#and we cannot *be* if it means the way we are being isn't this carefully curated version people have of transness + queerness
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
uncanny-tranny · 2 years ago
Text
It's always, like, mildly annoying when people see a het trans couple and go "all that work just to be straight?" like... one, you don't know if they're straight and two, trans people don't owe you a queer sexuality to "make up" for the fact we're trans. Transhet people aren't a subtype of trans people, they're members of the trans community, and the queer one if they so desire!
4K notes · View notes
inkskinned · 1 year ago
Text
the problem is that being single is seen as the consolidation prize, and not the natural neutral state of being-a-person. at the end of the movie or the book or the poetry, there is a person waiting for you at the altar, and they love you. if the play is a comedy, everyone gets married. the metaphor is about how you are not-whole. the metaphor is about how everyone is going to be happily-ever-after. the metaphor is that romantic love is the most important resource on the planet, not just all-love. all-love is not a thing, that is a disappointment. the treasure is not the friends we made along the way. the treasure is the girl you landed.
the metaphor is that you cannot be alone, that means you are broken. are you getting over someone? that is acceptable, you can be getting over someone, but not for long. you must be single because you would rather not be single. you must be single and looking to not-be-single. you must want to date, eventually.
friendship and community are never seen as being equal-to or even-better than romantic connection. that person is your one! you need to find them. you need to hunt through the sand particles until you can shift out some kind of gem. this is regardless to your own experience of the beach and the sun. you need to be somewhere with someone.
if you are taking this time alone to heal, that is so sad. everyone gives you this little pitying look. the understanding is that you are not actually happier than you were before you were single. it is seen as a sort of pity - oh, you are choosing yourself, making yourself the priority? - that isn't quite right. you must mean that you are making yourself ready for the right person. you are just laying the bed better this time. open up your heart. you'll find them, we promise!
what do you mean you're really-truly genuinely-very happy? you are probably misremembering what it was like to be in a relationship. and besides, once you meet your person, that time will look grey and bland and wasted. your person is the only way for you to see in color. so what if you have taken this time - for the first time in your entire life - to actually-for-real do the fucking work. you can be proud of yourself, sure. but the way we need to know that you got better is that you get a partner. you're healed enough for the next bad part!
people don't choose to be single, they just say they're choosing to be single - they actually mean "nobody wants to date me." it doesn't matter how many people you have gently rejected or how many times you've talked it over carefully in therapy. what matters is that you are single, and by all accounts - that means you are something worth our pity. your successes and life all seem pale in the sunlight. sure, you have done amazing things and finally found your way in life. what matters is that there wasn't a person in the room with you while you did it.
you want to tell them - that's the whole thing. i didn't know how to be alone in the room. i didn't know how to handle the silence. every moment was so sharp, and i kept choosing the wrong way to close the door. i have spent my entire life in the empty well, living in the ricochet of someone else's cruelty. for once i have built myself a ladder. for once everything i taste is all mine, every bite of sunshine and laughter. i have learned how to sleep out in the open with my memories. recently, they have started to purr.
your father rolls his eyes. listen. this isn't about you. i just want a grandchild in my future.
4K notes · View notes
milkywaydrinker · 15 days ago
Text
I've been rotating this thought in my mind for a while: People in fandom have a very weird fixation on age gaps.
There's a tendency to instantly assume an age gap is always bad or problematic but it's not the case at all, especially in fiction and doubly so for a human/non-human ship.
The most recent example would be Kit and Jentry (from Jentry Chau vs The Underworld).
Let's start from the general topic: When is the age an issue?
Most rational people acknowledge age gaps are pretty common in real life. Between adults, an age gap isn't as much of a problem because we're dealing with people on the same stage of life, a 24yo shouldn't have any issues dating a 30yo just by the virtue of one party being older. They're both years into adulthood there's no moral or legal argument to make there.
A 30yo dating an 18yo raises eyebrows because we recognize the difference between their lives experiences, it's still not immoral or illegal but many would find it suspect due to a potential power imbalance compounding with financial dependence or adult life experience. It still doesn't necessarily mean the relationship is exploitative or abusive just because of the age gap but the probability of it is way higher.
The age gaps between minors can be similarly suspect just as in a case of a minor and a freshly minted adult. Things like that need to be carefully evaluated on a case by case basis.
Now, to the point: fictional characters dating non-human/long lived/immortal characters when is it problematic and when it doesn't matter at all?
The fictional narratives often play around with what age means for an immortal character, how they perceive the passage of time, how they grow and change with time, if at all?
In case of Kit, the narrative positions him in a similar spot to Michael who's a regular highschooler. He behaves in ways consistent with a teenager too, socially clumsy, not very developed emotionally and impulsive just like Jentry. The only mark of his age we can see is the compounded trauma he carries with him.
He has no social advantage over other characters, no financial advantage, no maturity advantage as his lived experience in society is so different and fragmented he cannot reliably pull from it to have an upper hand in any way.
That's why it personally drives me a bit crazy when people pull the age gap card as if it matters when it's the least relevant part of why he should never be together with Jentry. With so many other, serious red flags about him, throwing an absurd "pedophile" label diminishes the angles of possible character interpretation. It makes people miss out on all of the things that are actually wrong with him that should be talked about more and are leagues more interesting.
75 notes · View notes
the-raven-and-the-tower · 15 days ago
Text
Before their friendship developed, Harding was hella suspicious of Lucanis out of protectiveness and mean about it.
Tumblr media
Harding: The Demon of Vyrantium, huh? And they called you that before the demon.
Lucanis: Ah. You don't have that enchanted barbed arrow in your quiver because you think it's pretty.
Harding: It is though, isn't it? The red shimmer is the enfeebling magic. And the spiked tip is designed to splinter inside the target.
Lucanis: Very nice.
Refusing to be baited. He's called the situation out for what it is and now he refuses to rise to a taunt as barbed as her arrow. Lace is just being protective of her people, and he seems to recognize that. Worse, he may think he deserves some level of suspicion, based on what we find in his mental Ossuary later. But further... Lucanis just left behind a year of torture and imprisonment, he's no stranger to being taunted with his own death. Harding isn't getting a rise out of him that easily.
Harding: I thought you'd like that! I really hope I don't have to use it though. It cost me a lot of gold.
Lucanis: That's why you only have the one.
Harding: Well, I only need one. Especially from this close.
Lucanis: You cannot help but flinch whenever I use my skills. You think, "Ah, this time he's definitely gone full demon."
Harding: It's not personal.
I read this as progress from where their relationship was last time we heard them speak. "It's not you I don't like, I just don't trust the demon you have in you."
Lucanis: If you're watching me in battle, you leave yourself open to our actual enemies.
Logic and reason, using their shared goal as the hinge. Wise Crow.
Harding: The power of the demon-possessed assassin should make up for how twitchy everyone else gets, right?
^ Cranky or not, she listened. Right after this, we got into a fight with some Darkspawn and Lucanis was actively cheering Harding on when she kept her focus on the fight. And he does it by praising her ferocity. "Harding, that was terrifying!" but in an almost proud way. It was great.
His response is kindness.
When we go on his "getting to know Lucanis' quest to the markets in Treviso, he does this-
Lucanis: Ah. Here. (finding what he was looking for)
Rook: A potted plant?
Lucanis: For Harding's garden. Spearmint is supposed to calm bad dreams. It's good in desserts, too.
He's brand new to the team at this point and we know he's rejecting sleep, avoiding it at all costs. Meanwhile, Harding is brand new to having nightmares - it's not hard to picture her stumbling into the pantry for a cup of something bracing and forgetting Lucanis is there. The same person who has openly threatened to kill him and gone so far as to tell him how she'll do it, and he's getting her a potted plant. I love seeing how he uses his carefully-honed skills of perception to help instead of hurt. She likes plants, so he gets her one. She has nightmares, so he finds a way to help that fits into her likes already. It's a beautiful thing.
They develop a friendship later and we get a lot of great banter from them around dreams, but even so, when we go into the Ossuary of Lucanis's mind, we find this;
Tumblr media
HARDING: Don't worry, Rook. I've got my eye on the prisoner.
Still a prisoner in his own mind. I also have to wonder if a little of Lace's early treatment of him reminded him of the guards in the Ossuary. I appreciate that Harding was just being protective of her people, but to a man who has just left a year of torture in an underwater prison behind, anyone who describes how they're planning to kill him if he steps out of line has to remind him of it a little.
ROOK, displeased: You've conjured up a friendly face, Lucanis. But your real friends and allies need you, in the real world.
HARDING: Rook, are you sure Spite isn't tricking you? What if there's no Lucanis - just the demon?
Lucanis's impression of Lace's fears earlier was 'You cannot help but flinch whenever I use my skills. You think, "Ah, this time he's definitely gone full demon."'
ROOK: After a year in the Ossuary, you might believe that. But you're no demon.
HARDING: Look around. This isn't the mind of a human being, let alone an Antivan Crow.
It's Harding's voice, but Lucanis's thoughts. It makes me think of the scrap of a thought we found in the Ossuary; I didn't want you to see that. Again... -I'm not this. I cannot be this-
ROOK: You're still the man you were, Lucanis, even buried in this pain. No demon would punish itself like this.
HARDING: You really shouldn't trust anything you find in the Fade.
ROOK: I trust you, Lucanis, and I trust myself to get you home. Let me.
HARDING: You know that's the kind of attitude that's gonna get you killed, right?
ROOK, still to Lucanis and not the projection: I'll risk it. I have a master assassin on my side. Don't I?
HARDING, fading into light: Just... be careful.
And because I have no idea how to end this thread other than angst, I present to you this;
A Lucanis who has finally escaped the Ossuary of his own mind with Rook's help and begun to believe that he can have a future with Rook, maybe even a happy one. Free from the mental shackles of his mind, he starts to build a real friendship with Lace even as they stop having as many midnight talks after each of them starts sleeping through the night better.
Losing both of them in one night when Lace sacrifices herself to save Rook from Ghilan'nain after Lucanis gets slammed into a rock and has to watch helplessly as Lace dies. And then the bitter triumph of making his kill after she buys them a distraction... only for Rook to be snatched into the fade by Solas's betrayal.
Rook was in the Fade for weeks. Imagine that first night, with Lucanis alone with nothing but his guilt-ridden thoughts and Spite's screams.
54 notes · View notes
lsunstreakerl · 5 days ago
Text
for those of you wondering what happened with darkbull Pierre and Esteban- 1.2k words, Esteban POV. featuring Fernando and Lance, and Charles as the ever present looming background terror. hi! darkbull verse. mature themes and all that :)
"Fucks sake- I can't keep doing this, Pierre."
Esteban drops his head into his hands, fingers dragging through his hair. It's matted, a complete mess, because he's been more stressed out in the last four weeks than he's ever been in his entire life.
"Redbull wants your fucking head on a pike, because you- what did you even do?"
Pierre is pacing the floor, equally as stressed.
"It's complicated. It has to do with Charles and Max, and I-"
"And you what? When I said for better or for worse, I wasn't thinking of the mob."
"I know that, Estie-"
"Do you?"
Pierre stops, hands wrapped around his sides. He's exhausted, and stressed, and-
Esteban's heart breaks. This isn't what he wanted for them. This isn't what their lives are supposed to be.
He slowly stands, making his way over to Pierre, carefully unwrapping his hands, cradles them between their chests as he bends his head to kiss his knuckles.
"I know you didn't mean it, mon coeur. I know things have been hard, but Pierre-"
Esteban squeezes his fingers gently.
"It is not your fault. And I'm sorry, that you've been struggling with it alone."
Pierre leans against him for a moment, head dropped to his shoulder.
"I love you, Esteban. I'm sorry. I didn't- I never wanted this for us, I just- he always asks for something else, and I can't keep-"
"I know."
Esteban turns his head to the side, kissing Pierre gently.
"You have handled it your way, with the agreements and the shadows and the mess. Let me handle it now, yes? I will get us out of here."
Pierre blows out, practically deflating against Esteban.
"You shouldn't have to- I know you never wanted to get involved again, Esteban. We can figure something else out."
Esteban lets his head rest against Pierre's.
"Let me. Please."
Pierre shakily lifts their joined hands, kisses across Esteban's knuckles, unfolding their fingers to press a kiss to the inside of his palm.
"I'm sorry."
"You tried your best."
------
Esteban has to handle it carefully- but Charles has his hands more than full with Max at the moment, who's already missed a race for an "unexpected illness". Thankfully they have a few weeks off- enough for something to get figured out there, surely.
Charles' lapse in attention is all Esteban needs. A casual phone call with Lance, and they're meeting for padel, and it's such a strange coincidence that Fernando is there as well.
Esteban smiles thinly at him. He was never a fan of being under Fernando's thumb when he was younger- he's realizing now it's better than the alternatives.
It's as he's swinging the padel, him and Lance against Fernando and one of Aston's strategist, that Fernando speaks.
"In over your head?"
Esteban grunts, whipping the ball in a targeted strike in his direction. Fernando redirects it flawlessly, but the fantasy of it hitting him in his face instead makes Esteban feel better.
"Not me. But we need out."
Fernando sends it flying past Lance, who just laughs and shrugs when Esteban glares. Fernando is looking at Lance with a weird soft face. Esteban doesn't like it.
"There are not many people who would go against Ferrari."
Esteban grabs another ball.
"Redbull is doing it."
Fernando hums, leisurely stretching his calves.
"That is because Charles has made a mistake, going for Max like that. It is the only reason I'm entertaining you."
Lance frowns, lowering his water bottle.
"Nando. I thought you said you would help?"
Fernando's face does the weird thing again. It almost looks like he's trying to smile.
"I did, I know. I am just making sure."
Esteban cannot believe both him and his husband's lives rely on the power of Lance Stroll's pout.
Actually, scratch that.
They're not relying on the pout- Esteban is relying on the earth shattering blowjobs and raging daddy issues that Lance is well known for. If anything can convince Fernando to work with the Strolls- it'll be Lance.
Lance, for some reason, still cares about Esteban, even if they've had their moments. Esteban would die for him.
Sure enough, at Fernando's reassurance, Lance's face lights up into a dazzling smile. He bounds across the court, plants a kiss on the side of Fernando's cheek.
"Thank you, Nando! I promise I'll handle the housing stuff-"
He turns back to Esteban, still brighter than the sun.
"It'll be such a nice place, you and Pierre will love it I promise-"
Fernando fondly rolls his eyes at the same time as Esteban, and he retches in his mouth a little bit at the thought of having anything in common with him, but-
Lance is a bright, shining star. It's impossible not to be drawn in, to keep looking until your eyes hurt and you can't think of anything else.
Pierre doesn't get it yet- but they're going to have to move to Canada for this, so he'll need to get it figured out quick.
Lance is spoiled, but he's sweet- so giving, all the time. Esteban doesn't know what he'd do without him, and even now he's saving Esteban's ass.
He's putting his things back into his sports bag when he feels a presence behind him, tobacco and iron.
Fernando clamps a hand down on his shoulder, leaning in close next to his face. The silver katana charm he wears around his neck brushes against Esteban's shoulder.
"I will take care of you and your husband."
Esteban grits his teeth.
"And what exactly is your price, for protection?"
Fernando laughs, breath ghosting across Esteban's ear as he straightens up, pulling a cigar from his pocket.
"Light it."
Esteban feels around in his bags pockets. He doesn't smoke- and neither does Pierre- but he'd gotten in the habit of always carrying a lighter around. He'd sworn he would never need to pull it out again, but-
He flicks it once with practiced ease as Fernando leans down, lighting up and taking a slow drag.
"I am getting older, Esteban. I do not want anything dramatic. I just want my business to run smooth, and Lance to be happy. Lawrence and I are similar in that regard."
He claps a hand down on Esteban's shoulder.
"You're a good bookkeeper, Ocon. This is all I ask."
Esteban tries not to let his surprise show on his face. It's too easy.
Fernando must see it anyways, eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins.
"Really, Esteban. That's it. I want my books balanced and my boy happy, yes?"
Esteban nods.
Fernando's smile widens, and he takes the cigar out of his mouth, taps it against the wall briefly before holding back up, and Esteban knows how this goes- obediently opens his mouth for Fernando to place it between his teeth.
"Breathe."
He takes a deep inhale, tries not to choke on the thick smoky taste of it as it fills his lungs. Immediately he feels slightly woozy, and Fernando's soft chuckle feels like it's miles away as Esteban holds, and holds, and holds-
"Relax."
He lets all of his air go, fighting the urge to hack or gag.
"Good."
Fernando steps away, and Esteban feels his oppressive presence fade a bit. He twists his ring on his finger.
"For the record, Esteban- I missed you, yes? It is good to have you back on board."
Fernando makes his way back over to where Lance is impatiently waiting by the gate, one last remark over his shoulder.
"I do not usually let people return to me alive."
49 notes · View notes
crazy-pages · 1 year ago
Text
Blue Eyed Samurai and Queer Gender
There's a reason so many trans people keep reading trans identity into Mizu.
Because even if she's cis, her gender is still queer.
Lemme back up for a second. Queer identity is deeply intertwined with experiencing sex and gender in ways which are fundamentally non-normative and non-conformative for the societies we live in. It is about being "other" to what society's default is. There are reasons that queer liberation movements have historically often allied with kink communities, with polyamorous circles, and with feminist movements. There's overlap there, in being outside a tightly constrained norm and demanding equality and recognition. And this also means that what queer is, is defined in part by the society it stands in opposition to.
Because for contrast there have been societies, historically, which have been fully accepting of trans people or even had specific social norms and customs around nonbinary gender. The colonizing Spaniards found and recorded interactions (typically violent, sadly) with trans people in what's now Mexico who lived, married, and were recognized in their societies without regard for their genitals. There are entire fields of study around various historical recognition of nonbinary identities. None of these people existed in opposition to the societies they lived in. Heck if we look at sexuality, the ancient Greeks would certainly not have seen men having sex with men as queer (though they would have judged and demeaned the bottom), but some of them certainly pathologized women who had sex with women. In such a society bisexual men would not be queer, while bisexual women would be.
Queer is contextual. Someone who lives in a fully accepting society as a trans person, who never has contact with a culture where that acceptance isn't the norm? I'm not sure I would call them queer. At the very least, there's a definition of queer as the embrace of one's sexual and/or gender non-normativity which such a person might very well not opt into. That person might not feel queer. We might not share that emotional experience.
And where this comes back to Blue Eyed Samurai is that it's possible to be cis and to be marked unavoidably and unalterably queer by one's society. A cis woman living in the US today who feels absolutely cis but cannot, for whatever reason, stand wearing dresses and must wear pants? Might experience some gender non-conforming experiences, but not necessarily be queer. That same woman in 1890s US? Her gender expression would be outright illegal as a form of crossdressing. She would be seen with the same lens as a trans man and their experiences of gender would both be queer, despite one being cis and one being trans. If such a woman, despite being cis and straight and allosexual and alloromantic and all the rest, told me she felt queer? It would not surprise me in the least.
So if you define queer as any kind of experience or internal feeling, as a state of othered existence rather than a specific set of prescriptive definitional boxes that fit our specific societal norms and practices? Mizu is queer. Mizu might or might not be queer if you transplanted her into the 2020s US where I live. But to define her by how she would fit in our society's boxes is fundamentally missing the point of both the queer experience and the story of Blue Eyed Samurai. (And she might not be cis here, he might be a trans man, or they might be nonbinary. It's hard to say ... and this is why queer history scholars step carefully around modern definitions, by the by.)
What we can say is that who Mizu is, in the context of Edo period Japan, is queer. Whether Mizu is genderfluid, or a trans man, or a cis woman who hates having to be undercover, or a cis woman who thrives being undercover, or a cis woman performing drag, or a trans man who thinks of himself as a woman in drag because he lacks context for being transgender? It's all queer gender. There is no framing in which Mizu wouldn't relate to the experience of queer gender.
Mizu doesn't get to experience gender in a normative way. That's both because of who she is at her core, and something that's defined by society without her consent. She is queer, innately born so and structurally made so at the same time, and that's not a contradiction.
402 notes · View notes
kisses-for-you · 1 year ago
Text
Blood - Vlad Tepes
Tumblr media
Dracula X Fem!Reader
Summary: You hate being a vampire and you don't believe anyone can change your mind. But can Vlad do the impossible? Or will he fail?
Word Count: 1,134
Vlad slowly opens the door to your shared bedroom in his grand castle and his eyes stop on your small, frail body laying in the bed. Vlad observes your weakened state. He can't help but notice the sickly paleness of your skin and the fatigue in your eyes. His gaze now holds concern as he decides to address what's been bothering him lately.
"Why do you persist in these inefficient methods, my dear?" Vlad questions, his voice a velvet whisper. "You must drink blood to thrive, yet you deny yourself."
You almost physically recoil from the mere suggestion, fear etched across your face. Just the thought of consuming the blood of another human being sends shivers down your spine.
In the dimly lit room, Vlad approaches you, his presence commanding yet strangely gentle. "My love, you need to embrace your true nature," he urges, a hint of desperation in his voice. As he reaches out to caress your cheek, you can feel the familiar warmth of his touch, giving you a sense of comfort.
You meet his intense gaze, torn between your human morality and the undeniable reality of your weakening state. "I cannot, Vlad. I did not choose this fate, and I shall not inflict suffering upon others due to it," you protest, your voice wavering.
As Vlad contemplates your words, a conflicted expression crosses his immortal face. The tension in the room thickens, accentuated by the flickering candlelight. "I understand your moral quandary, my dear, but you are withering away before my very eyes," Vlad murmurs, his crimson eyes reflecting both love and worry.
After a moment of pure silence, you decide to speak up, your voice slowly getting quieter as a result of your lack of energy. "Why can't you see that this is not about morals? Vlad, I truly loathe what I have become. And if I must continue to live like this... then I harbor no desire to continue living."
Vlad's eyes darken with a mixture of frustration and sorrow. "You do not mean that," he mutters, unable to comprehend that his wife, the love of his life, would feel such a thing as this. You love him, despite the fact that he is a vampire, yet you despise yourself for the very same thing.
"I love you, Vlad. However, I do not wish to continue this conversation for any longer. I am far too fatigued and simply desire some rest," you say, hoping that he will finally stop talking about this. Yes, you hate yourself for being a vampire. You didn't choose this life so why should you make others suffer for it? Animals, humans - it isn't their fault that you are the way you are so you will not inflict harm upon them simply to sustain yourself.
With a deep sigh, Vlad reluctantly nods, his expression a mix of resignation and concern. He leans down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, whispering, "Rest, my love. We shall revisit this discussion another day."
He gets up to leave but you reach out, grabbing his hand. "Can you stay with me?"
"Of course, my dear," he responds softly, settling beside you. You lay your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating. He wraps a protective arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side.
As you drift into a troubled sleep, Vlad remains by your side, watching over you with a worried gaze. After some time goes by, Vlad carefully gets up, making sure not to wake you. He leaves the room and returns minutes later with a vial of blood in hand. Vlad carefully approaches your sleeping form and with a tinge of guilt, he administers you a small dose of blood, hoping it's enough to keep you alive until he can find some way for you to drink blood without harming others.
Silently, he curses you and your stupid morals; if it wasn't for them, you wouldn't be suffering like this. But he knows he can't change the way you are so all he can do is try to find a method to sustain you without resorting to the traditional vampiric ways.
He heads to a different part of a castle where he immerses himself in ancient scrolls and tomes, seeking a solution. Vlad can't bear to see you so weak for much longer. He knows that if he doesn't find a solution, the fate that awaits you is something he doesn't even want to consider a possibility. He can't fathom losing you.
The next morning, you wake up to find the room filled with an eerie silence. Vlad's absence is palpable, and a sense of foreboding settles over you. As you explore the castle in search of him, you suddenly feel very dizzy. You lean against the wall for support but it's not much help. After a couple of seconds, your vision goes black and you faint, your body falling to the floor.
Vlad hears the sound of your collapsing body and within seconds, he's by your side. He finds you unconscious on the floor, and panic grips his undead heart. His eyes are wide with worry, concern etched on his face. He gently lifts you, cradling you in his arms. The guilt gnaws at him; he wasn't able to help you in time, and now you're paying the price.
"I should have been faster," Vlad whispers to himself, regret coloring his words. He carries you back to the bedroom, placing you on the bed with utmost care. As Vlad lays you on the bed, a mixture of guilt and determination fills his crimson eyes. He gazes at your unconscious form, vowing silently to find a solution before it's too really too late.
With a heavy heart, Vlad continues his relentless search, the castle's ancient texts and hidden knowledge becoming his refuge. Days turn into nights, and Vlad's desperation intensifies.
But in the end, it just wasn't enough.
In your final moments, Vlad kneels by your lifeless body, grief-stricken. His crimson eyes, once vibrant with determination, now reflect the emptiness that consumes him. For the first time in years, he is truly alone. He clutches your lifeless hand, feeling the chill that has now replaced the warmth he once cherished.
As Vlad gazes at your lifeless form, a single tear slips from his eyes. "I'll love you forever, Y/N Tepes," he whispers, wishing you were actually here to hear his words. But you're not. And Vlad feels that it's all his fault. It's all his fault that the love of his life died. All his fault that you're no longer here. He wishes he could bring you back, but this isn't some romantic fantasy where you can just magically come back to life; this is reality.
161 notes · View notes
aziraphales-library · 8 months ago
Note
Do you have any fics where one or both of them lose their memory? I love those kinds of fics!
We have plentiful #memory loss and #amnesia tags, so check those out for loads of fics! Here are a few more to add...
Your face is like a melody by Primroza (T)
Crowley accidentally takes over the bookshop. His new routine is interrupted by amnesiac Aziraphale returning. Crowley is determined to help him even though he knows Aziraphale will leave him again as soon as he remembers. *** “Oh my, I do apologize!” Aziraphale says. “I did not mean to startle you.” “Ngk,” says Crowley. He isn’t sure what’s the protocol for when the love of your life walks back into your life after rejecting you. But he sure as Hell knows that clumsily climbing out from under the armchair is a bad start.
The Clue (Love Is in the air) by Bildadthebaddie (G)
Archangel Aziraphale only had memories that go back a few weeks, or maybe months? Years? He doesn't know. He doesn't really know much- like who that stranger on the bench is, or why Heaven are checking up on him so often- but he knows that London is filled with an overpowering feeling of love
Shipwrecked, with no memory of who we were before by RCReveal (M)
Our two ineffable ones wash up on an island with no memory of who they were. Some fluffy fluff to watch them fall in love yet another time and maybe find themselves in a whole new way.
Far Away, Long Ago Glowing Dim as an Amber by guessimdemoms (G)
Anthony J Fall is a humble plant shop owner in a seaside English town with no memory other then being found by his friends (and shop mates) four years ago and nothing to his name but his plants, his shop, and an old copy of Pride and Prejudice with a ripped photo of a magician inside. One day, Anthony gets commissioned to provide the flowers for a wedding in Soho and when he arrives gets swept into a plan that not only is meant to help him regain his memory, but also stop the second coming.
Your Other Half by anyofmany (T)
Crowley is sent to the dungeons of Hell to execute a captive angel -- who stalls him with an absolutely insane story about averting the Apocalypse and a grand romance between the two of them. Hell's just taken Crowley's memory of it all as part of their punishment. How can Aziraphale gain Crowley's trust when everything about the truth is too fantastic to believe? Can he trust who Crowley is without any of the best memories of his life? And what will it take to save them both?
Strangers Again (patria sine memoria) by D_A_Cullum (M)
Months after Armageddon failed, Crowley stops by the bookshop to find its owner a stranger with no memory of him. The history is all there, from the garden to Tadfield, but Crowley isn't. He will have to start over with the angel while carefully sifting the past for clues as to what happened to his friend, and how it might be undone. Meanwhile, Aziraphale is ordered to get close to the demon who sauntered into his bookshop, to find out what he can about Hell's plans to restart Armageddon. That task is made all the more difficult as London falls under strict lockdown procedures. When Crowley defends him against a reconstituted Duke Ligur, Aziraphale begins to question the narrative he's been told. Now, as uneasy allies, they face whatever Heaven and Hell conjure for them. But will Crowley survive their future together, one where he remembers what Aziraphale cannot?
- Mod D
101 notes · View notes
zz0nie · 1 year ago
Text
Genshin Hcs
Neuvillette & Wriothesley
note; this is my first time writing (after like 2 years, so much improvement I'd like to hope :0) just thought I would start it easy with Neuvi and Wrio, much loved Fontaine boys <3 (Suggestions are always welcome!!)
Neuvillette
Neuvillette would never EVER bring it up to you; however, he is a man who loves his hair being played with or brushed to pass time. If you bring it up he will give you a surprised look, maybe bringing out a response from you, "Don't give me that face, Neuvi." As you're holding a hairbrush in one hand. He will silently work his way to you, in fact he is extremely attentive to how you are carefully brushing around his horns to make sure you don't hurt him. So soft in general, he loves you.
Neuvillette's favourite drink is water - as we know with his idle lines, suggesting each water from each nation is different - if you suggest to him to try some tea, he would say he does not enjoy it. However, give it a large ratio between more water less tea? You may catch him having the occasional "tea" (An extremely diluted tea, keep in mind. Maybe enough to consider it flavoured water.)
Figuring he has helped the Melusines find a safe second home inside Fontaine, he has become a parental figure to them, and as he has given them jobs often if you walk into his office while it is a relatively calm time you may happen to see a small melusine tucked up on his sofa with a large blanket suited for a human wrapping their body up. He will take it with care and duty to take care of that melusine. If he is busy he will have them escorted to their home safely though. He is a worried father, leave him be.
He is extremely quick to pick up on items or things you like or dislike. Very minimal change in your body language can tell him everything, as he does in fact notice the way you stare longingly at an accessory of clothing that would go perfectly with your outfit. If you enjoyed flowers he will go out of his way to pick you or buy you your favourite flower(s) and make sure you receive them. (Most of the time he's extremely busy and gets a melusine to go to your door, he's trying his best. :(
Neuvillette has little time to enjoy things, however, while figuring court cases inside his office, you may walk past slowly and hear the hum of his record player playing some classical music. Maybe one day you'll walk in and ask him to take your hand, you'll sway together in his office, just the two of you as you sweep him away from work and to you.
At the start of your journey together, sitting in silence was not something that was sought out from either of you as it felt awkward between you. Neuvillette isn't the best at small talk, so if you aren't either it may take a while to get this going. However, when you grow closer there will be a time where he will come to seek you out, just to sit and do his own thing while you do yours, simply enjoying your presence.
He loves like old people do, the small things mean a lot to this man. Remembering small things and going out on a walk somewhere - heck, when you help him with washing his hair when he has had a long, tiring day - between you in that moment, there is no lust or hatred, just pure love for each other. Neuvillette bathes in your sweet affection during these moments, he loves you so much, even if he cannot find the words to say it.
Wriothesley
Like Neuvillette, loves a specific brand and way of tea being made, if he teaches you how and you pick up and make it for him like that u are probably one of his most favourite people. Definitely prefers his tea on the stronger side, this man needs his energy somehow.
Children love him, even if he is this big scary dude that controls the prisons in Fontaine they see him as an extra father - especially orphaned kids - and he treats all children with such respect, he's so sweet to them. You look at him when a young girl comes up to him, holding something behind her back: Some handpicked flowers. She holds them out to him, all shy around such a pretty older boy. Of course, he accepts them and thanks the young girl as she giggles and runs off, he watches her with a small smile - if you point it out the man will throw you a frown. "Can't a guy enjoy the little things in life now? Why don't you get me flowers?" Uh oh, he's got you there.
I believe when this man decides he is done being the ward of the prison in Fontaine, he finally relaxes in a home with you - and a potential child - he cares less and less on physical appearance, obviously tries to keep up but as age comes so does laziness. So beware he may begin to grow a dadbod, he would rock it though.
Ticklish on his stomach, don't know where it came from or how you found out, maybe it was your hand brushing against it while he was stretching and his shirt came untucked. Don't play with the fire though, this man does not like being tickled. Though, he has the most gorgeous laugh, maybe it would be worth it.
Wriothesley takes his sweet time petting animals on the street and taking care of any he may come across - I mean, when does he EVER get to see a pet while stuck at work? It's always something that makes a mans heart swell with joy. However if you were to ask if he is a cat or a dog guy will be admitting he is much of a dog guy. Though, dogs aren't at all interested in him which makes him sigh in defeat, yet cats just seem so in love with him (me too) when they come running up to him. He doesn't mind it though, in all honesty he would prefer having you holding onto his arm as you both walk.
HE WILL PICK YOU UP FROM BEHIND THIS MAN DOES NOT DISCRIMINATE ON WEIGHT EITHER. HE DOES RESPECT BOUNDAIRES THOUGH! IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT HE WONT DO IT!
He absolutely loves it if you show off any clothes, or general items you have recently brought to him. Especially the clothes, he would REALLY love it if you treated his office like a mini walkway, strutting and turning with however much confidence you have. He loves it. The way you talk, walk, smile, everything. He loves whatever you do, he just loves you.
159 notes · View notes
cherrycola27 · 2 years ago
Text
Red, White, and Rooster
Tumblr media
Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Frenemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger
Series Masterlist Previous Part Next Part
...........................................
Chapter 10: Happy Birthday, Mr. President
You were buzzing with excitement. You were currently getting ready for Bradley's birthday dinner at the White House. He'd made sure all of his friends from the Dagger Squad were granted special leaves and permissions to be in D.C. You were excited to see all of them again and celebrate his 37th birthday.
You were even more excited for the surprise you had planned for him later.
You were currently putting the finishing touches on your outfit. You carefully fastened your earrings before slipping your wedding rings on. You held up the front of your beaded lavender sheath dress as you waited for Bradley to come and zip it for you.
You quickly fired off a text to Jake and Jaycee to make sure they were still okay to help with your plan.
Soon, Bradley emerged from the bathroom with his lavender bow tie in hand. You took it from him before handing him your necklaces for him to fasten for you.
"Don't forget to zip me." You tease him.
"I won't, Sweetheart." He says as he drags the zipper up before smoothing his hands over the back and placing a kiss on your neck. You grin at him in the mirror before turning around in his arms with his tie in your hand.
You loop it around his neck, as your skilled fingers make quick work of it.
"You know," Bradley begins. "Before we were together, I bet I zipped a dozen and a half of your dresses. Since we've been married, I've lost count." He states. You look up from his tie and raise your eyebrow at him. A silent way of asking what his point is.
"And every time you have me zip it, I can't help but wonder what the things you have on underneath it look like." He finished as you secure the knot on his tie.
You smile at him sweetly before getting on your tip toes. You pull him down towards you and put your lips close to his ear.
"In case you were wondering about this dress, I'm not wearing anything under it." You whisper before kissing his cheek and walking out the bedroom door. It takes Bradley a minute to rest his brain after that remark.
....................
His birthday dinner is going fantastically well. Everyone is having a great time, and Bradley hasn't stopped smiling. Everyone has just finished dinner, and cake is being served when you leave your seat and head to a microphone.
"Good evening, everyone!" You warmly greet the crowd. "Thank you all so much for being here for this special occasion. I'm so excited to be celebrating my wonderful husband's birthday with all of you!" The room fills with applause.
"Now, I know he would rather do without, but I simply cannot let the day pass without singing 'Happy Birthday' to him, so I was hoping you all would be alright with that. Is everyone okay with that?" You ask. The crowd laughs and agrees.
Someone plays a few bars on a piano before you start singing to him:
"Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday, Mr. President,
Happy Birthday to you"
Bradley swears under his breath as he feels the crotch of his pants tighten. You look like a modern-day Marylin Monroe up there, and he's trying to figure out when would be the most polite time to steal you away and sneak out of his own party.
After a round of applause, the band picks back up again, and you make your way around the room, greeting guests, shaking hands, and thanking everyone for coming.
Bradley is tucked away in a corner, downing his third glass of champagne when Jake comes up to him.
"Easy there, Rooster, this isn't the Hard Deck," Jake jokes with him. Bradley rolls his eyes before setting the glass down.
"Hangman, why is champagne such a violent beverage?" Bradley asks him. "What do you mean?" Jake replies. "I mean, the more I drink it the more I think about when would be the best time to sneak out of here so I can go fuck my wife." Bradley clarifies. Jake almost chokes on his drink. He sputters out a cough before shaking his head and checking his phone.
"Well, I might be able to help you with that." He tells Bradley, and now it's his turn to look confused. Jake shakes his head before pulling a card out of his jacket pocket. "Mr. President" is written in your sleak hand writing on the front. "Have fun, Rooster." Jake says before patting him on the back and walking away.
Bradley opens the card to find three works written inside: "Oval Office, now."
He tucks the card in his suit and looks around the room to see that you have vanished. He makes sure that no one is watching before slipping out of the room and down to the West Wing.
His office is quiet and dim when he enters. He makes sure to lock the door behind him.
"Took you long enough," you speak. Bradley turns to find you perched on his desk. Your hair has been taken down from its neat updo, and your shoes are haphazardly tossed to the carpet. Your legs are crossed as you lean back on your palms and watch him walk towards you slowly, like a cat stalking it's prey.
"My, my, my. What do we have here, Mrs. First Lady?" Bradley asks you as he walks up to the desk and plants his hands on either side of you, trapping you in place.
"I just thought I'd give you an extra special present for your birthday, Bradley." You tell him. "And what might that be?" He asks you with a coy smile.
"Well, Mr. President," You begin as you reach up to remove his bow tie. "I thought it would be nice if the leader of the free world bent me over his desk and fucked me like a slut." You finished before unceremoniously tossing his tie to the floor.
You watch Bradley's eyes darken and his jaw clench. "Is that so? Does my perfect, smart, beautiful wife want to be treated like my play thing? Is she going to let me do anything I want to her for my birthday?" He asks cocking his head to the side.
"Yes, sir." You tell him. Any self-control Bradley had left vanishes. He crashes his lips to yours in a kiss that is all teeth and tongue. He pulls you harshly to the edge of the desk before running his fingers through your hair.
He shoves your dress up your hips before pushing your thighs open. He's pleased to see that you were telling the truth when you told him you weren't wearing anything under your dress.
One of his hands leaves your hair to swipe through your slick folds. He easily slips two digits in and begins to expertly curl them into you.
"Mmmm, fuck Bradley. Feels so good." You praise him. But the words had no sooner left you mouth, and he was stopping. "Bradley, no." You whine as you attempt to grind your core against his fingers.
"Only good girls get to call me Bradley. But you're not my good girl right now, are you? You're my needy slut who needs to be taken care of aren't you?" He growls out. His words send another wave of arousal through you. You aren't sure how to respond. Bradley must not have liked that you didn't answer him because he gives a harsh smack to your cunt, causing you to jump.
"Answer me. What are you right now? He asks again. "Your needy slut." You tell him. "Exactly, so if you want me to keep touching you, it's Sir or Mr. President. Understood?" He tells you.
"Yes, Sir, Mr. President." You respond to him. He grunts in approval before starting again.
He speeds up his movements from before alternating between curling his fingers and scissoring your walls. He can feel you pussy clenching around his digits and he knows that you're close.
"Are you gonna cum for me? Are you gonna cum all over my hand like the slut you are?" He asks you as his thumb circles your clit.
"Fuck—yes! I'm so close, Sir, please don't stop." You cry out. Bradley has no intentions of stopping. No, he wants to push you over the edge until you're stupid and crying and shaking.
Your thighs are already there as he draws the first orgasm of the night out of you. He guides you through it before withdrawing his fingers and licking you relase from them. You slump against him, but he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him.
"Aren't you going to say thank you?" He asks sarcastically." "Th—thank you, Mr. President" You stutter out.
"You're welcome." He bites back before pushing you to lay flat on the desk and kneeling between your wide spread thighs. "The cake was great, but this is the dessert I'd rather have." He mumbles before liking a stripe from your weeping hole to your throbbing clit.
He buried his face in your heat, fucking his tongue into you. His nose and the fine hairs of his mustache grazed your clit with each swipe of the firm muscle. One of your hands gripped the dark wood edge of the desk while the other grasped his curls. You wrapped your thighs around his head, securing him in place. The heel of your foot dug into his back. There would probably be a bruise from it. You didn't care, though. It wouldn't be the first time the two of you had left marks on each other from lovemaking.
You were approaching another peak when Bradley pulled off of you with a wet pop.
You let out a displeased cry.
"Look at me. He growled from his position. You leaned up on your elbows just enough to meet his eyes. They were blown with lust. Your wetness coated his face and chin. The top two buttons of his shirt were open, and you could see the flush of his skin.
"You have no idea what you do to me, do you?" He asks you. "You have no idea just how much power you have. I mean, look, you have the most powerful man in the world on his knees for you. No one else on earth can do that to me but you. I might be the leader of the nation, but for you, I'm a humble servant who is grateful for the chance to worship you." Bradley states as he kisses your thighs.
"Now, I want you to watch, while the president of the United States makes you cum all over his face." He tells you before diving back in.
His eyes never leave you as he works you up again. He slips his hands under your ass and pulls you closer to him as you grind against his face. Another wave of pleasure is about to crash over you.
"Sir—Mr. President— fuck!" You cry out as the band snaps. You try to keep looking at him, but it's too much. Your head lulls back, and you close your eyes as you ride the wave. Bradley doesn't stop his tongue until you're pulling him back because it's just too much.
He gets up from his spot on the floor and takes off his jacket before cupping your jaw and kissing you. "You okay?" He asks, pressing he forehead to yours. "Very." You assure him. "Think you can do one more for me?" You smirk at him. "I know I can, Mr. President."
Bradley smirks back at you before pulling you off his desk, spinning you around, and pushing you flush against the cool wood. He stops just long enough to undo his belt and push his trousers down to free his aching cock. Precum coats the tip of it.
He hikes you dress up even further, so your perfect ass is on display for him. He gives it a few harsh smacks as he fists himself. He loves the little mewls you let out with each strike.
He pushes into you without warning, your gummy walls gripping him as he begins to pound into you. The blunt tips of his fingernails dig into the flesh of your hips.
His taking you so hard and so fast that your body jolts forward with each thrust. He grabs the base of your neck to hold you firmly in place as he continues to pound into you.
A string of incoherent curses and moans leaves your mouth as he drives into you. Bradley smiles, knowing he's the only one who can make the oh so smart First Lady sounds like a babbling idiot.
"That's it, baby doll. Keep babbling like the dumb little slut you are while the president fucks you. Love how fucking stupid and needy you sound right now." Bradley growls out as he pulls you up flush against his torso.
"You're pretty little pussy is squeezing me so fucking much right now. Do you wanna cum again for me?" He asks against the shell of your ear.
"Yea—" you managed to squeak out.
"If you wanna cum, you're going to have to ask me nicely. Go on, use your words, Sweetheart." He goads you, knowing damn good and well that you can't because of how he's fucking you right now.
You want to ask him. You really do. You want to beg him to let you finish because you're so fucking close, but he's only giving you just enough to keep you teetering on the edge. You want to tell him how good he feels and how much you love him. You also want to tell him that this orgasm that is building doesn't feel like one you've ever had before.
You want to tell him that you feel like you're on fire. You want to tell him that you might cry if you don't get to finish soon. You want to tell him how badly you want it. But the only thing you can manage in your pleasure induced high is:
"Please, Mr. President." He chuckles at how pathetic you sound before pushing you over the edge. You feel the relief wash over you as your release flows out of you and coats your thighs and his. He continues to fuck you through it, drawing every last ounce of pleasure from you.
He close himself, and the feeling of you clenching around him and cumming harder than you ever have, has him on edge.
"Shit, that's it baby doll, fucking cum all over me. God you're pussy feels so fucking good. Fuck I'm so fucking close. I'm going to cum in this pretty little hole of yours and fill you up. Gonna fill you up so fucking good, you'll feel me in there for weeks baby doll." He cries out before painting your walls white with his thick release.
He collapses on top of you. Both of you are sweaty and panting. The air in the Oval Office is thick with the scent of sex.
It takes several minutes before either of you can speak.
"Happy Birthday, Dearest." You tell Bradley.
"What a birthday it was." He states as he pulls out of you. You can feel his cum leaking put of you onto the desk, but your entire body feels like jello and you can't move.
Bradley quickly grabs some tissues to clean the both of you up. He then scoops you up bridal style and makes a mental note to come back later and clean everything up.
He carries you back to your living quarters before depositing you on the bed. You motion for him to cuddle you, and of course, he does.
"Do I want to know how you orchestrated this whole thing?" He asks you. "Probably not." You reply.
He shakes his head and wants to ask you, but he thinks better of it. Somethings are better left unsaid.
Oh wow, babes! It finally happened! The Oval Office has been defiled!
Taglist: @daggerspare-standingby @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @hecate-steps-on-me @roosterscock @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @seresinsbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @xoxabs88xox @avengersfan25 @blackwidownat2814 @loveforaugust @mak-32 @cottagecori @amysteryspot @heyimmadisonn @princess76179 @bradshawseresinbabe @sunlightmurdock @lewmagoo @cassiemitchell @die-cunt @mj-l4 @shipinabluebottle @malindacath @violyn20 @imawkwardlysoc @books-for-summer @blackroseboulevard @recordblues @desert-fern @luckyladycreator2 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @diorrfairy @je-suis-prest-rachel @chicomonks @mizzzpink @a-linabean @amklibrary @gretagerwigsmuse @jstarr86 @actuallyazriel @krismdavis @bradshawsbaby
445 notes · View notes
alpinelogy · 6 months ago
Note
🤍 sargebon ? ^_^
🤍 kiss at the wedding/milestone
Ajsjs I’m finally catching up on these (real not clickbait).
Started writing this way back when I first reblogged this ask game, procrastinated until the news dropped but i swear it was always this sappy. Not beta read, might go and clean it up later
sargebon, 0.9k, fluff without plot
The night has started to wind down a long time ago now, the first guests have started leaving hours ago, slowly trickling out one by one until now, where they are practically the only ones left still at the wedding, the last ones remaining. Only the two of them, now allowed to enjoy the aftermath, the after of it all.
They both have abandoned their suit jackets a while ago, neither of them in favor of wearing the rigid garment for longer than necessary. They both looked good in them, Logan more so than Alex but secretly, Alex suspects Logan would argue the opposite. Now however, both have long forgotten them, leaving them hanging over the backs of their chairs.
Logan is standing on the edge of the dancefloor, looking further out where the shoreline is barely visible in the clear, warm night. Alex thinks he looks ethereal, from another world, his head spins whenever he remembers that Logan said yes, that he smiled, laughed in joy and said yes months ago and then said it again today, this time a bit more collected and less caught off guard.
Not for the first time, Alex is reminded how horribly, sappily he is in love with Logan. He cannot bring himself to care, to be bothered by it. If today is anything to go by, Logan is just as in love with him as he is in love with Logan.
“Care for a dance?” Alex carefully wraps his arm around Logan's waist, pulls him closer. He is a solid weight against Alex, warm and familiar, someone that Alex has wrapped himself around a thousand of times before, curling up in the evenings, keeping close to retain at least a sliver of comfort, of warmth in the winter.
Logan laughs. A ringing sound, full of joy and love. Alex is smitten, even after all these years, “There is no music playing.” He argues. He isn't putting up a fight, he is not trying to argue with Alex, he is just being pragmatic, practical and organized.
“Doesn't mean we cannot dance.” Alex leans in to place a soft kiss on Logan's temple. He knows Logan was not arguing against him, that he was only being practical, that he can be easily swayed. Alex wants to sway him. They had their first dance, they danced afterwards, but this feels somehow different, more personal, more private. Just them.
Again, Logan laughs and turns around to properly face Alex, “Okay.” He eventually says. His smile isn't the large, excited grin from hours ago. Now it is more muted, smaller, more genuine and honest, Alex knows fully well.
He slides his right hand into Logans, keeps his left hand where it was on Logans waist and slowly, carefully he leads them back to the center of the dance floor. It is slow, careful, neither of them can properly remember the steps, both of them only relenting to learn this dance after George ragged on them continuously for long enough that their determination to not learn weakened and waned until it was fully gone.
Still, even with their unskilled steps, Alex finds it stupidly, horribly romantic. The cicadas and the sea are the only two sounds accompanying them, their slow, out of tune and out of sync steps. Alex could not have imagined a better end to the day.
“I love you.” Alex close to whispers. He isn’t sure if Logan even heard him, he says it more for himself than for Logan, Logan has heard him say it a thousand times over, he promised Logan forever today and he plans on keeping that promise, “But you already know that.” He adds, almost self deprecatingly. He only barely holds back the awkward laugh that is threatening to get out.
Logan hums, Alex can feel the vibrations spread into his own body, “Still like hearing it though.” He heard then, he heard Alex’s confession. Alex doesn't mind, not really, he knew that Logan would most likely overhear, “Love you too.” He adds after Alex’s words properly sink in.
Alex’s heart clenches. He knows that, obviously he knows that, he has known that for years. It still makes something in his chest flip. The cold metal of Logan’s ring grounds him, makes all of this feel more real, more probable, more tangible. His own ring has already been a steady reminder. Logan's ring just solidifies it.
Neither of them say anything. They don't need to, not when Alex can feel Logan warm against him, barely suppressing a laugh, opting only for a muted, content smile.
One more spin and they stop, standing in the middle of the strangely empty dance floor. It is just them now, it has been just them for a while now, stupidly, horribly infatuated with each other. Alex would not have it any other way, can not imagine his life any other way, no matter how much he tries.
He cups Logan’s face, Logan leans into the touch. He strokes Logan’s cheek, runs his thumb along his cheekbone. Logan slowly closes his eyes, lets Alex do whatever he wants, trusts him because he knows what’s coming next.
They have kissed a thousand times before, several times today alone. It still feels like the first time, every time Alex pulls Logan closer to kiss him something always flutters in his stomach, something flutters and then settles down, content and happy, pleased, almost maybe a bit smug that he gets to kiss Logan whenever he wants.
They part. Logan smiles again, laughs, a ringing sound. Alex is horribly, awfully in love maybe.
30 notes · View notes
image-thot · 2 years ago
Text
For the Cause: Soundwave/Reader/Shockwave
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Summary: When Shockwave returns from Cybertron, all quickly notice his increased irritability and aggression towards the few remaining omegas. Megatron concludes the best course of action is to ask his most loyal follower to lend his to the adjusting mech.
Warnings: a/b/o, heats/ruts, dubcon, non-graphic smut, Dubious sharing of mates
Shockwave was not a mech that many would choose for company, most would rather avoid the scientist in fear they'd become his next "project". He liked it that way, the fewer distractions he had meant more energy he could use to focus his work only ever needing to stop for necessary needs such as refuelling, recharge and the once-in-a-melenia rut.
Shockwave had a gift when it came to pushing down functions and emotions he deemed "illogical" and for the majority of the war primal base coding was deemed just that. Even when he was stranded on their dead home world, he was alone the conditions poor and so it was pushed down once again. That all changed when he was rescued and brought back into the Decepticon ranks once more.
For the first time in a long while he came to crave social interaction.
He would never outwardly show it but he'd often find himself enjoying the company of the Megatron, Soundwave, Y/n, Knockout, Eradicons and even Starscream.
So the only logical conclusion as to why his primal coding was finally burning through his frame with the need to find and mate an omega, was that optimum conditions for producing sparklings have been met. 
The logic was there but it didn't stop him from trying to refute it.
Aside from self-servicing every few hours he hadn't found much relief, the Eradicons were not designed with their primal coding in mind and therefore were of no use to him. Those that could be of use such as Starscream, Y/n and Breakdown were already spoken for, their Alpha's being of high ranks would likely mean a direct confrontation. 
Even though he never acted on his impulses did not make him any less pleasant to be around, often he'd find himself in a heightened state of aggression 
To say this made everyone a little tense was an understatement.
For the first two weeks, it was simply chalked up to his lack of social interaction over the many years. After the third, many assumed he was angry over his abandonment on Cybertron but by the fourth, even Megatron had grown irritated over his new demeanour.
"Soundwave, I hope you've found the answer to our problem." Megatron speaks watching the faceless mech standing before him.
"Affirmative." One of the many voices Soundwave has collected plays, Megatron motions for him to continue.
|Conclusion: Shockwave experiencing a long overdue rut cycle and has not been able to find a suitable omega to mate resulting in aggression towards alphas and their omegas.|
Megatron hums in acknowledgment of his communication officer's response, his digits tapping along his throne in thought.
"So if Shockwave were to have an omega to help in this rut he'd return to his usual self." Megatron states as Soundwave nods in response as he watches his Lord in thought. A few minutes pass as Megatron thinks, weighing each choice carefully before he speaks.
"I assume that y/n isn't carrying from your last rut?" Megatron queries keenly aware of the tension this draws from Soundwave's frame at the mention of his own mate, he takes a moment to calculate the time since you had last took him.
"Affirmative." The thought that if you had been carrying crossed his mind, would megatron consider another to offer Shockwave.
"I assume you would be willing to share your omega with Shockwave?" Megatron's words have a hint of amusement behind them as watches Soundwave’s biolights pulse.
|Query: An order?| 
Soundwave already knows it is and as insulting as it is, he'd never ever disobey a direct order from him. Even if that meant putting the bond he had built with you in harm's way.
"Yes, we cannot afford to lose Shockwave or his important work. I expect this to be handled quickly and discreetly Soundwave." Megatron almost growled as he motioned for the slender mech to leave.
Pulling his emotions tighter in, he makes his way to your station with his new directive.
This was for the cause, shockwave and his research is important to reach their goals. It was ordered by Megatron himself, a sign that he trusted you and there was no higher honour than that.
You would understand.
When your mate paid you a visit while on duty it was a shock, a rare event indeed.
"Nothing makes me happier than seeing you my love but I know you wouldn't come by unless something was wrong." Your words are so sweet and kind, it makes his spark drop with dread.
|New orders: Presence required in Laboratory -Shockwave in need of your assistance|
His visor flashes displaying the message as he feels himself stiffen, a small glint of confusion lights your optics before it disappears.
"And that assistance would be?" Optic ridge raised as you eye him up and down. "You're never one to skip on the details, especially regarding orders."
Your gaze has him instinctively straightening, chassis puffing out at the thought of you choosing another alpha over him. No, this was a mission you weren't choosing him merely fulfilling your duties as a Decepticon.
|Shockwave experiencing difficulties adjusting to the presence of omegas :Solution: Y/n to assist in adjustment|
Soundwave doesn't miss the way your frame tenses and your EM field draws back. It's obvious you’re disgusted by the request, your dermas twitch as you try to suppress a grimace.
"In what way?" It’s not that you don't know the answer, the defeated tone that tries to break through your words is evidence of that. 
You wanted no, you needed to hear it from him. If he'd order something so intimate in your bond to be given to the cause, you know he would. When he simply stares back you turn, moving back to your console as you begin to close your work. It may hurt your spark but you can understand that all Decepticons should be willing to sacrifice anything to further the cause.
"Any and All." The recorded voice of Megatron plays through his speakers, letting out a deep ex-vent you close the last data stream before turning to him.
"Affirmative. I will make my way there at once." Your voice never faltered as you push down the building emotions that threaten to spill out, as you walked towards the door Soundwaves visor tracks your movements and he doesn't need to analyse you to know that you feel betrayed.
“It’s a necessary sacrifice.” It echos through his helm, watching from the security camera as Shockwave looms over you his large frame corralling you backwards until your back hits the med slab.
“It’s for Cybertron.” The rage bubbles as Shockwaves servo roughly turns you, his cannon pressing hard into your back to bend you over the Energon-stained slab.
“It’s for the future.” Growling at Shockwave's careless clawing at your interface panelling, his pede kicking your legs open wider as your panels retract.
“It’s for the Decepticons.” Optics focussing back on the data in front of him he continues to listen, the sound of metal harshly clashing against metal along with a chorus of growls and whines fill his audio receptors.
303 notes · View notes
sharkface · 1 month ago
Text
I'm not really interested in getting into this much more after this post but I am genuinely so appalled and disgusted at the level of vitriol directed at me recently for saying I have been sexually harassed on and offline by LGBT people and that I would like it to stop. I have said nothing but "I don't like it when people say extremely sexual things to and about me right away, especially after I've already expressed clear disinterest" and "I don't like it when people assert that I might be of X identity to make me seem more appealing or available to them instead of just asking me" and the responses have been largely to tell me how ungrateful I am and how I should stop complaining because I'll never experience "real" harassment the way I would if I were afab. It's not one or two ignorable incidents of out of touch weirdos feeling empowered to say crazy shit anonymously online, I got over a dozen asks, I've received an insane number of messages outlining the sexual things people want with me, talking about how I'm an effeminate femboy faggot and a bottom, asking me to detail what my dick looks like, which I guess I am asking for by posting pictures of my outfits every now and again, or something? And well. This is all nakedly fucked up, right? Like, these are weird and blatantly homophobic assumptions about my character based on what appeals to the person sending the message.
I'm honestly very confused how we lost the plot on the fact that while misogyny incites more sexual harassment on women than men and men are often the ones inciting said violence because they are structurally empowered and socially encouraged to do so that does not mean that men (including cis men) cannot be meaningfully sexually harassed or assaulted. And well. Clearly we've also forgotten that gay men and bisexual men are hypersexualized and emasculated and assaulted for being gay and especially being sexually submissive or enjoying penetration(which is seen as a given, especially if you look a certain way; I don't think I've ever expressed ANY sexual preference on this blog, nor directly to people I don't know well, but people draw their own conclusions anyway), but for some reason we think all of this isn't a serious offense if another LGBT person does it now.
Like, to me this really doesn't feel that complicated and I really don't think you can "What if they're queer" or "What if they're neurodivergent" your way out of that. I fear a lot of you really do think that you belong to a demographic that strips you of the capacity for harm because you think that having little to no structural power means you also can't have ANY social interpersonal power and that's an alarming precedent to see on the rise among people who somehow still consider themselves radical human rights activists. Like sincerely some of you just will not take responsibility for yourselves no matter what and you dress it up in all this unrelated unjustified cherry picked theory that says you're fundamentally good and any harm you cause is just the collateral of radical self love or something and it's fucking scary. "LGBT people are not inherently predators but this narrative is used to oppress them thus accusations of sexual violence towards them should be examined carefully" and "LGBT people are still capable of being deeply cruel and terrible to each other" are concepts that should not be controversial to anyone but you are all overcomplicating it through bioessentialist pseudofeminism that exists not to combat structural violence but to give yourself a pass for playing into it. You are ceding ground on the absolute most basic gay and trans rights and feminist concepts in the name of fixating on inactionable niches of vibes-based discourse that absolve you of responsibility for your actions and it makes you unsafe to be around.
You are not a radical, you are not a community pillar, you are a hypocrite and an active participant in the endangerment of other LGBT people. Overall, please get fucking real, abandon your emotional need to win arguments online and prove how pure you are at any cost, and start looking at the things that actually happen in the world around you and protect people from THAT instead of acting like everything everyone does should loop back around to making you feel good. And for the love of god. Stop meekly trying to fuck strangers in their inboxes and getting all guilt trippy and defensive and angry and continuing to push for reciprocation when they clearly aren't interested in you. It's not any less fucked up just because you're not a cishet dude.
13 notes · View notes
isa-ghost · 10 months ago
Note
Phil and bagi hcs?
YOU HAVE JUST ENABLED A MONSTER.
I AM SO ABNORMAL ABOUT THESE TWO.
Also these will apply to AMFMN!! Because SURPRISE, if no one has checked the fic tags, her name is listed as a main character. ;) She'll be arriving in Chapter 6!! :D
I cannot fucking WAIT to expand upon their dynamic, which is funny because by the time Bagi shows up, Phil is possessed so it won't be exploration through direct interactions until the recovery period waaay later in the fic. Nonetheless it'll be hype! :D
qPhil headcanons masterlist
Phil is a member of the "Bagi can do whatever she wants forever" club. He supports her rights and wrongs and fully believes she could kick his ass no matter how unbalanced of a fight it'd be in his favor (disclaimer I don't actually know Bagi's exact pvp skill level 🤔)
Bagi is a member of the "God I want Phil to take me on a flight some day, I am so sad his wings are fucked up" club. (She would probably be terrified /pos)
I don't know what it is about their friendship but I feel like Bagi is so much more attuned to the way Phil thinks than the average islander. I guess I'd say it's because of how perceptive she is in general, especially with how she's a detective? Whatever it is, Bagi just has this talent for reading Phil like a damn book. And she won't hesitate to call him on his bullshit either. She's much like Fit in that regard. Crow man can't hide SHIT
Like fr if Phil ever gave Bagi reason to be concerned the first thing she'd do is start cornering those closest to him and either ask what's up or be like "hey Phil's on some shit rn, we gotta go force him to confess whatever stupid shit he's shouldering on his own and bottling up"
Phil has definitely been whacked with the frying pan for not venting and acting like he has to brave the horrors alone btw. Bagi's the type of friend that'll kick your fucking ass if you're not self-caring or being mean to yourself. (I am projecting LMAO)
Bagi isn't as Holy Shit We Could Die Any Second about things as Phil, but they're both very protective people, which can manifest in very volatile ways when they're hurt or angered by something (ie: Feds). I would not want to experience their individual wraths simultaneously.
Bagi is one of the top people Phil shows his gift giving love language to. Be it resources she needs, pictures he's taken of her/Em/Tina or of weird island shit, the means to complete cookie tasks, etc. She's one of the first in mind.
GOD Phil wants her to teach him how to wield a frying pan so badly. He's an excellent swordsman and bowman, but PAN?? The enjoyment he'd get out of it would be infinite, he'd love to be kicking ass while getting a laugh out of it bc pan go BONG when it hits a motherfucker.
If one needs something the other says yes no hesitation. They might ask each other a couple questions, but as soon as they have 100% clarity, they trust each other with the rest and know that if something goes wrong, whoever is present at the time will unleash hell on the person or monster that caused it.
I've somewhat already hinted at it but GOD the mutual admiration they have for each other!! Their wits and way with words, their natural sense of leadership, their determination to defend what they believe in, what they think is right, and the people they love, their specific expertise, the list goes on. They just think the other is so fucking cool and brilliant.
Tbh I think in the right circumstances they'd teach each other some lowkey fucked up tricks they have up their sleeves. Like Bagi giving Phil insight on manipulating people into giving the answers you're looking for by asking the right carefully worded questions, or Phil teaching Bagi the best spots to hit/hurt a person/mob to really do some damage just purely as a "hey if you ever find yourself in a Situation, here's a tip" thing
I don't know how better to show this without explicitly saying it: These two are not the other's fucking caretaker. Phil is not Bagi's father figure and Bagi is not Phil's mother figure. Yes, they can scold each other when the other is doing something dumb (cough, 7 hcs ago, cough). Friends do that. They support each other and call each other on their bs. That is not parenting, that's being a good friend. And they are to each other.
On that note, it hasn't come up too much yet but when shit sucks (like when the eggs were lost or lost lives), they're good at distracting each other. But like without halting the process of dealing with their emotions. If they're sad, they'll be sad together, but they're good at picking the right conversation topics to lighten the mood. If they're mad, they'll be mad together, and they'll plan what to do about it with each other.
I think I've sorta demonstrated it well enough in a couple of these hcs already but AUGH, they're just. So on the same page with each other almost all the time. And when they aren't, they're so good at giving each other perspectives they didn't think of before. Which, I don't mean to compare Bagi to her brother here, but is also how Phil and Cellbit can be with each other too; though they've somewhat fallen out of that sync post-Purgatory. The way the Mystery Siblings are so on the same wavelength as Phil makes me so *slams fist on desk*
Phil is normally a very Just Vibin' kinda guy but Bagi can get him into some really deep intellectual conversations sometimes and it's so 🍿🍿🍿 to watch
52 notes · View notes
phoenixyfriend · 1 year ago
Text
Okay, following up on that news I saw earlier. I first was alerted to it by the BBC Global News Podcast and Al Jazeera News Updates. For easier reference and more detail, however, I will be referring to this article from AP News for details, which itself references this article that cites the Washington Post.
Things of note:
This seems to have been caused by the recent incident where over 115 Palestinians were killed, and over 750 injured, by the IDF during a reported stampede by starving civilians trying to get to aid trucks.
The air drops will begin "in the coming days," and will start with MREs (military rations).
There will be multiple rounds, according to John Kirby.
The process will be done in conjunction with Jordan, which shares the longest of Israel's borders, the Eastern. (That part isn't in the article but I don't know how many people actually know where Jordan is.)
The US admits that it doesn't... know what it's doing? And is basically going to learn on the job. Not super promising but better than nothing. Most of the concern seems to be that the extreme crowding will increase the risk of injury; I assume dropping large pallets of supplies is easier when there's a lot of empty space, and smaller, less dangerous packages mean dropping less at a time since more space is needed in the planes for the parachutes.
Planes airdropping supplies is in itself MUCH LESS efficient than truck deliveries for this reason.
They're also hoping to set up a "maritime corridor" but there's no real word on how that's going to be achieved other than the ceasefire talks.
The U.S. has been pushing Israel to speed the flow of humanitarian assistance into Gaza and to open a third crossing into the territory, but Friday’s violence showed the challenges no matter the circumstances. “The loss of life is heartbreaking,” Biden said Friday as he announced his decision to order airdrops. “People are so desperate.”
Additionally, the second article has more details on the concerns that kept airdrops from being implemented earlier:
“Aid flowing to Gaza is nowhere nearly enough,” Biden said. “Now, it’s nowhere nearly enough. Innocent lives are on the line and children’s lives are on the line. We won’t stand by until we get more aid in there. We should be getting hundreds of trucks in, not just several.” The White House, State Department and Pentagon had been weighing the merits of U.S. military airdrops of assistance for several months, but had held off due to concerns that the method is inefficient, has no way of ensuring the aid gets to civilians in need and cannot make up for overland aid deliveries. [...] “It’s not the kind of thing you want to do in a heartbeat. you want to think it through carefully,” Kirby said. He added, “There’s few military operations that are more complicated than humanitarian assistance airdrops”
The second article also discusses how domestic conflicts, namely Speaker Johnson's refusal to address foreign crises until "taking care of America's needs" (paraphrase), have been delaying much of what could have been done before now.
60 notes · View notes
definesanity · 2 months ago
Note
Greetings!
Ive been meaning to make an ask about Oneself for a whileee, I was never sure of what exactly to ask!
So heres a question about Oneself, are there any moments or situations where Oneself is directly opposed to by Vertin? Choices Vertin makes that Oneself cannot in anyway allow and becomes Vertin's adversary in some way? Maybe going along with a dodgy plan by Constantine that while Vertin can concede to doing Oneself cannot agree to?
I guess a scenario where Vertin and co must face off against Oneself (maybe Netto here as well, Im not clear if she would fight against any Vertin) boss fight style.
Another ask also for uh reasons!
Generally how would you describe Netto's appearance, outside of the feral and generally unkept look? Any mementos she retains? Does her outfit change drastically from her usual?
Have fun
Oh boy here we go lol 😭
Oneself became the Timekeeper out of duty, rather than compliance. She did not look at the children being Reversed, merely staying behind the door. She, at some point, was a coward.
Additionally, Oneself has a nihilistic outlook on their own world, believing it beyond saving.
The plan is definitely something Oneself would oppose Verin on; she despises the Foundation with all her heart.
Now, etto is curious.
The reason it's etto and not Netto is because she has forgotten her name, furthermore she isn't from Oneself's timeline; she's from a seperate timeline where everything went to shit as well
Her Vertin (rtin) was framed to look like she hung herself, as she had outlived her usefulness for Constantine at that point.
This threw her into a frenzy, which ended with her cannibalising her, and fleeing.
For decades, she stayed in the woods and the Wilderness, keeping rtin's umbrella, no matter how damaged it becomes.
appearance wise, she's very gaunt and lanky. 6'5, bones showing, with a haunted expression. She has forgotten how to speak, with her now speaking slowly and carefully.
("M...My name... is et...to...")
Now, the curious part (apart from her shit posture)
Her eyes are normally green. However, in combat, they seem to shift to become pinprick green. Kinda like FNAF characters when they only have white dots for eyes
And, if they turn pinprick yellow, you're basically just. Dead. No ifs or buts about it.
Her clothes are heavily damaged as well, and her hair is darker due to it not being washed for years.
Her mind is like a maze, where information remains, but cannot be found normally.
To conclude, etto also kept rtin's suitcase (which is now kept by Oneself) and her clothes is like her i0 mixed with her 1.9 garment, minus thr glasses
She ripped her Parade Anthem garment to shreds
17 notes · View notes