#and then i will keep doing it even more out of spite

[hoshifighting]

rival fashion designer!minghao

— synopsis: where minghao flexes his fashion awards whenever your brand competes against him during fashion week. — WC: 3k — WARNINGS: explicit language, smut, reader uses a transparent clothing (just like rihanna in oscar x swarovski), oral (f. receiving) ENORMOUS DICK!MINGHAO, slight face slap, mentions of choking on a cock, penetrative sex—or trying to.

look, you weren’t trying to start beef with minghao. you don’t even know why the dude hates you so much. okay, maybe you said one thing about his fall line looking like it got snatched off the clearance rack at an IKEA. but that was a year ago. and also? you were drunk and kinda bitter ‘cause your show got bumped for his stupid avant-garde puff-sleeve renaissance clowncore shit.

but now, every fashion week is like a personal vendetta for him to humble you. you’ll be vibin’, sipping your overpriced latte in the designer lounge, and this man will just stroll in, decked out in some vintage runway piece that costs more than your annual budget, flashing that “i won best emerging designer again” smirk like it’s a fucking weapon. and then he’ll throw some casual shit like:

“oh, y/n, is that your collection over there? i thought they were setting up for the kid’s line showcase.”

[...]

so this year, you swore you wouldn’t let him get in your head. you’d play it cool, professional, unbothered. except you walk into your studio late one night, the day before your big runway debut, and this man is just there. sitting on your worktable. wearing a pearl-studded harness and leather pants so tight it should be a crime.

you freeze, halfway through the door, holding the iced coffee you begged your intern to grab five minutes before starbucks closed. “what the fuck are you doing here?”

minghao barely glances up from his phone. “your assistant let me in.”

traitor.

“why?” you slam the coffee on the counter, praying your voice doesn’t shake. the audacity of him just existing in your space is enough to make your blood boil.

he stands, slow as hell, like he’s got all the time in the world. he’s tall—annoyingly tall—so when he steps close, you’re immediately at a disadvantage. but you refuse to back down.

“just wanted to check out the competition,” he says, eyes flicking lazily over the chaos of fabric swatches and half-finished sketches strewn across the room. “cute line. very... simple.”

“fuck you, hao,” you snap, crossing your arms. “it’s called ‘minimalism.’ not that you’d know anything about taste.”

he laughs, soft and low, the kind of sound that creeps under your skin and lingers there. “oh, i have plenty of taste. i just don’t need to keep it basic to get attention.”

and here’s the thing: you hate how much he gets to you. he’s a smug asshole with an overinflated ego, but he’s also stupidly talented, and you can’t ignore the fact that his lines always sell out in under a day. or how his press coverage makes yours look like a local craft fair feature.

but what really gets you is how hot he looks right now, with his ridiculous cheekbones and the glint of that tiny silver chain peeking out from under his collar. it’s disgusting. you hate it.

you’re about to throw a cutting remark his way, something about how he’s overcompensating with all that jewelry, but he beats you to it.

“you know,” he murmurs, stepping even closer, “you’d look good in my designs.”

your brain short-circuits. “excuse me?”

“if you ever want to elevate your style...” he trails off, dragging his gaze down the length of your body like it’s a runway.

“you are so full of shit,” you hiss, but there’s no heat behind it, because your stupid traitorous brain is suddenly imagining what it’d feel like to have his hands on you.

he smirks, all teeth and danger, leaning in so close you can smell his expensive cologne. “maybe. but you’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”

you don’t answer.

[...]

the next morning, you’re running on zero sleep, fueled by pure spite and caffeine, but your runway show? flawless. models everywhere, hair spray choking the air, seamstresses practically sewing on skin ‘cause the deadlines were that tight. and you were doing a thousand fucking things at once.

fixing a hemline here, shouting at a makeup artist there—“no, not clean girl aesthetic, we’re going full grunge today, wake up!”—all while struggling to get yourself into the swarovskied transparent gown you planned to wear for the night.

no bra, because tits were the least controversial thing in fashion. and the way the crystals draped over your skin looking likew pure art. nipples out and proud, paired with modern curls swirled to perfection and makeup that screamed chaos-but-make-it-glam.

by the time your collection hit the runway, your nerves were shredded. but watching the models strut, each piece shining under the lights... fucking worth it.

and then, the finale: your dress sweeping dramatically across the stage as you closed the parade. you bowed to the crowd, letting the cameras and whispers soak in every inch of you, and as you turned to leave, you felt it.

minghao’s sharp eyes.

you caught his eyes just as they traveled the length of you—from the swirl of your hair, to the unapologetic sharpness of your nipples under the crystals, to the shimmer of your dress, down to the towering heels on your feet.

you just smirked to yourself as you headed backstage, knowing full well your collection didn’t just crawl under his skin this time. it slithered under his flesh, wrapped tight around his ribs, and squeezed.

[...]

minghao’s models stormed the runway like it was their goddamn birthright. and of course, you watched. no designer worth their silk ignored the competition, and minghao wasn’t just competition, he was a walking masterclass in making everyone feel like second place.

he closed his show with his usual flare, stepping out like he already knew the applause was his. fast-forward two designers later, and the nominations for the fashion academy awards started rolling in. you didn’t have to look to know minghao had already claimed half the early awards.

you watched him backstage through narrowed eyes as he balanced four trophies—two tucked in his arms, two in his hands—posing for a picture with that smug-ass smile. you knew that pic was already blowing up on his Instagram. your jaw clenched, nails digging into your palm as the last nominations were announced.

and then, plot twist of the year:

your name came up five times.

designer of the year: you.

new vision in fashion: you.

collection of the year: your brand.

runway innovation: your brand.

showstopper of the year: your brand.

walking out with those five heavy-ass awards in your arms? victory tasted better than champagne. your models and team practically swarmed you, hyping you up ‘cause they knew how much blood, sweat, and tears went into this collection.

but what you really wanted... minghao. definitely minghao. minghao, in your line of sight. because after all the times he flaunted his wins like a smug bastard, you wanted him to feel this.

and lucky for you, fate delivered.

you spotted him in the back hallway, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. clearly, he hadn’t heard the last nominees. his head snapped up when your heels echoed through the space.

“oh, hey, hao,” you called out, voice sweet as honey but sharp as glass. you stopped just short of him, shifting the five trophies in your arms so they pressed against your chest. the weight of them pushed your tits up just enough to catch his eyes.

“looks like I’ve got... a plus one on you this year.” you smirked, shaking the awards a little for good measure, the motion making the crystals on your dress catch the dim hallway light.

his eyes flicked down—brief, subtle, but not subtle enough—and then back up, his expression neutral, but you could feel the shift in his ego.

“congrats,” he said, the word clipped like it physically hurt him.

“thanks, babe,” you purred, turning on your heel with a sway of your hips. “see you next season. maybe.”

and with that, you left, letting the click of your heels carry the weight of your victory.

[...]

days later, you were lounging in minghao’s big leather chair, legs crossed up on his table, showing the expensive ass high heels you always wore. his assistant had let you in with barely a question, and you weren’t one to waste an opportunity.

when he finally walked in, his eyes narrowed immediately. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“relax,” you drawled, leaning back like his office was a spa. “your assistant said I could wait. guess they like me more than you.”

he folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “didn’t think you’d show your face here after the other night. thought you’d be busy polishing all those trophies.”

you grinned, slow and smug. “oh, i polished them. just thought i’d stop by to see how you’re doing. must be hard, you know—losing.”

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. instead, he stepped closer, looming over you. “you done?”

“not even close,” you said, standing up to match his energy. you stopped just shy of his chest, tipping your chin up. “but don’t worry, hao. i’ll let you borrow a trophy sometime if you really need the validation.” you patted his shoulder.

he scoffed, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “you know, i like your attitude.”

you raised an eyebrow. “yeah? you must, considering how much you stalk me every season.”

“maybe that’s why we should work together.”

you laughed, loud and sharp, tossing your head back. “oh, that’s rich. you? work with me? what, so you can take credit for my ideas and call it a ‘collaboration’?”

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “i’m serious. we’d be unstoppable.”

for a second, you almost believed him. “unstoppable, huh? what makes you think i’d even want to work with you?”

“because you like the challenge... admit it. you love it when i push you.”

“you’re intolerable.”

“and yet,” he murmured, stepping so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, “you haven’t left yet.”

your laugh came out breathy this time, your pulse quickening as his hand grazed the curve of your hip. “you think I’m staying here for you? please. your assistant let me in, remember?”

“sure,” he said. his thumb traced slow circles against your side, almost lazy. “but you’re still here.”

you were about to snap back with something cutting, something to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, but then he tilted your chin up with two fingers, his gaze locked on yours like a predator sizing up prey.

“stop thinking,” he whispered, leaning in just enough for your lips to almost touch. “you might actually enjoy yourself.”

his lips were soft and plump, moving against yours so fucking good that felt unfair. his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped.

your hands found his chest, the fabric of his shirt warm under your fingertips as you pushed him slightly, breaking the kiss with a smirk. “you’re bold, i’ll give you that.”

“you’re still thinking,” he teased, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling back.

your hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping just enough to feel the flex of his muscles. you threatened to sit on his table.

his eyes widened slighty, his hands immediately grabbing your ass to lift you up, making you yelp. “don’t!”

“what? scared i’ll break it?” you teased, wrapping your legs around his waist.

he places the needles that were spread lazily on the table, inside of a box. he turned, his grip firm as he carried you a few steps and sat you on a nearby armchair.

“there were needles on that table, genius,” he scolded, his tone sulky but his fingers tracing slow lines along your thighs. “you’d be bleeding before I even got started.”

“aww,” you cooed, dragging your nails down his neck. “you worried about me, hao?”

“no,” he muttered, kneeling, dipping his head to kiss along your jawline, his teeth grazing just enough to make you arch towards him. “just don’t want to ruin my night with a trip to the hospital.”

your laugh turned into a soft moan as his lips found the spot just below your ear. “guess you’re not as heartless as you act.”

he pulled back slightly, his smirk sharper than ever. “you talk too much.”

you pulled him in for another kiss, your tongues colliding this time. when you tried to take control, tilting your head for a deeper angle, he pulled back just enough to make you chase him.

minghao’s hands were firm on your thighs, his thumbs brushing against your skin like he wasn’t about to wreck you in the middle of his office. his eyes dragged down, lingering on the way your skirt was pushed up, the space between your legs bare and unapologetic.

he clicked his tongue, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “no panties, huh?” he said. “came here like this?”

“what can I say?” you shot back, shifting slightly so his hands pressed harder against your skin. “i had a feeling you’d end up on your knees.”

his smirk deepened, his fingers tightening slightly as he leaned in, close enough for you to feel his breath. he pressed your legs further onto the armrests, spreading you wider, his hands splayed like he wanted to leave imprints.

his tongue flicked out, close enough to make you tense—but he didn’t touch you. instead, he pulled back, his eyes locking with yours as a smirk tugged at his lips.

he leaned in again, his tongue brushing so close you could feel the warmth from his breath, but once again, he pulled back just as you tilted your hips forward.

“hao..” you warned.

“what?” he teased, his lips hovering over your folds.

your hands gripped the armrests as you glared down at him. “if you don’t stop playing, i swear—”

he cut you off with a broad, strong lick, dragging his tongue from your entrance, through your folds, and up to your clit in one unbroken suck. your head fell back as a gasp tore from your lips.

“that shut you up,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he dipped lower, his tongue swirling around your entrance before moving back up. “needy much?”

“shut up and do it again,” you shot back, your voice sharper than the way your thighs trembled under his grip.

and he did the same. your clit throbbing at the rough skin of his tongue, making you melt on his armchair, he smiled at the sight, he knew how a good head felt after months dealing with needles and sparkly cloths.

his lips latched onto your folds, sucking them into his mouth before he pulls back just slightly, his tongue flicking against your clit in quick, teasing strokes. you let out a pornographic moan, before your clap a hand on your mouth, remembering the team outside the office. he chuckled darkly, his hands tightening on your thighs to hold you still. his lips wrapping around your clit again. this time, he sucked it fully into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it as his eyes flicked up to yours.

“you’re so good at this, hmm—fuuuck!” you said, your nails drowning in the leather of the armchair. “you must’ve practiced on a lot of other girls, huh?”

his eyes narrowed slightly, and his teeth grazed your clit just enough to make you wwhimper. “jealous?” he asked, his voice smug, though he didn’t stop the relentless motion of his tongue.

“please,” you shot back, though the way your breath hitched betrayed you as he did a zig-zag on your bud with the tip of his otngue. “you’re better when you’re silent.”

he smirked against you, his lips curving as he pulled back just enough to speak. “then shut me up.”

your fingers tangled in minghao’s hair, tugging him closer, harder, until his face was buried against your pussy. his groan vibrated through you, desperate, and his hands clamped down on your thighs to steady himself as you rolled your hips against his mouth.

“that’s it... mhmm, just like that...”

he obeyed, his head bobbing as his tongue slid against you in broad, wet strokes, his lips sealing around your clit every few seconds to suck, deep and rhythmic. the wet, obscene sounds filled the room, and your nails scraped lightly against his scalp as you held him there, guiding him exactly how you wanted.

the heat in your core coiled tighter, and you barely had time to register your orgasm hit.

your back arched, your mouth falling open as moans spilled out shamelessly. your hips rolled against his face as you came, and minghao didn’t stop—not for a second. he worked you through it, sucking and licking as though he felt your climax before you did.

he only pulled back when you began to squirm, your breath coming in sharp gasps as overstimulation took hold. his lips and chin were slick as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes glinting as he looked up at you.

“had fun?” he asked, sarcastically.

you gave a breathless laugh, your chest heaving as you leaned back in the chair. “you talk too much for someone who just spent five minutes swallowing my pussy.”

his smirk widened, and he stood, his hands braced on the armrests as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. “and you talk too much for someone who’s about to beg me to fuck her.”

your gaze flicked to his lips, and then lower—to the bulge straining against his pants. “big words,” you said. “let’s see if you can back them up.”

his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he walked you back toward the desk—no needles this time. you didn't even had time to register what was happening before your skirt was pushed higher, his fingers brushing over your thighs as he settled you on the edge.

his hand worked his belt, the clink of the buckle making you clench around nothing.

“this isn’t gonna be quick,” he said as he freed himself, the sheer size of him making your breath catch. it was big both in length and girth.

you swallowed hard.

“relax... mhmm”

he teased your entrance with the tip, sliding it slowly against you, and the stretch was immediate, even as he slightly pressed in. your breath hitched, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as he pushed forward, achingly slow, giving you time to adjust.

“ngh—fuck!” you gasped, your voice breaking as he filled you inch by hard inch.

“breathe,” he murmured, his tone gentle despite the tension in his body. mouth glued on yours to make sure he feels your puffs of air.

“trying”

he paused, his hands tightening on your hips as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “you’re okay,” he whispered. “just breathe for me.”

you hiccuped, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps as your body struggled to adjust.

“there you go,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he waited “good girl. just like that.”

you exhaled slowly, your body relaxing slightly helping him to slid in further, the fullness stealing the air from your lungs.

your hands gripped his arms, your nails digging into his skin as he finally bottomed out, his body pressed flush against yours.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice tight as he buried his face in your neck. “you’re—so fucking tight.”

you swallowed hard, your head tilting back as you tried to catch your breath. “you’re—so fucking big.”

he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours as a smirk tugged at his lips. “think you can take it?”

your breath hitched, and you nodded, your hands sliding to his back as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “try me.”

minghao hips pulls back just an inch before thrusting forward experimentally. the sound that left your lips was somewhere between a moan and a strangled gasp, your nails biting into his shoulders as your body clenched around him.

he paused, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he tilted his head to the side, his eyes flicking over your face. “yeah, knew that’d happen.”

“don’t—” your breath hitched as he moved just slightly, a tiny shift that made you clutch at him even harder. “don’t fucking smile like that.”

his laugh was quiet, he leaned down, his forehead brushing against yours. “why not? you’re almost cummin already.”

“i’m not—” the words caught in your throat as he slid just a little deeper, your body trying desperately to adjust to his size.

“not what?” he asked, his tone playful as he stilled again, waiting for you to catch your breath.

“not—cumming” you managed, though your voice shook with the effort of speaking.

“hmm.” his thumb grazed your clit, circling it trying to soothe your nerves. “then why are you holding on to me likethat?”

you glared at him, though the effect was probably ruined by the way your mouth fell open with a gasp as his thumb pressed down just slightly harder.

your body tensed as he began to move again, sliding in slowly, each inch dragging against you in a way that made your head fall back. the wet squelch of your body adjusting to his girth filled the room, obscenelly.

“shit,” he muttered, his voice tight as he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you steady. “you’re so—tight. feels like you’re trying to squeeze me out.”

“maybe i am.”

he laughed softly “you’re all talk,” he murmured, his thumb still circling your clit. “that pussy is begging for me.”

“hao,” you whispered, your hands clutching at his arms as your legs tightened around his waist. “i—fuck, i can’t—”

“you can,” he said softly, his lips moving against your neck. “breathe for me, baby. you’ve got this.”

you exhaled shakily, your chest rising and falling against his as you tried to relax, tried to let the tension in your body melt away. his thumb pressed a little harder against your clit, insistent, coaxing pleasure to override the discomfort.

“that’s it,” he murmured, his voice soft as his arm tightened around your waist. “just like that. let me in.”

your head fell back, your eyes fluttering shut as he finally slid deeper, his hips pressing flush against yours. the sensation stole the breath from your lungs, and your fingers dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you.

“you okay?”

you nodded weakly, your hands sliding up to grip his hair as you whispered, “move.”

he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “not yet.”

your eyes snapped open, frustration bubbling in your chest as you glared at him. “hao—”

“relax,” he murmured, his thumb circling your clit again, making you cry out slyly. “i’m not gonna ruin you all at once. gotta make sure you can take it.”

“i can,”

“we’ll see,” he said, his tone smug as he finally, finally pulled back, his cock dragging against you.

“hao, just—fuck me already.”

his laugh was quiet. “you’re not ready for that yet, look—” he roll his hips, making you hiccup again. “but don’t worry—I’ll get you there.”

“how about you?” you ask, feeling your orgasm building up as he circled the thumb faster, your hips rolling slightly, weak, like the cock inside you was to heavy to make you roll them freely.

“i can get off just by looking at this pretty face...” he slaps your cheek weakly, twice, making you squeeze around him. “listen to what i'm telling you… you're still going to model for my brand.” he chuckles.

“i’d rather choke to death than work with your brand.”

“why don’t you choke on something else, then?”

[luxcuriousao3]

I've been messing around lately, writing Ghost in different ways to see which rings most true to his character (in my opinion). I wouldn't say that it does ring true for me in this one (then again this one did spawn from my stalker!Ghost thots, tho this fic isn't part of that universe), but I decided to post it anyway. So this little ficlet, despite being xReader, is more of a Ghost character study than anything else. This characterization is definitely experimental, and leans into the "Ghost and Simon are separate personalities" headcanon. No smut, but still NSFW.

Ghost x general's daughter!Reader

You were the daughter of some aging General, a balding, pot-bellied man on his way out, an honorable discharge in his near future. You’d come to visit him on the base, a tray of gooey brownies held firmly in your hands, two hot cocoas balanced on top, and a visitor’s badge pinned to your chest.

Initially, Ghost hadn’t taken much notice of you. Pretty thing, would be easy to kill, was his first impression. A casual, fleeting thought that he paid no attention to but made Simon shudder. There had been a time that when Ghost was in control, Simon was entirely unaware. He would come to and hours could have passed, sometimes days, or, on one particularly grueling campaign, even weeks. It was how he knew there was something evil lurking inside him. But in the desert, all was revealed, and Simon and Ghost were irrevocably tangled up in one another, the same but not, like two different sides of a single coin.

It wasn’t until you walked straight into his firm, broad chest and spilled the scaldingly hot drinks on him that he really noticed you.

Clumsy fuckin’ bird, Ghost thought angrily as he grunted in pain. Should break your bloody wings.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” You chirped, looking up at him with wide, apologetic eyes. He waited for you to flinch and look away when you saw his mask, but you didn’t. You just shifted your tray of brownies to one hand, the other fluttering uselessly over his soaking wet chest for a few seconds, before you grabbed the hem of your dress in a panic and lifted it up to try and dry him off with it.

Your dress was long, long enough to keep you from flashing him entirely, but he still caught an eyeful of your legs, even a glimpse of your plush thighs. At least until you realized what you were doing and dropped your dress again with a squeak of embarrassment, cheeks reddening.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeated earnestly, as Ghost stared down at you in bemusement. It wasn’t often he was shocked by someone’s behavior, but you were just so odd. It was, admittedly, amusing. Watching you squawk and try to smooth your ruffled feathers was like watching someone who’d tried to kill him choke on their own blood. Entertaining. Satisfying. Vaguely erotic.

“Are you okay?” You finally remembered to ask, reaching out to touch him again, as if to check him over. Ghost’s hands shot up, one wrapping around your wrist in a firm grip, the other moving to stop your dessert tray—which was tilting dangerously—from falling. He could feel your pulse thrumming beneath his finger tips, and the warmth of your skin seeped through his glove.

“M’fine,” he said shortly, voice deep and grumbly but not as hostile as usual. Simon’s influence, no doubt. Ghost almost rolled his eyes. His other half always banged on and on about treating ladies with proper respect. Ghost wasn’t particularly interested in sex with other people, preferring to fuck his own fist if the urge grew too great to ignore, but he thought about bending you over right here in this hallway and bullying Simon’s big cock into you, just to spite him.

“Oh! Thank you,” you said with a charming smile, entirely ignorant to the image he’d conjured up of you. One he found himself enjoying more than he’d thought he would. “I really am sorry,” you said for the third time, like a parrot echoing itself. Little bird indeed. “I’m such a klutz. Except for when I’m dancing. Then I’ve got at least a modicum of grace.”

Beneath his mask, Ghost raised a brow. Had he mistakenly given off the impression that he cared?

His silence was pointed, and you flushed deeper. You pushed the tray of brownies towards him, seemingly unphased by the grip he still had on it and your wrist. He let go.

“Go ahead, take it,” you said encouragingly, holding out the treat insistently. “It’s the least I can do to make up for ruining your shirt… I can always make more for Daddy another day.”

Simon’s cock twitched, and this time the dirty thoughts in their head were entirely his. Though Ghost could admit the thought of you calling him Daddy in that sweet little voice of yours, all innocent and sincere, was appealing. Perhaps there was something attractive about fucking another person after all.

“Don’t want any,” Ghost answered after a moment, and your face fell. But instead of taking his words for the dismissal they were, you perked back up and continued talking.

“Do you not like brownies? I can make you something else and come back tomorrow,” you offered, for some unknowable reason. Both Simon and Ghost were astounded the conversation had lasted this long, and worse yet, showed no signs of ending. “I can make lemon bars, white chocolate truffles, pudding, anything you’d like.. But nothing too fancy.” You giggled. No one had ever giggled in Ghost’s presence before. “I’m no professional baker. I just do it when the mood strikes, or when Daddy is craving something sugary. He’s the one who taught me to bake. Oh! Do you have any allergies? Nuts, gluten, anything? I don’t want to poison you…”

And on and on you went, rambling like Ghost was actually listening to you. Except that he was. Perhaps it was cruel curiosity, wanting to see how long you’d carry on making a fool of yourself. Or maybe it was Simon pitying you for the nerves in your voice, not wanting to interrupt you and make you more anxious. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that you were showing Ghost more kindness than he had ever received in his life.

Simon had experienced the joys of living, of companionship and love. Ghost had not, though he’d seen it all through their eyes. He hadn’t really thought that he was missing out on anything.

But now, with a lovely little dove like you offering to bake for him—not Simon, but Ghost—he thought he maybe he was, if just a tad. Especially if your pussy tasted as sweet as your baked goods smelled.

[coeurify]

“it’s november.”

the words have you jumping, the unsolid, rounded edges of the stool you’re currently standing on wobble with the movement of your foot. a squeak follows, rushing to find your balance— which is fine so by pressing your hand against the wall you were trying to reach the top of.

the hand that’s currently holding a string of multi colored christmas lights, the green trail of side dropping below you, your stool and the wall you had already pinned them to.

“it’s november,” the voice repeats— belonging to your girlfriend ellie, who walks behind you and peers up. the sweater she wears is pushed up to her elbows, pooling the cloth in a way that makes her look a little silly. as silly as the tone of voice she uses as she continues her obvious teasing. “and you’re already putting christmas lights up?”

your lips pout out immediately at the words, huffing as you press your sock clad feet. “november is almost over el. this is an absolutely valid time to put these up.” you wave your hand holding the clump of lights around, much more steady on your little wooden stool you were using for some added height.

“babe, thanksgiving hasn’t even passed,” ellie continues— and you can see her shaking her head even out of the corner of your eye as your head turns back to the wall— jaw clenching as you press up on your toes again to hand the light over the next pin. the small chuckle that the sight of you struggling to reach the spot seems to bring only annoys you more— head snapping to look over your shoulder with a look ellie liked to call your ‘scary eyes.’

“you can’t even— baby you can’t even reach. how did you get all that up?” ellie tries not to laugh but she can’t help it, the bursts of giggles slipping from her lips before she can stop them, green eyes trailing over the soft and cozy living room you two shared. somehow, alone with your little shitty stool.. you had covered at least half of the room while she was napping. “let me help,” she offered, a hand reaching out to steady your leg.

“no!” you complain, kicking your leg out a little to shrug off her hand. it only brings the wood below you to rock some more, which makes ellie grip a little harder. “you’re being judgy. i don’t want your help.” you sound petulant, maybe a little hurt by her amusement that you were doing this now.. alone.

“i am not being judgy,” ellie soothes her hand over your leg as you reach forward and successfully hook the sting of wired lights over the next spot. “you are, and you’re basically the same height as me— you can’t reach shit either.” you continue, the dig at her height a teasing one, paired with an eyebrow raise and fleeting glance back at her.

“ow?” ellie’s free hand clamped over her chest in faux hurt— the ragged cut strands of deep auburn hair shaking with her head. you find yourself watching the movement and fighting away a smile. “i meant by keeping you steady but if you wanna be mean i can totally let you do it all.” ellie pinches your leg over the fuzzy sweatpants you’re wearing. if it was anyone else you might be a little worried she was actually hurt.. but you can hear the humor seeping into her words and drawing out her sentences.

“fine,” the sigh that comes with the tingle word makes it seem like this decision was just absolutely the most difficult one you’ve had to make— the dramatics always evident. “i guess you can help. but only if you quit saying i’m doing it too early.”

honestly, you had planned to finish this little light hanging before she was done with her nap. she worked a long day with joel, you wanted to surprise her. and okay.. maybe you had seen one or two too many videos about the holidays that had given you the itch to decorate something and right then. but clearly the surprise element was lost, and ellie’s sarcastic taunting had replaced it. so now maybe you’re doing it out of spite. who knows, maybe you’ll even put on the santa clause after.

ellie’s fingers raise to her mouth, fake zipping them and nodding quickly. the urge to roll your eyes is one you act on, scoffing at her before you turn again and feel the steady warmth of her hands on both of your legs now, shifting you a little bit further down the wall for the next spot.

your lip falls between your teeth again, toes straining against your feet as you push as high as you can to get the next spot and—

“okay but you can admit most people wait for after thanksgiving right?”

“ellie!”

[revelboo]

Even If It Kills Me Pt 2

TF Armada Starscream x Reader

• Primus, help him, because the sound you make when he does finally manage to catch you almost makes him immediately drop you. Screaming your little head off as the Mini-Cons flinch away, chirping and upset by the noise. But as he lifts you to optic level, you give up and fall silent. Those eyes are defiant when they meet his glare head on. “So is this where you crush me like a bug?” You ask, and venting raggedly, he doesn’t know what to make of you. Afraid of him, but so blunt. Almost like you fully expect him to hurt you. Like you’re used to it and resigned that it’s your lot. And staring at that discoloration around your eye, it clicks. He’s seen that on the human kids before. A bruise.

• That uncannily human face is frowning at you, huge servos warm where they’re wrapped around you. But not gripping you so tight you can’t breathe. Not breaking ribs even though he easily could. Which means you might get out of this unscathed, though given your track record, you doubt it. Hope is something for other people. “Humans aren’t supposed to know we’re here,” he says before looking down at the little robot that had wandered up to you first and his servos flex against you. You’re not sure if he can understand the little guy’s beeping, but he suddenly vents hard enough warm air stirs your hair. Laying your palms on his hand, you wonder what he’ll do to keep his existence secret.

• “Will it be quick?” You ask and he freezes, because you’re staring at him, expression oddly blank. And he understands that emptiness, of knowing that pain is coming for you no matter what you do. You took his words and assumed he’d end you to protect himself. No arguing or pleading, just tired acceptance, too broken to resist. Too beaten to even think about fighting.

• Optics narrowing at you, you wait for it to come. Honestly it’s kind of funny, you’d just assumed he would be the one to put in the ground eventually. Never expected this, though. If there’s any justice in the world, your death will still get pinned on him. He can spend the rest of his life sober and caged like an animal. One last act of spiteful rebellion against him. And you are laughing now, crying and coming apart all at once. “Primus,” the monster growls.

• Completely at a loss, he looks down at the Mini-Cons then at the human wheezing and sobbing and laughing like a mad thing in his grip. Much more broken than he’d thought. How much further could Megatron have pushed him until this was him? Cautiously, he runs a servo against your hair. Reaching out to you like the kids had reached out to him. And when you touch his servo with a trembling hand, you’re still crying as you look up at him and he knows he can’t just leave you here even if he wasn’t under orders to not be seen.

Previous

I caved and finally replaced my old Wacom tablet so I can remind myself that no, I cannot in fact draw

[rhiannonsknife]

https://x.com/femmeflix/status/1852896350481825792?s=46&t=PsXAfTCJv59FchQIdn66aA

I’ve been obsessed with Jackie/your Jackie fics and thoughts lately.

This with Jackie in the wilderness though..? Maybe an AU where she never died and find excuses to keep you “warm at night” in winter? You’re in the farthest corner of the cabin when she starts grinding against you softly. The others are asleep but you still have to be quiet, silently sighing into the other’s mouth as you get each other off…

-🪩

thank you 🪩 anon!! i probably added way too much background lore, but i hope this is what you had in mind <3 nsfw below so: mdni!

i feel like, unlike shauna, jackie would not be so in denial about how touch starved she is. i think she’s well aware that she needs somebody’s comfort, yet ever since doomcoming, she and shauna have not spoken properly and she won’t even look in travis’ direction.

it wasn’t just the betrayal itself, you think, without ever saying it out loud, it was the audacity of it. now, every time jackie glanced at shauna, all she could see was the life she used to have, the life she had taken away piece by piece: her boyfriend, her best friend, her sense of control. nobody is ever calling it by name in spite of the elephant (shauna’s bump) in the room.

jackie hadn’t acknowledged the pregnancy out loud, yet the unspoken tension hangs in the air whenever they are forced to share space, impacting all of you.

the more time passes, the colder everyone gets.

except for tai and van, the rest of the team has sort of neglected the need for physical touch and closeness. without anyone around that you’d be comfortable enough with to ask for a simple hug, you try to do the same as everyone else. only at night, with the others fast asleep, you ever dare to wrap your arms around yourself, picturing it’s someone else holding you.

you won’t let it show to the others, though, not wanting to be the first to break under the current circumstances.

turns out you don’t have to wait too long for someone else to be in a similar position: jackie had been the one to lose it from the start. sure, you’d all been terrified, but out of all the girls, jackie had been the most stubborn when it came to her chores out here.

she’d always been the one least likely to adapt to any of this: to the wilderness, to the cold, to the isolation that gnawed at all of you. she wasn’t built for this life, and everyone knew it, including her. but jackie wasn’t one to let people see her break easily: the same jackie who once thrived on attention now barely spoke, her haughty attitude replaced by something more brittle.

it had only been a matter of time before this facade cracked.

you’d seen her unraveling slowly. the way she avoided shauna, the way she avoided everyone, really. how she snapped at taissa for trying to delegate chores or rolled her eyes at nat’s attempts to hunt. she’s so desperate to seem untouchable, but it is clear to you that jackie’s just lost. and hurt.

and then came the nightmares, too.

you start to wake at night to the sound of her gasping, a sharp cry muffled into the blanket she clutches around her. she must’ve shot up, her breaths coming fast and shallow, and for a moment, you think she might wake everyone else. but the others keep sleeping, too used to the sounds of restless nights to stir. that’s how it starts because you -unsure of what else to do- only reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. jackie flinches, not expecting anyone else to be up at this time. you two never talk about it afterwards but you feel the way she instantly melts into your touch.

that small gesture is what makes you realize how much you’ve missed being close to another person.

after this, it is like a switch has been flipped: jackie is fixated on always lingering in your presence, eager for any kind of touch she can get, whether it’s a brush of hands, her palm to your back, or sitting shoulder to shoulder. she even picks up certain chores just to be near you. whether it is a desperate attempt for proximity and closeness or a real crush that’ll keep on growing beyond this place where you’re stuck, it feels nice to be wanted like this.

one of these nights, with the cabin quiet and the air heavy with the sound of soft snores and the occasional crackle of the dying fire, jackie takes things one step further.

everyone else is huddled together for warmth, but in the farthest corner of the room, it’s just you. or at least it was, until jackie had slipped down beside you, her breath visible in the freezing air as she sits close -closer than she needs to.

she whispers, careful not to wake the others, “it’s freezing. you’re practically an icicle over here,“ she hesitates, her hands tugging at her blanket as if trying to decide what to say next. after another moment, she ventures, “i don’t know how you’re even handling it. i feel like my fingers might fall off any second”

her eyes flicker to yours, searching for something. permission, maybe, to come even closer than she already is. “you know,” she says lightly, almost offhand, “it’d probably be warmer if we shared. not that anyone would care… or even notice.”

she doesn’t press it further, leaving the idea hanging between you. sure, the two of you have shared your moments before, but you certainly hadn’t spent the night cuddling yet.

the silence stretches out, her gaze darting to yours again, waiting for any sign. and then you shift, just a little, leaning closer, not quite touching but enough to give her what she needs. the corner of her mouth twitches, and without a word, she slides her blanket open, wrapping it around the both of you as she settles closer.

jackie voice is barely above a whisper, the words brushing against your ear. “this is okay…right?”

you nod, softly, knowing she’ll see from where she’s curled up against you from behind. like this, the two of you lie in silence for a good while. you know jackie is awake still: you can feel the way she occasionally shifts, or how her breathing won’t still in a way that it would if she was asleep.

it’s strange, how natural this feels: being this close to someone, so comfortably tangled together after such a long time. a part of you had forgotten how it would feel. another part, the one that’s been falling in love with jackie taylor long before your plane crashed, longs to have her even closer and tries its very hardest not to allow your mind to wander…

jackie, on the other hand, hasn’t felt this close to any of the other girls either. without thinking, her hand moves of its own accord, around you to rest on your stomach. her fingers are cold, even through your layers of clothing. she brushes them lightly over your skin, the touch gentle. you audibly gulp, but let her.

after another moment, you are finally brave enough to shift. you lift yourself up and adjust until you’re facing her. jackie’s hand remains on the dip of your waist underneath the blanket.

your bodies are flush against each other, your breaths mingling in the sliver of air between you. jackie’s eyes widen a fraction as you turn, her hand instinctively tightening its grip on your waist. the shift in your position has brought you even closer together.

her hand slides further, fingertips tracing over the shape of your hip. “you’re still cold,” she murmurs, her voice low and hushed in the quiet cabin. her eyes rake over you, her gaze lingering over the curve of your lips.

“it is cold in here” you point out, shivering at the realization of her wandering eyes. jackie isn’t exactly subtle about it either. after all, there’s not much she’s ever wanted that she didn’t get.

her touch is moving from your hip down to the curve of your thigh. her fingers dance over the fabric of your pants underneath the blanket. she’s still fixated on your mouth, her breath hitching as she sees the way you shiver under her gaze.

jackie leans in a little closer when she feels the way your legs fall open under her hands, her lips nearly brushing against your ear as she whispers, “you know, i think i’ve got a few more ways i could help warm you up…” her hand moves again, sliding further up your thigh.

it’s pathetic, really. it’s a desperate attempt to cling to normality. to feel wanted in spite of everything. it’s a short moment in the terrors of the wilderness that she won’t speak about in the morning. but, fuck it, you’re willing to take it.

your breath hitches in your throat when jackie’s hand inches up your leg, a small noise slipping from your lips. immediately, jackie hushes you.

“sh” she says, eyes darting to where the others are fast asleep. “we have to be quiet” and with that, your last restraints are gone. it only confirms what jackie is up to right now -if it hadn’t been clear yet, it certainly is now. and while you know, rationally, that this is a bad idea, the need to feel someone’s touch is too strong for you to neglect it any longer: awkward attempts of trying to get off under the covers whilst everyone else sleeps are clearly not doing enough for you.

at least jackie seems to be on the same page.

you both shift and adjust against each other. it’s a little clumsy, and it takes a moment to find a good position, but it’s driven by the need for something you’ve both been craving, so you make it work. before you know it, jackie lingers above you in a way that has her center pressing against your own under the sheets.

she exhales a shuddered breath and your hands jump up to hold her hips. your eyes are wide as you stare up at her, partly in disbelief that this is happening, mostly because you can’t believe that jackie wants you like this.

jackie leans in, not kissing you yet, but with her arms bracing her weight on either side of your head, caging you in. her eyes are dark, her gaze flickering over your features in a way that makes your stomach flip.

beneath the covers, her legs shift, her body pushing further into yours, grinding against you for the first time, in a way that is deliberate and calculated. her breath stutters, her voice hoarse as she speaks, “you’ve gotta be-” she gasps, and bites her lip, resisting the moan that threatens to escape. “quiet”

oh, how you wish you could’ve met her under different circumstances. how you wish jackie could’ve wanted you like this all the way back home, so you could’ve heard the way she sounds when she’s moving on top of you.

when you finally come back to your senses, you decide to make the most of this opportunity. holding her hips a little tighter, you lift your own from the ground to meet her halfway.

jackie, who’s only ever known sex to be something merely mediocre, is surprised that grinding against you (fully clothed, and in a room full of sleeping people that prevent you from going all the way) is already better than anything she’s ever had.

she shivers as you take the initiative, matching her movements with a gasp that she barely manages to bite back. she arches into you, her body moving steadily now.

her hands slide up your sides, fingers slipping under the edge of your shirt to feel the warm skin of your stomach. she leans in, her breath a shaky, quiet: “god, yes…just like that…”

you can feel your own underwear, clinging to your arousal which is growing exponentially at this rate. there’s no way you’ll last long like this, not when you’re embarrassingly close to creaming your pants just from watching her. each of your movements is mirrored by one of hers, until you’ve found a good rhythm to grind against the other. at some point, jackie’s body goes slack and she drops forward. you instantly hold her to your chest as she keeps rutting against you, moaning the faintest little “ah, ah, ah” sounds into your ear.

the friction between you spikes, both of you desperate and greedy for more connection. your hips keep meeting in a slow, steady rhythm, both pushing and pulling each other into deeper contact.

her hands are still wandering over your body, exploring every inch of your skin she can reach through the clothing that’s supposed to keep you warm but is severely restricting right now.

she draws you closer, her mouth by your ear, her voice a low, husky whisper, “i want you…i want you so badly…” she whispers. whether jackie means it or not, it works on you.

“don’t stop” you tell her, rocking into her equally desperately. at this point you can only pray that no one will hear the creaking floor boards. the sheets are a tangled mess around the two of you, the covers having slipped down to her waist as the heat between you escalates.

“jackie” you whisper, hoping the urgency to your tone will get the message across. judging by the way she nods erratically, that seems to be the case.

“yeah” she says, bobbing her head still. “yeah, me too”

you, embarrassed as you are, cum first. it’s quiet, your lips parted in a silent scream as jackie’s constant rocking sends you stumbling over the edge you’ve been toeing since she began straddling you. she watches you fall apart beneath her, not once slowing down or stopping altogether, determined to make herself cum too.

her eyes flutter and she struggles to keep her breathing steady as her hold on you tightens. “don’t- don’t you dare stop-“ she hisses, your pleasure not yet ebbing by the time she follows. jackie is beautiful, obviously, but you’ve never seen something that could ever compare to her when she makes herself come against you: her head falls back and her eyes close tightly. she’s biting her lower lip so harshly she could be drawing blood for the sake of not being too loud.

finally, after her body has gone tense for a couple of seconds, jackie slumps against you. she’s panting right into your ear, unable to speak as her orgasm washes over her. you can feel her thighs trembling around yours as she recovers.

for a few moments, the only sound in the room is the ragged breathing of the two of you as the silence hangs heavy in the air. the cabin is quiet, the rest of the team blissfully unaware of what just happened a few feet away.

“holy shit” you finally breathe, unsure of what else to do or say. thankfully, jackie doesn’t move away like a part of you had anticipated. she stays right there, on top of you, giving you the courage to hesitantly wrap your arms around her and hold her to your chest.

if you don't move, you'll fall asleep like this and the others will have plenty of questions in the morning. still, neither of you has got the strength to get up, to move away from the heat you're providing. your eyes grow heavy before you know it. it's the first night of good sleep in a long time.

[talesofesther]

sweet serenity

Lucanis Dellamorte x Rook

Summary: After it all, Lucanis finds his serenity.

A/N: I wasn't planning on writing something for Lucanis so soon, but this sweet little thought came to my mind, and I couldn't let it slide. No spoilers ahead. I hope you enjoy it. Do let me know if you want to see more of him here! Requests are open, as usual.

Masterlist

An air of serenity engulfs Rook's meditation chamber, all quiet and calm. It's late into the night, or at least, what would be the equivalent of it in the fade. The large aquarium that covers an entire wall created ripples of liquid light on the floor and over Rook's skin. She watches for a moment as the fish swim lazily in the water, wondering still, in the back of her mind, how exactly they came to be in the fade.

Her attention wavers quickly, however, when her lips brush against raven hair. A smile comes to Rook's lips, one of her hands gingerly tracing shapes over his naked back. Her fingertips feel over a few bumps, some small, others not so much. Each scar on his skin had already felt the touch of her lips, too.

Lucanis is lying with her, or rather, on her. His head nests snuggly on the curve of her neck, facing away from the aquarium. One of his arms is over her stomach, and a steady and warm grip keeps her as close as humanly possible to him. He'd refused to leave her side, ever since he nearly lost her. Once is enough—the Crow had told her, his eyes glinting with pools of unshed worry, hurt, and longing.

Rook doesn't mind, much on the contrary. It feels almost healing to be so tangled with Lucanis, not knowing where he ends and she begins. She nuzzles onto the crown of his head, laying a chaste kiss there. It makes him shiver, she feels it in the goosebumps that rise on his skin.

He'd reacted the same way on their first night together, too; She had taken his cheeks between both her hands, only so she could touch his forehead with hers, noses bumping together while her fingers buried into his hair with the care of someone holding their world in their hands. And from her touch, she felt something wet drop onto her cheeks, once and then twice. His hands trembled where he held onto her waist. She had opened her eyes to find tear tracks down Lucanis' face. It had worried her, but in the same breath, he clutched at her hand like a lifeline and placed it more firmly onto his skin. On that night, she leaned forward again, her lips then tracing a path from below his eye, down to his cheeks, and until she found his lips again. There had been a distant salty taste to it as she kissed his tears away.

His goosebumps under her fingertips tonight bring the memory to the forefront of her mind, and she smiles, all sweet and adoring.

Everything is all too new for him, she knows. He even tried to deny his own feelings in the beginning. Rook still remembers the words Lucanis had told her not that long ago. You deserve better than to deal with my mess. Many times, he tried to give her an out, to keep her away; in his mind, it was safer that way. She deserved better, and Lucanis feared the possibility of him, or Spite, ever hurting her.

She'd convinced him otherwise. Showed him otherwise. She always did.

And now, Lucanis can happily drown in her embrace. He fears though, that it's without it that he might suffocate.

The quietness lingers, and Lucanis feels faint with the way she loved on him. Her touch is all too gentle and tender, he can't remember a time before her that he'd ever felt something like it. Perhaps never. He buries his nose further against her skin, a shuddering breath passing through his lips. There is a burning in the back of his eyes, but this time it doesn't come from Spite, for the demon has been blissfully quiet for a while now.

Lucanis felt her kiss, her fingers brushing over his scars—as delicate as rose petals on his skin. And he could crumble. He would get on his knees and promise her the world over and over if it meant she'd keep touching him with the gentleness of her hands.

"You're quiet tonight," Rook's soft voice says. It's a mere observation, as she selfishly missed the sound of his voice.

Lucanis hums, all sleepy, as his thumb traces the skin of her hip. "For too long," he holds a pause, they have the time all for themselves anyway, "I've wished for this… peace." The crow can feel her hand wandering, his eyes remain closed but her presence is intoxicating and he can't help but be aware of it. She's fidgeting with his hair, he feels the gentle tugs on the long strands.

"Spite?" Rook inquires, a little distracted.

"Is silent," he sighs. "With you, he's always calm." Lucanis' accent is heavy on his words and Rook smiles again. "I think… you are stuck with me now." There's the slightest bit of hesitation as he says it, still. Lucanis holds onto his breath, a little more awake now.

"Good. I was hoping to be." Warmth and affection drips from Rook's words, and the crow eases the air in his lungs.

Silence engulfs them again, but Lucanis is mindful of her movements. He senses her touch on multiple strands of his hair, working one over the other in a neat, small braid. He assumes as much, at least. It's more than welcome, he nearly purrs at her ministrations. Lucanis' hand lays flat against her stomach, drawing a pattern over her ribs, down to her hip, and back again.

Rook smooths one hand over his hair, fingers burying between soft dark locks, careful of the little braid now resting beside his ear. She picks out three strands and begins anew.

"What are you doing there, mi amor?"

Rook's cheeks become warm, a sheepish tilt to her lips as she bites back a smile. "Hmm, nothing."

She feels the shape of Lucanis' own smile against her skin, though, before he gives a kiss to the skin of her collarbone.

"I am not taking them off, you know," he mumbles, referring to the little artwork she's been doing to his hair.

She buries her nose against him to muffle a chuckle, and Lucanis can't take it anymore. He pushes himself up on his elbows, looking down at her with something that could only be described as adoration. All blown pupils and flushed cheeks.

He kisses her, over and over. He feels privileged.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Lucanis' taglist is open, let me know if you'd like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

[meloodyxx]

"anyways, my point is, i dont wanna sacrifice myself. I dont want it. i was the recipient of a bunch of sacrifices in secret life. and i decided, you know, i dont wanna do that. i dont wanna be part of it, we are just not doing that." - gem, ep 6 (her thoughts about sacrifising herself to jimmy because she is allied with him, in parallel to doing that last season with scott, but being on the other end of it.)

i love the whole narrative of gem not being able to let go things that happened in secret life. it makes so much sense too because it was her first season.

all the significant events that happened to lifers in the first three seasons are still very important to their current dynamics. the whole 3gs arc, desert duo, renchanting, bigbs betrayal, bdubs' betrayal, scar burning the ranch, secret soulmates, literally every single soulmate pair?? but in secret life and wild life, they were starting to just acknowledge the events but also let go of them in a sense of "we cant keep these grudges forever"

and since everyone was taking the "oh well, this happened, but its pretty much in the past now" approach to the series this season, (the outside sources like quizbot driving everyone's attention to the past events doesnt really count because it was wilcard-based, and even if it counted, lifers just used the past life series events as a wink wink nudge nudge to the audience and treated it like inside jokes between themselves rather than changing their alliances/thoughts about other people) gem, just in her second season, being spiteful about pearl and scars 1v2 and scott's sacrifice stands out a lot more.

anyways, as ovbious it is that gem is willingly playing into the narrative of the shinyduo divorce, her other decisions this season resulted in my thoughts above, so i felt obliged to make it a post!!

(this is very much a c!gem post, i love watching cc!gem's content and this is not meant to be negative in any way whatsoever <3)

[koi-p0nd]

Good morning,afternoon, and nights!

I was wondering if can you do an imagine of reader protecting Anya from jimmy before and after the crash? Which reader always giving a bitchy attitude to j#### and reader giving self defense tools to Anya just in case. (The self defense weapons are a taser,a pocket kn’fe, and a pink decorated pepper spray)

-anonymous

Omg hi hello????? I woke up around an hour and a half ago????

(Am I that good of a writer???? Lmao kidding)

Anya getting self defense lessons and weapons from reader with an attitude? To keep the Bad Stinker Man away? Yes.

Okay, since I'm still trying to get back into writing again, this might be a bit wonky and not really up to what others can make but I'm trying my best here :')

I think imma make like a list or smth, I dunno, but I hope it works :D

I also decided to change the pocket knife to a swiss army knife, thought that she could use the different things on it for more than self defense or to give some more severe injuries to Stinker.

Mouthwashing Anya x Reader. (Platonic)

"Don't be afraid to use force, girl." (Not proof read)

Before the crash:

Way long before the crash, just a few weeks or months after taking off with the ship Anya had told you about getting weird vibes from Jimmy.

It was kind of obvious as to why she would go to you and just quietly voice her suspicions to you, you literally had a tazer and can off pepper spray clipped to your uniform belt out in the open.

She was glad for that, honestly.

After she told you about this, you kept an extra eye on Jimmy whenever he were nearby you and/or Anya. Watching like a hawk.

There was constant bitchy attitude from you towards Jimmy when he and you interreacted. It always pissed him off.

It wasn't pretty arguments and fights over something small and irrelevant.... Swansea, Daisuke and Curly had to often break you two apart....

Not even a week later, you offered to teach Anya some self defense.

Shock and surprise was the only thing that Anya could express for a few moments. Understandable.

Who in the world would offer a colleague, who you barely know anything about, self defense?

Well... You did.

Not out of pity, of course not. You just wanted to teach her so she could beat Jimmy up if she needed to and no one was around.

Anyways

Anya had gladly taken the offer from you. Grateful that you just decided to spend your free time in training her and teaching her things.

Although she felt a little guilty for it.

Hush girly, don't feel bad. You deserve to knock Jimmy's teeth out<3

She was ectsatic and giddy internally when she got her own self defense tools from you; a tazer, a somewhat old swiss army knife and the pepper spray decorated in pink.

You just smiled at how giddy she looked.

After the crash:

After the crash. Hmm....

Things went to hell, basically.

Curly was a burnt, crispy nugget (sorry Curly😭)

Let's just say that Anya has used her tazer quite a lot of times on Jimmy out of spite or when he was getting up in her space.

The pepper not so much, she wants to save as much of it to really bad situations. Since the water supply is not that big on the ship.

The army knife is more used to be a every day life tool, using the various things on it for various things. Has occasionally had the knife of it pointed at Jimmy, as well as the tazer/pepper spray in her other hand.

She is so very gratefull for having you as her self defense teacher. She can sucker punch Jimmy if she feels really fed up with Jimmy.

I hope this is what you asked for :') and sorry if it's bad😭 I'm trying to get my writing skills back...

[calliecopper]

It's established that the human Amanda Stern was a professor at the University of Colbridge with a specific knowledge of artificial intelligence, and that Elijah Kamski was a student of hers with whom she had a close relationship with. Kamski founded Cyberlife in 2018 when he was only 16 years old, and created CHLOE, the first successful iteration of what would become the mass-produced androids, in 2021, at only 19 years of age. Given the supposed humble beginnings Kamski comes from, having the resources to create an android on his own was likely impossible.

Kamski's close relationship with Amanda, as seen by his portrait of her in his parlor, as well as her knowledge of artificial intelligence and the resources she would have in a university, leads me to believe that she had a major part in the creation of Cyberlife and getting it off the ground. Especially given that Kamski himself doesn't seem very knowledgeable on the code of his own androids. He, as seen in the mission Meet Kamski, seems more interested in the physicality of the androids. Given that he has multiple androids in his house wearing nothing but bathing suits, and reverently refers to Chloe as, "Beautiful, forever young, a flower that will never wither."

Deviation seems to be not a mutation in the code of androids, as it is often referred to as, but rather the breaking down of, what is quite literally, a firewall. The RED WALL of code shown in-game to represent an android "breaking free" implies to me that the capacity of free will was always within androids, and not a spontaneous new piece of mutated code. It's also remarkably easy for the androids to tear the wall down, which implies to me that the firewall itself wasn't even an effective one. Especially seeing as many androids exhibit the ability to feel emotions and have free thought before deviation even occurs, and the RED WALL is only meant to keep them from acting upon their free will.

The game implies that Kamski had a plan for deviation since the beginning, but part of me wonders if deviation has more to do with Amanda.

This is me delving not into actual lore but into my own thoughts, but what if deviancy was within androids from the very beginning? What if Amanda had spearheaded the creation of the code within androids while Kamski headed the mechanics of the body? What if Amanda had discovered a new variation of life, but Kamski had decided that Cyberlife as a company was too profitable to give up on, and slapped a shoddy firewall up to course correct. What if he stepped down from Cyberlife not by choice, but because the company found him liable for negligence in allowing faulty product to be distributed, thus leaving them to scramble and figure out what deviancy was and how to stop it.

That bears the question, why was Amanda in Connor's Zen Garden? She seems to act as a secondary RED WALL, or an AI within Connor to help course correct. Since androids do seem to FEEL emotions even with the RED WALL, it would seem that the androids would need something to course correct their EMOTIONS as well as their physical capabilities. So, what if Kamski, before stepping down, had been creating Connor with an idea in mind to "fix" the rising problem of his RED WALL not working. In Meet Kamski he seems to have knowledge of the Zen Garden, as seem in the last chapter when his words lead Connor to escaping said Zen Garden. So what if the Zen Garden had been his creation specifically to attempt combating deviancy? What if he put in the emergency escape for Connor to spite Cyberlife for making him step down.

I don't subscribe to the idea that Kamski supports deviants or crested androids with deviancy in mind. I think the character Amanda is too important to Kamski for her to have not been somehow involved in the creation of androids / Cyberlife, beyond just being Kamski's teacher.

This is all just a random stream of consciousness, but I kinda wish that Amanda was alive in the game and that Connor could've visited her off the books after visiting Kamski, if he had discovered the photo in the parlor. I wish that we could've gotten more of an insight into deviancy, the creation of androids, and basically less flowery fuckin "I am a God" speak like we got from Kamski.

Amanda Stern being dead felt like a missed opportunity to me.

[whinlatter]

sorry if you've discussed this before, but do you think ginny's quidditch talent came out of nowhere? it's a common criticism I see about her but I feel like that kind of overstates how much of a quidditch "star" she was at the beginning, like she was consistently described as good but not great until partway into hbp and I also think it makes sense she'd keep it a secret from her teasing brothers. but maybe they're right and I'm just biased towards defending ginny

thank you for the question, anon!

the short answer is - no, i think it's (just about) plausibly rendered in the books. i think the series gets away with it because:

the story is told from the perspective of a teenage boy aka peak obliviousness in corporeal form, so we see what harry sees (and harry notices big fat nothing)

there is an entirely adequate narrative explanation for ginny's sporting skills that most readers not operating in bad faith* can put together, as you suggest: ginny comes from a sporty family who are all good at quidditch; she is of middling-to-good seeking ability when she first joins the team in ootp; she then has a good few months flying several times a week where she would necessarily grow in confidence and experience, leaving her perfectly able to blossom in hbp in a high school sport where she is competing against other children. fine and dandy in my book.

also quidditch is a broadly dumb and pointless plot so ginny being good at it is just a fun extra that we don't need to deep too much because - let's be real - quidditch is a waste of page space.

*i say this because, most of the time, these takes come from those who don't like hinny as a pairing. which is entirely their right and prerogative! it personally doesn't float my boat to spend my days doing worst faith readings of the text in order to make the case against canon ships i don't like, but as this is a race to the bottom - we are all adults dissecting children's books written by a nasty spiteful woman rotting in her mouldy castle spouting slurs, after all - who am i to judge.

(i also suspect the 'ginny is good at quidditch out of nowhere' takes have enjoyed such a long shelf-life on eg. reddit because the films are still most people's primary reference for HP takes so complaints about them then get cast back on the books - and, in the films, ginny does in fact rock up in film 6 like she's mbappé, if mbappé had the charisma of an extraordinarily soggy bath mat.)

with that said... could it have done with a bit more foreshadowing? yes, probably. people who don't like hinny as a pairing and prefer another are never going to be convinced - that's fine! but here i am, a paid-up hinny supporter, and even i think ginny's character development is sometimes wanting, to a frustrating and problematic extent. good writing (usually) means showing not telling, and it's weird and lazy of jkr to be so slapdash about revealing this and other character details about ginny and other (often female) characters. i think it's particularly striking that jkr underserves characters (again, usually women) who exist to serve the emotional development of characters (usually men), rather than the mystery plot(s) that drive hp as a series. (wanted! tonks' personality! last seen making fake pig noses and being the only auror mad eye moody mentored as his successor, for no plot reason!)

while i'm not a die-hard adherent to the chekhov's gun principle, i think one of the strengths of many novels du jour - especially the nothing really happens postmodern novel that crowds the bookshop shelves these days - is that their conventions allow authors to add colour to characters without each tiny detail being pregnant with meaning and in service of a driving plot that must be marched forward at all times. that can be really nice! as readers, we like to get a sense of characters as well-rounded living breathing people who go for a wee and take the bins out and stick on an album because it slaps every now and then; in these novels, we're also happier with the idea that things can happen to characters beyond the protagonist that don't directly impact the plot or demand the protagonist knows more than their own very limited vantage point. you have more room to play with character as a result.

jkr, ofc, isn't that kind of author. jkr is in fact an author for whom everything about her characters serves the plot. this, after all, is the brain that brought you 'remus lupin' the werewolf, and named the bad-guy-turned-good-guy in a book using a big black dog as a red herring omen of death 'sirius black'. jkr wants her audience to notice clues and remember little details about characters because they might be significant later on. this is entirely her wont and - lupin and sirius aside - she's often very good at it. the hp books are all standalone mysteries, and, when they land, those mysteries slap. ginny being the culprit in CoS is a genuinely satisfying resolution to the whodunit plot: this was reflected in critical reception at the time and was part of the reason why hp was able to be marketed as a children's book adults would also enjoy thereafter. there are also very satisfying foreshadowing and mystery plots that straddle the entire series and that reward the reader with reasonably good pay-off at the series end. (my favourite is the foreshadow within the foreshadow - e.g. regulus black barrelling back from ootp in DH, but then regulus' plot turning out to ultimately exist to foreshadow snape's own double agent status... delicious).

for my part, it's also what i want out of the fiction i read and the stories i try to write. i want everything to mean something. i want the weather, clothing, setting, body language etc to all do heavy lifting. i want character work to do work. it makes it fun for me to write and (i hope) it can it a bit more fun for the reader.

the problem is that while jkr is good setting up some mysteries, she is bad at others, and the romantic plot is one she falls down (a bit) on. she sets herself up for this: she wants to be a plot-centred mystery writer, so she does have an obligation to do better in how she deploys character details. jkr does to try to write the harry/ginny romance like a mystery, with little hints throughout the series up to the reveal of harry's feelings for ginny in HBP. (even ginny's full name is nominative determinism, finally revealed in DH once the reader has been told her place in the plot - ginevra, so guinnevre, the hero's queen). and while i will never not tire of pointing out to all of reddit that harry/ginny didn't come out of nowhere, and there is some satisfying foreshadowing knocking about here and there, i think it's fair to say that the harry/ginny build-up is not as satisfying as it could have been because jkr is basically lazier about the clues that ginny is the character harry will ultimately fall for, while she is much better at dropping clues for the series' central plot. that ginny ends the series with no real resolution of the primary tensions that motivate her other than her love of harry is probably the most acute example of this. but there's lots about her character where jkr phones it in a bit in fleshing her out or taking it to any logical conclusions or interesting plot directions. a smattering of examples:

ginny is the character who spends the entire series demanding to be included and not underestimated ends the series... with no real major role in the battle other than causing harry panic, while all other central characters receive a satisfying narrative arc that speaks to their central motivators across the series as a whole. (for an interesting discussion of what should have happened with ginny and the horcruxes, see here. i didn't even pay @saintsenara to write this!)

there are lots of shades of colour to ginny's character that are introduced pointlessly. i have previously talked about my beef with arnold the pygmy puff. we know ginny is popular but we know nothing of her friends who are all faceless plotless nobodies. we know ginny supports the all-womens quidditch team in a way that implies a nascent feminist politics after a childhood being excluded from playing a sport she loves by her brothers - yet we know nothing of it. we know ginny loves the one wizarding band that seems to exist because she has a poster of them on her wall and it just.... is something we just get told about her. now, all of these suggest ginny is a good time gal and a right laugh at the pub. and that's nice! i too am fun at the pub! but why does it matter? it wouldn't, in another series. but in a series where Everything Matters, it really stands out.

now..... i don't think all of this is an unsolveable problem for those of us writing fanfiction about ginny or harry and ginny as a couple. i don't think this makes ginny an inherently bad character. i hope the amount of life i have wasted thinking about this character is testament to this (...) and i personally find trying to cook up some fleshed-out characterisation and a satisfying arc for ginny, and for female characters more generally, from the crumbs of the original source material to be a very rewarding way to pass the time and a fuck you to a woman who thinks she can gatekeep womanhood while writing some astonishingly antifeminist fiction. i think harry and ginny are a deeply compelling and eminently plausible couple, and i think i return to writing about them as much as i do because i think they have a ton of potential as narrative mirrors and as characters with a rich well of tension but also devotion between them. as i say a lot, i think one of the things the harry/ginny pairing does refreshingly well compared to other romantic lead couples in YA fiction is show a couple that, at heart, genuinely get on very well, have a laugh together and enjoy each other's company in completely mundane lovely day-to-day ways (laundry and taxes u know). i think that's a striking and refreshing dynamic that i like to spend time fleshing out and playing with and writing about. but i can also see that there is an inconsistency in jkr's character work here, particularly her character work writing female characters, of which ginny is among the most acute examples.

[cybershock24601]

The Rookanis brainworms got me again bc I’ve gone from wouldn’t it be funny if my Rook and Lucanis crossed paths for a moment before Veilguard and never realized it to formulating a whole au where Rook and Lucanis had a long distance friendship that just started to turn into something more right before Rook gets kicked out of the mourn watch and Lucanis gets stuck in the Ossuary. Rook writes like three letters to try and make extra sure that Lucanis knows what happened and that she’s going to be traveling and likely won’t be able to get any letters but she will write when she’s able to so she’s not super concerned when she doesn’t hear anything from him even if she does have a lot of anxiety about the situation she’s doing her best to bury because sure they’re both busy but surely Lucanis would try to get at least one letter to her, she did tell him that he could always leave a message with Myrna and Vorgoth to pass on, why hasn’t he sent her anything??

Meanwhile Lucanis is imprisoned in the Ossuary and all of Watcher Rook’s babbling about spirits had made it easier to deal with Spite but it’s still a very shitty situation. Spite’s probably even more fixated on Rook in this au because Lucanis wants to get out for a lot of reasons and see his family too but Rook’s probably the only person Lucanis wants to see again that he doesn’t have a lot of complicated emotions about because sure the whole long distance thing isn’t a neat situation, Rook doesn’t come with the same sort of emotional baggage Caterina and Illario have.

Anyways, the events of Veilguard happen and Neve suggests they go recruit the Demon of Vyrantium and Rook’s like sure and hopes that while in Antiva she might get a chance to track down her wayward crow. Rook does not know that the famed Demon of Vyrantium is her crow because it’s not like Lucanis ever really told her exactly who he was in the Crows. Rook knew he was a crow, had a complicated relationship with his grandma and cousin, and that Lucanis tended to play a lot of things close to the chest but seeing as Rook is also from a pretty secretive organization, she was never really that bothered by it because it’s not like she doesn’t have her own secrets to keep. Rook may like Lucanis but it’s not like she’s going to be spilling the secrets of the Necropolis to him and assumes Lucanis is dealing with the same thing which for the most part is true. It’s also that Lucanis liked just being Lucanis with Rook rather than Lucanis Dellamorte, the Demon of Vyrantium and didn’t want things to change with Rook if he told her about what exactly his position in the Crows was. Honestly Rook probably wouldn’t have cared that much beyond hitting him with a ‘that’s rough buddy’ and probably encouraging him to try to say no to his grandmother more. (“Have you tried telling her no? It’s just two letters. One syllable. It shouldn’t be that hard to say!”)

Which is a good thing because when Rook goes to meet with the Crows she’s starting to put the pieces together pretty quickly about who Lucanis is to the crows once she meets the talons + Illario and is doing her best to play it cool. Rook’s attempts at composure are not helped by being hit with the double whammy of her kinda boyfriend is dead no wait actually he’s alive he’s just been in the hands of the Venitori for a year. Which is totally not going to give Rook a guilt complex about the fact that her bf has been presumed dead for year and Rook didn’t even know.

Neve and Harding who came along to recruit their assassin (because this is my au and I can have a four person party if I want) are definitely noticing something is up but don’t get a chance to pump answers out an unusually quiet Rook (a quiet Rook is never a good sign) before they find Lucanis and are witness to the most emotionally charged yet emotionally stunted reunion they’ve ever seen. Neve and Harding are definitely trading glances between them like ‘are you seeing this shit?!’ as Rook and Lucanis have the most awkward reunion ever.

Rook is dealing with a lot of new information at once and a lot of guilt over the fact that she didn’t know her boyfriend was supposedly dead and had just been worried that maybe he didn’t like her anymore and would she ever have even found out what happened to Lucanis if she didn’t need his help to kill some ancient eleven gods? She’s even more guilty about the fact that he’s been trapped and tortured for a whole year and again Rook did not know!

Lucanis on the other hand is increadibly surprised to see Rook of all people in the Ossuary and almost thinks it’s some sort of dream that’s she’s in here rescuing him because how many times has he imagined something like that? He’s also dealing with a Spite who’s extra determined to talk to Rook and also the whole fact that he’s an abomination now and has a lot of feelings about that.

The first exchange between these two lovers goes something like this “you have a beard now. it looks.. nice.” “thank you? I didn’t really have a chance to shave in here” “that makes sense” cue awkward silence. Luckily Neve and Harding are there to get things back on track. Somewhat.

Anyways, the slow burn of the canon rookanis romance becomes two people learning to reconnect and navigate a very complex tangle of emotions after everything that happened in their year apart. Might write a fic about all this but I needed to get my idea out in the world one way or another.

Other au highlights include:

Rook and Lucanis met because Lucanis had to assassinate a mortalitasi and is sneaking in through the garden while Rook is there decompressing after dealing with the asshole and they both freeze. Lucanis is trying to decided whether he has to kill her and Rook just goes “guy you’re looking for is two floors up and three rooms to the right. good luck” Lucanis is like why are helping me to which Rook responds “this is the fourth time in as many weeks I’ve had to come deliver the same letter of censure to this guy for trying to supersede the royal charter and have to take time out of my day to come out here one more time I’m going start biting people. you’d really just be doing a public service getting rid of this guy”

Lucanis is the reason Rook switched to fighting with an arcane orb rather than a more traditional staff and helped her a lot with close quarters combat. He also gifted her a spellblade and was almost surprised that giving someone a knife worked.

The knife also tipped off Caterina that whoever this rando showing up to ask the Crows for help has some connection to Lucanis because of course Caterina would recognize the work of her grandson’s favorite blacksmith.

Illario only found out his cousin was involved with someone after Lucanis “died” and ended up going through his things because sure Illario might have ordered his death but that doesn’t mean he can’t be sad about it. Hidden under the floorboards is a small elegant lockbox filled with letters and a wyvern tooth dagger and Illario had a whole lot of feelings reading them and the slow transition from letters to love letters. Illario doesn’t realize it’s Rook though because Rook wasn’t going by Rook back then and was signing her letters with her government name.

[thegeminisage]

lucanis/rook good. lucanis/neve good. lucanis/davrin DEFINITELY good. but i think we are sleeping on lucanis/harding. here's a link to some of their banter, though i'm not sure it's everything in the game.

harding starts the game casually threatening lucanis (like davrin) with her very fancy demon-killing arrow. and yet, aside from the one line where he points out that she only has the ONE arrow, instead of getting bitchy with her the way he does with davrin, lucanis seems to respect her bravery. he notes in another cutscene (i'll get to it later) that her being so small physically might have made it easier for other people to intimidate her when she was young, so it's possibly he was making incorrect assumptions about her based on her size and easy-going nature, and is surprised to find she's made out of pretty tough stuff after all, despite of those things

she then throws him totally off-guard by assuring him she isn't brave at all, but terrified of him (or spite), and she knows that if he does lose control, it won't even be his fault - but she'll put him down no matter how scared she is. lucanis's reaction to this is to first try to laugh it off as brutal honesty, and then grow sober and TELL HER TO KEEP HER BOW CLOSE? one little shred of sympathy and kindness totally obliterated whatever combative sarcasm he was gearing up to give her with that "only one arrow" business.

later, lucanis urges her to watch their enemies rather than him - he's genuinely concerned that she's so scared of him and distracted by him she's going to get herself hurt.

lucanis, who canonically doesn't sleep and gets lots of bad dreams, talks through all of harding's dreams with her - from the silly and mundane to the genuinely terrifying - and goes out of his way to buy her spearmint to help with her nightmares. like he cares SO MUCH

after weisshaupt (on my playthrough, anyway) we learn that harding has since GIVEN her demon-killing arrow to him to prove to him she trusts him, and he wants to give it back to prove that he trusts her. it's genuinely very sweet

also after weisshaupt, harding comforts lucanis and tries to get him to stop torturing himself over his missed shot at ghilan'nain. she's not alone in doing this, but it's still good

COFFEE SCENE. not only does this scene prove lucanis pays close attention to harding, he looks at her with so much fondness here...and after this scene, their party banter involves her working through what he's pointed out about her. his dialogue implies that she shouldn't change to appease other people - because he cares about her well-being AND because he thinks she's great just the way she is.

NOT ONLY THAT, but harding realizes lucanis's evaluation was so keen because he himself is a little bit of a people-pleaser - and with that observation, once again manages to catch him off-guard. she surprises him throughout their relationship

one of my favorite bits with them is comparing notes on their various magical situations. both of them are firmly non-mages who have been unwillingly saddled with magical or magic-adjacent abilities. lucanis is the first to figure out why constantly using magic always makes her hungry (from experience) and he can also relate to being completely freaked out the first time her magical abilities manifested.

near the end of the game, lucanis admits that harding's reputation with the bow is more than earned, and even expresses interest in working with her in the future, after the war against the gods has ended, for an absurd amount of coin. i've seen people point to this banter as proof that lucanis doesn't know the value of money ("it's a banana, michael, how much could it cost? ten dollars?"), but he does his own shopping - he absolutely does know the value of money, he just ALSO places a high value on harding's skills and trustworthiness. i would dare to venture he is smitten!

also, this. OWWW MY HEART

[pitviperofdoom]

promises to keep

Lately I've been working on my main original storyverse, Sacred Darkness, and decided to do a little character writing exercise for two of its central characters, Caleb and Jack. The parts I've been writing have been from their first meeting, and I wanted to work out how they act around each other later on, when they're closer and more vitally important to each other. And also to work out Jack's voice, which is pretty distinct.

So yeah! Here's just under 2k words of vampire/Frankenstein monster platonic hurt/comfort drama.

***

Caleb woke up, which was a surprise.

It was mainly a surprise because he hadn’t expected to fall asleep. Without English soil somewhere underneath him, the most he could manage was an exhausted haze that just barely counted as consciousness, by virtue of not offering him any actual rest.

He remembered little, but strongly remembered not being able to move, and moving was required for retrieving his soil-stuffed pillow and finding somewhere safe to sleep.

But against all odds, he woke up to the familiar softness beneath his head, and the smell of dirt that smelled more like himself than the earth it came from.

The rest of him lay on hard, unforgiving pavement, but the resulting aches and bruises were nothing to the deeper pain of proper wounds. It hurt to move his arm to check them. It hurt more to prod at the hole in his abdomen that was still, unfortunately, a hole. It must have been night, because he could feel his own flesh shifting beneath his probing fingers, gradually pulling itself back together, one muscle fiber at a time.

Careful not to pull at the wound, Caleb lifted his head, forced his bleary eyes open, and looked around.

He was curled up on his side in a grimy alley. The only light he could see was the edge of a pale yellow pool that spilled from some out-of-sight street lamp. A huddled silhouette sat near the mouth of the alley, as motionless as a crouching predator lying in wait.

Caleb tensed at the sight, until his blurry vision cleared, and he saw the way the dim glow brushed the edge of the figure’s face, and the line of thick stitching that ran up the side of the jaw. It was only Jack, keeping watch while he slept.

He sat up instinctively—or tried, because the sudden movement sent pain lancing through his injured stomach. The edges of his vision turned black, and when he blinked, he was lying on his pillow again, and Jack was growling.

A soft breeze carried the scent of human into the alley—thick, fresh, and laced with alcohol. Moments later, the sound of voices reached his ears. There were two of them, maybe three; Caleb could only catch snatches of conversation.

“—some kinda fight went down—”

“—bodies?”

“Hope so. Bodies won’t fight you—”

Before long, the voices had come near enough to be heard more clearly, even over the rumble at the base of Jack’s throat.

“Just see if there’s any bodies, check their pockets, and get out before the cops show up.”

“What if they’re not dead yet?”

“You’ve got a knife. If anyone fights back, use it. Not like the coroner will know the difference.”

Caleb’s wound stubbornly refused to heal further, in spite of the night sky and the blood in his belly. Another cautious, probing look revealed why: the edges of the wound were burned black, slowing the healing process to such a painful crawl that he might as well be mortal. Someone must have blessed that knife before it went into him.

Jack’s growl rose in volume, vibrating through the air of the alley. Beyond it, the voices went silent.

“Just a stray dog,” one of them said eventually. “Keep going.”

The footsteps shuffled closer.

Jack poised like a spring. Without warning, the rumbling growl shattered into a short, shrieking roar that echoed against the walls like a gunshot. He lunged forward, dashing his claws against the pavement with a metallic crack that sent up sparks.

Caleb lunged on instinct, ready to fight or flee, anything that got them both away from the approaching scavengers. But his body betrayed him again, still infected with the lingering holiness that had laid him low. He blacked out again—only for a few seconds, he thought—but when he came to, the night was quiet again, and Jack had returned to his vigil. Caleb waited, but no voices or footsteps disturbed the silence.

The ache in his stomach had lessened, but he didn’t make the mistake of trying to sit up again. Instead he curled protectively around the wound, as he kept his eyes on Jack’s hunched form.

“Jack?”

There was no answer. The shape in front of him didn’t so much as twitch.

Caleb braced himself to speak louder, in case Jack hadn’t heard. “Jack?” he called again. “What happened? How long have we been here?” He paused, squinting at the alley again. The walls had no marks or signs to indicate what the buildings were. “Where are we?”

“Oh? And I should know?” Jack’s voice reached him in a rattling hiss, scraping its way out of a throat that was not made to accommodate words. “I am just meat that someone sewed together, no good for anything but hiding behind you, with all the big brains and good ideas. So nice you’re awake, now you can protect stupid me and my glass bones.”

Caleb stared at him, absorbing the sudden, strange tirade. “Are—are you mad at me?”

“Mad? With my empty skull with no brain in it? No.”

“Jack.”

“Go to sleep.” Jack growled deep in his throat again. “Or do I have no brain or brawn to watch for danger, too?”

“I—I don’t think you’re stupid,” Caleb said uncertainly. “Or weak. Is that what this is about?”

Jack snorted, unimpressed. “And? What worth is thinking if you do not listen?”

Caleb went quiet for a moment, still lost. The wound in his belly ached. “What happened?” he asked again. It came out softer this time. “I remember the hunters found us, but…”

After a moment, Jack’s stiff posture loosened. The shift gave no sign of relief, only resignation. “What always happens is what happened. Danger comes and you are always between it and everyone else.”

“Yeah, that’s where I’m best.”

“No!” It came out in another roar-bark, the same sound that sent the scavengers running, only shaped into a word. Jack spun around, claws scoring the pavement again. “Always! Always you do this! I am fast and I am strong and I can think and fight and you do not care!”

The pain in his stomach and the alarm at being shouted at by someone that didn’t do a lot of shouting made Caleb’s temper short. “I don’t care?” he shot back. “You think I cover your back because I don’t care?”

“About me, yes,” Jack said tightly. “About you, no.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Caleb protested. Jack’s lip curled. “It’s just numbers, I’ve got two hundred fifty years to your two—”

Jack hissed. “Oh. I am blind and new, so I am an infant. Not weak and stupid, you said. You just said.” The hiss became a sharp spit. “Cover my back? You cover everything—back, front, sides, up and down. Can’t trip without you falling down for me. One day you’ll mark a grave with my name and jump in. Won’t even see two hundred and fifty-one.”

“That’s not—” Caleb’s voice caught in his throat. He swallowed dryly. “That won’t happen.”

Jack was silent.

“This is just—it’s what I’m best at,” Caleb explained. “It’s what I can do better than anyone else. Things that would kill most people, I can just… sleep off.”

“And while you sleep?” Jack asked. “What if I needed you last hour? What if they came back, while you slept off another death I could have dodged if you let me?”

“You—” Caleb hesitated. “You’ve been doing alright…”

“If I am alright when you are asleep,” Jack said. “Then I am alright when you are awake.”

Caleb tucked his face into the crook of his arm, feigning exhaustion while he hunted for the words to argue. He couldn’t find any.

Slowly, the metallic click of Jack’s footsteps drew closer. After a few moments, the clicks became scraping, and Jack’s clothes rustled by Caleb’s ear. He sat down with a quiet huff, not quite touching Caleb, but close enough to feel the warmth of his body.

“No thank you,” Jack said after a moment.

The words were so sudden and out of place that Caleb looked up again, baffled. “What?”

Another rustle, and this time Jack did touch him. One of his claws tapped the side of Caleb’s stomach, near the wound—gently, a whisper of touch so light that the razor tip didn’t even catch on Caleb’s shirt. “For this. For a hole in you and not me. Not—” He hesitated, throat rattling as the words escaped him. “Not a favor. Didn’t ask. No. Thank. You.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Caleb told him. “That’s not why I protect you.”

“Didn’t protect me nothing,” Jack shot back, more gently this time. “Hurts still.”

“You’ll live,” said Caleb. “And so will I.”

Jack was quiet for a moment. “Why, then?”

“Hm?”

“Why protect me?”

Caleb buried his face in his arm again. What a question. Why protect him? Why do anything? Why eat, why sleep, why wake up and crawl back out of the dirt every day?

“Does it hurt you?” Jack asked. “When the knife hits me and not you?”

Caleb didn’t answer, which was an answer all on its own.

“Now I hurt like that, so you don’t have to,” said Jack. “And that is better?”

When Caleb levered himself up off the ground, the pull at his wound still hurt, but not enough to send him crashing back down. Instead he got up—faster than he should have, perhaps—and steadied himself shakily against the closest wall.

“We should find somewhere else,” he said. “Less open.”

Jack retrieved the pillow gingerly, careful not to rip the fabric as he pressed it back into Caleb’s knapsack. Caleb reached for it, but Jack turned away and shouldered it himself. When Caleb pushed off the wall and stumbled, Jack nudged his way between him and an awkward fall.

For a moment, Caleb balked. Jack didn’t have his crutches with him, and the fusion of metal and flesh that made up his feet hurt him. The extra weight of a wounded vampire would only make it worse.

He was about to pull away when an image flashed in his mind—Jack curled around an injury, limping along in silent pain. The thought, and the rush of instinctive panic it brought, jarred him so badly he had to shake his head to clear it.

Beneath him, Jack held still and waited. Only when Caleb cautiously leaned on him did he begin leading the way out of the alley. Even with Jack’s support, every movement was sluggish and painful.

“Say that poem again?” Jack said, instead of I told you so. “With the horse in the snow.”

“Again?”

“I like it.”

Caleb nodded absently, and turned his tired mind away from hurt and fear in order to recall the words. “Whose woods these are, I think I know, His house is in the village though…”

This was not the area where the fight had taken place, Caleb realized absently, with the part of his brain not focused on memorized verses. Jack must have brought him here unconscious, alone and vulnerable to further attack. Already the first threads of purple sunrise were creeping across the sky—he’d been out the whole night on Jack’s watch, and come out of it without further injury.

Sunrise would bring weakness, a loss of strength, a haze of faux-mortality. Dead weight for Jack to bear, perhaps. If Jack realized this, he gave no sign of it. Caleb leaned against him and continued putting one foot in front of another.

Another mile or so, and then he could sleep somewhere softer, and get up only when the wound was gone.

[scam-alerts]

👀 Tips and Tricks 👀

Here is a collection of useful tips and tricks to spotting and dealing with scams and those who try to share them. :)

Tip #1 - Stay calm.

This is the first and most important thing you should do in any situation involving strangers on the internet. Yes, it's okay to be unsure about something at first glance. They say that you should always trust your gut. But what you shouldn't do is let that fear and uncertainty make you hateful or spiteful towards those who might genuinely be seeking help.

Tip #2 - Wait! Let's investigate!

That ask/DM someone sent you isn't going anywhere. They send dozens of them out every day to people, so it won't hurt if you take 5-10 minutes to do a little research before you decide to take action.

Easy ways you can investigate:

1) Search the username of the person who sent the ask/DM. - You can do this by typing their name in tumblr's search function or: https://www.tumblr.com/search/username https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/username

2) Check the blogs archive to see how old it is. blogname.tumblr.com/archive.

3) Check the past reblogs of the pinned post they want you to share. - Does the persons 'real name' change every few weeks? (more on this trick here!)

4) Search part of the ask via google and the word 'tumblr'. - Do you find results of that same ask being sent by other blogs?

5) If they sent you a DM, ask questions. Ask a lot of questions. - Do they get mad or frustrated with you? - Do they try to change the subject? - Are they persistent about trying to get you to do something?

Tip #3 - Stay kind.

I know it can be overwhelming when you receive asks looking for help when you might not be able to offer anything in return. It's also 100% okay to not know if you're dealing with a real person in need or a scammer. But please, don't go around reporting every single ask you get with a gofundme saying it's a scam or making posts telling others to do the same. This might wind up hurting real people genuinely looking for help from others.

Tip #4 - It is okay to block and delete.

In many cases when you receive an ask looking for help, it's usually sent with a sad story of loss, tragedy, heartache, or an implied since of urgency. This is not to say situations from real, genuine people looking for help aren't emergencies.

Just remember:

You do not have to share any asks that are sent to you.

And it does not make you a bad person if you block someone.

Especially in the cases of scammers.

Tip #5 - Help protect one another other.

If you see that someone has shared a scam, let that person who shared it know what's going on. Let them know how and why that person they shared a post from is a scammer, tell them the various tips and tricks on how to spot scammers, and maybe they too will do the same for their friends, and so on and so forth.

If anything you might even help a lot of other people not fall for a scam if you do share their pinned post and tag it as being a scam with information as to how/why in your post.

Scammers love to change their usernames, their 'real names' on their posts and editing their stories around a little bit, and if people work together, we can help keep each other safe by making sure that others are scam aware.

----------

Thank you all for reading, I hope you all have a fantastic day and if you ever have questions about something you think might be a scam, don't be afraid to send me an ask. :)

Take care. <3

----------

Helpful links and guides: Scam Index (@scam-alerts) Useful guides to spotting scams (by @kyra45) A guide about scammers pretending to be Palestinian. A guide on how to spot Insulin Scams. Part 1 and part 2 of our current list of scammers.

[reverieblondie]

Rolan x Tav prompt: Rolan (and maybe his siblings, too) meets Tav's family, who thought Tav was dead after being abducted by the mind flayers, only for Tav's family to react... poorly to one of their own being with 'one of those devil spawns'. What if after a moment of shock, his lover absolutely tears into their family—I'm talking 'How dare you!', maybe Tav even smacks one of their family members in the face first, ending with something like 'If I'd known I was related to such disgusting people, then I'd have saved us all some trouble and let you continue to think I was dead!'—before storming away, their hand in Rolan's, as they murmur apology after apology to him about what just happened and ask if he is okay?

So I have been sitting on this one forever! I keep starting it but just can not get the story right so I will do a quick drabble for the ending. I love this this prompt! and I can totally see this happening to a Tav who has been estranged to their family. Maybe one of the reasons they were in a position to get abducted was because they were leaving their family home for something better.

I think the only reason Tav would go to this thing was because of Rolan suggesting it might be good to see her family again, get closer about everything. Rolan offers to go with her for moral support (like a good partner would) Of course her family are asses from the start talking about how famous Tav is now and how much money they must be making... but Tav and Rolan are just trying to ignore these rude questions and their not so sublet subjections for help... Tav is obviously not wanting to help them after everything and her family has some things to say about that...

"You disappear for a year and your some fancy hero and you can't even help your family? What have you even been doing all this time? shacking up with some...hellspawn?"

Now insult Tav all you want but go after Rolan? Hells no.

"And what of it? Rolan is my partner."

That's when Tavs aunt speaks up, "Your a fool girl, those soulless imps will take you for what your worth then throw you out."

Tav is about to slap her aunt but before she can her hand is caught by Rolan. Tav looks at Rolans solemn face and that's when the tears well up.

Tav holds the tears in as much as he can as he looks at those people who dare to call themselves her family. "You are the soulless ones... Rolan and his family have been more of a family to me than any of you ever were... Consider me dead, because you all are dead to me."

With that Tav storms out with Rolans hands tightly in hers, they walk in a fast pace heading towards their home and Tav is fighting the tears trying to fall from her eyes and Rolan keeps trying to call for her to slow down. Finally Tav stops and spins around hugging Rolan so tightly it threatens to knock the air out of his lungs.

"I am, I am so sorry... I didn't know they... I'm so sorry for what they said. Please know that I didn't think they would say that. They are terr-"

Rolan finally places his hand to Tavs Rambling lips before wiping her tears. "I'm the one whose sorry... I told you to go visit them.. and what they said... I've been ridiculed my whole life, but for them to ridicule you is something I can never forgive."

Tav and Rolan share in a tearful embrace, both of them trying so hard to reinsure if the other is okay.

I later imagine when they get engage its a huge story in the Baldurs Gate paper. Its not out of spite... but if they happen to see it and feel like idiots than thats okay too.

[pixelizedprince]

🪶💜🪶💜🪶

If there's one good thing about being a trained Rivaini Seer it's that you and your demon boyfriend can tag team your grumpy boyfriend in bed.

🪶💜🪶💜🪶

Mage Half-Elf fem!Rook (Margaux) x Lucanis x Spite

1.5 K

Lucanis/Sprite referred with occasional they/them pronouns

Jumpscare - Italian Petnames

Explicit (Teasing, Orgasm Denial, Threesome)

“Mar. Marks Him. For Us.” Spite's glow snatched the moment, offering Lucanis’ bare neck to the mage. 

A giddy squeal escaped Margaux as she bounced up and down, rhythm of the three fully in motion. Her lipstick had already been ruined, well spread across Lucanis’ face; she freshly blushed, eyeing up and down his muscular throat. “Oh do I now?” She managed to pant, one hand bracing herself on their thigh, the other hooked around their neck, fingers tangled in Lucanis’ downy black hair. 

“Please.” Spite’s growl came with a buck, hands affixed on either side of her soft hips keeping her balance and their movement in stride. 

Margaux gasped, a squeaky and bubbly noise, trying her best to remember the words to tease. “Su-ch, manners. Good boy- Ahh- Of course, Love.” She smiled wickedly as she leaned forward and roughly met with Lucanis’ neck, wet lips parting and sinking her teeth in, gently, but firmly, and working her tongue against the skin. 

Spite let out a pleased hiss that hitched into Lucanis’ shudder. “Nnngh you little demons, the both of you.” His words vibrated against Margaux's lips as she trailed purplish love bites from collarbone to ear, nipping his ear and tittering in joy. Despite his complaints, Lucanis continued to thrust and moan.

“You know you - mhhm - love us~!” Margaux smiled and kissed him proper, her grip on the prince of crows tightening. “Baby, I'm getting cl-close.” She wrapped both arms around them and gripped their back, desperate. Her curly hair falling behind her shoulders as she tilted her head back. Lucanis smirked, and as Margaux arched her back, he halted his vigorous movement. 

“W-Why?!?” Margaux whined and ground down greedily, Lucanis twitching against her attempt. 

The crow barked out a laugh, pulling his right hand from it's place on her hip and trailing it up her side, across her curves and dips, rudely avoiding her breasts and instead raised it to run through her curly hair. The crow kissed her pouting mouth. “Vita Mia, he wants this even more than you. What Spite did was very naughty.” Lucanis wrapped a curl between his fingers and pressed his lips to the strands, taking in the sweetness of her floral soaps and feeling the magic of Spite rippling through his mind, freshly, angrily flustered at the goading of the scent. It took a lot out of him to contain the spirit and he could see the doubled vision as Spite threw a flash of a tantrum. 

“Lucanis! LET! US! ENJOY!” The ghost of the demon shouted, a separate face but the words spilling from his own lips. Lucanis bit his own lip and pulled out, withholding a proper finish.

“Lucanis please!!” Margaux gave her biggest, sweetest eyes paired with a clawing at his back, begging to continue. She continued to shift where she sat, her body begged for relief, to be full of them. 

“Just a moment…” Lucanis freed his hand from her hair, and delicately traced the marks Margaux had freshly coaxed across his own skin. Pressure on the fresh bruises stung in a way that made their cock twitch. (No Fair!!! No Fair!!! Mar Did Good Job! Want To Make Lucanis Finish! Make Loves Happy!)) Lucanis squinted his eyes and shook his head as Spite echoed inside his mind. The crow's fingertips wet from where Margaux's tongue had traced. He dragged nails down his own throat, pulling thin reddened lines down the shaved stubble of his neck, brushing through his own chest hair, managing a cruel and teasing phantom touch across his own left nipple before his hand trembled with a violet force. Spite raked the hand the rest of the way down Lucanis’ front, digging his nails into a claw on his thigh, threatening to draw blood. One wrist caught by the demon, perfectly painted nails wrapped around the other, Margaux intertwined her digits with the other hand that still gripped her hip. 

The show that Lucanis had made of himself for Spite was making her feel crazed. She needed them inside her now. “Spite, Love, help me out please.” 

A gravelly chuckle rasped from Lucanis’ still bitten lip, a bruise forming there as the two before her were teasing themself, Lucanis hard and already starting to leak. Margaux leaned forward with force and kissed them both, sucking Lucanis bottom lip from their own teeth and into her mouth, Lucanis moaning into her breath. Gently, teasingly Margaux eased herself back on their length, humming a series of small whimpers into Lucanis’ neck, his hands still held by both her and the spirit, bond and unable to refuse their pleading any longer. 

“Gods DAMMIT!” Lucanis playfully huffed, hearing Spite snicker in his mind as Margaux restored her previous pace. The crow near immediately breaking his feigned annoyance as he rejoined her tempo in thrusting again. As she bounced her breasts heaved repeatedly into his face. Lucanis nuzzled into the softness of her, kissing at her moles, avarice fogging his mind as he lapped at her chest, teeth scraping across her nipples, across her curves as she bobbed and clasped around him. He could see tears forming in her eyes. His own emotions getting the best of him as he quickened his thrusts, getting rougher and freeing her breasts from his mouth, he instead pulled himself closer to her ear, endlessly praising her in the tongue of trade, Antivian, Orlesian, anything his mind could think of, and some things that Spite willed to be known.

“Margaux. Vita, you are so beautiful, doing so well - MAR FEELS. LIKE EXCITEMENT. - You are mesmerizing, we want you to - CUM - Spite! ” Lucanis rapidly frowned as the spirit wheezed an ugly laugh.

Margaux nearly stumbled at her pace as she let out a lightheaded singsong-y laugh, muttering between kissing them. “Oh, Oh ahh, hmm, my loves, oh my loves, my wonderful boys, You are, both, doing so good ahh, Oh - fuuuck!!!” With a last few big hops Margaux convulsed and dug her nails into his shoulders, beautiful black curls haloing her as she threw her head back one last time, incomprehensible cries and euphoria hitting her at last. 

Lucanis could feel his vision blur as purple plucked at the edge of his consciousness. Margaux melted into his chest, both hands snaking their way into his hair and she tugged at his roots, Lucanis heaving as his own climax was right on the edge. 

“Lucanis. Wants. Needs. To. Finish?” A mockery from his own lips, the crow could almost cry in frustration as the demon inside of him was holding him, wavering on the edge, in a state of agony or ecstasy that could be achieved in this final moment.  

“Well, Lucanis, did we do good enough for you?” Margaux's teasing tone breathless as he remained inside of her, she swayed her hips, lulling him along, truly transforming Lucanis’ want into a wretched anguishing need, just as Spite had spoken.

“Ti prego!! Cattivo, Vita! Per Favore!” Lucanis snapped, his body being used by the two of his loves and he couldn't take it anymore, he bucked wildly, Margaux held onto him, both with her arms and herself warm upon and around him. Spite vibrating in his mind, detached his hold on Lucanis' senses, freeing his grasp on the man. The climax finally flashed through Lucanis as the denied orgasm quaked him at last. Spite trilled, a sound nearly like a purr, and ghostly feathers flapped erratically at his people being happy. Lucanis wanted to roll his eyes at the spectral display but Spite had earned his wings tonight. 

Margaux let out a satisfied gasp as the shockwaves of Lucanis’ warmth and her trembling self finally parted, pooled heat between the three of them a damn fine mess. 

Lucanis kissed her deeply, clumsily. Like it was the only air he'd ever get to breathe again. Margaux giggled once more, freshly exhausted and happy. Her smile was heavenly as she draped herself over his chest, laying on her stomach to look up at him, running her fingers through his beard. “My Loves.” She hummed, eyes glancing from Lucanis’ flushed face and the phantom purple shade, a doubled vision, a near perfect replica, that lazily smiled down at her as well. 

“My Loves.” Lucanis responded, one hand wrapped around her back, claiming Margaux and holding her close to his chest, the other extended at his side, resting in the phantasmal purple shadow of wings that embraced him and Margaux both. 

“Loves.” Spite's voice thick with emotion, magic, promise, warmed them all.

It sure as hell wasn't conventional but the three had carved out their own version of happiness, together. “Loves.” Love spoke anew. Quietly, calmly, unceremoniously, the three rested together, together, together.