y/n, need any help with—oh shit. What happened to your door?”

Paul turned his head to glare at the intruder, but didn't make any move to lower you to the ground.

“I, uh—” Jacob stuttered, standing like a deer in headlights in the smashed doorway.

You kicked your feet, hoping Paul would get the message to put you down, but he only tightened his grip on your thighs.

The men stared at each other, and it took you a second to realize they were having an internal conversation.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“Really, you going to fuck her right in front of me?”

“I'd kill you right in front of her if she asked me to. Fuck off.”

“You can't just treat her like crap for six months and then decide you want her when she finally gets sick of your shit—”

A growl ripped from Paul’s chest. He could feel the shift coming, his wolf pressing beneath his skin with urgency. You squirmed in his arms, his grip too tight, and he set you on your feet.

The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, and make you trust him even less.

“Paul.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, your skin blissfully cool against his, and to his shock, his wolf backed off a bit.

“Damn, she's got you trained already?” Jacob was taunting him now, being petty out of pathetic jealousy.

“I won't tell you again. Get out,” Paul snarled in his head.

“Y/n, seriously if you need help—”

“I think you should go, Jake,” y/n said, crossing your arms over your chest. Seeing Jacob’s arrogant smirk crumble was like Christmas fucking morning. “I won't be needing your help anymore.”

Delight curled along Paul’s spine, heightened further by the darkening bite mark he left at the curve of your shoulder, clear as day for Jacob, and the pack, to see.

You were his. And it was about time he started screaming it from the rooftops.

“Bye, Jake.” Paul grinned, walking across the room to show him the door. That he broke. Shit, I gotta fix that.

Jacob flipped him off and trudged down the stairs, climbing onto his little motorcycle and driving off. He'd be sour for a few days, but they always worked it out.

“I'm sorry about your door,” Paul said, picking it up and inspecting the hinge. He'd ripped the door clean off of it, tearing up the wood and bending the metal.

“It's okay,” you replied, shuffling your feet, a nervous energy wafting from you.

Now that the heat of the moment had waned, the reality of situation came crashing down around him. How could he have been so awful to you?

“Y/n, I—”

“You don't have to apologize.” You cut him off. “I know the imprint is challenging, and for you to bond with someone you hated so much…” you trailed off, eyes welling with tears.

Paul rushed over, pulling you into his chest. “I never hated you, I was—” he buried his head in your hair, shame burning under his skin, “—I was afraid.”

“Of me?” you sniffled against his chest, tears wet on his skin.

He shook his head, then nodded. “Yes and no. I was scared of what you knew, what a danger that posed to my family. And then I saw you and…and the imprint gave you so much power over me.”

Your hands curled into his sides, your head burrowing closer, like you were trying to crawl into his skin.

“Not only were you in the position to destroy my family, but I would have done it for you if you asked me to. Ripped myself to pieces if that's what you wanted.”

You lifted your tear-streaked face to look at him. “I would never do that—”

“I know, I know.” He shushed you, dropping a kiss to your red nose. “I know that now.”

“I even burned the notes—”

“What?” He held you out at arms length, dark brows drawn together. “When?”

“Months ago,” you said, and his jaw dropped.

“Months ago? Why?”

“You imprinted on me, and I didn't—I wanted—”

Affection overwhelmed him, making his eyes sting and nose tingle. He cupped your face and drew you back towards him, brushing his lips against yours. “You wanted to protect me,” he said, bumping your noses together.

You nodded, reaching up to wipe something from his cheek. Not a tear, fuck no.

“But your research? You didn't burn all of it, did you?”

“No, no. Just the things about the pack, and anything that would lead someone down the same path I took.”

Paul just stared down at you, awestruck. He couldn't believe that he was holding you, kissing you, sharing secrets with you. It was the sweetest agony he’d ever experienced, next to imprinting on you.

“Paul, I—to be clear, I do want to fuck you.”

He snorted a laugh at the subject change, warmth spreading from his chest to the tips of his ears. “But?” He raised an eyebrow.

“But could we just…hang out for awhile? I know you, but I don't feel like I know you. Like what's your favorite color?” Your fingers traced absent shapes on his chest, eyes flitting nervously around his face.

He brushed his thumb beneath your right eye. “This one, your eyes.”

“You better stop it or I'm going to climb your wolfy ass like a tree.” You swatted his hand away and took a step back, leaving him laughing.

God, when was the last time he laughed like this?

“How about we start with unpacking your things?” He offered. “And I'll fix your door.”

You gave him a relieved smile. “Sounds perfect.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You and Paul spent the rest of the day righting your home. While you unpacked, he not only fixed the door, but about ten other small, broken things you didn't have the tools, the height, or the wherewithal to repair yourself.

When the sun began to set, Paul left you bundled up on the couch to pick up take out from your favorite place in Forks. He stationed Seth outside your door for protection, and Seth gave you a thumbs up through the window.

Paul returned half-an-hour later, and you ate at the coffee table so you could watch a movie, legs curled up beneath you, Paul's hand resting heavily on your thigh. Between every bite, he leaned in for kiss.

After you finished, you climbed up onto the couch and stretched out across his chest, soaking up his radiant heat like cat. You knew you still had a long way to go before you'd be able to fully commit to him, although in a lot of ways you already had.

He'd been amazing today, thoughtful, attentive, almost goofy. But Rome wasn't built in a day, and for this relationship to work, it needed to stand on a sturdy foundation of trust and respect.

Not magic, lupine bonding instincts.

But you were confident that in time, you and Paul would get there.

***smut ahead!*** 🚨

You pressed a few kisses along the muscular expanse of his chest, marveling at the specimen of a man beneath you. His pecs just looked so…

“Watch yourself, bookworm,” he warned, fisting your hair and pulling your head back, revealing the bite mark you'd left over his heart.

You were about to ask why, when you felt something hard surge against your hip. A devilish smile curled your lips.

You rolled your hips against him, the lightest grind, and his eyes fluttered closed, head falling back onto the arm of the couch. His hands gripped your waist freezing you in place.

“Baby, don't play with me,” he groaned, his cock already straining against his flannel sweatpants.

“But it's fuuun,” you teased, fastening your lips to the already fading bite mark and sucking hard.

“I won't be gentle.”

“If I wanted gentle, I'd find Jacob.”

Paul flipped you beneath him, quicker than you could blink, his enormous weight pressing you into the couch. “Say his name while I'm around again, and he won't have a dick to fuck with,” he growled, grinding his cock over your clothed pussy.

Already, you were so sensitive, your body lighting up with pleasure from the friction, the rumble of his voice in your ear. You rocked back against him, chasing that feeling.

“You smell fucking divine, babygirl,” he groaned, burying his head into your neck as you ground against him, meeting you thrust for thrust like a couple of horny teenagers. “Drove me wild, smelling you all the damn time. Felt like you were turning yourself on just to get a rise out of me.” He lapped at your neck, dragging his tongue along your thundering pulse.

“I was,” you admitted, breathless, your peak just out of reach.

He pulled his head back, his hips lifting off of you. “You were?” You expected to see anger in his eyes, but they were molten with desire, a predator eyeing his prey.

You bit your lip, nodding.

“You know I wasn't the only one that could smell you, right?” He cocked his head, eyes skating down your torso pinned beneath him before flicking back up to your face.

“I knew it made you jealous. And I wanted them to see what was yours.”

A growl echoed from the barrel of his chest. “You're going to be the fucking death of me.” He smashed his mouth to yours in a brutal, claiming kiss, his canines dragging across your lips before parting them with his tongue.

His hands found the buttons of your pj top, ripping it open like it was made of tissue paper, sending buttons scattering across the room.

“Hey!” You protested.

“I'll buy you a hundred more,” he said, diving into your bare tits, popping one pert nipple into his hot mouth, then the other, lashing them mercilessly with his tongue.

You cried out, arching into his mouth.

“Be as loud as you want, baby. Let them hear what's mine.” He tugged down your shorts, two thick fingers gliding over your soaked panties. You moaned again, lifting your hips to chase his touch. “That's it, y/n. Already so wet for me.”

He caught your mouth once more, swallowing your next sound as he slipped his fingers under your panties, making direct contact with your weeping pussy. He dipped the tip of his middle finger inside before swirling it around your clit, sending you into fucking orbit.

You bucked against him, throwing your head back against the couch cushions as your body tightened, your walls clenching around nothing. “Please,” you whined against his cheek. “Need you.”

“Aw, no more snarky ass comments?” He teased, lightly slapping your sensitive clit, just enough to make you writhe beneath him.

“Paul,” you begged, trying and failing to reach for his cock. He was too damned tall. “I've waited so long.” You knew you sounded pitiful, and if he hadn't rendered your brain to needy, slutty mush, you'd be mortified.

“I know, you’ve been such a patient girl for me.” He reached between you, freeing his cock so it slapped against your inner thigh. “I'm sorry it took me so long to take care of this sweet pussy.” He shifted himself down until his mouth was level with your slit. “Just a taste, baby? Then I promise to fuck you stupid.”

You nodded vigorously, carding your fingers through his black hair. You never thought Paul would be so chatty during sex, not that you were complaining. The filthy words in his growly voice was like music to your ears.

He flattened his tongue against your slit, licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, and you nearly came right then and there.

“Fuck, Paul,” you moaned, tightening your grip on his hair. His rumble of satisfaction vibrated your sensitive skin and you shivered. “I'm so fucking close.”

You didn't have to tell him twice. He started feasting on your pussy with abandon, slurping and sucking like you were his favorite meal on earth. Stars danced behind your eyes, broken moans and gibberish falling from your lips. You were certain the entire pack, and probably the next pack over, could hear you crying out for him, but you didn't give a single fuck.

He eased a finger inside of you, curling it against your spongy walls, and you shattered, an orgasm ripping through you at dizzying speed.

You screamed so loud he flinched, glancing up at you to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he purred, gently lapping at your clit as you twitched and jerked away, oversensitive. “Damn near broke my finger.” He rose up to hover over you, pressing light kisses along your cheeks and eyelids, coaxing you back to him.

You threw your arms around his neck and brought your lips to his, tasting yourself on his tongue. You felt him chuckle, his hands sliding under your back to press your hips against him.

“Something funny?” You nipped at his lower lip.

“They're begging me to keep it down,” he snickered.

“We'll get them some ear plugs.” You reached between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his cock. The skin was so hot you nearly pulled away, the head slick with precum and pulsing against your wrist.

He grunted, his hips thrusting into your hand. “Now who’s playing.” He batted your hand away, and leaned back to line himself up with your entrance. “Ready for me?”

“God, yes.” You threw your head back as he started to slide in, your walls clenching hard around him.

“Let me in, babygirl,” he cooed, rubbing your thigh slung over his hip.

You forced your muscles to relax, breathing hard, and he slowly stretched you open, pain and pleasure stirring together until you couldn't differentiate the two, lost in the exquisite torture of him.

“I won't last five minutes with you squeezing me like that—fuck,” his voice cracked into a low moan, his hips stuttering forward almost involuntarily. “You know what? C’mere.” He guided your arms to wrap around his neck and braced his forearm against your lower back. In a quick movement, he stood up, bringing you with him.

Your bodies didn't separate an inch, your tits squished against his chest, his cock still buried inside you. Gravity pulled you down a little father onto him, in fact, and you both groaned at the new angle.

He carried you across the house and into your bedroom, tossing you onto the pillows by your headboard. You hadn't even stopped bouncing before he pounced, sliding back into your heat with a little more ease than before.

“There we go,” he murmured into your neck, drawing his hips back before rolling them forwards.

You clawed at his back, moaning against his ear as he thrust into you again and again, filling you near to splitting, before retreating again. Soon, you were stupid with pleasure, mumbling incoherently and lifting your hips in time with his.

“Look at you, so fucking pretty taking my cock. Feel good, baby?”

You nodded, tears squeezing from the corners of your eyes as he picked up the pace, pounding into you.

“Want to feel you come around me. Can you do that for me ‘fore I fill you up?” The pad of his middle finger circled your clit, making your eyes roll back into your head, your muscles turning to goo.

His was fighting to keep a stable pace, his muscles rippling across his abdomen, veins bulging along his thick arms. You could tell he was close, his eyes locked on where your bodies met.

“Fuck, Paul. I'm gonna come,” you whined, gripping his thighs as your body wound itself up, spiraling endlessly tighter.

“I'm with ‘ya, babygirl. C’mon,” he panted, making tighter circles on your clit, his whole body trembling with the effort to control himself.

The coil in your stomach snapped, hurtling you over your peak at the same moment he came undone, both of you crying out as the tsunami of pleasure dragged you down together.

You felt his cock buck inside of you, filling you with his boiling hot release. The temperature soothed your overworked muscles, and you sagged into the bed with a contented sigh. Your whole body was shivering in aftershocks, small waves of pleasure making you clench around his softening length.

He eased himself down onto your left side, gathering you into his chest. His heart hammered beneath his shining skin, sweat collecting along the grooves of muscle and his hairline.

“You're incredible,” he murmured, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your bruised lips. “Never thought I'd see you beg for me.”

You couldn't even think of a rebuttal, all of the attitude wrung out of your body like a sponge. You just swatted at his chest, though it took a concerted effort to even lift your arm.

“In all fairness, I’d beg like a dog for you,” he whispered, smiling.

“How the mighty fall,” you teased, kissing underneath his jaw.

You both were quiet for a few moments, breathing in time with one another, your heart beats synchronizing. Peace like you hadn't felt in years settled over you, an overwhelming *rightness* that welded your fractured heart together again.

This was the reason you came to Forks, even if you didn't know it at the time. Your soul was searching for his.

“So…” he shifted to look down at you. “Ready to go to dinner at Sam’s?”

You groaned, burying your head into his neck as he burst out laughing.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

aggggghhh, I love him.

Hope you enjoyed! 🫶

[bat-mom-writer]

Alfred's Advice

Reader(Bruce's wife) X Alfred Pennyworth (PLATONIC)

Summery: You can't sleep one night, feeling worried about your husband, Bruce, and your sons. Alfred gives you warm milk and advice.

Note: This is platonic! You are married to Bruce.

Rating: Fluff, Comfort.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You lay alone in bed, the moon casting a silver glow through the windows of the manor. It's a quiet night in Gotham, a rare occurrence that you savor. The coolness of the Egyptian cotton sheets is a stark contrast to the warmth that Bruce's body usually brings. But tonight, he's out fighting the city's shadows again. You roll over, feeling the emptiness next to you, and think about the boys. They're growing up so fast, each with their own secrets and burdens.

As you get up, the floorboards of the master suite creak gently beneath your bare feet. You tiptoe through the dark hallway, the portraits of ancestral Waynes watching you with painted eyes. The soft patter of your footsteps echoes in the stillness, a stark reminder of the mansion's size. You make your way to the stairs, the chandelier above casting a dim, flickering light that dances on the walls like the ghosts of past parties.

You follow the sound of running water and clinking dishes downstairs to the kitchen, where you find Alfred, the ever-faithful butler, cleaning up from dinner.

"Can't sleep either, Madam?" he asks, noticing your reflection in the spotless kitchen window. His kind eyes are filled with understanding.

"You could say that," you reply with a sigh, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Alfred turns off the tap and dries his hands on a spotless tea towel. "Would you care for some warm milk, perhaps? It's an old fashioned remedy, but it often helps."

You nod, appreciative of his care. "That would be lovely, Alfred." You take a seat at the long, polished kitchen table, the chill of the marble countertops seeping into your bones. While Alfred prepares the milk, you gaze out the window into the night. The mansion's vast grounds stretch out into the darkness, a sea of tranquility amidst the chaotic city.

He places the steaming mug in front of you, the aroma of vanilla and cinnamon filling the air. "Is it something particularly troubling you, Madam?" he asks gently, his voice as soothing as the warm liquid you're about to sip.

"I don't know, Alfred," you say, wrapping your hands around the mug. "It's just… each night that Bruce goes out, and the boys follow in his footsteps, I can't help but worry." The words hang in the air, thick with the weight of your concern. "They're all so… intense. They carry the world on their shoulders. I'm afraid of the world crashing down on them."

Alfred nods solemnly. "It is a heavy burden they've chosen, Madam. But they are strong, resilient young men. They have the love and guidance of both you and Mr. Wayne."

You take a sip of the warm milk, letting it soothe your throat as you ponder his words. "But what about Bruce?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, the boys have me and him but he's been doing this for so long… alone. It's taken a toll on him."

Alfred pours himself a cup of tea, his movements precise and measured. "Mr. Wayne is indeed a man of great fortitude, Madam," he says, his eyes reflecting a mix of admiration and concern. "But he's not truly alone. He has you, and the the other young masters, we all support him in our own ways."

You nod thoughtfully. "I know, Alfred, but sometimes I feel like I can't do enough." The warmth of the milk spreads through your chest, offering a small comfort.

"Madam, you underestimate yourself," Alfred says, his expression earnest. "Your presence here is more vital than you realize."

You look up at him, your gaze searching. "How so?"

Alfred smiles fondly. "Remember the time you tried to teach the young masters to tango?"

Your eyes widen at the memory. "Oh, my goodness, yes!" You laugh, the sound a welcome relief in the quiet of the night. "But it more turned into a wrestling match than a dance lesson."

Alfred chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Indeed it did, but it was a sight to behold. They had smiles on their faces, genuine smiles that didn't involve a mask or a mission. I believe that is your greatest strength, Madam. You bring joy and balance to this place, to their lives."

You smile back at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I'll have to try teaching them again," you say, already planning the next attempt in your mind.

Alfred nods, his smile lingering. "It would do them good, Madam."

You take another sip of the warm milk, feeling the comfort of Alfred's words. "Thank you, Alfred," you say, reaching out to place your hand over his forearm. "Thank you for everything you've done for Bruce, the boys… and me."

"It's my pleasure, Madam," he says, his tone genuine. "Now, why don't you go sit in the library? It's quieter there, and you might find something to read that could help you relax."

You nod, feeling a little better with Alfred's words of encouragement. "Thank you," you murmur, pushing back from the table. You carry your mug with you, the warmth of it a comforting weight in your hands.

As you leave the kitchen, you pause at the threshold, looking back at Alfred. His eyes are on you, filled with a warmth that makes you feel seen, understood. "Goodnight, Alfred," you whisper, feeling the weight of the night's worries begin to lift.

He nods, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his smile. "Rest well, Madam."

As you make your way to the library, the house feels like it's holding its breath, the only sounds the ticking of the grandfather clock and the occasional squeak of a floorboard. The library is a sanctuary of knowledge, the shelves filled with leather-bound books that whisper of adventures and wisdom. You sink into the soft embrace of the armchair by the fireplace, the warmth from the dying embers casting a cozy glow around you. The smell of old pages fills the air as you select a random book, letting the words carry you away from your troubles for a while.

[spirk-trek]

Hey so, it's me. The debbie-downer vaguing you in the spirk tag. I didn't mention you directly because my post wasn't directed at you, although it was made in response to checking some of your posts because I do have Unification in my filtered list (content and tag), so those fanworks? Behind a button, so my choice to look is all my own. (I didn't send the anon, though. That was someone else, sorry to say.) It sucks that that's how tumblr's system works but yay content filtering! Tumblr didn't always have that.

I didn't make that post to start drama, and I'm not the sort to get my kicks by being a contrarian for opposition's sake (like. I'm a Shatner fan. In a lot of online Star Trek spaces, I might as well say I hate K/S or Leonard Nimoy or kick puppies in my spare time, you know?), but I did make it in anger and for that I apologize. I should have waited longer on it to phrase things better or simply have deleted it from my drafts after typing it out. (But it's out there now and I'll live with it.)

I do understand where the joy of connecting the past to the present comes from (as a lot of your posts do with connecting old and new fanworks together), and that a lot of people are celebrating the Unification short as a culmination of 50+ years of K/S despite their initial separation according to the initial story, but for me (personally! I want to stress that. It's just me and my own opinion here), I keep seeing it as a valuing of what a company is finally offering fans rather than the celebration of fans who saw where K/S's story ended at the time, rejected that ending that was offered by the corporation, and made their own ending for K/S, without looking towards any official channels as a guide for their visions. That's what my post was about, where my anger was from, those questions--what becomes lost in fandom if we accept canon from the corporation that holds the copyright? What does it say if we look towards that same canon as being above what fandom has already envisioned? In a fandom as old as Star Trek's, one that laid so much groundwork that we take for granted, to overlook that worries me.

I suppose the biggest issue here is it's too similar, like a reflection in a mirror: on one side, Unification stands as the canonization of what the fandom has envisioned all along. It culminates. On the other, Unification appears as a bone tossed to finally appease fans who have seen K/S from the start and it feels too little, too late. Ironically enough, the short has seemingly managed to divide people, but it's too early to tell how lasting such a division could be.

Hopefully I've cleared the air by this. Unification clearly is not my cup of tea and I'm honestly not trying to ruin anyone's fun (most of my posts have gone untagged for a reason but I forget tumblr still parses for post content to index. Yikes. That post was tagged, though, because it was a snap decision made in anger and I wanted my thoughts to be seen). One could argue the short wasn't even made for me as I've long wondered if I will watch Generations because I've read the summary and didn't like it. But that's the joy of fandom and transformative works. We can look at the story and pick our favorite parts and rewrite the ones we don't like. If we didn't do that, fandom wouldn't exist, or it would but it wouldn't be as much fun.

Sorry for the essay in your inbox and for causing any confusion and hurt. I hope you've had a great day 💛

i'm not going to lie, it does hurt a little. i wasn't going to answer this publicly but i don't have the time today to have a private convo and i don't want you to think i deleted it or ignored it, so here we are.

i don't think unification made spirk any more canon than tmp did. i don't think the short was made with k/s in mind at all, even as a bone to toss starving shippers. star trek at large was never intended as a love story between them, but people have always seen it anyway. 

i'm conflicted about the use of nimoy's likeness too. despite that, i think that they did it as respectfully as they could have and involved the right people. it was a goodbye, not using him for a cheap cameo or advertising purposes (yes i know it was an "ad" like everything is, but it's not like spock holds up a coke at the end). you can disagree with me, and i understand your point of view. that's why i said i understood where that anon was coming from. 

what i see is william shatner and others taking a story that ended in a way that was disrespectful to both characters, one of which he himself has been playing for the majority of his life, and trying to fix that. it doesn't mean there's no corporate greed involved. both can be true. at least they posted it on youtube, they didn't premiere it or put it behind a paywall. it was just eight minutes, and less than a quarter of that had nimoy's face in it. my favorite part of the whole thing was seeing tos kirk meet his future selves. i love that even though they both die out of their times, they find each other in the end. 

i don't want to be an activist or defend or endorse anything, i just... 

those zines i tagged were 1) a poem by della van hise that was so accurate to the short that others were already reblogging it (i posted it weeks ago). i found it super interesting that she wrote a poem about them meeting again in death before tmp/wok even came out, let alone this short. 2) i was gushing about unification in the tags. 3) another poem about being side by side, which again, i found incredibly relevant. the other one i posted was because it went well with the others visually. it has nothing to do with unification other than the fact that spock is laying down. 

this has just made me sad tbh. i'm not angry and i love your analysis/fan work so much, so :( idk, i don't want anything i post to be divisive or disrespectful. i wasn't even worried about that before. i just really needed a win and maybe i clung to that a little too hard :/

[black-and-yellow]