#as much as i love him there's no way the story would be the same if he had survived

[cameronsprincess]

reader being a spoiled “good girl” kook who doesn’t give rafe the time of day with his reputation and treats jj like shit when he does work around her house for her dad. at least until jj’s snap story updates with her getting fucked from behind, the hand gripping her hip hard enough to bruise having that unmistakable signet ring on it and jj’s moans being heard from behind the camera as his cum starts to land on her tear stained face 😌

OH. this has been rotting since the end of july and i’m sooo sorry, i hope you see this sweet nonnie🥺🩷

CW: smut! 18+ only! threesome, jj posts it on his snap story, piv sex, male receiving oral, facial, praise and degrading. rafe ‘n jj are kinda fucked up for this but oh well.

requests | deadly duo masterlist

You’d always been known as the “good girl” on the island. You never got into any trouble, you steered clear of parties, and you definitely didn’t hang out with people who were constantly getting themselves into some shit.

Rafe Cameron was nothing if not persistent, he’d always tried to hit you up, asking what you were doing, wanting you to hang out with him, but you never gave him the time of day, why would you? He was not a good guy, and everyone knew it.

The same goes for JJ Maybank, the well known, most attractive Pogue on the island. You saw him a lot, seeing as your father had hired him to do work around your house a lot. JJ was also quite persistent, always trying to make you crack, bend your own rules, but your walls you’d spent years building up had you treating him like the no-good Pogue he was.

You treated both men pretty unfairly, at least, that’s what the public saw. No one knew that you were secretly a filthy slut behind closed doors for both the Kook and Pogue kings of Kildare Island.

“That’s it, baby, takin’ Rafe’s cock so fuckin’ good aren’t you? That tight little cunt loves to be pounded from behind doesn’t she?”

JJ’s words have your pussy clenching tightly around Rafe’s thick length, pulling a low groan from him. Your bloodshot eyes look up, finding JJ’s ocean-blues, his phone’s camera pointed right down at you.

Wanting to give JJ something good to watch later, you push your head down further, taking his entire length down your throat, eyes never leaving his. JJ groans, his free hand making its way to the back of your head, fingers tightly gripping at the messy, tangled locks. He holds your head down, forcing you to suck in breaths through your nose the best you can.

He slightly tilts his phone up, capturing only Rafe’s toned abdomen and the way his hands were tightly gripping at your hips. His fingers dig into your skin so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises later, but you’re too fucked out to care. You loved that they were your dirty little secret, loved the way they took turns fucking your throat, pussy and even sometimes your ass. They knew you had a reputation to uphold though, and they didn’t seem to mind the way you treated them in public, so long as they could fuck you like this whenever they wanted, you could do as you pleased in front of everyone else.

“Fuck, Y/N, your pussy feels so goddamn good, gripping my cock like she was fuckin’ made f’me.” Rafe rasps, his thrusts becoming sloppier.

JJ releases your head, allowing you to pull off of him and suck in a much needed breath of air. More tears slip past your lower lashes, making JJ breathe out a dark laugh.

“God, you look so fuckin’ pathetic, cryin’ like a fuckin’ baby while Rafe fucks that sweet cunt and I take this sweet mouth. Go on, suck my cock, princess, it’s aching for you.”

Rafe grunts, his fingers digging into your hips harder as he uses them to pull you back onto his cock, forcing you to meet each of his thrusts.

You lower your head, tongue darting out and softly swirling around the swollen, leaking head of JJ’s cock. He groans, lowering his phone back down to capture you sucking him off again.

“Eyes on the camera, baby. Don’t wanna miss a second of your facial expressions while my cock is down your throat and Rafe fucks you from the back.”

You quickly obey, forcing your eyes to look up and into the camera of JJ’s phone. You begin bobbing your head up and down his length, sucking and licking every last inch of him until you feel his cock pulse inside your mouth.

Rafe groans, slamming his hips forward one final time before his warm, sticky load is filling your pussy. “Fuuuuuck, baby, gonna have you leaking my cum for the rest of the day.” Rafe groans, holding onto your hips as he holds your ass flush against his groin as he rides out his high.

JJ isn’t too far behind Rafe, quickly pulling himself from your mouth and jerking his cock. A low, raspy groan fills the air as his cock twitches, his warm, sticky cum landing on your face and tits. JJ slowly removes his hand from his softening dick, his phone coming down and right in your face as he records the little facial he gave you.

“That’s it, baby. Gotta show everyone whose fucking girl you are, don’t we?”

In your euphoric, fucked out haze, you don’t catch JJ’s words… You just softly nod your head, saying “Yeah… Your girl.”

He and Rafe share a look, laughing lightly between one another before they both remove themselves from your bed, quickly dressing and helping clean you up. JJ tucks you into your bed after they have you completely cleaned up, placing a soft kiss on your forehead and whispering, “Maybe this’ll teach you to be nicer to us in public, baby.”

[writetheidea]

Too Much to Be Enough

Hello, I had another idea for a fan fiction. In this one, I tried writing with an unnamed character after someone reached out to me suggesting that I shouldn't tag "x reader" even if the character had a short name. They were not this polite in their wording. Kindly let me know if you find this more enjoyable and if you have any advice or feedback.

Pairing:  Franco Colapinto x female character

Plot: everyone thinks she's too much—too loud, too affectionate, too overwhelming—but as long as Franco loves her, she feels enough. When a painful betrayal forces her to question everything, she’s left wondering if even his love can truly be unconditional.

Tag: hurt/no comfort, angst.

Word count: 2077

Disclaimers: english is not my first language - I feel like you could tell from my writing style - so I apologize if some of the sentences structures are off, or if I use outdated or inappropriate-for-the-context words, I used a synonym dictionary to try and stop myself from repeating the same words, I still did do that though.

Franco Colapinto had become a rising star in Formula 1—his unexpected debut mid-season with Williams brought attention, intrigue, and the buzz of fans enamored by his unfiltered charm and skill on the track. To the world, he was a formidable talent, sharp in his focus and strategic in his every move. But to her, Franco was simply her Franco—the person she adored with every fiber of her being, the man who lit up her world with his easy laugh and grounded presence. She never tried to share him with the world; her joy was simply in being there. To Franco, she was a grounding force. To her, he was the brightest point of her life.

Their relationship had always been natural, filled with the kind of closeness that felt both unbreakable and safe. She loved to be near him, to catch the quiet smiles he reserved just for her or hold him close, her arms around him like a shield. She had a way of finding him when he was deep in conversation, slipping her arms around him or perching on the arm of a chair, just listening, watching him with eyes that spoke of adoration. She adored him openly and shamelessly, kissing his cheeks, bringing him little snacks between meetings, and laughing at his every story as if it was the first time she'd heard it. It was how she showed love—boldly, sincerely.

In public, her spirited affection sometimes drew raised brows. She was quick to laugh, unrestrained in her warmth, the kind of person who got excited over the little things. When she spoke, her voice had a way of filling the air, especially when she became passionate, her laughter rich and booming. Franco’s teammates would sometimes tease her for it, not unkindly, but she felt Franco’s protective arm settle around her back, his voice lowering to gently bring her back to the moment, a silent reminder that she was safe, that she didn’t need to hold back. She never felt like too much with him; she felt like enough.

When Franco got his F1 call-up, the world saw his potential, his brilliance. He went from a promising driver to a star almost overnight, and with that came the scrutiny, the endless, dissecting gaze of the world. There were new pressures, new challenges—he was praised and criticized in equal measure, and with him, she found herself swept up too. Fans adored him—his directness, his humor, his daring spirit. He was the next big thing, and with that title came every word spoken about him, every inch of him magnified. And suddenly, they wanted to know her, too. Who was Franco Colapinto’s girlfriend?

But their adoration of Franco didn’t extend to her.

She’d never been the kind of girl who worried about attention, but the way the public spoke about her… it was like a slow, smothering weight pressing down on her heart. They saw only a girl who seemed too clingy, too loud, and too unfitting of someone they had put on a pedestal. Her open affection was criticized as immature, her laughter labeled as attention-seeking. They dissected her every move and labeled her a distraction, tearing into her with the kind of brutality she’d never experienced. It felt like strangers were peeling her apart piece by piece, tearing away the person Franco had always loved.

She tried to ignore it at first, comforting herself with the knowledge that Franco didn’t seem to mind, that he even loved her as she was. Franco was all that mattered; his opinion was the one she trusted. He was the only reason she could keep her head up, brushing off the hate as long as she knew she had his love. And when Franco looked at her, his smile never wavered. She held onto that—the belief that he loved her as she was, even when the world made her question it.

But then came Brazil. She’d been watching from the paddock, her heart leaping every time he turned a corner, nerves twisting as he went head-to-head with some of the most seasoned drivers in the world. And then, the crash. It was terrifying, watching him collide and skid, helpless from a distance as her heart stopped, praying he was okay. Her relief was overwhelming when he emerged unharmed, but Franco’s face had been pale, his expression distant as he made his way off the track. She could see the weight of the moment pulling him under, the strain and pressure breaking through his usually calm demeanor. She wanted to reach for him, to pull him close, tell him she was there for him, that she would carry the weight if she could.

But he’d pulled away from her, muttering that he needed a minute to gather himself. Respecting his space, she’d wandered to the restroom, splashing water on her face, telling herself he’d come around, that he just needed time. She returned to his room, pausing outside, not wanting to intrude if he still needed space. And that’s when she heard it.

“…but don’t you think she’s a bit much?” The voice was that of his engineer, a man she’d thought liked her, someone she’d shared a few laughs with before. “She’s always there. Always talking, always needing to be… close. Must be a lot to deal with when you’re under this kind of pressure.”

She waited, her breath frozen, trusting that Franco’s response would ease her worry, that he’d brush it off as nonsense, defend her like he always had.

But his voice—the voice she trusted, the voice that had always assured her she was enough—spoke words she could barely stand to hear. Franco responded quieter than she’d ever heard it. “Yeah… I mean, sometimes. It’s a lot, too much, you know?”

She could hardly breathe, the words sinking in slowly, one by one, like sharp blades against her skin. He thought she was too much. A lot. The one person she thought she could be her fullest self with, the person who had always made her feel safe to love so openly, to be unapologetically herself—he was overwhelmed by her too. She was his burden, the weight that followed him. Tears began to blur her vision, but she stayed frozen, rooted in place as she listened to them continue, laughing and talking about her as though she were some trivial inconvenience, as though her love was suffocating him.

She backed away from the door, her heart breaking with every step. The tears came fast and hot, her whole body trembling with the force of them as she stumbled back into the restroom. Locking herself inside, she slid down against the wall, burying her face in her hands, feeling her heart shatter into a million pieces. She had fought so hard to believe in her own worth, to convince herself that she was lovable and that her affection wasn’t too much for him to bear. But he agreed. He agreed with them, with the strangers who hated her, who thought she was too loud, too affectionate, too clingy.

She had tried so hard to believe that Franco saw her the way she saw him—as irreplaceable, as the very air he breathed. But hearing his quiet agreement, the confirmation that the one person she thought she could trust didn’t love her as she was… it left her feeling hollow, like a fragile shell of herself.

---

When Franco found her, he looked at her with that familiar softness, his arms coming around her as he held her close. She clung to him, not because it made her feel better but because she didn’t know how else to act, didn’t know how to pretend it was all okay. He asked her why she was crying, and she forced herself to smile through the tears, saying it was because of his crash, that she’d been worried. He looked at her with relief, gently pulling her closer, and she let him, even though his touch felt like fire against her skin, burning with the memory of his words. For the first time in their relationship, being near him didn’t feel safe.

In the days that followed, she withdrew into herself, letting Franco slip away piece by piece. She stifled her laughter, kept her voice low, spoke only when necessary. She still brought him snacks, still sat beside him as he debriefed with his team, but now she was a shadow, a shell of the girl she once was. She didn’t touch him as freely, didn’t drape herself over his shoulders or pepper his face with kisses. She gave him what the world wanted, the perfect, silent partner, standing just behind him, looking at him only when he looked away.

Fans noticed the change, taking to social media to praise her for finally learning her place. They called her refined, mature, supportive. They praised her “new maturity,” applauded her for “knowing her place.” They liked her better this way, in the background, quiet, subdued. For the first time, she fit the image of the F1 girlfriend they wanted her to be. She was a supporting character, there for Franco when he needed her but silent, never in the spotlight, never drawing attention.

But Franco hated it. He missed her laugh, the way her hands would find his at every turn, the way she’d rest her head on his shoulder while he spoke. He missed the way she’d light up a room with her excitement, her laughter like music that chased away the shadows of his stress. He tried everything to bring her back, brushing his fingers along her cheek, whispering little jokes, pulling her close. But she stayed quiet, her smile polite but hollow, her laughter a pale echo of what it used to be.

She wasn’t his girl anymore. She was someone else, a stranger wearing her face.

---

One night, after a particularly grueling day, Franco found her alone in their hotel room. She was sitting by the window, staring into the dark night, her reflection in the glass a ghost of the girl he had fallen in love with. He crossed the room, kneeling beside her, his hand finding hers.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice breaking with the weight of his worry. “Tell me what’s wrong. Where did you go?”

She looked at him, her eyes full of a pain he couldn’t understand, couldn’t reach. “I’m here, Franco,” she whispered, her voice soft and fragile.

“No, you’re not,” he said, his voice thick. “You’re… you’re gone. The girl I love is gone.”

Her lips trembled, and she pulled her hand from his, wrapping her arms around herself as though trying to hold herself together. She was quiet for a long time before she spoke, her words barely audible. “I heard you… that day in Brazil. I heard you tell your engineer that I was too much. That I was a lot.”

Franco’s heart dropped, a cold shock of realization rushing through him. He remembered the conversation, the way he’d laughed along, never thinking his words would reach her. “I didn’t mean it,” he whispered, his voice raw. “I never meant it like that.”

“But you said it,” she replied, her voice breaking. “You agreed with them. You agreed with everyone. You were the only person who made me feel like I wasn’t too much, like I was enough. But if even you… if you think I’m too much…”

Her voice trailed off, her shoulders shaking as she hugged herself tighter. Franco reached for her, his heart shattering as he saw the pain he’d caused, the light he’d extinguished. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I love everything about you. You’re not too much. I need you, all of you.”

He reached for her, but she drew back, her body a closed door, her eyes filled with a sadness that cut deeper than anything. “I love you with everything I have,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I would have given anything to be enough for you.”

He could feel his own tears burning, the agony of realizing that his careless words had stripped away the light from the woman he adored. “You are enough,” he said desperately, his voice thick. “You’re everything to me. I love you just as you are.”

But she only shook her head, her hand lifting to his cheek, her fingers brushing his skin one last time. “I don’t believe that anymore.”

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 7

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible. Also Retconning from Nesta's Spring Birthday to like late November, just because otherwise my plot doesn't work.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Sky had kinda waited for the two of them to have screeching arguments…as soon as the happy bubble of a new mating bond fell away. 

But…nothing of that sort had happened.

“Let’s just keep it just for us for a little while,” he had whispered and she had agreed, curled up in his arms. Just them.

Just for a little while. Nobody else’s opinion did really matter after all. And she knew that there would be numerous opinion be had about the fact that hse had met her mate and then moved in with him in the span of less than a day…and that the two of them were utterly and deliriously happy since then. 

Just the two of them - at least for a little while longer. Sky knew that they would have to tell their friends and family eventually, that they couldn't stay in their little bubble forever, but she was in no rush. The world could wait. For now, she was perfectly content to just be with Azriel.

And they didn’t fight. About anything. 

It was...weird. 

She was waiting for arguments. She was waiting for screaming and to be told that she wasn’t enough…for him to finally realie that he had made a grave mistake…but nothing happened. 

He didn’t care that she stuffed all his bookcases with her books…or rather that his shadows did, painstakingly replicating the order she had had in her little apartment. 

Azriel even made nice with Hector and bought him tuna, jut for her sake…

She had caught Azriel and Hector curled up on the couch together last week - Azriel reading a book and Hector sprawled on his lap. She'd stared at them for a long moment. He had let Hector drool all over his shirt. Azriel had looked up at her with a sheepish grin when he noticed her staring. "He's very cuddly," he'd said, as if that was all the explanation that was needed.

Sky had just laughed, shaking her head as she made her way over to them, sitting down next to Azriel. She had rested her head on his shoulder, reaching out to pet the cat. Hector purred loudly in approval, nudging his head against Sky's hand, and she couldn't help but smile.

Azriel kept odd hours for his work, sometimes disappearing in the middle of the night or coming home then too…but Sky did too, so it didn’t bother her.

He always made time for her - making them breakfast or bringing her coffee or leaving little notes for her. 

And she horded it all away like a dragon did with it’s hoard, wanting to enjoy that just a little while longer. 

Sky made sure to do the same for him. She knew he never slept much, so she always left a cup of tea by his bed if he was late in returning, and always left some food for him… She found him a new salve for the scars on his hand, massaging it in with all the patience in the world when he admitted to her that the muscles and joints hurt as it got colder… She bought him sweets from the same little shop in the Rainbow she got her own stash of caramel candies from… She wanted to take care of him, even if she knew Azriel would never ask for it.

She loved the way he held her, as if he would never let her go. She loved the way he whispered her name as he kissed down her body, and the way he held her once they were finished, his wings wrapping around them and cocooning her in warmth. Sky had never imagined that she could be loved like this, but Azriel made her feel like she was the most precious thing in the world.

And if Azriel wasn’t there…the shadows were.

They had become her constant companions - sliding beneath doors and around walls and windows, following her through the house. At first, the shadows had been startling, but she had quickly grown used to them - they seemed to relish draping themselves over her, wrapping around her wrists, her ankles, her shoulders. The shadows would stroke at her face and whisper her name, and Sky had taken to speaking to them as well, asking them about Azriel or if they could bring her things or fetch Hector.

It was...nice not being alone anymore. Sky had never realized how lonely she had been in her little apartment, but now that she had the shadows - and Azriel - she didn’t want to go back. She loved the way the shadows seemed to watch over her, always present even if Azriel was not. And in their own way, the shadows cared for her too, always there to provide a steadying or comforting presence - or to bring her a cup of tea, or fetch her a book she needed for research...

And besides, the shadows were much better at moving furniture than Sky was. She had quickly learned that if she needed something rearranged or moved and Azriel was not around to do it, the shadows were more than happy to help.

But most of all, the shadows had come to represent Azriel to her - they were always with her, always watching over her, and she knew that even if Azriel could not be there, the shadows would always look out for her. They would keep her safe. 

It was a strange and unexpected sense of comfort, but Sky had come to cherish it. She never felt truly alone anymore, not with the shadows constantly at her back, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

And if Azriel was there…well.

The sex was better than anything she had ever imagined.

Sometimes she woke up to him between her thighs, right in the middle of throes of her pleasure, her whole body still heavy with sleep and drenched with wetness. 

He made her feel wanted, desired in a way that she had never experienced before. He never tired of her, always wanting to be close her, and she never tired of him. Every touch felt like a new discovery, and Sky was learning Azriel’s body like she had never learned anything else in her life, learning what made him moan and tremble and beg for more. She loved the way he touched her, the way he kissed her, and the way he whispered her name as he moved inside her.

But it wasn't just about the physical pleasure.

After sex…when it was just the two of them curled up in their bed, his wings wrapped around her, his head bedded on body more often than not…they talked. A truth for a truth.

She learned more about him. About his horrible sweet tooth. About the scars that covered his hands…she had traced them one evening and he had looked at her…looked at her in wonder.

He opened up to her about so many things, telling her stories from his childhood, about the horrors of the war, and about his family. Sky listened to all of it, her heart breaking for all the pain and suffering he had endured, and vowing to spend the rest of her life making him happy. And in turn, she shared her own stories with him, telling him things she had never told anyone else. It felt...good to let go of all the secrets and burdens she had carried for so long, and to know that Azriel was there to listen and to understand.

He never once cared about her stuttering. Never once rushed her.

Though she could feel… she felt so safe with him…that the stutter eased. Still there but sometimes she could go whole sentences without stuttering once..

Azriel was always patient with her, letting her take her time when she needed it, and never making her feel rushed. And to her surprise, her stutter had eased, bit by bit.

It was a strange feeling, not having to struggle through every word, to speak without fear of being judged or laughed at. And Azriel never drew attention to it, never made her feel as if she was something to be pitied or fixed. He just accepted her for who she was - stutter and all.

Sky was…so very grateful for that. She could trust Azriel with her deepest fears and insecurities, and he would always be there for her, supporting her and encouraging her. And in turn, she would do the same for him.

Being with him was so easy.

So easy, and so natural. It felt like they had been together for years, not just weeks. She couldn't imagine her life without Azriel, and she never wanted to. He made her laugh, and he made her feel loved and he wanted her.

That was probably the most startling thing.  

Sky was working on her desk, that overlooked the lake, while Azriel preferred to work upstairs in his office, and a cup of tea was gently put down next to her, a kiss pressed against the crown of her head. She couldn’t help but lean back into him with a happy sigh, tipping up her head, turning towards Azriel and letting him kiss her properly.

“Sky?” He asked softly as she leaned into the touch of the hand on her shoulder.

She hummed in answer.

“Isn’t one of your books coming out soon?” Azriel asked her softly.

“In three weeks, just in time for winter solstice shopping,” Sky answered absentmindedly. “Why?”

Azriel was quiet for a moment, his hand still resting on her shoulder. "How high are the chances that I could…have an early copy?" Azriel asked, sounding nearly hesitant.

Sky turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. "You want an early copy of my book?" she asked, curious. Azriel's nod was immediate. A slow smile spread across Sky's face. "You want to read it?” she asked him hesitantly. He wanted to read her book? 

“I do want to read it. And I also have a friend who adores your books and her birthday is coming up…” Azriel said softly. “She’s important to me. Like a little sister. Her name is Nesta. And I think she may be your biggest fan.”

Sky blinked in surprise, touched by Azriel's words. She knew how much Azriel cared about his family, and to hear him describe Nesta as a little sister was...well, it was sweet. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride knowing that her books had made such an impression on someone so important to him.

She opened the drawer of her desk and pulled out one of the dozen or so she had stashed in there. At his surprised look she just shrugged. “I always get a few from the first print run,” she said drily.

Azriel took the book from her hands, his gaze softening as he looked down at the cover. "Thank you," he said quietly, his fingers tracing over the embossed title of the book. "I know she'll love it."

“Just tell her to please not let the newspaper get their hands on it,” Sky said drily, making him laugh. 

“She’ll protect this book fiercely,” he told her sagely. “Would you…sign it?” Azriel asked her. 

Sky hesitated. She had never once signed any of her books. Had never written the name Sellyn Drake as an autograph. 

But for Azriel...she could do it. For Nesta. 

So she took the book back, dipped her quill in her ink, flicking it off twice, and then wrote a short message to Nesta - wishing her a happy birthday and hoping that she enjoyed the book. 

Sky signed Sellyn Drake at the bottom, the movement feeling surprisingly natural… and felt strangely vulnerable as she handed the book back to Azriel.

Azriel looked down at the inscription, reading it over carefully before looking back at Sky. "Thank you," he said again, his voice soft and tender. "This means a lot to me, and to her."

Sky felt a warm glow settle over her, and she knew in that moment that she would do anything for Azriel. Anything to make him happy.

“You are very welcome,” she said simply.

He leaned down and kissed her, and Sky melted into the kiss, wrapping her arms around Azriel's neck and pulling him closer. For a moment, the world outside their little bubble of happiness seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them.

***

“It seems like we need to come to some sort of agreement,” Azriel said tightly.

Hector the cat was staring at him with one eye and doing his best to intimidate him into life-long obedience, from where he was sitting in front of Azriel, who was sitting on the couch. 

"I am not going to stop sleeping in Sky's bed," he told the cat, crossing his arms. "I am not going to stop cuddling with her." Hector hissed at him in response, clearly not a fan of the fact that Azriel was going to stick around. 

It was a potential problem. Azriel glared at the ugly cat.

If it even was a cat. Sometimes he wasn't quite sure. Maybe it was a stunted Mountain Lion. It was quite big for a normal cat. And uglier than that.

"You know, I am not above pretending to be allergic to you," he told the cat drily. Especially if Hector kept scratching him.

Hector shot him a disdainful look, clearly not worried. And then swiped out a paw to smack at Azriel's naked feet, claws carefully withdrawn. 

Azriel scowled down at the cat. "You're lucky Sky loves you so much," he muttered, glaring at Hector.

"We can agree to get along. I'll buy you that ridiculous expensive Tuna you like and you can come join us when we cuddle on the couch. Or we can draw a line in the sand and see who comes out on top." Azriel raised an eyebrow.

Drily he reflected that this was how far he had come. Trying to bargain with the ugliest cat he had ever seen.

Hector stared back at him for a moment, before finally letting out a "Meow" as if to say, "Fine, fine, you can stay - for now." 

Azriel let out a sigh of relief, glad that the cat had finally agreed to some sort of truce. And he knew that Sky would be happy too - she loved that mangly cat more than anything. So he would put up with Hector - for Sky's sake.

Hector smacked him on the arm and crawled into his lap.

Azriel hesitantly petted his head. “You do realize you weigh a ton, right?” he told the cat drily.

Sky had told him that he had been all skin and bones when she had found him. Yeah, that was definitely no longer true.

Hector rolled over on his back, demanding belly rubs.

Azriel sighed, shaking his head as he reluctantly obliged, rubbing Hector's belly, where the cat’s fur was patchy. 

 Azriel couldn't deny that the cat was oddly endearing, even if he would never admit it out loud. And as Hector purred contentedly in his lap, Azriel couldn't help but smile.

Maybe he could put up with this cat after all. For Sky's sake, of course.

Just for Sky. 

Just for Sky's sake, he bought the cat ridiculous expensive treats, a scratching post and toys.

And he found that, as the weeks went on, he didn't mind as much when Hector would jump into bed with them in the middle of the night, curling up next to Sky. Or when he would bat at Azriel's toes while he read.

Nobody ever needed to know when he asked Gwyn to help him find some books about cats and their proper nourishment and exercise.

"Thank you," he thanked the red headed priestess when she handed him a whole stack of them at the end of their next private dagger lesson.

"No, thank you.  Finally I can pay you back for all the dagger lessons," Gwyn said with a bright grin. "Are you...Are you thinking about adopting a cat?" she asked him curiously.

"No. A friend did," he answered truthfully.

"Making nice with it then?" Gwyn asked him and he sighed.

"I am pretty sure the cat plots my murder on a daily basis," he answered only half joking.

Gwyn laughed, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Have you tried giving it treats?" Gwyn suggested helpfully.

Azriel opened his mouth to respond but at that moment, Rhys landed just a few feet away. Probably training with Cassian early in the morning, before they did their usual training with the priestesses and Valkyries.

"I even bought him ridiculously overpriced, fresh tuna," he admitted drily, making her laugh.

"Good luck with your bribes," Gwyn said with another laugh. "See you later, shadowsinger," she said with a wave over her shoulder. Azriel looked after her for a moment and then passed over to one of the weapon racks, starting his usual inspection.

"Dagger Lessons?" Rhys asked him, as he crossed over to him. 

"Yes," Azriel agreed. He could hear the inflection in Rhys' voice, a lilting question. He didn't even want to know what Rhys was thinking.

"Just With Gwyn?" Rhys asked, tone still carefully neutral.

Azriel sighed, turning to face his friend. "Yes, just with Gwyn," he confirmed. Azriel kept his tone neutral, almost indifferent.

Azriel went back to his dagger inspection, keeping his mind focused on the task at hand.

He could feel Rhys's eyes on him, but he didn't waver. He knew his brother well enough to know that Rhys was trying to get a reaction out of him. And je wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Azriel didn't need to wait long. He could feel the talons of Rhys' daemati powers scratch against his mental shields just moments later. He let him in with a sigh. Was he officially going to get warned off Gwyn as well? 

Apparently Azriel was.

*If you want more from her, don't you dare pressuring her,* Rhys snapped into his mind.

Azriel nearly started to bristle. He wondered if Rhys even thought about how much of an insult it was. Ever thought of what it meant that he thought that Azriel would pressure Gwyn in anything she didn’t want. 

But he just answered flatly. *Then it will calm you to know that I couldn't possibly be less interested in Gwyn romantically.*

Maybe in another life. But not in this one.

*So what, you'll keep yearning after Elain?* Rhys asked him sharply.

Azriel looked up from the daggers, fixing Rhys with a glare.

*I behave. That's what you want. What I do or don't feel outside of that is none of your business,* Azriel gave back.

He was sick of this. Sick of Rhys treating him like he was some kind of reckless child who couldn't be trusted to make his own decisions. 

*I'll behave. As I always do.* He repeated that with more force, his glare hardening.

And as a side note, I am perfectly capable of handling my own feelings, Rhys. I don't need your interference.

The words hung in the air between them, sharp and pointed.

Azriel held Rhys's gaze for a beat longer, then turned back to the daggers. But he could feel the tension between them, the unspoken words that still hovered in the air.

He was so fucking done with Rhys’ meddling. Or with his brother not trusting him to handle his own feelings like an adult. 

*Oh really?* Rhys crossed his arms, wings spreading wide at his back. *How long have you been pining after Elain, knowing damn well that it would only bring you misery?*

It was a punch beneath what was appropriate. Both knew it.

But AZriel couldn't even fucking care at that moment.

He slammed down the mental walls, forcing Rhys out of his mind immediately.

Quite frankly, he hadn't thought about Elain once after Sky and him had accepted the mating bond. He hadn't fucking cared anymore.

 Elain could do whatever she wanted. So could Mor.  Azriel was kinda busy with doting on his mate.

Sky mattered. 

Sky actually wanted him around. Sky liked him enough to let him share her bed and curl around her and had not once flinched away from his shadows. 

Rhys could say and do whatever he wanted but he was not getting near Sky. 

"Good Morning!" At least Cassian was in a good mood.

Azriel barely acknowledged Cassian's cheerful greeting, his mind still reeling from his confrontation with Rhys. He wasn't in the mood to banter or make small talk. But Cassian, being Cassian, didn't seem to pick up on the tension in the air.

He plopped down on the ground beside Azriel, stretching out his wings lazily.

"What's got you brooding?" Cassian asked, eyeing Azriel curiously.

"Still figuring out Nesta's birthday gift," he said drily. It wasn't even a lie.

Cassian sighed.  "Good luck with that, brother. Nes can be quite the challenge to please," he said with a groan. "I still have no idea what to get her and I am her mate. I thought I would get her a new book but the only one she is interested in at the moment is the next Sellyn Drake book and that's not out for 3 weeks," Cassian complained.

Huh.

It seemed like Cassian may have just solved Azriel’s own gift debacle.

How high were the chances that he could talk Sky into giving him an early peek at her newest book?

Apparently it was as simple as asking. She gave it to him without hesitation, with a smile and he loved her just a little bit more just for that.

And he did love her. So fucking much.

It was so easy to be with her. So easy.

Azriel had never felt like this with anyone before. It was effortless to be with her, to be himself around her. She never expected anything from him, never pushed him to be someone he wasn't. She saw him for who he was, and accepted him completely.

She even accepted the shadows.

Azriel knew that the shadows were a part of him, and he had always been conscious of the way they might make people uncomfortable. But with Sky, it was different. She didn't shy away from them or make him feel like he needed to hide them from her. She even seemed to find a certain beauty in them.

She never flinched away, even when the shadows whispered against her skin...even when they touched her.

It was as if, for the first time, the shadows were not something to be feared or loathed. They were simply just a part of him, and she accepted them as such. She never asked him to change or try to control them, and it was a freedom he had never experienced before.

And quite frankly...he would rather stay with her, in their house and let himself be bullied by her cat that to sit through another family dinner.

But he did it. Just for Nesta. It was her birthday after all.

It wasn't going to be that bad. Probably.

He would just remind himself of who was waiting for him at home. That made it easy. 

And it wasn't even that bad. It could be worse.

Rhys even left him alone, mostly because Azriel did his best to stay away from Mor and Elain and Gwyn and Rhys himself for good measure, which left him with the conversation partners of Amren and Varian...and then he just needed to stay silent and let his mind wander to the feeling of Sky's hands when she scratched his scalp...the way she snuggled up to him in her sleep...to the freckles that covered her face...Azriel let his mind drift to thoughts of Sky as he sat at dinner, choosing to ignore the others' conversation. 

He knew that Rhys was probably watching him with a smug look on his face, probably thinking that Azriel was thinking of Elain instead. But Azriel didn't care. He was content in his thoughts of Sky.

Finally, they were handing gifts to Nesta, which meant that the evening was coming to an end.

Thank the cauldron for that. 

Azriel watched as Nesta unwrapped gifts from the others: jewelry from Amren, a painting of Velaris from Feyre…

“Happy Birthday,” Azriel told her softly as he handed her his gift.

“Thank you,” Nesta told him graciously, smiling at him. “Oh, chocolate!” He couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm at the bag of chocolate candies that was tied to her gift with ribbon. 

Azriel smiled, watching as Nesta excitedly tore open the bag of chocolate candies that he had bought her…Sky and him had taken an ambling walk through Velaris one afternoon, ending near the rainbow in a tiny candy shop where his mate procured her caramel candies from and he had picked them up for Nesta. 

Well, that and a few different ones to try for him and Sky.

He was just glad that Nesta seemed to like it. And then Nesta unwrapped the book.

“Cassian said you were very excited to finally read it,” he told her drily. Nesta flipped it over, eyes devouring the title.

“HOW?!” She demanded, her voice half a screech. A far cry from how composed and quiet she usually was. “How did you get it?!?” And then she was already moving to hug him fiercely, pressing a kiss against his cheek. Azriel chuckled, giving her a quick hug back. He was glad that she seemed to like his gift so much.

"Cassian let it slip that you were interested in the new Sellyn Drake book, so I thought I'd pull some strings and get you an early copy," he explained. "Happy Birthday, Nesta."

“What kind of fucking strings did you pull?!” Cassian complained pouting. “I went to every bookstore in Velaris and none could get it to me earlier than in three weeks.” 

Azriel couldn’t help but smirk at Cassian's complaint. "You know me, Cassian. I have my ways," he drawled. "Maybe you just need to expand your network."

“You had the shadows steal it, didn’t you?” Cassian asked him with a glare. Azriel couldn’t help but snort.

“No, I asked Sellyn Drake to give it to me and she did,” he said drily. “Though I'm sure Nesta couldn't care less how I got the book, as long as she gets to read it."

“Oh, I do care.” Nesta assured him immediately. “You asked Sellyn Drake? Nobody knows who she is! You know her? How? When? Why?”

Azriel chuckled, amused by Nesta's rapid-fire questions. "Yes, I know Sellyn Drake. I asked her for a favor, and she obliged. Simple as that. As for the why, well, I knew how badly you wanted to read her new novel, so I thought it would be a nice surprise for your birthday,” he told her easily, smiling softly at Azriel. 

Cassian still looked suspicious, eyeing Azriel with a critical eye. "You asked the author herself to give you an early copy of her book? Just like that?" he asked skeptically.

“Just like that,” Azriel said calmly.

“So she actually exists?” Gwynn asked him curiously, everybody turned to stare at her. “What?! You know I had my theory!”

“Gwyn’s theory is that Sellyn Drake isn’t one single person, but instead a whole group of incredible talented authors,” Nesta said with a grin.

"Oh, she definitely exists. I can vouch for that. She’s very sweet,” Azriel told Nesta simply, who opened her book, hungrily opening the front pages…

“…this is signed,” Nesta breathed. “Sellyn Drake knows my name.” 

He was pretty sure that he had heard religious people sound less worshipping than Nesta did at that moment. 

For just a moment he wanted to think about how it would be for Nesta and Sky to meet, but he forced himself not to. Not where Rhys could snap that up. 

“What?! No way!” Emerie exclaimed, clambering to take a look at the book. “Cauldron boil me.” She breathed.

“There isn’t a single signed Sellyn Drake book!” Gwyn exclaimed. 

Azriel couldn't help but chuckle at the others’ reactions. "Well, I guess that makes this a pretty special gift then," he said simply, sipping his wine with a satisfied smile.

“Very special,” Nesta told him softly, looking at him wideyed. “This is…This is incredible, Az.” 

Azriel merely inclined his head, accepting the comment. “I’m glad "It's not often that I can surprise someone who's as hard to impress as you are."

Nesta gave him a playful swat on the arm. "You know I'm not that hard to please," she told him. "You just have to know me well enough to know what I want. And apparently you do. Thank you.”

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for anon

Request: I’d like to do a werewolf male. Typical bulk big dicked guy. I want him to have a chubby human female as his mate. She is nervous to have sex because he is so massive, so he “warms her up” with fingers turned fisting. I would like it to be soft and gentle, a dom slowly stretching his sub and praising them along the way type deal. Obviously it’s going to be painful for her but praise and loving touches help

A/N: Hope you enjoy this story, it was very fun to write. :)

Sex induced coma

Werewolf x fem!reader || size kink, fisting, praise kink, dom/sub (light), edging, dirty talk

When you started dating your werewolf boyfriend, you knew intimacy was going to be hard between you two. But as a surprise to both of you, it wasn’t.

Well, mostly.

He loved to eat you out, to the point of having you coming and coming and coming for hours to an end, your body tired from orgasms, but unable to resist his clever tongue and hot grunts as you gushed around his mouth.

In the same way, you loved going down on him, even though the first time you saw his dick you were literally speechless, staring into a huge cock that could barely fit between your hands. He was massive… and you were a big size queen, who could blame you?

He refused to fuck you, he said it was dangerous, he would never fit, you were too small to fit…, and you understood his reasoning… but you didn’t share his opinion. So you persevered, you asked and begged to be fucked any chance you got. You asked with his fingers inside of you, you asked with his clever tongue against your pearl, and you asked with your little human tongue against his huge cock...

And he denied you over and over, but you knew he was starting to reconsider. You asked over and over again, and you knew he was starting to give in when he smiled at you when you asked. When he teased your pussy for hours, trying to fit another finger inside as you came messily around them.

And then he gave in and indulged in your shared pleasure. He laid you on the bed and got to it, smiling like a wolf as he watched you tremble under his hungry eyes. “Are you ready for this?” He asked.

You struggled to get the words out as his fingers made the first contact with your shivering cunt. “Ngh- yes.” You pushed your hips against his hand and he frowned, but his lips twitched, trying to hide a smile.

“None of that, little minx. You take them as I please, you are not in control here, are you?” His voice was amused and you could see the edge of his mouth twitching, trying not to smile. “Answer,” he pressed his thumb against your clit intently.

You looked at him, your eyes unfocused because of the pleasure. “N-no. You are.”

“I am what?” He asked again.

“In control. You are in control.” You assured him, your body shivering at his commanding tone. You didn’t know you liked him being in control as much as you did, it was intoxicating in the best way possible.

“Good girl.” His praise made your pussy twitch around his fingers and he chuckled.

He started a slow finger fucking, way too slow for your desperate cunt. You needed more, you wanted more. But he already told you, you had no control over what happened, over what he did or what pace he took. And the fact that you were at his mercy only drove you further into your pleasure.

You moaned and groaned, asking for more. Pleading for more. Little by little he stretched you, stopping every time you felt like you were about to cum, kissing trails across your stomach as he distracted you from your pleasure. Just to start all over again.

He kept teasing your G-spot with his wide fingers until you were sweating and your legs were trembling like crazy. Your pleasure was so high you couldn’t stop chanting, a chorus of ah ah ah leaving your mouth at every movement of his two fingers inside of you. His fingers were wide and long, you felt so full... almost to the point of pain.

And he didn’t stop talking, “you are going to feel like a dream around my cock, aren’t you?” You moaned in response, unable to form words with three fingers inside of you.

In and out, in and out. Driving you to the edge and stopping. Building up to an orgasm and leaving you dry as your pussy quivered around his fingers and your pussy leaked around his hand. You were drenched by the time he pushed another finger inside. The fourth was a big stretch, your pain and pleasure mixing. He scissored them inside, opening you up, caressing parts of you didn’t know existed.

“You are so tight, good goddess… A bit more darling, I know it’s a bit painful but you can take it. Come on, one more.” And then you felt his fifth finger slipping inside. The stretch was so awesome you felt a gush of juices dripping around his fingers, probably soaking his whole wrist. You couldn’t even be embarrassed, it was so hot you could only moan in ecstasy as he grunted and asked you to breathe.

When he pushed in his knuckles, and then his whole fist, you screamed his name so loud you were almost sure your whole neighborhood heard you. You felt stretched to the extreme, and his grunts were only making it better. “Such a good girl, taking my fist so well, you are so tight around me, such a pretty pussy taking me so well…” His words were borderline non-sense, but you couldn’t even understand him properly, your pleasure too high, too intense.

And when you were about to reach an orgasm…

He took out his hand, and you screamed. Your hands flying to his wrist to ask him for more. But then you felt the tip of his cock against your stretched hole. After all his teasing, you could barely be coherent when you asked: “Are you… are you gonna?”

He smiled at you sweetly, your whole body trembling in anticipation and pent up frustration. “Yes, darling. Are you ready?”

“Please,” was the only word you could get out.

He pushed inside of you slowly, his dick breaching your stretched pussy. You were glad you took his fist, because it was already a stretch to fit his length inside of you. “You are doing so well, such a good girl for me. You are taking me so well.” His words of encouragement made you preen, sweaty and on edge of the greatest orgasm of your life as he kept going further and further.

The moment he bottomed out, both of you screamed in ecstasy, the feeling like nothing else you’d ever felt. His face contorted with pleasure, pleasure you were giving him as you tightened around his length. He felt incredibly big, and you still felt so tight around him that you felt the veins of his shaft pulsating against your inner walls. It was exhilarating and your brain was rapidly losing focus as he started a slow pace.

“I’m not- I’m not gonna last much longer, honey,” he grunted between short hard thrusts.

“I- I’m…”

You didn’t even finish that thought before you were screaming his name loud enough to wake up every single bird in the surrounded area, probably your neighbors across town, too. But you didn’t care. The orgasm washed over you like the sun hitting snow. It was mind-blowing and full body pleasure that drove you into the next dimension, one where pain and pleasure were the same and you couldn’t get enough of either.

You came down to your body as he kept thrusting, his non-sense a mix of “how good”, “how pretty”, “so tight and wet”… He was completely gone on his own pleasure, driving you further and further into the race for a second orgasm. His soaked hand found your clit, and his thumb caressed your pearl until your eyes rolled back into your head.

The first shot of come inside of you drove you over the edge, his howling matching your screams. Your orgasm hit you like a brick, leaving you breathless as the world faded and your pussy filled with his seed. There was so much of it, it overflowed your pussy, gushing around his length still buried deep inside of you. It was the best feeling in the universe and your brain could barely process all the pleasure rushing through your body at the same time.

He was kissing your forehead when your neurons got connection back. “Totally doing it again,” you whispered before you fell asleep into a sex-coma with his chuckles as a background sound.

[bellepeppertronix]

I love that movie and that book, and both are core memory/personality pillars for me.

So, in their defense, I have some thoughts.

Sorry, OP, I have a Lot of Thoughts:

She doesn't understand time.

She doesn't even understand THE PASSAGE OF TIME. Because unicorns are immortal and exist outside of it. In the book, she RUNS FOR A YEAR STRAIGHT, and only remarks that the animals in the lands she passed through "grew long hair, and then it grew short again".

When Schmendrick temporarily changes her into a human, it is jarring and horrifying because UNICORNS HAVE NO FRAME OF REFERENCE FOR A MORTAL BODY. So she could literally feel herself growing towards death. It's heavily implied that unicorns don't even actually need to EAT.

So her transformation is the opposite of the stories where a beautiful princess is transformed into a bird or something, and it's shocking. She's a graceful, beautiful woman, but she is not HERSELF, and the change gives her insomnia, nightmares, and severe depression.

She is quiet and reserved but not rude, ever. At times she is very mildly sarcastic to Schmendrick, but is never cruel. Even to the witch who held her captive, Mommy Fortuna, she is never cruel. If anything she sounds weary and slightly annoyed, that Mommy Fortuna wants to keep her like a living trinket--but then she even warns her that she should not tamper with real immortal beings.

Also, as a woman and a Black woman, I don't know why, but this has always stuck with me: the unicorns are sapient.

King Haggard wanted ALL OF THEM for himself. For the elusive pleasure of seeing them trapped in the surf, too afraid to even step foot onto the shore.

And yet he never would have spoken to them, never would have tried to know or befriend them.

Because they were THINGS to him. He wanted them, all of them, enough to sell his soul (?) To the Red Bull to keep them all trapped there for himself.

It didn't matter to him that they were minding their own business in their forests and glades. It didn't matter that he likely caused a lot of the desolation on his own lands by imprisoning the unicorns in a narrow spit of ocean that only he had access to.

It didn't matter that the unicorns were sapient magical beings at all, because he never bothered to consider them as anything other than playthings and live anti-depressants.

The Unicorn, or Amalthea, then has to walk around in his decrepit castle, full of images of her real self--but caricatures. She has to be I the same space as a man who thinks of herself and others like her as less than animals, more like tokens, and who would happily have his demonic bull imprison her with the other unicorns. She knows that he knows--he looks at her and accuses her of not being human more than once!--but that even seeing her in a human form and theoretically being able to talk with her, he cannot contain his selfishness or meanness. He says he will allow she and the party to stay there and that he will "...look at them...for awhile..."

Even if she wanted to, she could not tell him any of her truths, because he likely would not have wanted to hear them.

Do you think a man who lived like that, would listen to someone tell him about the way their favorite plum tree dropped blossoms precisely into a moonlit pond? Do you think he would have cared at all, beyond his own bitterness and selfishness?

All of this to say that the movie and book are much deeper than "pretty anemic pony plus her wizard and cook friend go to fight an evil king and a fiery bull monster".

Following the author of The Last Unicorn on Facebook is the only thing that makes being on that site worthwhile.

(source)

[signanothername]

Can we see your version of Swap? Get to know the silly guy a little? What about Ink?

Hell yaaaa I think it’s time I actually gave a bit of a spotlight to the Stars and especially to Swap and Ink

If we’re gonna talk about who would be the most badass of the Stars, it’ll definitely be Swap, the guy is an unstoppable force

My version of Swap would be a variant that went through Killer’s eye stabbing incident, rendering his magical eye completely blind and by extension, later gets a prosthetic eye in his blind side, the loss of his magical eye has definitely affected his magic to a significant extent, he no longer is able to use blue magic, and not just gravity wise but also blue bone attacks, he also experiences phantom pain a lot and deals with severe migraines at times, and obviously had to adjust to living with one eye, getting to minimize depth perception issues

Not only that, but that also gave him problems with how his magic is distributed within his body, and so Swap sometimes struggles with too little magic output or too much depending on the situation

That however, still doesn’t strip Swap’s amazing physical, mental, emotional and magical strength regardless, he’s still very much more than capable on his own, and blue magic or not, he’s not to be trifled with, Nightmare actually sees him as a genuine threat, and that says a lot

The reason Swap ends up with a prosthetic eye is cause he asked for it to be made for him before he went on another mission with the Stars, to make it seem as tho he still has his original eye intact, so the Nightmare gang won’t take his blindness as a leverage in fights by targeting him from said blind side, as far as the Nightmares know, Swap’s eyelight survived Killer’s assault (Killer has a different opinion about that), Dream and Ink are the first to know about the incident and Swap’s blindness outside his own AU, Swap tells them about it after he has his prosthetic

Swap is generally the voice of reason and the one who takes care of Dream, cause while Dream is someone who can take care of himself, he sure isn’t putting much effort into doing so, too preoccupied with his messy life and his relationship with Nightmare to notice how he’s destroying himself

Swap looks out for Dream and tries to be as present as he could, he does not treat Dream like a child or forces him into taking care of himself, but he does nudge him to the right direction, and teaches Dream things that could help him like how to take care of his chronic pain, and later down the line help him with his Autism

Dream never says it out loud , but in a way Dream himself doesn’t understand, Swap is like another sibling to him, like it was always that way, like it’s just natural

Needless to say, Swap and Dream are very close

Swap loves Ink and his intense passion for creation, he might not understand Ink’s views fully, but he doesn’t judge them for it, just keeps a bit of an eye out for any mischief he’s cooking, Ink definitely is an a bit of an enigma to Swap, and he loves them for it

Outside the Stars, Swap is usually in his own AU with his brother dealing with his usual story and resets, the resets however no longer affect him the same way as he’s pretty much a semi-outcode, so when a reset happens, he still retains his memories fully and is able to know that a reset took place

Honey (Swap Paps) on the other hand, does not retain his memories at all, and by extension, isn’t able to truly realize if a reset took place unless he gets hints

Swap and Honey however, are open about the resets to each other, so when a reset happens, Swap does let Honey know, and Honey believes him without a shadow of a doubt, the Swap bros have a very open and healthy relationship with each other

The Swap bros also usually welcome Dream in their house with open arms, and while Honey expresses his reservations about Swap’s adventures as a Star (he’s just a lil worried) he still trusts Swap to take care of himself, in fact, Honey has no right to talk with his sock still on the ground

Swap spends most of his time in his AU in his own house, only getting out with the Stars when Dream comes to tell him he needs help or when duty calls, he does go out with them on genuine adventures too where they explore the multiverse, usually returning with souvenirs and gifts for Honey and his friends in his AU

Ink is the kinda guy that’s looking for what’s entertaining, if he isn’t entertained, then he’ll find ways to entertain himself, and believe me don’t want them to take it into his own hands

Ink generally has very low social needs and has no desire for connection, it doesn’t mean he has no connections at all, but rather, they’re satisfied by the very few connections he already has, like his friendships with Dream, Swap and Error, and their familial connection with his parents, (with Killer on the way to becoming another friend to them) these few connections are more than enough for Ink, he doesn’t look/long for new connections or feels the need to widen their social circle, Ink getting attached to others is very rare, but not impossible

The few connections they have are genuine, and he does love them, that doesn’t mean their views of them change however, his friends and family are all characters in a script, a never ending game

But not him, they’re above that, they’re real (yes, he’s very much a hypocrite)

He prefers to stay by himself in the doodlsphere, or in the Omega timeline with his parents, otherwise, you might see them traveling across the multiverse just to look for new AUs or stories, he might even go out of his way and travel around with Color, Epic and Delta, as they generally love traveling around, he goes for a little company, then leaves

In the Stars, Ink generally tries to never interfere or actually fight alongside Dream and Swap unless there’s an actual reason to, such as Error messing with the code or trying to erase the AU, which is rare, as Error’s attacks are usually independent of Nightmare’s

He does help with fighting Nightmare off if his quest for negativity messes with the script of an AU (which is usually the case) Ink usually stays on the defensive than the offensive in fights

They find no true joy in fighting, they prefer de-escalation tactics, but with how blunt and brutally honest he is, it usually just ends with it escalating further, he can be an absolute asshole, really inconsiderate, and a downright bitch at times

He acts upon his own interests, seeking what fulfills them not what others expect them to do, that’s why Ink would not allow anyone to interfere with AU scripts, that even includes Swap’s, Dream had tried interfering with Swap’s AU to make it so Swap never has to go through resets again (all from a place of wanting to do good) and Ink never allowed it to happen, it escalated in a fight between Dream and Ink, only to be interrupted by Swap

They and Dream end up in a pretty bad fallout, as during Dream’s younger years, a bit of a younger not fully mature anger riddled Dream couldn’t simply fathom Ink’s views of how the world works, that fallout does hurt Ink deeply and messes a bit with them, triggering his abandonment issues, he would be lying if they said he didn’t want Dream back in their life, but he sees no use in trying to mend something that’s engraved in Dream’s mind, so he just confides in Swap

As the years go by and Dream eventually matures, he comes back to talk to Ink, apologizing and asking Ink if he’d be willing to be friends again, which makes Ink happy, they both become really good friends again

Ink does not act on what’s good or bad, they simply do their job as an AU protector/ guardian just like Dream does, if that means stopping Dream from doing good or Nightmare from doing bad in an AU if it interferes with the script, then he will stand against both of them

His protection of these AUs comes from both a survival instinct and a genuine love for creativity, that’s how their love for creation blossoms through, he views everyone as mere characters in a story, but they find these characters to be beautiful, he finds the storylines they live as perfect the way they are, the way they were intended to be, a product of the beauty of creation, he recognizes the value of the stunning differences in these creations

Ink does help others if they’re asked to, he cares about the few people he loves most and absolutely enjoys the company of others, most of the help he provides is usually in the Omega timeline, making new houses, living spaces and creating essentials for the residents there

Ink and Swap are very sibling coded, they both are a bit hyper about what they love and their passions, they love spending time with each other and going on adventures together

Ink definitely loves pranking the shit out of Swap specifically, and he sure has gotten him in problems so many times, but Swap persists and Ink would be lying if they said he wasn’t impressed with Swap’s ability to withstand the bullshit he puts him through without batting an eye like it’s another Tuseday

He’s insecure about their lack for a soul, sometimes overthinking things and doubting their own emotions and the legitimacy of his love for the few people they do love, he often finds himself going to his parents when these doubts arise, finding saftey within their arms

Generally, the Stars go through ups and downs in their relationships, Swap being the one to help keep the balance of the team, they still are pretty good friends overall and each of them do look forward to their next adventure together

[dilf-docs]

X Si Volvemos

ex older bf!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: there are many things you and logan disagree in; but not when it comes to things in bed.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (phew), smut, ex!logan, exes to ????, p in v, creampie, reader's in her early to middle twenties so her frontal lobe hasn't developed yet; don't expect any reasonable thinking on her side, logan is on his middle to late 40s, angst (duh), this happens in an AU where mutants don't exist bc i don't wanna complicate myself with timelines lol hence time isn't really important but it's contemporary, the vibes i bring to the function are more sad than horny and i'm sorry, toxic too! may build a series around it?

word count: 1,925 words

side note: the incredible @bpmiranda's got me with a very bad case of ex!logan fever :( plus after listening to karol G's album mañana será bonito and seeing i may or may not be obssesed with romeo santos, i got the song in the title on loop: as you can see, it's all very fitting ++ don't forget to check out her stories, they're so good istg!!!!

You shouldn't call.

"Logan" you speak. His name burns in the tip of your tongue, like a secret you're not supposed to tell.

He shouldn't answer.

It's quiet at first on the other line, until a rough voice says I'm here, appearing to be distant, but who is he trying to fool? As soon as he saw the number pop on the screen, his fingers moved with a learned urgency.

You shouldn't keep calling.

"I need you" three words to cover those you actually mean; hanging in the spaces between the silence.

I miss you. I love you.

Your hear a heavy sigh on the other end.

He shouldn't keep answering.

"Princess..." Logan pleads, "don't do this"

You know better than that, he wants to say, but keeps his mouth shut. Just to hear your voice, just to-

"Please, Lo" you whine out. Logan grabs his jeans with force, the fabric strained under his white-knuckled grip. It takes him a lot not to run to you right there and now.

"Don't" but his voice cracks as much as his resistance.

"I've got the house" you whisper the prayer; a routine so sacred none of you seem to break it, "just for us"

"Y/n" even saying your name is painful; like the most addicting and damaging drug to ever exist, "stop"

Logan loved your stubborn heart, but there are times where he wishes you weren't like this.

"I'm sorry" and then he hangs up.

I'm sorry for not being who you needed. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I keep on coming back after I said I would leave you alone. I'm sorry I can't keep my promises.

You feel it around your neck―bruises in the vocals your voice has failed to scream; it chokes you with rage.

"Are you stupid?" you ask yourself in the mirror.

What are you doing? Why are you doing this to yourself? Do you love him more than you love you?

You dial again, but this time, it's a girl who picks up.

"Yeah?"

"Hi. Wanna go out?"

Logan feels so out of place, but this used to be your favorite bar, and he's desperate for a drink.

Listening to your voice has always made him weak, but after you broke up, it drives him crazy.

He empties another glass, feeling pathetic. This is how bad it's gotten: you've got him scouring the places you used to go, chasing your ghost, trying to get a glimpse of your silhouette or a whiff of the phantom of your scent, the lavender haunting him; getting under his skin.

A song beggins playing, and it's the same vinyl set from two years ago. The night he met you: a pretty young thing so out of place in an old bar like that, playing hard to get, only to end the night moaning over him, fogging his car's windows, saying his name in a way no one else had before. He still remembers the way your legs trembled but he held you, beads of sweat confusing themselves with the glitter on your skin. Logan doesn't know what that is, but he's marveled, so in awe of you, everything of you: young, new, exciting.

But every new thing wears out, and the gap he swore wouldn't matter came crashing in years that built a distance between him and you.

So he did what he did best: ruin it. Deny the feelings bubbling inside; let them consume his reasoning, pushing you like he had done with everyone who cared about him before.

When he broke your heart, he took a part with him. So you keep coming back, looking for it; trying to piece yourself together. And he let's you: because God knows you have a part of himself too.

He's so drunk he probably imagines the hint of lavender in the whiskey tinted air. He's so desperate to see you again, he's seeing your face among the crowd. He's definitely gone insane: hearing that laugh he misses every day.

"Y/n..."

The music pauses: all you can hear is your name being said in that way like it belongs to him.

"...Logan"

He walks in autopilot over to the table you and a group of girls are sitting. They're all beautiful―beautiful people attract beautiful people, but he's only got eyes for you.

"What are you doing here?"

He raises a glass he didn't know he was carrying, "having a drink".

Your lips purse, and Logan doesn't know if it's because you're laughing at him or sad.

"I see" but you divert your gaze, looking at your outfit's neck. The outfit you chose: a black dress that pushes your tits on top. They are on display, and Logan feels played by you―his eyes trained on the strained fabric, tongue watering like it did when he would lick your sensitive nipples.

"I see too" he says in automatic, and one of your friends laughs. He looks away, thanking the low lights, or you'd see the red embarrassment on his face.

You stand up and walk over to him, and your friends sense it's time to leave the two of you alone.

"Why did you hang up?" you throw the question so casually; the nerve you have.

"What do you mean?" it's the only thing that comes to his mind. Very stupid, indeed.

You scoff, "delete my number, then"

"You keep on calling" he bites back.

"And you keep answering"

You never shut up. He hates that.

"I may have to stop"

You get closer, way too closer. So much, your hot breathe clouds his judgment.

"Try to" you dare.

And he tries, he really tries. But not today.

Not today when he takes you home, finally looking complete with you in it again. You had moved out after your last discussion, saying you'll never be back.

"You haven't changed a thing" you murmur in between kisses, and he can sense a bit of melodrama in his voice that makes him roll his eyes despite the dull ache on his chest.

He picks up your body swiftly, carrying you up to the bedroom.

"Why would I?" he asks, voice so low and small you almost miss it.

"Because you hate me" you avoid his eyes, even if your faces are too close, loosing all that corageous character of yours, "said you would get rid of it; of everything that reminded you of me"

But when he drops you softly on the matress, there's still that lamp you got him in the night table.

"I couldn't" he confesses.

I couldn't, he means, because I couldn't let you go.

But you both know it won't work out, something you knew right from the start: because toxic loves only fulfill basic needs. This isn't healthy, but he forgets it all as soon as you're moaning his name. Still, he promises himself he will say goodbye to you this time, even if it's inside of you.

"Shut up and kiss me, then" you're always pushing him around, making him do the things he desires to but doesn't want to do.

So he obliges, leaning in, the lavender so strong all over your sweet skin, poisoning his mouth on every kiss he leaves. He feels you squirm under him, goosebumps along your skin, prickling against his, so visible he can see and feel it even in the dim lit room.

"Take it" Logan doesn't look at you, but when he does, you feel him stare deep into your soul, "I know you want it"

He's sliding his dick inside you as soon as the sentence is over, the permission to take you and use you implicit. He robs a drawn-out groan out of you.

"So tight for me" he murmurs against your shoulder, sharp breaths and soft groans flooding your ears. His cock hits deep within you, hard thrust no one has ever been able to replicate, making you gasp for air, burying your face in the plush pillows now drenched in your sweat.

"You're so deep" you hiss, hot and overwhelmed, waves of pleasure hitting like water against cliffside rocks. "So big, Lo" you whine, dizzy at the way your pussy stretches for him.

"Just for you" he grunts out, and it's the truth. No matter how dark the room is or how many faces he avoids, he always looks into the eyes of the other women he fucks, his heart sinking when he can no longer pretend it's you, "fuck, squeeze a bit more".

Hearing his deep voice, rough when you fuck, always making you soak, coating his dick in your juices. You grip tight, as tight as the nails that hold onto his shoulders, making him moan at the pain.

"Like that, princess. Good girl" you moan at the praise, "I know you could take me, all of me"

He grunts and pants, holding you tighter as his cock pumps faster, in sync with your now closer to happening orgasm.

Before it, he slows down his thrusts, "where do you want me to cum, princess?"

He wants to, inside of you, but he can't do so, not when he promised he wouldn't ruin your life. But making you his, marking you as only his, makes his dick inside you twitch. Fuck, he's so balls deep inside you all he can think is filling you up silly.

"Inside me, Lo" like you read his thoughts, and it always amazes and scares him; how deep inside his mind you are. Never happened, not in his four decades of life. And that's part of the problem: he's closer to death than you are but it's only with you, young―blossoming with life, that he feels truly alive.

So how can he say no, when you plead and beg with those pretty doe eyes of yours? Who could imagine such a sweet thing to be so needy. He feels like you could ask for his heart, and he'd carve a hole in his body for you―bleeding out of love; dying with a smile.

"Such a greedy little thing, princess" he mocks, but his tone betrays him―dripping in adoration, "want me to fill you up all nice?"

A broken wail is what he takes as your answer, your mind in blank.

He finds himself letting go, way faster than he should; he just misses you and your needy dripping pussy that much. You can't hold back longer either, rush flowing through your veins, much more satisfying than the alcohol you had drank an hour ago.

Logan paints your insides with layers of his hot cum, mumbling a soft:

"Anything for my princess" he keeps going, panting as he's milked entirely dry, "anything you want, my girl"

Your vision is still spotty, mind fogged: you're sure that's the reason the hurt hasn't settled in your heart yet.

Then the silence comes, like it always does now.

"Y/n" you always love when he calls you by your name, but you hate the way he's saying it now. Like a goodbye.

"Don't-" you plead, begging he shuts up. But he pulls out, and says:

"It's for the best"

You don't want what's best. You want him.

"Can't believe you wore this dress" he traces the pattern of the tight clothes, damped in sweat, "you know it's my favorite. Why?"

You fail to supress a smile, even if it's tired and almost sad, "I knew you couldn't say no".

The truth is, you know many things: like how this is never going to stop until it's destroyed you both.

[bisclavret]

#from a shipping lens I’ve thought that Gwaine knew Merlin wanted to be alone with Arthur & that the firewood was bullshit #and that contributes to him giving Merlin a hard time about it too #just a general resentment that he has to go out into the dark for the sake of Merlin’s feelings (again. again and again he does this!!) #and a resentment that Merlin is dancing around the thing he wants when otherwise Merlin is so honest with Gwaine bc it’s GWAINE #and that Gwaine is pushing back against it here but ultimately resigning himself to it with a smile bc well. it’s Merlin. #sorry the Merlin/Arthur/Gwaine love triangle can be deliciously angsty @lancelotofthelake

i think you're spot-on with this! every single episode that features gwaine in s3 hints that gwaine can see the devotion merlin has for arthur and seems to have opinions on the matter (the indulgent "maybe that one's worth dying for eh?" in 3x04, the knowing look he gives merlin in 3x08, and also the scene from this post). calling it a general resentment is interesting and i think you're right; this is neither the first or last time gwaine comes off resentful about having to censor and sideline himself for the sake of merlin. i definitely think this is more the case rather than straightforward romantic jealousy (he just doesn't seem the type), but it is probably a little fueled by his not-so-secret belief that arthur is simply not worth merlin's devotion.

i also agree that gwaine really doesn't seem to appreciate the air of repression that merlin (and probably camelot at large) has about him and wishes merlin could be honest about what he wants, at least in front of gwaine (about his sexuality and his magic, which are almost literally the same thing on this show, but gwaine seems to be the only character that is more overtly aware and representative of the gayer aspects of this allegory rather than the magical ones. and i love that for him). like if merlin had asked him to leave so he can be alone with arthur to a) whisper sweet nothings to him or b) heal him with magic, gwaine would likely have been surprised, yes, but ultimately relieved to be told the truth. but merlin would never admit anything of the sort in a million years, so gwaine has no choice but to ride out his annoyance in private and respect merlin's boundaries. these are the conditions under which he can stay in merlin's life/this story.

it's therefore truly a testament to how much gwaine cared for merlin and how tired he must've been of his old life that he chose to get knighted and stick around, especially since there isn't even much evidence he became more okay with the arthur/merlin relationship continuing to be so unequal and so dependent on posturing, self-deprivation, and repression. but instead of pointing this out in any way after being knighted he just continues biting his tongue and makes himself roll with absolutely everything good or bad, which used to piss me off but now i'm just fascinated by him. it's crazy how even the gayest and most freedom-loving character on the show wasn't immune to starting to repress his true self to fit into a fatally flawed system full of lovable people who are all also repressing their true selves for the exact same reason.

hi. gwaine overthinker here. i love this scene because the way eoin performed it does not sound like he's joking at all. to me. in fact he sounds like he's in a miserable mood.

mind you this is what the past few days (an optimistic estimate) have looked like for gwaine so far:

and lest we forget:

yeah.

so my interpretation of this scene is that gwaine really is being short with merlin, but it's merlin. and gwaine catches himself making him feel worse. so fuck it! ptsd and moral apprehension can wait. merlin needs firewood.

and to be fair, it's probably a relief to have someone drag you out of your doom spiral and pout at you until you run an errand for them.

in conclusion,

[thatnonameuser]

what type of yandere do you think skully would be? ...or would he be a darling 😈😈🔥🔥

So far because of the AU, I'm making him a yandere. But.. * Insert Crowley Voice Here *  For I am gracious, I’ll give you both. 

Skully is from a time where yandere behaviors weren’t exactly accepted. At that point, it was during the halfway point between acceptable and a criminal act. At that point in time, the courtship was built on affection and darlings during that time had the right to reject their yanderes. (Not without consequences, but that’s a story for another time.) 

As a result, Skully is a gentleman yandere. Polite, affectionate and obsessive, with the same amount of love he has for Halloween. 

As canon Skully is, he’s just looking for excuses to kiss you. But he slowly goes from kissing your hand like a suave gentleman, to kissing your cheek, your lips, neck, trying to make out with you, et cetera. The longer you’re around him, the less he’ll be able to restrain his originally well-tamed urges. 

In a way, he’s also a delusional yandere. Because of his affection, he perceives everything he’ll do as an act of love. Kidnapping you is just the start of a date, gifts with dubious and bloody history are acts of love, drugging and killing people is just removing possible threats to your relationship. 

One thing that’s in your favor though, Skully isn’t a big fan of change. And he’s still adjusting to the fact that all the yanderes of the present are so okay with things that once got people imprisoned or executed back in the day. So he’ll try to save you from them. If you end up staying with him, he’ll be very relaxed as a yandere, allowing you a lot of freedom. 

(One funny thought I had was all the boys accidentally accelerating the acceptance of yandere behaviors with how they behave towards you during the trip and Skully learning from it.)

Skully, as a darling, is much more relaxed about the yandere thing. Same rules about darling’s being able to reject yanderes in his day still apply. 

So his original resistance to deviate from his Halloween traditions is amplified by the strangeness of the other yanderes, because how could they be so calm with something so horrible, AND change the sanctity of Halloween?

If MC is also a darling, then let her breathe a sigh of relief. With how Skully gently kidnaps her, she might be chill and miss the friendship between the two when she inevitably has to leave.  

If MC is a yandere, then well that kidnapping may be a little rough. Specifically, they might be turned into a pumpkin after all, for Skully to feel safe enough to perform the rest of his plan.

(Regardless of which MC is, then Skully will end up doing the opposite of that first thought. In fact, Skully will end up delaying the acceptance of yandere behavior with the spread of the new and better Halloween.)

I hope this was good. I wasn't really sure about it for a bit.

[rnnsdrms]

f1 drivers and popular romance tropes: charles leclerc !!

DEAREST READER. hello there! while waiting for the two-week break to end, i needed a little f1 headcanon/scenario to heal me from the famine. anyway, here’s for the leclerc fans out there! it’s funny that i’m posting his first when i actually finished oscar’s first 😂 i hope you’ll enjoy~ for more drivers, you can see my masterlist at the end of the post !

CONTENT WARNINGS. no warnings. just a heads-up that i am an 18+ blog and i prefer only adults visit my profile page. if you’re a minor, you can still read this work since it’s sfw. so, i hope everyone out there is being honest with themselves. oh, probably my fucked up english grammar because why do i care it’s pure vibes !

WORD COUNT. 998 words (ugh, so close to 1k) !

I debated with this idea, but after some time, I decided that mutual pining suits Charles Leclerc better. There is so much potential for slow-burn and comedy. It’s the kind of story where there’s already an established sense of familiarity between you and Charles, one that has existed for as long as either of you can remember. But it has never crossed into anything as intimate as being ‘lovers’. Sure, both your groups of friends always comment about how the two of you argue like a married couple and suggest you should just make it official already, but you and Charles dodge these accusations as swiftly as an F1 driver dodging a collision course.

While you and Charles may eye-roll or stick your tongue out at the sight of each other, both of you secretly wish for something more. Yet, neither dares to make a move, fearing the loss of the bond binding you and him. The platonic relationship between you and him feels comfortable, and disrupting that would seem like the foolish move of the century. So, to preserve it, you’re quick to ignore your feelings, and he does the same. As a result, pent-up, endearing emotions often spill out in the form of silly banter and subtle jealousy. The sneaky glances across the room and the lame lies told when either of you got caught staring seem endless. This routine is no different to playing a song on repeat: it’s the only thing that you’re both fixated on, apparently. At this point, provoking each other just to see what kind of reaction the other can elicit can be considered a love language. You think he’s just being annoying as usual, while he thinks you’re unbearably nosy–and it doesn’t help that he has heard of the ‘you want to kiss me so bad’ meme and he has used it against you every single time you are about to start an argument with him.

Charles Leclerc, despite being a multiple Grand Prix winner and has earned himself many titles–The Prince of Ferrari, The King of Monza, The Sun of Maranello, The Predestined–he still can’t officially call himself ‘your boyfriend’. It’s pathetic and it pisses him off. Currently one of the best drivers on the F1 grid, he has placed himself among legendary rivals, and yet, he can’t seem to place himself on the same bed as yours. Although his fame attracts the attention of high-profile celebrities and influencers, Charles has his thoughts and eyes only on you, even when he is currently surrounded by them. You, on the other hand, love to torture yourself by watching him sitting and talking with glamorous models–or just pretty women in general. He says it’s an occupational hazard, but the way you see it–or rather, feel it–it is more of an emotional hazard to you. But you’re not just going to sit around and drink your sorrows away. No. You’re going to greet and chat with his driver friends … but him.

His eyes narrow dangerously whenever he sees you hanging out with another man, even with his fellow F1 driver friends. But he starts losing his cool when he sees one of them initiate physical contact with you. While you’re giving them your best smile and laughter, Charles is already plotting how to commit a massacre on the next circuit. When you notice that he’s beginning to space out, you decide to approach him, incoming snide remarks already up your sleeve to torment Ferrari’s golden boy.

‘So,’ you start, taking the long-awaited empty seat beside him, ‘is she going to be your next in-chi-dent? Or just another pit stop?’

‘What? I’m the most charming guy in the room. I can’t help if all the ladies want a piece of me.’

‘Oh, please.’ You roll your eyes, ‘you’re about as charming as a stalled-out engine on a race day.’ You add, taking a sip of your drink.

A grin spreads across Charles’ thin lips as he leans closer to you–his chin barely above your shoulder. ‘Is that so? Funny, because I thought I’m just like Ferrari–impossible to resist.’

You try to repress the blush that is beginning to creep up your cheeks by staring at him dead in the eyes. ‘Well, since you are a Ferrari, then I guess I’m the safety car. Always having to slow you down when you get too full of yourself.’

The slight shock on Charles’ face gives you immense satisfaction, and you don’t try to hide it. But he is also quick to gain composure.

‘Or maybe, you’re just the chequered flag I’ve been racing toward all along ...’ He said, but his words seem to trail off in the wind.

It catches you off guard, and you stare at him with a questioning look, only to see Charles’ green eyes gazing at you tenderly. Oh, you hate it so much when he looks at you like that.

‘Nice try.’ You quickly cover your raging emotions with a smirk. ‘But you’re still stuck in the pits.’

• ───────────────────────────•

[ SONGS FOR THIS TROPE: Taylor Swift – Dress ✦ Sabrina Carpenter – Nonsense ✦ Arctic Monkeys – I Wanna Be Yours ✦ Gracie Abrams – Feels Like ✦ Lana Del Rey – Say Yes To Heaven ✦ Ariana Grande — goodnight n go ]

• ───────────────────────────•

˗ˏˋ MASTERLIST ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ KO-FI ˎˊ˗

RNNSDRMS™. SUPPORT WRITERS BY REBLOGGING THEIR WORK. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR POST MY WORKS ON ANY SITE. I WILL POST MY POSTS ON OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA SITES MYSELF AND THAT’S ALL YOU GET.

[meo-eiru]

I kinda like the small yet big detail in the game, like I'm sure myself and some other people were expecting a wholesome dating sim that would also get quite spicy (FROM HOW WE KNOW MERU)

And we all just kinda got kicked in the butt, like Starling being too hot to be true yet so terrifying at the same time, but not the terrifying kind that we know, like Micah or Silas etc

More like the type that makes you forget that he still is more a siren than a merman, like he successfully managed to lure in the whole community with his hot ass😭😭and then we get backstabbed by him munching our fingers off as if they're some carrots, like as a simple lunch snack-💀💀

Or in the other ending where it's basically simply Mae dying and getting turned into a possession and probably just another body to fill up with tongues

From my interpretation, Starling doesn't really have that kind of romantic interest in Mae, but she kinda thought it could go into that direction, but then got stabbed in the back like that😭😭(probs everyone who played it, thought like Mae there too kinda💀so we all got the betrayal🙁)

And you guys did a really good job in simply catching us all off guard in most scenes, it's it's beautifully written and drawn, I love that game so much!!!

Spoilers for the game

Honestly maybe Sel would give a different answer but I do think Starling likes Maelyn. Due to his past and what he has now become his way of showing it is probably different, but for Starling I don't think Maelyn is just another body for storing tongues. If that was the case he wouldn't have went out of his way to clean her body up, find a wedding dress and "marry" her in his own makeshift way.

He probably didn't even view it as a betrayal. Because until the very end Starling was making sure the no longer breathing Maelyn could be comfortable in her pearl necklace.

For the writing style, probably Sel writing the story played a big part in this.

Sel and I have very similar tastes in a lot of things, on levels I myself can't believe sometimes. But we do have a different style at how we depict similar concepts.

I love presenting dark stories on a silver platter. Prettied up with the most delicious icings and shiniest sprinkles. I like my stories and characters to look beautiful. Enjoy them while thinking you're just having whimsy adventures only to realize you're done for once you truly look. Like Silas. It's easy to make fun of him, forget the things he is capable of doing as you're too busy enjoying his silliness. He feels safe, a gentle giant who loves and takes care of you.

But he's still a man who has forced himself on you not only physically but also mentally. Trapped and limited you beyond belief. No electricity, no internet, no contact with anyone other than him. Only talking to him, only feeling him, only knowing him, only consuming him. A beautiful and sweet man no human mind can handle for more than a few weeks.

But Sel, from what I've seen, is a bit different. She doesn't shy away from showing the darkness and scariness of the stories she makes. Before you even know it you'll be facing concepts you didn't think could be possible.

And not only that, she hides so much under every word she uses. Often times the things she places in front of you are not even the scariest parts. The more you read and the more you decipher they get deeper.

I'm frankly a big fan of the things she writes. They often leave me flabbergasted (and mortified, she knows what I mean) but they are also so so fun. So scary yet beautifully poetic.

I know she doesn't like being under the spotlight that much. But ever since I met her and saw her stories I wanted more people to get the chance to see and appreciate them the way they deserved. I think they are truly special, and they make me want to do my best to illustrate them in the perfect way possible.

Honestly I'm not sure if I'm good enough at it, but if it helps the stories reach more people I'm happy with it.

I don't know if she'll read this post so that's why I'm being sappy like this but I genuinely hope you guys like her stories like I do. And I hope both you and I can see more and more of it.

[dammit-tazmuir]

There's some other analysis I love that deals with Alecto's living Barbie form not just being about looks, but even with all that like...

Yeah. Reducing women to looks and concepts, at least, absolutely. Kiriona reinvented and renamed into a more idealized concept of a daughter, Harrow more of a fascination than a person. And women get it worse via the looks factors, but everyone gets reduced to ideas, really. Everyone was reinvented, his pre-Resurrection friends renamed. Others' feelings are things to be managed, an inconvenience to keep at bay, not something to genuinely consider.

I'm just... Man. The layers. Tamsyn how many layers...

Alecto's appearance is the product of a broken man reverting to childhood memories for comfort, and it's a symbol of the impact Western imperialism had on him and the world around him. Her existence is the result of trauma and of horrible circumstances that he genuinely didn't have the power to fix, at least not fully, but did have the power to make worse, and he chose his anger and made it the worst it could possibly be rather than accept or work toward any solution less than perfect.

Her body and names are all as artificial as Barbie herself and at the same time she embodies the power to become anything in the way Barbie in the best light also represents. She's plastic and consumerism and impossible standards and more, stuffed into a form not even just wrong but reflecting many of the very things that were choking the life out of her before John ever got to her. She's his idea of beauty and her own idea of hideousness.

She's a toy, a plaything, like practically all the universe has become to the man who made himself God. Whatever the kid playing with Barbie wants her to be, not able to choose that for herself. She's the subject of songs, of poems, of fiction. She's the fridged dead wife in the story he's been spinning around himself for 10,000 years, too detached and internally dead despite his immortality to treat anything as truly real. He's been playing dolls, no longer even believing himself as he still keeps saying he's the story's hero.

She's a resurrection beast, and he and she are one. They are the God who became man and the man who became God. And like any resurrection beast, he travels the universe and poisons it to match his grief.

Yet even as she's all the fury of a world betrayed, she remains unconditional love that cannot be snuffed out. Without reason to be so furious, without the drive of that anger and pain, in all but name, she would still be Nona, hopelessly in love with every single soul, every plant and animal, every sight to be seen and ass joke to be told. She is purity in all its forms. And I love her so much.

I’m currently thinking about how John and Co. refused to call Alecto by her name. They named her fury and vengeance but could not acknowledge what made her thus. They call her Annie Laurie, reducing her to her looks, those so inhuman and frightening yet beautiful all the same. John gave her the name Annabel Lee, naming her existence as a tragedy in that she was his love lost. In both instances the literary references reduce the woman mentioned to nothing but set dressing for the man of the story and it truly betrays John’s thoughts on Alecto for as much as he claimed to love her, he sees her only as the stepping stone for his own story. “For John so loved her that he had made her she. For John had loved the world.” And that is the crux of the matter, John had loved the world but she is not the world, she is its fury. John wanted her to be calm beaches and lapping waves, he wanted a wife, sister, mother, and daughter all in one, but instead, he got 7 million silenced voices crying out in agony, furious at the injustice done to them. I think subconsciously he understood that when he named her Alecto, fury of wrath from Greek Mythology. But even if he had called her Gaia she would still be furious, for was it not Gaia who gave her children the scythe to kill her husband? Was it not Gaia who roared and shrieked to the depths of Tartarus when her children were torn from her arms? The first bearer of prophecy was forged from the grief and rage of an anguished mother; the earth has always been furious. John’s fatal flaw was that he could not comprehend that the rage was for him. He who promised love and safety but cut and stripped her soul stole her children and butchered her corpse. John could never truly comprehend that what he deemed his perfect creation could resent him the way she did. He took her away and reforged her into something she could never be. John denies the resentment Alecto feels for him and we can see this reflected in how he refers to her. John is the sort of man who thinks that if he sees a woman as nothing but her looks, he can make her lesser. To him, she is Annie Laurie of beautiful bust and a personality nonexistent; To him, she is Annabel Lee, a woman so pure and lovely that the angels stole her away from him. Subconsciously, the lyctors have adopted this as well, calling her these names out of fear and not realizing the implications of what they are doing. Even in writing, she is A.L. to them because somewhere deep down they know that to name her wrath is to invite it and invoke it. John believed that if he could compress the Earth into a beautiful shell then he could control it. The Earth has been around for far longer than he could ever truly comprehend, and she is furious.

For @commanderbabygirl thoughts?

I did not realize just how many opinions I had on this until I started typing

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 4- The Chase

Summary: You can only keep running from Frankie Morales for so long. At some point, he'll catch up to you, whether you like it, or not.

Word Count: 3.5K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Do I spy a hint of... ✨feelings✨??? Yearning, a hint of teenage violence (Santi deserves it, it's okay), the appearance of the Miller Brothers, Frankie basically looking like this 🥺 for the last half of this chapter, banter because I live for it

A/N: I'm convinced that teenage Frankie and the Frontier Boys are the best characters to write for, period 😭 I never thought I would live to see the day where my chapters are less than 5K (?!?) but I'm really trying to be better about posting on a schedule- If you would rather have them be longer and wait two weeks between chapters instead of once a week, let ya girl know 🤷🏼‍♀️ Thank you for all of your kind words about this story, your kind comments literally fuel me and make my heart explode, ily 🥹💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

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Frankie, Fall of 2005, Age 16

For as much as he hates school, there will be two classes Frankie knows he’ll always pass with flying colors- Gym and Math. 

When he and Santi went to pick up their 11th grade class schedules before the start of the school year, you would have thought they’d won the lottery when they looked down on the crinkled half sheets of paper to find they were both in the same 6th period gym class. 

Five weeks into the start of Junior year, Frankie’s now convinced that Santi and his new friends, Will and Benny Miller, are in on some sort of scheme to make him fail the one class he’s guaranteed an “A” in. 

“Jesus Christ, Frankie, for the love of God, will you please slow down?!” 

Santi’s all but huffing at the pace Frankie had set for the four of them to run the two miles they’re supposed to finish by the end of class, only three of the eight laps they need to run around the track completed. 

“We’re not even going that fast, Santi, you’re fine.” 

Frankie can’t help but laugh at the way his friend is laboring behind him. Sure, Santi’s got football to thank for keeping him looking less like a gangly string bean than Frankie does, but even at 16, the boyish satisfaction of knowing he’ll always be faster than his friend is undeniable.

“Do you do like, cross country or somethin’, Frankie?” 

“Yeah man, I thought Santi said you swam not ran.” 

The Miller Brothers were a new addition to his and Santi’s long standing friendship duo. Will and Benny moved from North Carolina over the summer and had befriended Santi after a few weeks of preseason football camp that the high school held before the start of the school year. Of course, that meant Frankie became friends by proxy shortly after. 

Frankie was fond enough of the two, but the group was still stuck in the awkward dating phase of friendship where everything was just enough of a pissing match to prove that they were worthy enough of each other’s company. 

“Yeah, I’m on the swim team, I don’t do cross country or anything like that.” Frankie shrugs, rounding the curve of the track with ease as he leads the pack to their halfway point. 

“Then how the hell did you get so fast?” Benny pants, the straw blonde hair matted to his forehead with sweat scrunching as he pinches his brows in a mixture of confusion and unadmitted pain. 

“‘Cause he likes to go running with MacKenzie.” 

Santi’s lips curl to a devious smile as he watches Frankie’s face grow red from his sing-songy taunting. At least with the Millers, Frankie could pretend to chalk the hot, pink sting in his cheeks to the mile he’s been running. Unfortunately, he can’t assume the same with Santi. 

“Shut up, Santi.” Frankie grumbles, picking up his pace to the point he knows it’ll make Santi’s lungs strain just enough to keep him from rambling. 

“Oh shit, like, MacKenzie Anderson, MacKenzie?” Will’s face lights up, his less than lengthy friendship making him blissfully unaware of the history between you and Frankie, “She’s hot.” 

“Ew, n- no, she’s not. That’s weird.” 

The other three are surprised Frankie’s pants have yet to set on fire after such a bold lie. 

“They go run together every weekend.” 

At this point, it’s pure mockery the way Santi is teasing him, pushing Frankie to his limits to see how much he can get away with before his friend breaks. 

“So like, are you guys, dating or something?” 

“What?! No! No- She’s like, my best friend. I just- She plays soccer, so I go run with her to help her train and stuff. It’s good cardio, anyways.” 

Frankie doesn’t mean to snap at Benny for his question. It’s a secondary response to the way his chest is tightening and heart is racing as the eyes of all his friends stay peeled to him, like a guilty suspect in a courtroom everyone is waiting to catch in the midst of their lie. 

“Running’s not the only kind of cardio he wishes he was doing with MacKenzie, huh Frankie?” 

The boys are too busy snickering at each other to realize that Frankie’s completely stopped in his tracks ahead of them, turning around with arms outstretched to greet Santi with a brute shove to the ground as they collide. 

“I said shut UP, Santi!”

Frankie doesn’t intend for it to draw as much attention as it does, how the way he’s practically screaming at his friend he’s pushed to the ground has garnered the attention of everyone else in his gym class.

“Jesus, Frankie, it was just a joke! Chill out!” 

Will and Benny help Santi off the rubber of the track, leaving him and Frankie in a silent stare down of flared nostrils and gritted teeth, bodies boiling with teenage testosterone. 

Despite his rage, Frankie has enough self control to keep from saying (or doing) anything else he’ll regret, forcing himself to take off running in a frustrated huff of silence, heart in his throat and fists clenched, leaving behind his group of friends.  

“Shit. Is he always like that when you talk about her?” Will asks, still slightly stunned by the altercation he’s just witnessed, considering Frankie’s usual calm and quiet demeanor. 

“Yup.” Santi replies, popping the “p” at the end of his answer, “Well, not always this bad, but still,  ya know?”  

“Why?” Benny chimes in, the three of them slowly beginning their trot back around the track, lengths behind their fuming friend. 

“‘Cause they’re like, secretly in love with each other. They say they’re just friends, but they act like they’re fucking married.” Santi pretends to gag as he forces his eyes to roll as far back in his head as they possibly can. “He’s been extra pissy because yesterday he found out this guy, Nick Walsh, who’s some senior on the boy’s soccer team, tried to ask her to Homecoming.” 

“Did she say yes?” 

“No! That’s the thing! I don’t know why he’s got his fucking granny panties in a knot about it. Whatever, man. Not my problem.” 

The Miller brothers exchange intrigued glances, wondering how much more they can pry out of Santi as they mope around the track, hoping they can at least make the second half of their two miles entertaining. 

“If he’s mad about it, why didn’t he just ask her?” Will shrugs, offering up what seems like a reasonable solution to his new friend’s problem. 

“Ask him, dude. I have no fucking clue. They’re going with the same group of friends, so they’re gonna spend the whole night together, anyways. Honestly, if you want my opinion, I think he knows he doesn’t have the balls to nut up and ask her himself ‘cause he’s worried she’s gonna say no.” 

Despite the 23 other kids in the class who are also being forced to run circles around the track, there’s only one who makes the three of them freeze as he passes by, feeling the hole he’s burning through the back of their heads. Santi knows he’s too loudmouthed for his own good, and that there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that Frankie didn’t make out what he had to say as he snuck up behind him. 

And he's right. Frankie hears every word.

If he wasn’t at school, he wouldn’t think twice about punching Santi so hard in the gut it would knock the wind right out of him. But right now, all he can do is keep running, faster and faster, one foot in front of the other. 

Maybe if he runs fast enough, no one will be able to see the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, or the disappointment that’s drained every ounce of color he’s got left in his face. 

Maybe if he runs fast enough, he can outrun the cold, hard truth of the way Santi’s words ring in his ears and put bricks in his chest. 

Maybe, just maybe, if he runs fast enough, somewhere along the worn high school track he’ll find the courage to prove himself wrong. 

You, Present 

You’re convinced he’s following you. He has to be. 

All you wanted to do this morning was to go for a run to clear your head, to blow off some steam after the shit show that had been yesterday’s first interaction with Frankie in the past three years. You were confined to your room for the better half of the day, your dad keeping Frankie hostage in your home far too long for your liking. 

Unfortunately, it’s hard to deny a dying man whatever he wants, even if it’s Frankie Morales’s unwelcome presence in your living room. It also meant having to listen to your dad ramble about Frankie for the next several hours after he’d left, politely nodding at all the compliments and praise your father had to give him while your blood boiled in silence. 

Now, all you wanted to do was to run until your head was free of Frankie for just a little while.

It seemed like Frankie had other plans. 

You gave him the benefit of the doubt the first quarter mile, hell, you even tried to just play it off as unlucky timing at the half mile point. But now, you’re a mile into your run, turning on to Fuller Street with Frankie still trotting behind you. It’s clearly not an accident he’s chosen the same path for his morning jog. 

“There are other ways you can go run, you know.” You shout at Frankie without even turning your head over your shoulder, thinking that maybe he’s assumed you hadn’t noticed him and your not so subtle suggestion will get him to turn around. 

“It’s a free country. I can run where I want.” 

Part of you wishes you would have turned to look back at him so he could see the way your eyes met the back of your skull from rolling them so hard, but you keep your gaze glued to the pavement in front of you. You won’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence.  

“Can you please just go run somewhere else? I’m just trying to enjoy my morning and you’re not helping, Frankie.” 

“Not trying to bother you, just trying to run. I didn’t have anything to say until you started talking to me.” 

You know if you turned around right now, he’d have that stupid little smug grin hiding in the corner of his cheeks. A battle of wits is his favorite game to play. He’s learned how to strategize, to stay calm, cool and collected in the midst of your chaos, waiting until you hit the breaking point of his crazy you can’t bear to tolerate anymore. Your jaw tenses with the long exhale you take as you prepare to go head to head. 

“I wouldn’t have said anything if you hadn’t been following me the past mile.” 

“How do you know I’m following you?” 

“You’ve literally been running ten feet behind me for the past twelve minutes.” 

“Who says I wasn’t planning on running this way to begin with but you just got a head start?” 

“Jesus Christ, Frankie, please just go pick a different way to run.” 

“Who put you in charge of the running police? Do I have to sign a permit before I go jog now?” 

“Go. Run. Somewhere. Else.” 

“No. You don’t get to tell me where to run. This is the way I wanna go, so I’m gonna keep going until-” 

“No! I know you don’t want to go this way!” You’ve accepted defeat, swinging around to storm towards Frankie, stopping dead in his tracks as he realizes the ferocity you’re approaching him with, “I know for a fact you don’t wanna run this way. You know how I know? Because you hate running down Fuller Street. You would run five miles out of your way before you even considered running down this street on your own free will. There hasn’t been a single time we’ve ever run down this street where you haven’t complained the entire way because of how much you hate the hill at the end of the road before we turn onto Wilson way! That’s how I know, Frankie! So stop pretending like you just happened to choose the same way as me by accident, and just leave me alone! Ugh!” 

You’re positive there’s a trail of steam streaming behind you with the way you’re absolutely fuming, turning back around to take off as fast as your body will let you. You can’t bring yourself to look anywhere but straight ahead, too afraid that if you turn around, those stupid, sad brown eyes will make you feel guilty enough to give him the last word he doesn’t deserve. 

Your feet are flying so fast across the pavement, you’re convinced he’s given up, shocked into submission by your anger that he’ll at least let you finish the rest of your run in peace. Your eyes are still locked on the horizon ahead. It’s the arrogance of your self-reassurance that doesn’t even let you contemplate the thought that several yards behind you, Frankie lets out a quiet “fuck me” before letting his hands drop from their place on his hips to chase behind you at full speed. 

“What the fuck are you doing!?” 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” 

It’s a stupid question. It’s obvious Frankie has said a prayer to hope his knees don’t give out on him as he runs as fast as possible to try and catch up to you. The rhythmic thump of his sneakers pounding against the concrete catches your attention enough to see how quickly he’s gaining on you. It only makes you run faster. 

“Jesus- fuck this hill- MacKenzie, will you fucking slow down?” 

You won’t admit you’re probably just as exhausted as Frankie from the way you’ve been sprinting up the steep incline at the end of the road, but his exasperated huffs are enough to keep you pushing through the pain, mental and physical. 

“No. Run faster.” 

You’re hopeful it’s early enough that no one is awake to see the comedic game of cat and mouse you and Frankie are playing in the middle of the road, chasing each other like you’re on the playground in a childish round of tag. You’d never admit to his face that you know he’s stronger, even faster than you, but the grip he settles around your arm as he finally catches up to you lets you know you’ve lost. 

“Let go of me, Frankie!” 

If the street wasn’t already awake from your wild game of chase, your scream certainly would have gotten their attention. 

“Jesus Christ, MacKenzie, will you just let me talk to you for two fucking seconds?! Please, just- fuck- please just let me fucking talk to you, okay? Please.” 

Even if you wanted to keep running, there was no use. Truth be told, it wasn’t the grasp he had around your arm that was the thing keeping you from sprinting off into the distance. What had you frozen in place was that pathetic pout you knew was splayed across his face, burning a hole in the back of your head. What’s worse, was that you could feel it burning a hole through your chest, too. 

The all too familiar pain that came with holding onto the same, shriveled shred of hope that maybe this time, he’d prove you wrong. Maybe this time, he wouldn’t let you down. 

“Fine.” You barely mutter the word loud enough to hear as you turn around to face him, eyes still looking everywhere but directly at him. 

“I’m sorry, Kenz. I'm sorry, okay? I fucked up.” 

Somehow, his second apology stings worse than the first. It still doesn’t mean you won’t deny how much it hurts. 

“Yeah, no shit.” 

You let your gaze lift just enough to see the way he’s gnawing at his bottom lip, chewing at it like he’s trying to digest his own thoughts before they come out of his mouth. 

“What I said that night at Santi’s wedding, I just-” He pauses, knowing you can hear it clear as day in your head too.

“Fuck you, MacKenzie. Fuck you for ruining my life. It’ll be better off without you fucking in it.” 

“I- I- Fuck. I didn’t mean it. Any of it. I regret ever saying it. I think all the time about how much I regret it. I just, I was in a bad place.” 

You’re not sure what to say. Fuck, you’re not even sure what to feel. Part of you wants to scream at him, kick him in the crotch and berate him for how badly the past three years have hurt you. Part of you just wants to stand there and cry, to say nothing and let your tears flow and spill your emotions down your cheeks. Part of you wants to hug him, to believe him, to have him hold you so tightly against his chest that his apology seeps into your skin until you’ve forgiven him. 

But none of those parts are strong enough to win out alone. Instead, they’ve formed together to create a strange sort of storm that brews in your belly, swirling it so violently, it makes you want to vomit. 

“But you still said it, Frankie. You still said it. If my dad weren’t dying, would you even be here? Would you have ever apologized? Or are you just choosing to apologize now because it’s convenient and you feel like you have to?” 

It’s the first time you can bring yourself to look him in the face. You can see how his brain is churning with the same type of vicious waves that are in the pit of your stomach, drowning out the brown of his eyes. You both are lost in the midst of the storm, but you’ve got a lifeboat. He’s sinking below the thrashing tides, looking for you to let him board your ship. You won’t let him on unless he fights his way through the current to get to you. 

“I should have apologized a long time ago.” 

“Then why didn’t you?” 

“I don’t- I don’t know. I was scared you’d never forgive me.” 

You swear you feel the grip he still has on your forearm tighten just for a moment. Now that he has you, he’s too scared to let you go. 

“Just- Jesus- Just because you apologized doesn’t mean I have to forgive you now, Frankie.” 

“Will you ever?” 

“Ever, what?” 

“Forgive me?” 

Your brain wants to say no. God, with everything in you does it want to say no. But that same stupid pain in your chest that lives and dies by that stupid shred of hope you’ll always hold onto just won’t let you. 

“I don’t know. I- I don’t know, Frankie.” 

You can’t ignore the way he’s still holding your arm. The shred of hope doesn’t want him to let go, even when you scowl at the way his fingers wrap around your skin. You scowl because of how his touch burns your skin, the way it ignites a fire in your gut from how tenderly he touches you. It makes you scrunch your face in frustration and confusion, trying to block out all the times he’s touched you like this before, fingers grazing against your skin in a desperate plea for affection, not forgiveness. He’s holding onto your arm to see if you’ll let him in the lifeboat- if you’ll offer him a chance to save himself. 

“I get it. I’m sorry, Kenz. I hope you at least know I mean it.” 

“I do.” 

You’re not sure what makes you want to offer him a last chance at survival. You’ve been separated by different sides of the same storm for so long- You can’t attest to the way he’s had to fight through it to stay alive, but if it’s anything like the side of the squall you’ve been stuck on, there’s a strange relief in finding in finding someone who knows the hell you’ve faced to keep from drowning in the undertow. You can’t seem to bear letting him drown right in front of you without even trying to help. 

“I still hate you, ya know.” You sigh, a defiant cry to prove to him you’re not happy about the path you’ve chosen. 

“Yeah, that’s fair. I deserve that.” 

It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh in so long. Even though it’s a muffled huff, trying to hide behind the raise of his eyebrows and nod of his head at the ground, you know it’s there, in that same corner of his smirk he gets when he knows there’s no point in arguing with you- there’s no denying it’s there. 

There’s no denying it makes you do the same. 

“You gonna let me finish the rest of my run in peace, Morales?” 

“Yeah, I guess. Only ‘cause I still hate this fucking hill.” 

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

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[butchvamp]

i did Lucanis's inner demons quest last night and have some thoughts [everyone groans in unison]

i admit that i definitely have a bias for Lucanis, i really like the crows (or i should say the crows from previous games & the lore around them) and my Rook is a crow so i'm inclined towards him in general.

that being said i feel i'm just. missing huge bits of information about him. he exists entirely in a void. i don't really know anything about his relationships with Illario or Caterina, the game glosses over so much of his role and what exactly he does within the crows (beyond just talking about how he was the Demon and the Magekiller) i suppose it's just too icky for the game to truly acknowledge outside of a few jokes about Lucanis poisoning the gang's food...

i know from seeing people posting excerpts from his novel that Caterina did, in fact, physically abuse him; i figured this was the case considering she's a high ranking member of the crows and thus no doubt had a role in torturing recruits, even if the game pretends like this is a thing that doesn't happen. you get a bit of banter early on where Lucanis, talking about Illario's behavior, says something along the lines of "My relationship with Caterina was complicated, too, and I was her favorite." implying some level of friction between them as well as conflicting feelings about her death.

but then that's it. we get nothing else. this should be a major piece of his story, a part of why he feels the way he does, and exploring Caterina's role in his and Illario's abuse would better expand upon Illario's resentment and make his and Lucanis's relationship more compelling beyond "Illario is a big jealous meanie."

i really wanted to like the inner demons quest more than i did, because conceptually i enjoy going into the fade/Lucanis's memories with Spite, so far Lucanis's quests have felt the most Dragon Age to me (fighting a naked woman in a giant pool of blood + seeing Spite lose control, him and Illario butting heads and having a competitive relationship before this (as the crows all should...), etc. these are fun!) but just like the rest of the game it's still holding back.

when you confront the memory of Caterina all you get are these choices:

none of these are particularly satisfying if you actually know the things Caterina has done... "Your love for him" is actually vile lol

this entire questline is a linear walk through fragments of the Ossuary & Lucanis's memories, there is nothing interesting here, Rook just plays therapist for about twenty minutes and then you make a nothing choice at the end that has no affect on anything at all... and most egregiously, we have learned literally Nothing new about Lucanis that the game hasn't already made an effort to tell us repeatedly (a real problem the game has in general, constant hand-holding and repetition).

there's Quite a bold choice to compare this quest to the Fade section in origins right at the start, with Rook and Spite joking about getting past the guards: "What did you expect, to turn into a mouse or something?" like yes, actually, i did expect something a bit more! even if you want to say the warden does the exact same thing with their companions in that quest, their dialogue is FAR better-- again, Rook's is all clinical therapy-speak (where did she even learn this shit? did the crows pay for her to get a degree in psych and become a licensed counselor?) and in origins, we do actually learn something new about each companion as well as getting to see them interact with their fantasies and/or nightmares. we get nothing here...

we could have seen him and Illario training together, being competitive, the early seeds of resentment being planted between them by Caterina's goading and abuse. we could have seen the guilt Lucanis feels about this, about Caterina's favoritism and how it's affected his relationship with Illario. we could have actually seen what happened to him when he was captured and in the Ossuary, we could have seen some of the horrible things he's had done to him and that he himself has done to become the Demon of Vyrantium, we could have learned more about why the demon inside of him became spite specifically-- because if what Zara's echo said is true, it started as an Envy demon-- so it was influenced by Lucanis in some way. what makes him spiteful? why is it spite that keeps him alive in the Ossuary...? is it spite as in defiance-- defiance of the Venatori, of Caterina's expectations and abuse, in defiance of Illario's betrayal...? unfortunately, Lucanis never really feels spiteful at all. determined to survive the Ossuary, but afterwards, never has he come across as spiteful (Spite is mostly just petty and a bit bitchy).

in my opinion the Envy demon fails because Lucanis was never envious of Illario or the First Talon position, only crushed by the loss of their relationship and guilty over Caterina's favoritism. obviously Caterina's expectations weigh heavily on him, but he knows he's the favorite, and he doesn't envy Illario for not being so-- he seems very aware of the fact that it doesn't equate to Illario having it "easier." but the game barely addresses this, only in weak voice-overs, while the majority of the quest is spent convincing Lucanis that he's not actually a demon. Lucanis is wholly a good guy that only kills blood mages and loves his poor grandma and his inner demon is entirely Literal and just him feeling bad about being an abomination :(

nevermind all that yucky complicated stuff. Illario is Bad and Jealous and deserves to be punished for... doing exactly what crows have always done.

of course it's easy to make Illario look bad when all of the other crows are treated like a found family, when we know that's not the case at all. crows have been competing and scheming and killing each other since origins. this isn't meant to make light of Illario's betrayal (in fact i still think it's quite significant given their history and the two of them being the last of their family) but instead Illario is very obviously suspicious from the start, the reveal of his betrayal was not surprising, it's predictable because, again, he is presented very differently from all the other crows we've seen in this game-- he's the Bad one, and Lucanis is the Good one. no nuance!

in his short story, The Wake, Illario is actually depicted as being extremely remorseful, getting very drunk and reminiscing on old childhood memories of Lucanis while Viago has to carry him home... of course there's no way of knowing the exact intent behind this story or what changed since (published in 2020 and written by Mary Kirby, after all) but either way, we don't get anything like that here. somewhere along the way we lost the depth and complexity of both characters; we don't get to confront this big ugly thing between them because the game refuses to engage with anything ugly at all.

[zerogravityinq]

Of course Res gives me thoughts for my AU when I can't get words out to update it. Fuck.

(under the cut if you wanna avoid AU brainrot)

SO

I haven't established it well in this AU (because I am a shit world builder) that magic consumes a lot of calories and you need a lot to keep up with the metabolic rate of it.

Harry is a little dude - both from childhood starvation, genetic build and, in this AU, being pretty powerful so his metabolic rate is high as fuck. He gets around this by making recipes Molly has given him or having Freya cook his meals. Because even if they cook the exact same thing, a meal made by a muggle (Alfred) and by a magical (Molly, Harry, or Freya in this case) has different caloric density. Molly says it's because it's made with love but the real answer is that wix cooks suffuse their food with magic making the food more dense in calories. Kind of how a muggle could make a potion but it may not be as effective if a wix, potioneer or even a Potion Master. A muggle Gordon Ramsey wouldn't be able to outbrew Severus Snape even working from the same recipe.

Getting back to it, this also explains Voldemort's appearance (in the books) since he would have to eat constantly to maintain that kind of magical output and like Mr No Nose No Hoes would not lower himself to something as plebian as eating, it was likely he just fed off his magic and let his magic keep him going. Honestly of the Order just held out for an extra year or two, he would have just died from Magical Exhaustion but digressing.

Jason is luckily in a good position in this AU as he was saved from a rough childhood relatively early (age 5), his magic came in at a good age (age 6), he was taught how to cook and excels at it and despite being a huge dude with pretty hefty magic (not more powerful than say Tom but has been pretty relentlessly headhunted to join the American and British Auror Corps) he doesn't keep to an extreme diet like Bruce does. He does know, however, if he doesn't eat his metabolism will eat away at his magic.

Conner is in a difficult spot that is 100% my doing 😭 (I do love him I swear) but my boy is a relatively bulky guy, magical to a very noticeable degree (less powerful than Jason but more than Terry or Jazz) AND Kryptonian. His alien bit doesn't need to eat but needs sun. And where does my boy live? Gotham and London. Like the two least sunniest places you can live 😂😂. I'm so sorry Conner but he can fly and he does like apparate to the sun (the maddest of lads) so like... he's fine....mostly....(Nervous laughter)

Damian doesn't notice how he has to scale up his eating but like once he convinced Molly and Freya he didn't need to eat meat, they made a lot of nutrients dense foods for him so he's good.

Terry takes more after Harry in build but isn't as strong as he is in magic (which is fine by him since he's the goddamn Batman) so he doesn't have to eat as much as his wix siblings but like not as strictly as his dad (much to Bruce's relief). He still occasionally has to force himself to eat but it's less of a diet thing and more of a 'i could be doing Batman shit rn' which worries Bruce in a whole other way.

The twins are gremlins that will eat anything not bolted down - literally. The amount of times the rest of the family had to make them cough up a tablet or phone or tv remote or pen or blanket or dumbbell...when the twins are in their 20s. The infuriating part is that they neither gain a pound AND it isn't obvious they ate something big (like that time Lilith ate the Batjet). Long story short, the twins are on some Looney Toons shit. Outside of that, they get their fuel from ectoplasm which Gotham has in abundance or they just cling to Harry since he is the Master of Death and Regent until Danny is of age.

Bruce’s batman diet plan must be wild 😭 like thinking about the early days batman and the hardcore bulking he must’ve done and how he’s maintained and even grown it consistently since

And bc u were talking about old man bruce earlier today too it’s like wow what a man

Thinking about how much he has to eat just to MAINTAIN that level of muscle and activity makes me want to puke. Like I genuinely feel nauseous considering his exercise plan. Just nonstop bulking at peak capacity and activity for months if not years, and then decades of MAINTAINING that? He must hate food. Genuinely. It’s all fuel to him, barely enjoyable if even that.

I’m sure someone in the JL jokes about “bulking up like you, man” and Bruce is just dying of laughter inside. Sure, man. Go home and eat sixteen chicken breasts and then run in heavy armor until sunrise; you’ll get about halfway through his daily regimen.

[solar4seekstron]

(Requested) TfOne!D-16 x Cybertronian!Femme!Reader/Yandere!Sentinel x Cybertronian!Femme!Reader: Sparkling

Content: D-16 and reader are expecting. Sentinel lies about D and Orion dying. Sentinel holds reader captive until D returns but by then he’s a different person by then.

TW/Tags: possessiveness, wholesome movements, death, pregnant!reader, cutest little sparkling I’ve ever wrote for oh my god I love this family, Megatron is a soft baby daddy, he loves reader and his sparkling, Sentinel really just held reader captive over night after Ds “death”. I think that’s all.

Note: I decided Conjunx isn’t a thing in this fic in order for a certain plot point in the story to work so sorry no Conjunx in this fic like in most of my others.

You and D-16 have been together for a long time. When he became your sparkmate. Things only got better when you have him the news you're with sparkling. You both talked about this day. It was common for miners to have little spankings running around and to eventually start helping with finding energon for the city.

Though you like a few others didn’t want this for your child. D is the same. Even contemplating about possibly giving you a sparkling.

So when you gave him the news. He soon returned it with joy. He already knew he’ll not regret raising a lil mini him with you. He chuckled at the thought once he told you that. You smiled at him. Happy to see him in thought of having a little mini him running around.

To play and playfully beat up his uncle Orion. You’d feel your sparkling grow in your stomach. And boy. Were they a big baby.

”Come on Megatronus is a great name if a boy. Oh! And Solus if a girl! And Prima if nutural!”

”D we are not naming our sparkling after a Prime. Why not after your best friend Orion-“

”NO-“

”Ok-“You chuckled. Gently holding his cervos as you both chuckled. Eventually you both agreed on a name that D called. Tough and strong. You didn’t mind it as much.

You already saw some of their head pushing some metal forward. Then the same thing happening from the top of your waist where their legs are located.

D was pretty proud of how big his little sparkling inside you was getting. “Haha! Big bot just like their sire!”

He did brag for a few days until you would drag him away. Giving the others a break. Even Orion was pretty excited to be an uncle and would ask to feel the dents from the baby at times when D wasn’t around. You’d of course let him..

But D hated it when you had to stay in the mining rooms for a few months as it got harder for you to even move. You still looked normal as you only had a few metal parts sticking out from your stomach

When the day came for the Iacon race. You told D you would stay with the other spiked femmes and GN bots. D understood and give you a loving kiss. “Man I cant wait to have you all to myself again.”

Causing Orion to groan as D chuckled. “Yes you will…after a couple months once my body heals.”

You responded to mess with him and avenge poor Orion. Causing D to now groan and chuckle after. And so later that day he and Orion made their way to the race. After what seemed like 30 minutes. You’d then feel a surge of pressure at your pelvis.

Uh oh. The other bot looked at you as you look down.

Your water broke.

You were in Pain. D was at the race with no way of anyone reaching him easily from within the crowed.

You were immediately brought to the cit hospital. Luckily you were a mining bot so carrying you into a room was easier.

Senitnel, who was there after the race to come “congratulate” the two miners from the race. After dealing with the two and having Airachnid send Darkwing to “deal” with them.

As you were brought in and sat in the room. Sentinel who just happened to be there. Was looking at you. Intrigued by a femme so well kept as you are. But when one of the nurses said you were here to give birth….he was upset. But he wasn’t too worried.

In this world where they can give berth to a transformer. He made sure the poeple in medican. Having the privilege to help people. Knows to remove the cogs of a child. If their parent happens to be a miner.

As you waited. The sparkling finally calming down for a bit. As you waited you then heard a knock at your door. Walking in was Sentinel himself. He had his usual smile as he does when he speaks to the city through the hologram. You were surprised. And you couldn’t really sit up as he then spoke.

From there he stayed with you for some time until it came time for you to give birth.

”Ah always nice to see another bot coming in to give another life. How are we feeling today my dear?” He sat in one of the chairs. “And who is this….Lucky bot?”

”He’s one of our strongest miners sir. I’m lucky enough to have him as a Conjunx. His name is D-16.”…..Sentinel gulped. But chuckled to not raise suspicion. Ah yes we love it when our worker make time to create families just like the rest of us!”

You’d not as looked out the window. “Hopefully the others find him at the race and and tells him the wonderful news.”

You didn’t notice the cringe look on his face.

When he was about to speak suddenly you groaned. “Th- the baby! It’s coming!!!” You screamed as the doctors and nurses ran in. Sentinel was asked to leave as you were about to give birth. He walked out and saw Darkwing. Speaking low to him as the two looked at the door. Hearing you moan and groan.

”Are they dealt with?”

”Yes sir.” Sentinel smiled.

———————————————————————————

During this D and Orion were sneaking on the train with B. D was of course against it. Not knowing still of your situation. He tells Orion how you must have at least a few days before birth but he should still be there with you. That’s until Orion finally convinces him to go. He already knows he’ll get an earful from you.

After you gave birth to your sparkling. The nurses took your sparkling to watch them up.

They were able to fix you up removing those visible outer dents from under your chest to down above your pelvis.

As you laid there the doctors made sure you were covered up . You were exhausted. Sentinel then gave a nurse an order to turn on the tv in order for you to hear the news by him.

After some time you were more awake. You looked at the TV and saw Sentinel speak.

As you listened, you are hit with the worst news as you saw clips of D-16 and Orion in the race…..D was dead..

You were crying as the nurses came in with your sparkling. Pretending to be unaware of the tv.

As you were able to sit up, you gently held you sparkling. She looked so much like her Sire….Having Ds color scheme. Most of his armor. Her chest and legs looking like yours.

Her helmet a mix of both of yours and Ds. She has your purple optics. And……she’s cogless…of course. But non the less….she’s beautuiful….perfect.

She looked up at you and opened her mouth, like she wanted to speak as she smiles at you…She has her Sires smile, little grin…You felt both pain but joy at the same time in your spark.

After some time as you gently rested your cervo on your sparklings chest.

Her gently grabbing your digit with her little cervos as she tried to bite at the tip of your digit. Her big purple optics staring up at you as a smile still formed at the corner of her dermas.

Tears slowly going down you optics as you stared down at her. Sentinel then walked in. Taking his seat once more and looked at you and your sparkling. You believe this is a high honor.

“So how’s the lil sparkling doin?”

He said in a cheery voice trying to seem like he cares as he looks at you instead of your sparkling. You spoke as your voice was dry and rough. But still almost the same.

”She’s wonderful. Strong and healthy…Just like her Sire.” She giggled as she keeps trying to eat at your digit.

“The nurses are coming with energon….I just. Don’t know what to do when I return to the mining quarters….Raising her without her Sire…”

You’d then feel Sentinel place a cervo on your shoulder as ou both can hear your sparkling babble.

“You know…giving your ‘sparkmate’ has proven miners can show that they can do more. Even without a cog! Why don’t you come to the tower. Live up the life you would’ve had with him. A better life for you and your sparkling. Of course you can visit your mining friends so you sparkling can be with other little miners as well.”

You looked at him. “Do you truly mean this Sentinel?”

”Of course my dear.” He cringed a bit and tried to think of what to do next to keep your guard down. “Uhh What’s her name.”

You’d gently smile at him as you tell him.

”Spiker”

———————————————————————————

After some time you were living at the tower for the time being. Sentinel told you you two will go over how to help the miners.

After sometime you stared to wonder. Everytime he was with you, he’d just complement you and even flirt with you at times as you tried to spend your first day with your sparkling as much as you can.

At times you’d notice at the corner of your optics. At the door Sentinel was watching you…What is he up to?

A few hours before D would return unknown to you. You’re still grieving. Setting you sparkling in her crib to sleep as her little cervos held onto your digit until you pulled away.

As you walked to the door, Sentinel was there in the living room with his cervos behind his back. He’d then notice you walk out and he takes steps towards you with his usual smile. “Sentinel are we ready to finally speak about helping the miners.”

He chuckled. His cervo gently grabbing yours once he kneeled down as his brings it to his dermas and kissed the back of it.

“I’ve seen your track record. I must say I’m impressed.” He keeps your cervo close to his helm as he stares down at you. “Thank you Sentinel. So are we to speak here? Or in a meeting rooom with other surpior?”

He scoffed but then soon chuckles. “Yes we’ll get to that. But I also have..another position for you my dear.”

His helm leaning down closer to you.

”Seeing that your sparkmate is…deceased. You should give your sweet sparkling a new sire. No sparkling should grow with just one parent.”

You just stared up at him as you grow more confused. What is he saying?” Before you knew it you were pinned against the wall. His frame against yours.

”Sentinel what are you-“

”Shh shh. Don’t wish to wake up our sparkling now don’t you?” He grinned as his cervos set on your hips. You’d press your cervos against his chest as you spoke in a whisper.

”Sentinel I cant just..date a prime!” You were basically covered by him as his optics narrowed.

”Oh I wasn’t asking sweetspark…Don’t worry I’m sure we’ll get a cog from a bot that no one will remember. And for your sparkling as well….sadly the only down side will be you and your sparkling…will be completely……different.”

You only stared at him with wide optics. He’s then grin.

”Now be a good partner and spend some time with your Prime. Hm?”

He chuckled. His dermas on your neck cable as he places soft kisses as you turned your helm towards the door. The room your sparkling is at.

Primus. What have you done?

———————————————————————————

You would stay in the large apartment in a tower belonging to Sentine and his closest guards. You’ve been there for almost an hour until you see Sentinels guards bring in unconscious bots. It seems they went into the meeting room of the tower. It was already morning.

Your sparkling was in your arms as she ate some energon. She would’ve started crying if you left her and is already wide awake. You made your way to the door and peaked through the door.

Your sparkling calm. She defiently takes it from you.

You’d see a bunch of bots on their knees as Sentinel spoke to a larger bot. And it seemed that their cervos were tied behind their back. You didn’t notice a now cogged D-16. You came from the door behind the many bots.

You thought maybe these bots could help you if you can help release them. Or maybe distract Sentinel and the guards enough for one of them to escape?

And so with your sparkling gently grabbing at your chest as she looks up at you. You walked out once he punches a grayish bot and kneeled before the bot. He seemed to have taken a sticker off the bot. Almost sounding familiar. The bot then yelled.

”He’s a greater then you’ll ever be!”

Sentinel puts the sticker back and starts engraving something on the bots chest. Causing you to run closer. The other bots there looking at you.

”Sentinel!” He stoppped once he heard you. “Y/N! Return to your room! Guards! Take her and the sparkling back.”

Your sparkling started crying as the guards got closer. She was reaching for te grey bot. When the bot seemed to slowly get up. He was almost on his side as he looked up and saw you.

“Y/N!”

His optics wide as he saw you and….His Sparkling!!! Spiker still crying as she reached out to him. Knowing her Sire.

You kept her close as the guards grabbed your arms. And one of them tries to take her in order to not hurt her when dragging you back. D then starts getting up.

Only for a guard to punch him forward as he only stared at you and Spiker.

“Protect Y/N and get them out of here!”

Out of now where a train came and hit Sentinel. The guards soon take you out of the tower. Taking you down the halls as one of them held your sparkling who didn’t stop crying.

You could not hear distruction and your sparklings cry’s. But out of nowhere a punch of seekers came and took care of the guards.

They told you they work for D-16 and as one of the femmes pick you up. Another bot was able to get your sparkling. He gently held the chikd and flew you two out fo the tower. Bringing you to a safe distance and join alongside a crowd.

Your sparkling reaching to you the while time in the bots arms. You and your sparkling in your arms stand for a good time as you watched D fight and kill Megatron.

You covered your sparkling optics after he dropped Optimus down into the planet.

After Optimus Primes and Megatrons battle. One of the seekers looked at you and picks you up. Taking with him as you all flew to the surface.

During your flying time two cogs appeared. Megatron below seeing this. The cogs go into your and your sparklings chest. Causing you two to change your alt mode in the seekers arms.

Once you all made your way to a safe spot of the surface at a mountain. The seeker let you down and leaves.

As everyone else stayed at one part of the mountain.

You and Spiker were a bit further away. As Megatron requested. Soon Megatron made his way to you. You calmed your sparkling who was trying to stop crying.

Megatron looked down at you and your sparkling. His now red optics almost soft and his face a mix of anger, sadness, worry, and almost uncertain. You looked at him as your sparkling reached up to him.

”You…were at his tower..”

”Megatron he kept me there against my will! He told me you died! He wouldn’t let me leave after going there. I believed he wanted me to help make the city better! I-I-I”

As you spoke he looked at his sparkling. She looked so much like him with small traits of you. She continued to stare at him with wide optics as she reached up at him with a smile and giggling.

”D- Megatron I didn’t know I thought you were dead. I thought you-“

He set his cervo on your waist as he leaned down. Now only being a few feet shorter then him. Being a few inches taller then Starscream.

”I..Undertsand. He lied to me too. He lied to all of us.”

His other cervo gently holding Spikers back as she stared up at him.

”But we know the truth now. And I will lead us to the future. A better on. For You. Our sparkling. Us. Everyone here for us to have a better home.”

His forhelm presses against yours as Spiker continues to reach up at him. Megatron then presses his dermas against yours. You both holding a passionate and soft kiss with each other as you both close your optics. When you both pulled apart Spiker let out a baby shout and moving her little arms.

Megatron chuckled and gently held her. taking her from your arms.

”And you my little sparkling shall be my heir. My when I saw those pushed dents on your carrier I didn’t expect you to be this much bigger. You gave her that name we agreed to?”

”Yes…her name is Spiker. She has a Strong personality.”

You joked as you watched him hold Spiker up. Her little cervos reaching for his face as he smiled up at her. He’d then bring her closer to his helm.

Letting her cervos gently grab at his chin and nose.

He kept a smile on his dermas as he notices she has his smile. Even having his laugh as she only looked at him with joy.

You with a smile on your face as well. He’d hold her with one arm as his other sets on your waist pulling you closer as he smiles down at you. You setting a cervo on Spikers lap and the other on Megatrons chest. Even Spiker had one of her little cervos on top of yours and her other reacher for Megatrons chin. You three really do look like a happy family.

From then on you and your sparkling stay by Megatrons side. A family to rule together. Even as things…slowly change.

I WISH i was reader right now like my god- I love this man so much and obviously for a big and strong dude of course he’d make big sparklings (Idea: Terry from Brooklyn nine-nine).

Reader just lucky her baby didn’t kill her lmao.

As always I hope you guys enjoy this and if you guys want me to post cute little Megatron family moments together. Like Megatron being a dad….and cockblocked occasionally. Please leave a comment of any ideas. I know y’all are thirsty for sparkling content and…other thing lol.

As always re post is appreciated and cant wait to see what requests you simps come up with next.