#because I prefer to stay open to new perspectives

[quintessenceofdust88]

perfect (it's not all it's cracked up to be)

Hello everyone! I promised you guys that the sequel for this prompt would be up by the weekend, right? Turns out I only sorta lied cause it's still Monday hehe. I hope you enjoy it!

You can read it on AO3 if you'd prefer! ❤️

When Tommy wakes up, it’s like his body is on fire and freezing at the same time; half of his body feels numb, and the other half is hurting like never before. Huh, maybe his father had a point and all queer freaks end up in hell. Then again, considering one of his last deeds on Earth was walking out on sunshine itself, maybe it’s not about his queerness after all; it’s about Tommy himself. 

He hears a heart monitor at his side, and that gives him pause; he doesn’t think the afterlife bothers with medical devices, so… So maybe he’s alive? If only opening his eyes didn’t feel like it would hurt so much, Tommy could try and find out (not that he knows what hell looks like; it could be like a hospital room, for all he knows). He tries it anyway, letting out a grunt as it, indeed, hurts like a bitch. 

“Oh my God, you’re awake!” A voice says to his right side, and yeah, now Tommy’s pretty sure he’s not in hell. Evan Buckley doesn’t belong in hell, not even as part of Tommy’s eternal torture. 

As his vision clears, Tommy sees Evan is on a chair by his side, and he looks… Rough. There’s stubble covering his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He’s looking at Tommy with despair clearly written in his permanently wet eyes, as if he’s afraid Tommy will disappear if he looks away. And to Tommy, it’s still instinct to comfort Evan, to try and find something to say that’ll make him feel better.

“You found your present” He says dumbly, his eyes not leaving the burgundy hoodie that’s so beautifully wrapped around Evan’s frame, making him look as cozy and adorable as Tommy expected. And, well. It might not have been the smartest thing to say, but he supposes there’s a lot of morphine going through his body right now. 

“Well, yeah, after you told my sister where it was as your helicopter crashed? After you wished me Merry Christmas and Happy New Year as your parting words?! It wasn’t so difficult” He answers with a somewhat hysterical chuckle. “What the hell, Tommy?! You’re too much of a coward to actually let yourself be loved and see a future with me, but not to send a farewell message to me through dispatch?! You’re unbelievable!”

“Buck…” He starts, but it’s clear he won’t get to say anything this time. For one, his brain is still working a little too slow to translate thoughts into words. Evan seems to notice it, and lets out a defeated sigh. 

“We… We’ll talk later, ok? Let’s get a doctor to check on you first. Sorry, that should have been the first thing I did” He says grumpily, and presses the button by Tommy’s bed. 

From them on, it’s a flutter of doctors and nurses, and Tommy learns the extent of the damage: a broken femur, at least five crushed ribs and a small concussion, not to mention the thousand bruises that turned his whole left side black and blue; he hasn’t looked at a mirror yet, but it can’t be pretty. 

“Yeah, well, you should’ve seen the other guy, doc” He attempts to joke, and Evan’s scoff and the doctor’s exasperated look make it clear it wasn’t his best attempt. “So, let’s talk business, doc. Will I fly again?” Tommy asks, because that’s the question that matters the most. 

He realizes with a treacherous skip to his heart that Evan looks as interested in the answer as Tommy himself. During the whole time the doctor is talking to him about treatments and physical therapy and his perspective to get back to work, he stays by his side, nodding attentively at everything the doctor says (as if he’ll be involved in your treatment, a hopeful part of his brain that should have quieted down weeks ago supplies, and Tommy does his best not to listen to it, because it’ll hurt so bad when it’s not the case). 

When the doctor makes it clear that Tommy will not go back to the air for at least six months, Evan squeezes his hand and gives him a look of solidarity that goes a long way to make it not feel like the end of the world. And when the nurse comes to up Tommy’s dosage of morphine and redress his wounds, he doesn’t let go of his hand. Tommy wants to say something, anything, but he’s received a lot of information and the morphine running through his veins makes it difficult to put his thoughts into words. But he doesn’t want to fall asleep; he doesn’t want to let Evan go. 

“Sleep, Tommy” Evan tells him in a firm tone. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Then we’ll talk”

It sounds too good to be true; Tommy refuses to believe it. Evan would have every right to leave him to fend for himself; he wouldn’t blame him in the slightest. He closes his eyes, fully expecting to find an empty room when he wakes up.

But contrary to all expectations, when Tommy opens his eyes again, feeling slightly more like a person and less like a shapeless bruise, is to find Evan in the same chair, only with the black hoodie this time, and a cup of coffee in his hand. 

He’s impossibly handsome in black, Tommy thinks dazedly, taking advantage of the fact Evan’s looking down at his phone to take a good look at him. There are dark circles under his eyes, and Tommy wonders if he’s been home at all. 

His heart does another one of those treacherous leaps, and Tommy is having a hard time keeping the hope from bubbling in his chest. Because if this man saw Tommy at his worst, physically and (especially) emotionally, and was willing to stay this long by his side, who’s to say he won’t stay longer? He was willing to; Tommy was the one who fled, thinking it was about the excitement of a new relationship, but staying by his side after a helicopter crash is something entirely different. Who’s to say he won’t just… stay?

Tommy has to be brave; hell, he’s been brave before, on that glorious night where he took a leap of faith and placed a kiss to the man who had maimed his best friend for Tommy’s attention. Evan had been brave, if a little misguided, when he invited Tommy to move in with him. He owes him some bravery right now. If nothing else, he owes him some honesty after everything.

“You were right” He blurts out, and Evan looks up from his phone, staring at him with widened blue eyes. 

“H-hey, you’re up! Do… Do you need anything? I can call the nurse…” He trails off when Tommy’s hand, the one which is less covered in scrapes and bruises, reaches out to lightly touch his.

“I just need you to listen to me. You… you were right, Evan. I was a coward. I am a coward. I… I don’t know how to be loved. I never was” He admits it, and hates himself for choking up as he says it. This isn’t a pity party; he’s just stating a fact: the sky is blue, alcohol is flammable, Thomas Kinard was never loved. He hates how it makes Evan’s whole demeanor soften, because Tommy doesn’t deserve it. 

“Then let me love you” Evan whispers, taking Tommy’s hand in both of his. “Let me teach you how it feels. It’s… It’s not like I’m an expert at it, ok? I… I haven’t always been loved either. But… but I love you. You broke my fucking heart, Tommy, and I still love you. Do… do you love me?”

“With all of my heart” Tommy whispers back, and he can’t keep a tear from running down his face. Hell, he almost died, he’s allowed to be emotional. “T-that’s why I had to leave, Evan. If… If you didn’t love me back… If you found out I wasn’t perfect…”

“I know you’re not perfect, Tommy. But guess what? I love you anyway, you idiot” He says, pressing a kiss to Tommy’s forehead, another to the tip of his nose, and a very tender one to his lips. “You… You always wanted me to see you as perfect. You barely let me in all the time we were together. But I saw it anyway, Tommy, and I still wanted you. I still want you”

“I… I was so afraid of being hurt that I didn’t think I’d be hurting you” Tommy admits with a sigh. “A-actually I didn’t think you’d be hurt. I… I thought you’d be okay. I’m sorry, Evan”

“Well, I wasn’t okay. Just ask all of my friends and the thousand loaves of bread in their pantries” He says with a chuckle, and then looks Tommy deeply in the eyes. “Next time, talk to me instead of doing a dramatic exit. And don’t wait till you almost die to let me know where my Christmas presents are”

Tommy chuckles, and squeezes Evan’s hand. He wishes he could sit up and kiss him within an inch of his life, but it  sounds a little out of his physical abilities right now. He’ll content himself, with a peck on the lips before Evan sits back down, still holding Tommy’s hand in his. 

“I promise Christmas will be perfect” He says, and Evan shakes his head.

“I don’t need perfect, Tommy. I just need you”

–

And Christmas is not perfect. Tommy’s still mostly on bed rest and his leg’s still in a cast. Buck’s staying at his place for now to help him around, but they decided to leave any serious conversations about moving in to after New Year’s. They haven’t really decorated (Tommy was too depressed to bother, and Buck didn’t really have the time between his shifts and taking care of Tommy) and their plans for the day mostly consist in staying in bed and alternating between cheesy rom-coms and documentaries. 

It’s not perfect. They are not perfect. But they’re together, and Tommy finds himself thanking any deity out there for his accident. That it brought Evan back to him, and more importantly, him back to Evan. 

Buck’s wearing his new burgundy hoodie, and he gives Tommy the airplane model that he stubbornly kept in the hood of the Jeep all this time. They assemble it together, and it’s not the best, because Tommy’s hands are still a little sore and Buck’s not very good at the whole arts and crafts thing, but Tommy puts in his nightstand with adoration anyway. 

And if there’s no tree, no Christmas dinner, no cheesy sweaters, well. They can always make up for it next Christmas.

--

Tag list: (let me know if you’d like to be removed or if I missed anyone! Also if you'd rather only be tagged on Little Blobs' verse, also let me know! ♥)

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter  @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21 @actuallyitsellie  

[reclaiming-antiradinclus-memes]

I'm not sure this is the right place to ask, but i get met with pure hostility in other transid blogs asking stuff like this, and this one seems friendly, so here I go.

I've heard plenty of bad stuff about transids, especially transrace and transabled, saying they're harmful and cause stigma, and also arguments about how ysing the trans label is harmful. I can kind of see both sides of the argument, so, are most transids not....well....insensitive, in a sense? Because alot seem to be. /nbr /genq

I’m first going to address the accusations that transids are harmful because they use the trans-prefix, and that’s the fact that transgender people don’t own the trans- prefix. It just means to move across, to move beyond, or to change. And that is what transids are doing. If bigots use them to make transgender people look bad, that’s not our fault and we shouldn’t stop being ourselves. There are alternatives terms for people who, for one reason or another, don’t associate with the trans prefix. Altage is a common alternative for transage for those who don’t identify with “transitioning” ages, and diaracial is frequently used as an alternative to transrace as not to take language from adoptees. But most of us prefer the trans- prefix. And us using it doesn’t take away from transgender people.

As for transids being insensitive, it really depends what you consider insensitive. There are some people who believe that someone identifying as transfeminine is deeply insensitive to “real” women and their struggles with misogyny. But that doesn’t make a transgender identity insensitive. I’m not trace/diaracial, and I am white, so I don’t know if I’m the best person to discuss trace/diaracial and insensitivity, but I recently answered a different ask with some trace/diaracial resources.

As for transabled, BIID is a real disorder that causes a desire to be physically disabled, usually either by losing a limb or having said limb paralyzed. These desires are no more insensitive to those who have come by the conditions they desire naturally than transmasculine individuals’ desires to remove their breasts are insensitive to cisgender women who have had breast cancer. As for neurodivergent transabled identities, I can only speak for myself as a cisautistic person. I think it is far more insensitive to imply that autism is only ever suffering, that it can never be desirable, and that people should never try to emulate it.

I will confess to there being some transabled identities that do personally strike me as insensitive and that I feel uncomfortable around. One of those is transdepression. I have been struggling with suicidiality on and off for almost two and a half years now and it’s gotten to the point where I wonder if I will ever get better. Seeing others aspire to clinical depression makes me wonder if they truly understand how terrible this can feel sometimes. My feelings don’t make me a bad person, just like your feelings of discomfort don’t make you one. The important thing is to stay open minded. I always try to seek out perspectives from those I don’t understand, and I encourage you to do the same. If other people react with hostility, then you should block them. Ask respectful questions and hopefully you will get respectful answers.

If anyone else would like to add on anything, feel free.

[astralazuli]

So there's that D&D class quiz going around, & I took it & was so deeply offended I got Paladin.

& so I have had conversations with both Bestie & Birdfriend about this grave insult & they both were like, "Well... They have a point?" & informed me that my desire to absorb hits meant for others & deep drive to help whenever I actually can & strong convictions make me a bit Paladin-coded.

& I am just so... Idk. It's just interesting to get glimpses of yourself from other people's POVs. To be told that my defining characteristics are protecting & healing others & being incredibly fighty about the things I care about... Especially as someone whose brain specifically fixates on whether I care enough, do enough, give enough... Yeah. It's just kinda wild.

Anyway, I'm now adjusting my self-perception to include the fact that if I were a D&D character, I would be an Oath of the Ancients Paladin & not a wizard & that actually that's okay.

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> mention of harm words -> 1.1k

abstract -> healing takes time...

y/n's perspective

“I want to dye my hair too!” Wooyoung now begged seeing Yeosang with a new haircut and Seonghwa with blonde hair. “We should dye our hair the same color!” he offered to San, who only gave him a weak smile until Wooyoung turned back to me when San shook his head no. 

“y/n! Tell Wooyoung to stay away from my stuff!” Yeosang yelled as he now came over with products used up and left open from what I assumed to be Wooyoung. 

“Just learn to share” he grinned and the doberman scoffed. 

“Where’s the tigers?” San asked and I wondered that too. “Seonghwa is currently throwing things outside the door while yelling at Hongjoong,” Yeosang said and I was left confused. We all walked over to see Hong Jong standing in front of his room where the door was open… socks, clothes, and trash were being thrown out of the room and at the orange tiger. 

“It’s not that bad Seonghwa, you’re being dramatic,” Hongjoong said and was met with a can of what used to be soda at his head. “Then why is this place a mess!” Seonghwa yelled as we leaned in to see him lint rolling the floor… and occasionally throwing things.  

“y/n… this is why I asked if I could get my own room” he begged and Seonghwa scoffed. “Please, by all means, move me somewhere else! I don’t wanna clean after your pile of dirty clothes!” he yelled. 

“Copy Tiger!” Wooyoung said while teasing Hongjoong. “I want a lock in my room” Yeosnag suggested and I laughed. “You do have a lock…” I said and he shook his head. “A new one… Wooyoung broke it and there's no key to go in if I leave it locked” he explained. 

“How about you and Seonghwa share rooms?” San offered and Yeosnag scoffed. “Honestly, I’d prefer the snobby dog over Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said still cleaning. 

“Hmm… maybe then Wooyoung wouldn’t come barging in,” Yeosang muttered. “Hey!” Wooyoung yelled. “angel, i'm fine with the tiger moving into my room” Yeosang said and I was shocked at the sudden request… “Are you sure? There's still an extra room?” I asked and he shook his head. 

He pulled me aside from the other three staring inside the room Soenghwa was cleaning. 

“Seonghwa and I share a lot of products anyway… and I already have him use up my clothes and the same with me. Wooyoung wouldn’t steal from Seonghwa without getting scolded. He’s the oldest and would just retaliate by making him clean the fridge or dishes by himself” he explained and I chuckled. 

Protection of the oldest hybrid here… you were unsure but trusted his suggestion.

“Well… if that’s what you want?”

I was shocked that Seonghwa moved in the same day.

I was busy all day with San and writing my book when I went out for dinner to see Seonghwa scolding Wooyoung. “Sorry hyung…  won’t do it again” he apologized while I saw Yeosnag grin from the kitchen island.

“Your plan worked?” I asked and he nodded. “Seonghwa is making him clean out the freezer as punishment for touching his magazines” he explained and I chuckled.

“So he’s completely moved in?” I asked and he nodded. “He even cleaned, wanna see?” he asked and he led me to their room where I saw… an organized and clean room. I knew Seonghwa was clean but they both had made beds and a clean decoration in their room that fit their expensive taste. Even the stuff they share, they’ve organized.

“And if any of them do come to rob us, they’ll get to Seonghwa’s stuff first since he’s closest to the door,” Yeosang explained and I chuckled. “As long as you get along… I didn’t think you’d ever room with him because of your arguments?” I asked and he shrugged. 

“Doesn’t mean we don’t see eye-to-eye”

I knocked on Hongjoong’s door with a plate of food when he opened it. “Ah dinner already?” he asked and I nodded. “Done moving your stuff around?” I asked and he nodded. He lets me in where I see he’s completely replaced Soenghwa with instruments and his computer. 

“At peace finally!” he exclaimed. 

“Is this what you expected when you asked me for your own room?” I asked and he nodded. “Seonghwa as much as he doesn’t get along with Yeosang are menaces together. So they’ll be perfect roommates and even Wooyoung and San are clingy to each other” he explained and I agreed. 

“I’m making an appointment for San and Wooyoung to dye their hair… Do you want to?” I asked and he thought about it. “Hmm… what would I dye it to?” he asked and I shrugged. 

“Seonghwa recommended blonde for his white tiger fur, and Yeosnag stuck with his normal hair since it blends with his fur” I explained and he nodded. 

“Hmm… do you think two hair colors would look good?”

“Why would you copy me?”Hongjoong complained while looking at Wooyoung. He decided to color part of his hair blonde while dyeing his other hair a darker brown than before. San only held my hand as we waited for the elevator to reach my apartment. 

He only trimmed and styled it… it was no longer as messy as before and made him look more mature. While Hongjoong did half his hair blonde and the other black… with Wooyoung copying him a bit. 

“If anyone was gonna match I thought it was gonna be San and Wooyoung '' Seonghwa teased and Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t that look cute” Yeosang added and I laughed. 

“I think they both look good,” I said and Hongjoong offered me a smile whilst Wooyoung showed off his new hair cut. 

“It’s almost like a new look for you and Wooyoung for your first anniversary with me” I teased and he chuckled. “I kinda like the sound of that San said and I smiled.

“What do you guys wanna do?” I asked and he hummed in though. “Oh! I wanna go out to eat in a fancy restaurant!” Wooyoung said and San nods agreeing.

“Theres nothing special about it” Yeosnag said and Woyoung stuck his tongue out. “Says the one who went there more than a grocery store!” he argued. 

“Ooh! And we need a lot of desserts to celebrate!” Wooyoung now told me hugging me. “What flavor do you want San?” he asked the panther. “Chocolate!” he said with a grin. 

“Anything you guys want”

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

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[fluentmoviequoter]

Love (Both of) You More

Part 2 of Love (Both of) You

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x pregnant!fem!reader

Summary: You grow closer to Deacon throughout your pregnancy and learn that you aren't the only one who loves him. (This picks up about a month after Part 1 and covers the rest of the pregnancy and birth!)

Warnings: fluff, brief angst, vague threat from r's ex-husband, protective Luca and Deacon, labor and birth, more fluff, Deacon sings Sinatra

Word Count: 4.1k+ words

A/N: Thank you so much for the love on the first part! I really enjoyed writing this! An extra special thanks to @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses for the amazing ideas and for being so kind!!🫶🏼

Living with Deacon Kay for a month has changed your perspective on a lot of things. Your life changed in an hour, in the moments between when your now ex-husband kicked you out and when you found solace and comfort in Deacon’s arms. Now, everything is different and infinitely better, even if you’re pregnant and suffer daily from dizziness and nausea. The moment Deacon wraps you in his arms, it doesn’t seem to matter.

“What are you thinking?” Deacon inquires softly.

“Are you sure?” you ask Deacon.

He chuckles and his arms shake around your shoulders. “Of course.”

You look down at your growing bump and frown. “You wouldn’t prefer to wait four months?”

Deacon moves his hand to your chin and directs your face toward his. “No, I would not. Whatever you are thinking, it’s not true. You’re pregnant, but you’re still you. Still beautiful.”

You nod slowly against Deacon’s hand, and his eyes soften as your smile grows. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Deacon replies happily. “I asked if you would be my girlfr-“

You lay your hand over Deacon’s mouth and say, “Just because I already live here doesn’t mean we can jump to that.”

Deacon gently pulls your wrist away from his face, but not before he kisses your fingers. “Whatever you want.”

“I want to say yes,” you whisper.

“I can wait. For both of you.”

When your phone rings after Deacon leaves for work, your vision is blurry from dizziness. Despite not knowing who is calling, you answer and say your name.

“Good morning,” your realtor greets. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

“They didn’t accept my offer?” you guess, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I’m sorry. I did find another house in the neighbourhood; it just hit the market and it’s got everything you want.”

“Okay,” you murmur. “I’ll, uh… Can you send me the listing and I’ll get back to you?”

“Of course. Have a good one.”

You hang up and drop your head into your hands. The dizziness hasn’t passed, and you force yourself to take a few deep breaths before the stress of the bad news can make you feel any worse. As your stomach begins to churn, you reach for your phone again. Before you can find Deacon’s contact in your favorites list, his front door opens.

“Deac,” you whimper as he returns.

“You’re okay,” he assures softly.

He walks to the couch and kneels beside you. The moment his hands meet your arms, you relax.

“What happened?” Deacon asks.

“I was really dizzy, and then the realtor called…”

“You didn’t get the house?”

You shake your head, and Deacon shifts to pull you into his arms. With your face pressed to his shoulder, your breaths grow more regular, and your dizziness begins to fade.

“Listen,” Deacon requests. “I know that it’s hard, that you are dealing with everything and holding it together for this little guy… Would you maybe want to stay here? Just until the baby is born and then you can get a house without having to worry about this. The stress isn’t good for you, but I want you here. Being by your side is- it’s the best place I’ve ever been.”

You nod against Deacon’s shoulder. His arms wrap tighter around you, and you suddenly remember he is supposed to be at work.

“Why’d you come back?” you ask.

“Would you believe me if I said I felt like I should?” When you shake your head and smile, Deacon amends, “I forgot my coffee and can’t live without it.”

You laugh and lean back. With the room to leave, Deacon leans closer to you and lays his hand over your stomach.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “I love you, Deacon.”

“I love you,” he replies. “Both of you.”

At 15 weeks pregnant, you’re convinced that your baby is going to be an Olympic gymnast. Between the kicks to your bladder and the discomfort he or she can cause, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to simply sit and be comfortable. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve been to the bathroom or shifted to find a better position, but it’s been an all-day battle.

“We’ve got 25 more weeks of this,” you whisper to your stomach. “Could we try to work together?”

A sharp pain against your side is your answer, and you shake your head in both discomfort and amusement. Deacon will be home soon, but you don’t want to concern him by mentioning any issues. When he does return, you raise your arms and hug him tightly.

“I missed you,” you say. It’s punctuated with a kiss on his jaw. “And I have an answer.”

Deacon’s eyes widen as he awaits your answer.

“I’m ready to say yes. I want to be your girlfriend, Deacon, more than anything.”

“I love you,” Deacon says.

He cups your face in his hands and kisses you. You move with Deacon until you hiss in pain and pull away. With a hand pressed to your bump, you wonder how someone can move so much in such a small space.

“You alright?” Deacon asks.

“Mostly. Someone’s active today.”

“C’mon, sit down,” Deacon urges.

After he helps you lower to the couch and kisses your forehead, Deacon walks to the kitchen. You twist as more kicks begin and tilt your head back as tears prick your eyes. Whether it’s pain or hormones, you can’t tell, but it’s not enjoyable.

“Let me try something,” Deacon says.

You nod to welcome him, and after he sets a snack and a glass of water before you (which you smile at), he sits beside you. He lays his hand over your stomach and brushes his thumb against you.

“Practicality doesn’t interest me, Love the life that I lead, I’ve got a pocketful of miracles, And with a pocketful of miracles, One little miracle a day is all I need,” Deacon sings softly. “Troubles more or less bother me, I guess When the sun doesn’t shine, But there’s a pocketful of miracles, And with a pocketful of miracles The world’s a bright and shiny apple that’s mine, All mine.”

As Deacon sings, your baby calms. You relax beneath Deacon’s touch, and he smiles up at you through the words of the song. You’ve told Deacon that you love him, but it’s clear that you aren’t the only one.

“Thank you,” you tell Deacon after he finishes the song. “We love you, Deacon Sinatra.”

“Not as much as I love you,” Deacon argues.

He kisses you, and your baby kicks. As you groan, Deacon chuckles and leans toward your bump again.

Your 16-week appointment is one of the most exciting, though you think Deacon is more excited than you. The appointment will tell you the gender of your baby, which has been the topic of many debates between Deacon and Luca over the last three months. Deacon is convinced it’s a boy, but Luca won’t change his vote for a girl. Either way, you know your baby is going to have an amazing and protective father figure and uncle in Deacon and Luca.

Two days before the appointment, however, everyone’s excitement levels drop. Deacon calls you as soon as he learns that he has to be in court the day of your ultrasound.

“I’m so sorry,” Deacon apologizes. “I would be there- I want to be there, but this court date came up out of nowhere and I have to testify.”

“I can try to reschedule the appointment,” you offer. “I know you were looking forward to it.”

“No, no, you need to go. I just- I’ll find out when I get home.”

“Sorry, Deac. If you happen to get out of court early or anything, you know you’re welcome to drop by.”

“Yeah.” Deacon sighs before he says, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

After you end the call, you stare at your phone for a moment. Deacon was so excited when you asked him to come with you, and now he finds out just a few days before the most important ultrasound of your pregnancy that he can’t be with you. You’ll have to do something for him, and you have an excellent idea.

“Hey, are you okay?” Luca asks quickly when he answers.

“I’m fine,” you promise. “I just talked to Deacon, and he can’t come to the appointment this week. So, I wanted to ask a favor.”

“Anything.”

“I need your help to surprise Deacon.”

“Oh, I’m in.”

“He’s here,” you alert Luca. “Thank you for helping.”

“Of course,” he replies. “He’s going to be thrilled. You’re good for him.”

“I think you have that backward.”

“You’re good for each other. Trust me, I know things.”

You chuckle and shake your head. Luca pulls you into a hug and keeps one of his arms over your shoulders as Deacon enters the front door.

“Hey,” Deacon greets. “Luca.”

“Luca is here to tell us if I’m having a boy or a girl,” you explain.

“But you-“

“I told them not to tell me. So, they put it in an envelope and gave it to Luca.”

Deacon smiles and pulls you from Luca’s arms and into his. Luca scoffs and mumbles something about being your best friend before he walks away. You wrap your arms around Deacon from your position at his side.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Deacon tells you.

“Yes, I did. I wanted to.”

Luca returns with an oversized box. He shrugs at Deacon’s surprised look and says, “We couldn’t decide. So, would you like a lightsaber or your girl’s idea?”

“A lightsaber?” Deacon repeats. “I do want to see it, but I’ll take hers.”

“It’s not much,” you interject.

Luca nods and removes two smaller boxes. He sets them on Deacon’s kitchen table and steps back. You clutch Deacon’s hand between both of yours as he walks you to the table.

“Cake’s on the left, outfit’s on the right,” Luca tells you.

“I saw the ideas online,” you say. “The cake is either pink or blue, and the outfit is for the baby, so it’s for a boy or girl.”

“You pick,” Deacon offers. “Your baby.”

You shake your head and argue, “Your surprise.”

“Both, then. All of the above. I’ll cut the cake, you open the box, and Luca turns on the lightsaber.”

“Yes!” Luca exclaims.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” you agree.

You stand before the box with the newborn outfit in it, Deacon holds a cake knife over the confetti-decorated cake, and Luca raises the lightsaber before him. With the lights dimmed, you count down from three. The lightsaber buzzes as the light glows from the handle up to the top, and you look from the outfit to the cake, to the glowing toy.

“You were right,” you cheer as you wrap your arms around Deacon.

“It’s a boy!” Deacon yells as he hugs you tightly.

“I have a nephew!” Luca exclaims as he twirls the lightsaber.

Deacon pulls back from the hug and gently wipes the joyful tears from your face before he looks at the outfit in your box. This is better than anything you could’ve heard in the doctor’s office, and you’re glad that you have both Deacon and Luca by your side.

“Hey, what flavor is that?” you ask as you look at the cake.

“Your favorite,” Luca answers. “Because I’m a good friend and a better uncle.”

You watch him play with the lightsaber as you lean against Deacon. This is home, you decide, and he always will be.

“Sit down,” Luca demands. “You’re almost five months pregnant, you’re not helping.”

“I’m pretty sure you said I’ll help you move in not I’ll move in for you,” you argue.

“Absolutely not,” Deacon adds as he walks through with a box. “You’re not lifting anything.”

“Then let me put stuff away!” you try.

“And stand for hours? No.”

“Take a seat. We can handle it,” Luca promises.

You huff as you sit back on the couch. Luca and Deacon walk out to get more boxes from the back of Luca’s truck. There wasn’t much to move, and your ex had put everything in a storage unit and then shipped the key to your attorney. Outside, Deacon and Luca get another reminder of your ex as they prepare to move a larger box.

“Hold up,” Luca requests. He pulls his ringing phone from his pocket and answers, “Luca.”

“Hey,” your ex greets.

“I told you to stop calling,” Luca seethes.

He stands up straighter and Deacon raises his brows in question.

“Yeah, well, my baby is due pretty soon. I want to know where she’s having my kid so I can be there.”

“You’re not welcome, and you never will be.”

Luca hangs up and shakes his head. Before he tells Deacon who it is, his phone rings again.

“Don’t hang up on me,” your ex begins. “I have a right to know.”

“You lost that right when you kicked the mother of your child out and divorced her just because she was pregnant. No one wants you here, and if you call one more time, the only answer you’re going to get is a restraining order.”

“I’ll find her myself, then.”

“Listen very closely,” Luca says darkly, surprising Deacon with how quickly his attitude intensified. “Do not come near her and stop calling. You’re not a father, you never were.”

“That wasn’t the first time,” Deacon says after Luca ends the call. “How many times has he called?”

“It’s been a while. He called every day for the first month or so, but nothing until now. He said he wanted to be there for the birth.”

“Luca, she-“

“She is getting a restraining order,” Luca interrupts. “Not that I think she’ll argue.”

Deacon nods and jumps out of the bed of the truck to go inside. Luca knows that it’s time to tell you, so he follows Deacon inside.

“Why are you up?” Deacon asks. “C’mon, we need to talk about something.”

“Oh,” you say, looking between Deacon and Luca. “About what?”

“Your ex.”

“He called today, and it wasn’t the first time. For some reason, he wanted to know where you were having the baby because he wants to be there,” Luca explains. “It was the first call in months, but I think you should consider a restraining order, just to be safe.”

You nod and immediately agree. “Thank you for dealing with it, Luca, and for not telling me. I don’t think I could’ve handled it before now.”

“What changed?” Deacon asks.

“Everything. You, moving in. I didn’t love him and I’m really happy now.”

Deacon pulls you close, and Luca teases you about stealing his only capable helper as he exits the house to bring in another box.

“I’m happy with you,” you whisper. “Thank you, Deacon.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he checks.

“I’ve never been better than I am with you,” you assure. “Thank you for everything.”

The halfway point of your pregnancy passes in a blur, but the five-month mark feels like someone slammed on the brakes. The entire 21st week of your pregnancy, you were nauseous, dizzy, sick, and tired. You kept it from Deacon for a few days, but Luca found out somehow and checked in on you often.

An hour after you went to bed, you wake suddenly and move as quietly as possible to the bathroom. Two silent trips later, you decide to stay there rather than risk waking Deacon. Leaning back against the cool tub, you close your eyes.

“What happened to tell me when things happen?” Deacon asks from the doorway.

“Nothing happened,” you argue tiredly.

“You’re just taking a nap in the tub because it looked comfortable, then?”

“Easier than going back and forth.”

Deacon offers his hands and helps you up slowly. You begin to argue with him, but when he leads you past your temporary home in his guest room, you fall quiet. He welcomes you into his arms in his bed, and you fall asleep and stay asleep. Deacon cares about you, and every time he shows that care, you grow more convinced that you won’t be able to leave him.

“You’re glowing!” Street says.

You look up quickly and smile when you see him. The decision to stop by the station and see Deacon and Luca was last minute, but you’re glad you’re here.

“Is it pregnancy glow or I’m dating Deacon Kay glow?” Street inquires playfully.

“Maybe it’s Maybelline,” you joke.

Street furrows his brows in confusion, and you wave your hand before his face and laugh. He swats your hand away gently and gestures for you to follow him. As you approach Luca, with his back to you, Street raises a finger to his lips and points. You roll your eyes but do it anyway.

When you grab Luca’s shoulders, he spins quickly. He inhales sharply when he sees you and tries to act mad, but when you raise your arms for a hug, he smiles and pulls you in.

“About time you visit again,” Hondo exclaims.

You smile and hug him quickly, and soon every member of 20 Squad – except for Deacon – is around you and asking about you and your son. When Deacon returns from the locker room, you’re pulled from the center of the circle and into his arms.

“Hey, when’s the baby shower?” Street asks.

“Never. I’m not inviting you guys to buy me gifts,” you say.

“Too late. They’re taking up space in the locker room,” Hondo replies. “Give us a date or we’re sending them all home with Deac.”

You shrug, and Luca says, “Saturday, my house.”

“Is it always like this?” you ask Deacon.

He nods and whispers, “Welcome to the family.”

At six months pregnant, you had accepted that you weren’t in a position to have a baby shower. Yet, here you sit, surrounded by cops and their families with an entire table full of gifts and more well wishes and love than you thought existed.

“Excuse us,” Deacon interrupts.

He apologizes to Hicks and Molly as he pulls you away but steers you directly to the couch before he tells you why he needed you.

“You’re getting tired,” he says. “Take a breather.”

“Maybe,” you reply. “Or maybe I just need cake.”

“You’re going to end up on bedrest if you keep this up,” Deacon reminds you, though his voice and smile are gentle.

“Being with you 24/7,” you muse. “Maybe I’ll keep it up.”

Deacon shakes his head but kisses your forehead before he asks you to rest for a minute before you go back to socializing.

“Hello,” Deacon greets over the phone. “I was about to call you.”

“My water just broke,” you say. “Sorry, hi.”

“Did you say your water broke?”

“Yeah, like two minutes ago.” You grunt as a contraction begins.

“We’re on the way,” Deacon says. “Stay on the phone with me.”

“I’m not about to have the baby, you’ve got time.”

“I missed enough.”

“Wait, we?”

“You think Luca would let me leave without him?”

You chuckle through the end of the contraction and listen to Deacon yelling for Luca. He’s calm, but rushing, as if you’ll have the baby in the twenty minutes it will take him to get here.

“You’re amazing,” you tell Deacon.

“That’s all you. We’re leaving now. How do you feel?” he asks.

“I feel fine. Contractions hurt a little, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“We get to meet little man!” Luca cheers. “Hey, did she pick a name yet?”

“A few,” you and Deacon say together. “She’ll pick when she sees him,” he tells Luca.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Deacon and Luca rush into his house. You’re waiting by the door with your hospital bag, and you smile as Luca takes your bag. Deacon sits with you in the backseat of his car as Luca drives.

After you enter the hospital with two protective men wearing SWAT uniforms, you get into a private room before you can even sit in the waiting area. Your contractions grow closer quickly, and Deacon’s hand stays in yours through every moment of labor. Luca is waiting outside to meet your son, but at this moment, you only notice Deacon.

“You’re amazing,” Deacon tells you. “You can do this.”

He continues to encourage you and stays close to you throughout the entire process. The moment your son’s cries fill the room, you relax and whisper, “Thank you” to Deacon.

“A beautiful baby boy,” the nurse says as she passes your son to you.

You hold him against your chest, and you look up at Deacon. He smiles at you and lays his hand over yours on your son’s back. His eyes are misty, and you mouth I love you, which he returns without hesitation.

“We’ll be right back,” the nurse promises as she lifts your son. “Just a quick check-up.”

After the room clears, and only you and Deacon remain, you sit up carefully and pull him closer by his hand.

“I have a question,” you say. Deacon nods, and you ask, “Can I give him your last name?”

Deacon’s eyes widen but he doesn’t answer.

“I don’t have to; you don’t have to!” you add quickly. “I just thought-“

“Yes,” Deacon whispers as a tear breaks past his water line. “Yes.”

You sigh and smile as Deacon wraps both of his hands around yours.

“You’re the only father he’s had, the only one he will have,” you explain. “Thank you.”

Deacon bends over to kiss you, and you wipe his tears before he stands. The nurse returns soon after, and Deacon takes your son from her and holds him to his chest. Deacon may not be the reason this baby exists, but he’s his son, no matter what happens.

“He’s perfect,” Luca whispers as he enters your room. “Looks just like you.”

“Thank you for everything, Luca,” you reply.

“Are you kidding? I’m just getting started.”

He lifts a giant gift bag onto your bed, and you smile before you look at Deacon and your son. They’re both perfect, you think.

“We need to talk,” Deacon says as he returns from the nursery. He sits beside you and adds, “It’s about what you’re comfortable with me doing.”

“Everything,” you say.

“No, I mean-“

“I know what you mean,” you assure, pressing your hand to Deacon’s chest. “You’re his father, Deacon, and if you want to do anything for him, I won’t stop you. He loves you… almost as much as I do.”

Deacon smiles as he leans forward to kiss you. He told you in the hospital after you gave birth that he wanted to step in and be a father to your son, and you quickly corrected him to say our son. Even before you started dating Deacon, you knew there was something special about him, and now that you’re in a real relationship with him, you understand that everything about Deacon Kay is special.

With your head on Deacon’s chest and his arms around you, his touch and heartbeat lull you to sleep. Your son falls asleep the moment Deacon picks him up, too, and the realization makes Deacon smile. Deacon brushes his hand over your shoulder as he lays awake. He doesn’t know how much time passes before your son starts crying. Deacon turns down the baby monitor beside him and stands, careful not to disturb you.

He enters the nursery he set up before you gave birth and gently picks his son up. Deacon sways as he rubs little Kay’s back.

“Practicality doesn’t interest me, Love the life that I lead, I’ve got a pocketful of miracles, And with a pocketful of miracles, One little miracle a day is all I need,” Deacon sings softly.

With Deacon's touch, his voice, and the vibrations of his chest, your son calms quickly and falls asleep against Deacon’s chest. When Deacon turns, you’re leaning against the door frame with a soft smile.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” you whisper. “He still likes it.”

Deacon raises one arm, and you join his side. He kisses your head before you tilt your chin up for a proper kiss.

“I love you,” you tell him.

“I love you more than I can say,” he replies. “Both of you.”

Deacon begins singing again and sways. He locks eyes with you as he changes the song to The Way You Look Tonight. Your relationship with Deacon gets better daily, and this moment proves, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Deacon is a great father, and he does love both of you.

[keiriiz]

Chrollo Relationship/Romantic Headcanons

Now for these headcanons, this is where my opinion might really differ from the rest of you guys. Of course this isn’t all but just some of my favorites. I will be putting a clear NSFW warning for when I start to talk about him in bed. 🔞

I do want to add that some of my headcanons would change depending on his partner. If they’re a Nen-user or not, exactly what their ability is, if they’re in the Phantom Troupe, and how long he’s known them, etc. These are just as neutral as possible haha. Even some of what I say here contradicts how I’ve written him in certain ships because I knew exactly how he would act for those specific love interests.

✥ Right of the bat, Chrollo is bi-romantic, having very little preference of gender when it comes to his s/o. And sexuality wise, he’s definitely on the demisexual spectrum.

✥ Chrollo never really planned on being in a long term relationship or ever settling down with someone when he created the Phantom Troupe. It was just another aspect of life he was prepared to sacrifice. So giving a genuine relationship a shot he’d have to really love the other person.

✥ It would take forever for Chrollo to actually recognize he was feeling romantic attraction to another person as the entire thing is foreign to him.

✥ This man’s charisma goes out the drain when trying to flirt with someone he’s genuinely interested it. Tapping his fingers as a stim while he awkwardly flirts. It’s painfully adorable.

✥ Before making things official, he may do extensive research on his s/o. Background checks, verifying friends and family members, overall borderline stalking. It’s a safety measure. He doesn’t want to risk falling for someone who works for an opposing group or who might betray him.

✥ In a relationship, his s/o would be a source of comfort, especially if the relationship is long term. He’ll relax in their arms after a heist or cuddle up to them when he has a nightmare.

✥ I said in my last post but I’ll say it again here. Chrollo is a little spoon!

✥ It’s not too often Chrollo will verbally tell someone he loves them, his main ways of showing affection are quality time, and gift giving. And for his special someone, he wouldn’t just give them random things willy-nilly, he’d put thought behind each one. Say his partner mentions needing new shoes because their current ones are really worn out. You bet next time Chrollo sees them he’s bringing two pairs of brand new shoes.

✥ He loves to be able to lay his head in his s/o’s lap and have them play with his hair while he reads. He might even purr if given the right setting.

✥ Chrollo can be touch avoidant in general. If anyone touches him and he hasn’t given that person mental permission he will move away, shudder even. So if he’s actually allowing another in his space it really is a sign of fondness.

✥ This man definitely takes notes from romance novels he’s read when it comes to dates with someone he’s head over heels for. It can be cheesy.

✥ Chrollo isn’t a chef by any means but on occasion he’ll attempt to cook for his s/o when staying in. Might as well put some of his cook books to use after all.

✥ The times Chrollo is with his partner, things can be quite pleasant. However he can still be emotionally distant. He often wonders what he did to deserve all of this. To be able to love and be loved. It’s a mental battle he might struggle with quite often in the relationship and he wouldn’t be too open to communicating that, leaving his s/o confused. Just some general reassurance could go a long ways.

✥ I feel like a lot of people go for the idea that he’d like others with similar interests or are like him in general, and I could see potential in that mindset however I much prefer the “opposites attract” trope. I think Chrollo might have a bigger interest in someone different than him who can really show a different perspective on certain things. Or even test his mindset and show him new interests.

✥ He’s protective of his s/o, knowing with the life he has, anyone might try to hurt them to get to him so Chrollo wouldn’t be one to really “show off” his partner unfortunately. They relationship could be pretty private.

✥ Assuming his s/o isn’t in the Troupe, Chrollo may ghost them while he’s away on the job. He’ll let them know he’s working, but no calls or texts while he’s away. He won’t even give a location. He wants to keep his personal life separate and doesn’t want to risk revealing to an enemy his relationship or possibly get distracted.

NSFW BELOW ‼️

✥ Before the relationship, Chrollo didn’t really like sex (as I mentioned him being demi), he viewed the act as a chore used on jobs to get information and didn’t find it all that gratifying.

✥ With his s/o, Chrollo much prefers to make love as opposed to casual sex. He likes the intimacy of being with someone he truly loves and not just an act of pleasure.

✥ He prefers bottoming though is open to being a verse. Acting as Boss all the time he really just likes to relax in his personal life so in all honesty it wouldn’t be rare to catch him being a pillow prince in bed.

✥ Chrollo’s not the biggest cock wise, probably just reaching average. He’s uncut being from Meteor City but trust and believe he keeps that shit clean with his pubic hair trimmed.

✥ He’ll almost never out right ask for sex, he’s honestly fine if his partner doesn’t have any interest in the act either. Though if they make a move he’s more than happy for a session.

✥ He’s got VERY sensitive nipples. Give them a little tug with your teeth and he’ll mewl.

✥ Aftercare is always a given between him and his s/o. If Chrollo just got done bottoming, cuddles and praise are a must. He’d especially melt if given a massage.

[hyp-fixator]

Misc. Headcannons as a little treat and also cause I'm bored. (Most are region based!)

Hyperlaser tends to like writing as a coping mechanism. He keeps everything in a single storyline in a book that will forever stay a work in progress. ^ All it is is him putting his life into a different perspective. Most of the time I feel like the book would be pretty boring, just a day after day after day kind of thing. Noticing the little patterns around him, noting down what he eats, how he rested, etc.

All demon horns, if expressing strong emotions, can emit sparks and/or electric currents in the direction of growth. These sparks are harmless and are more of a pulse of light if anything. ^ if strong emotions are felt and the demon has injured/broken horns, the sparks/electricity can escape through the injury, and depending on the severity can cause a sparkshower. ^ these sparks also crackle like static electricity, while the glowing pulse going up the horn(s) is a faint hum. (This is partially inspired by horns glowing when the Phighters phinishers are ready, though when that happens it's kinda like when you go into a rage in dnd. A bunch of built up power erupts and the horns pulse so fast they look like they're glowing)

And now the faction headcannons!

BlackRock is a tourist attraction most of the time! With the mountains and valleys, it tends to feel a lot like Banff National Park in Canada. ^ tons of expensive as hell food, shops, ect all meant to trap and drown people.

Blackrocks economy is the worst out of all the factions. Many people have to eat only a few times a week, and when they do, it almost always tastes like gasoline and/or dirt. Of course, with the tourist traps, no one knows unless they move there how bad the cuisine is. They probably steal recipies from neighboring factions.

All of Blackrocks labs are built into the largest mountains, the only way in and out being the massive steel doors.

BlackRock was of course named after the mountains in the region, which are made out of a slick black rock. The most common tourist souvenir is a piece of this rock from the mountains.

there's of course the more mountainous places in BlackRock, but most of the population resides in the center of the faction which is protected by the mountains surrounding the massive city like a bowl. ^ this city resembles downtown japan and New York times square, but x100 more busy and advanced in their technology.

this city tends to only be visited by the tourists who are dead set on going, as it's not very tourist friendly with its inhabitants and the stores are more than expensive. Their cornerstores arent even that good either.

BlackRock doesnt celebrate anything, and is more secluded when it comes to their culture.

At playgrounds center is just an urban town, always resembling one of those classic movies based in the 1970's/80's. ^ the outskirts of Playground is a massive and dense forest system, where plenty of secrets are held. Most of them are hideouts though.

Playground is a heavily community based faction, and it doesnt have many big cities. The capital is one of the only cities, and even then many still prefer the towns and neighborhoods scattered across the faction.

There's also a few large lakes around the faction, so beach culture is a fairly big staple.

Playground doesn't usually celebrate a lot of things as a whole faction, and more rather everyone has massive parties and celebrates with their own family and friends. Party-hopping happens quite a bit because of this

The thieves den is the second most visited faction, and the calmest of them all. A permenant fog covers the ground, giving it an almost eerie feel, though it fluctuates with the weather.

Community is also a fairly big staple, though it's more in business then personal connections. ^ there is plenty of farmland and tons of street markets open almost all the time.

The Thieves den, without much competition, easily has the best cuisine out of all the factions with all the freshly grown and harvested ingredients, along with talented chefs.

The capital of thieves would most likely look a lot like those old chinese towns, but I wouldnt be suprised if theres a bunch of Korean inspiration in there as well.

Festivities are not very common, but when they do happen, Theives den goes all out with some of the most light and decoration crazy celebrations. Most times the capital holds it, and almost always it ends up being the whole city decked out to celebrate.

The theives den also has plenty of bars and pubs/hotels scattered around the faction, and they all reside fairly close to each other.

The lost temple is the driest faction of the four, residing in small towns around a massive desert, usually based around water pools and oasis.

Most of the buildings are made of sandstone and chiseled with delicate details.

Of course the church of the true eye resides somewhere in the capital, most likely hiding behind a different name.

Lost temple is probably the most menacing faction specifically for how uneasy the air around it is. Naturally theres some very nice and safe places and experiences to go to, but if you take a wrong turn it's very easy to end up in the wrong side of town.

markets are also fairly common, every other street has at least a few stalls up daily.

the more populated areas are definitely a little more "yee haw cowboy" esque, having taller buildings and such.

[wenellyb]

Eddie Diaz is a white Latino. Did people learn nothing from the Pedro Pascal discourse? And does the fandom *not* remember that episode where the funeral protestor refuses to be tended by Hen and Chim, so he asks Eddie to give him care— fully seeing he’s white— until Eddie says his last name is Diaz and his father’s Mexican, but he can channel his mother’s Swedish heritage for the man’s comfort? White people are not members of the global majority, but they do live and exist outside Western Europe and the U.S. (like Mexico).

It’s so weird how parts of the fandom are making any positive reaction to a m/m relationship in this show (that isn’t their yaoi ‘buddie’ fanfiction) into something about loving to see white men kiss. Y’all would still be getting that with canon buddie! Y’all couldn’t even support Michael and Glenn (calling them “homewreckers”). Y’all constantly ignore Hen and Karen with your complaints of “queerbaiting.” Y’all also called TK & Carlos’ (911 Lone Star) relationship “toxic” because it began with sex and because y’all fanon Carlos as some aggressive control freak. Like… c’mon!

I don’t think anyone who is supportive of Buck’s new relationship is arguing that Tommy is perfect. He’s was a fucking dick to both Hen and Chim when they joined the 118. His “delivery man” comment to Chim was wildly unacceptable. No one has forgotten this. Yet both Hen and Chim are *NOW* good friends with him…? Why? He changed. And the show shows the audience this. They show that he developed a great camaraderie with Hen and Chim. They show how he— unlike Sal and Gerrard— shifted his behavior and worldview to accept, embrace, and enjoy change.

Tommy could have been Sal. He could have been Gerrard. He had a good working relationship with both men and both men encouraged bad behavior in the 118. Yet he didn’t. He stayed on and befriended Hen and Chim (when most of the other guys still refused). Because he chose to learn and change and open himself to people’s differences (which likely also helped him come to terms with his own “differences”).

Tommy’s arc is meant to show how someone can make amends, repair relationships, and become a better person (y’know… learn, grow, and reform himself). The general audience for this show is straight and white. They *need* to see white people changing and learning to be better. They *need* to see queer people coming into themselves. These are important story lines.

Fans like Buck and Tommy together because they like Buck and Tommy together, because they like what this means for them and what might happen going forward. That’s literally it. We’re all just overjoyed by having more queer representation, including Bi representation. That’s it.

But there are a lot of “buddie” shippers in people’s inboxes hating on Buck and Tommy together for no reason other than it stands in the way of their ideal porn fantasies (“buddie”). And they’re being weirdly queerphobic about it, too.

Hi Anon!!!! So much to unpack here. I'll post this and let anyone comment their thoughts because this is an interesting conversation.

I'll start by saying that it never occurred to me that Ryan Guzman was not White, until Bucktommy became more popular and some Buddie shippers said that Bucktommy shippers were preferring the White MM pairing and I was like "Hmm.... both Buddie and Bucktommy are White MM pairings"???? Like it never even occured to me.

I'm not here to debate Ryan Guzman's ethnicity, he knows that better than us, but as you mentionned people seem to forget that there are White latinos.

I should add that Americans will maybe have a different perspective but in Europe, there is racism, and there is also xenophobia both are bad, but not the same.

If I'm talking about someone who is White and Latino being a victim of prejudice, I would never say that they're victim of racism, I would say that he's victim of xenophobia.

Believe it or not there are a lot of Europeans are xenophobic but not racist and vice versa.

With that being said, I agree with the rest of your ask..

I love 911 Lone Star and watched 911 casually but I never got the Buddie shippers, especially the ones who said they shipped Buddie as a form of activism, or because there was a lack of Queer representation (which is true) but Henren are there, TK and Carlos are right there and it's the same franchise.

They never cared about Henren, they even erased them whenever they accused the show of Queerbaiting even thought it has several Queer characters.

I remember when they started complaining that Bucktommy had more fics that Henren after one kiss.... but never said anything about Buddie having over 20 000 fics after 6 years of nothing even thought Henren was canon.

A lot of their takes are rooted in hypocrisy, it's like they're taking all the arguments that have been thrown at them and throwing them back at Bucktommy shippers without even thinking about it.

It's very important to have discussion about fandom racism, because it's a huge issue especially in the biggest fandoms but I do feel like some of them are bringing the issue in bad faith. This discussion is so important but it needs to be had with the Bucktommy fandom AND the Buddie fandom. So far the Buddie shippers only want the Bucktommy shippers to have it.

Why don't they take a look at the mirror first and ask themselves why they never cared about a Black Lesbian couple when one of them was a Main Character. Why don't they ask themselves why a ship with 2 best friends has over 20000 fics and a canon ship that is TK and Carlos only have 7000.

And why do they find the weirdest excuses to hate on Carlos (as you said), who's clearly not White and never give him the same courtesy they give their fave White chatacters.

When Buddie shippers talk about fandom racism, all I can think is: the call is coming from inside the house.

[circeyoru]

Is the Collector capable of feeling romance? Sorry if you've already answered this or something similar😅

I know it's our choice, but i would like to know from the writer's perspective.

This is for {Collection of Overlords}, check MASTERLIST for the work

If it's something similar... I think it'll be the ask about if the Collector/you are ace or like Alastor when it comes to romance and relationships, the main answer is here and the add-on is here.

But, in my perspective, the answer to your question is yes. You're capable of feeling romance and do feel such things. Now why it was never explored in the story up until now is because you take your standing into consideration.

After Part 7, you're set up as one of the sides of the universal balance. So pretty OP (overpowered), just not a top-of-the-world type of deal since you share this same title with Trick. BUT you are the top person in Hell, so yeah.

The closest 'romance' you have of feeling is towards Alastor. Remember you healing him? Yeah, you didn't need to show yourself to him to heal him nor do you need to make your appearance known in the hotel. You being out in the open is a way of showing that you care. I mean, you even stayed and started a new project of yours. Your favouritism is 'love', but I didn't show it as obviously because the focus group this time included other Overlords.

Your love language here is Acts of Service. If it's not obvious enough. Cause you treasure your collection and their uses. You'd be in love with what they do in your name, like someone is killing for you or growing strong for your attention. Are you a narcissist? Not really. You're not that self-centered or arrogant, nor do you lack empathy and consideration for other people. You're just more selective in your care and attention. That's how you got your collection in the palm of your hands.

Yet you can't help but give more favouritism to Alastor because of his over-the-top devotion to you. But, not sure if anyone noticed, Alastor's not the only one to submit to you as quick, Zestial is the other one. (a bit of lore here) The reason why Zestial and Alastor got along was cause they have that in common. Now why you favour Alastor more? Because Zestial is not as active as Alastor when it came to his services.

While Alastor hunts down unworthy and self-proclaimed Overlords for you, Zestial collects information and assesses the situation with his wisdom. See, Zestial doesn't actually do much to be frank. He as the oldest in the Collection is good to you when it comes to teaching new souls that enter your collection, that's all. Not to mention, he holds unspoken power when you aren't present in meetings. Like in episode 2, everyone quiets down, listens, and agrees with Zestial. It's cause Zestial is seen as another you.

Why not Alastor? Because he's just seeking your attention, he doesn't care for leading the group on or helping the others, he doesn't care about others or giving them a chance to gain what would be his attention and favour from you. Alastor is well aware that the collection has such a variety of demons and personalities because you want demons with different talents and focus. Most of the other Overlords knew this too, there's a hierarchy that I won't explain here.

Oh, Alastor's not the only candidate for your 'love'. There are bits of romance towards Carmilla and Rosie, if you prefer that. Otherwise, see it as platonic~

These are my thoughts. In the end, you're the one interpreting the story and 'you'.

[whxre-bxby]

Hi! Are your requests open?

If they are, I'd love to request a NSFW Mansk x reader where he gets possessive! Maybe reader wrestles with another recom and Mansk can smell him on her, which pisses him off, and he feels he needs to remind reader who she belongs to?? 👀

Thank you!!

(This is an old ask, requests are still closed for now. Back then they were not.) Thank you for submitting this! Sorry I changed the plot a little

Recom Mansk x f. Recom Y/N (x Recom Lyle / Lopez / Ja / Prager / Brown)

"Barracks Bunny: I Wanna Be Yours"

Bless the people who supply us with gifs, love you Masterlist

Summary: The recoms have a hard time dealing with their Avatars and their needs. Y/N is there to help most of them out, but no matter how often someone comes into her room, her heart feels empty. That is until she gets closer to Mansk who shows her how much she means to him.

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, unprotected sex, scenting, possessiveness, teasing, crying, barracks bunny, cursing, penetration, oral sex, quickies, bond through tsaheylu

Word Count: 13,799 (holy fuck)

When you joined the military, you expected to be in and out in a few years. It wasn’t something you planned on doing most of your life but it just so happened to be that you stayed until you died. 

You didn’t really have anything to lose, so when the RDA started recruiting soldiers to leave for Pandora, you signed up for the program. The journey to the planet was the hardest and most unbearable part of it all. Once you finally arrived, everything seemed to be great again. That was until war broke out. It was the entire planet against humankind. A war which lasted less than a day. A battle that killed you and everyone you knew. 

That girl died that day, but her memories were given to you. You’re her Avatar, mixed with her and the Na’vi DNA. Life seemed different to you now. You had a new perspective and you had your friends back.

Before things got serious between the Na’vi and Humans, life seemed pretty good. You were starting to enjoy waking up in the morning because of the people you would see. Colonel Quaritch had and has a squad of highly trained marines. You’re a part of it. 

Not a single person knew the other in the beginning but trauma bonding really helped you all get to know each other. You wouldn’t call every soldier in the team a friend. Everyone had their preferences.

Being stuck on Pandora day after day, working from morning to night was difficult. We rarely got time to ourselves which is why the tensions between many of us would rise. No one had been laid in almost a year. It was easier to find someone when we were regular Marines. But now, under Quaritch’s command, higher expectations were to be met. 

But nothing runs perfectly all the time. This is why at the end of your time as a human on Pandora, you started feeling closer than usual to a few soldiers. Chemistry and sparks of excitement started becoming visible. 

Having friends-with-benefits arrangements wasn’t uncommon, but no one dared ask or initiate anything within the team. One snitch and it’s all over. 

In the beginning, it was all fun and games. You realised your potential interest in guys like Lyle, Mansk, and Prager. To be completely honest, most of your squad was surprisingly attractive. Something which you realised early on. Adding to your secret list, you liked Ja, Brown and Lopez too. There even seemed to be something attracting you to Zdinarsk and Walker but you weren’t sure whether you were brave enough to even attempt to go for them. 

To your complete surprise, they seemed to like you. As mentioned, you would all just be joking around. Not everyone was constantly present at the same time but you realised you got along well with most of them. As touch-deprived as you all were, jokes became playful touches. Training sessions got interesting because many of them would constantly ask you to wrestle etc. Physical contact was longed for by you and them.

Eventually, you notice their behaviour change a little. When you were with one marine, they would frown when another came into the room looking for you. They had their own little petty arguments going on but what seemed to absolutely trigger the alarms in their heads was when you would be interacted with by people from outside the squad. Obviously, during working hours when the interactions were professional, it was fine. But the second a male soldier from a different squadron would start talking to you or even touch you in the slightest way, the fun was over. One marine from the Deja Blu team would instantly come to your side and shut it down. Not necessarily by violence, but often their presence seemed to be enough to scare others off and they knew that. 

Soon, you started to feel like you were never left alone. Always with someone who seemed to escort you wherever. 

When the great battle came, things ended very quickly. But waking up as Avatars, that’s a whole new experience. One which everyone struggled with. 

Anyway, skipping past all other uninteresting details, things escalated when Lyle decided to make the first move. He decided he couldn’t wait any longer or at least his Avatar felt that way. This new body was much more difficult to deal with. 

You were in the gym, doing your own workouts while sharing the room with Lyle and Lopez. 

Lopez and you were both focused on your exercises but Lyle got distracted just 10 minutes in. You were wearing your sports bra and workout shorts. Leggings were no longer an option because they were difficult to put on with the tail. He was sitting on the bench he lifts weights on and his eyes were trained on you. They didn’t leave you once until you were almost finished. Lyle watched you do your pull-ups, admiring the way sweat glistened over your skin and especially the way it dripped down the middle of your cleavage. Your arms which were stronger than average but nothing compared to him, trembling along with your legs as you slowly lowered yourself back down. 

Lopez noticed him staring from the corner of his eye while he was busy with his weights. It didn’t anger him, just slightly irritated his good mood. Lyle is a Corporal and should be exemplary to the rest of the team. If his self-control is crumbling then what can be expected of the others?

In the next second, he saw Lyle get up and walk over to you. His walk was different too, he seemed more tense. 

Lopez rolled his eyes and huffed, knowing that Lyle must have gotten hard. But why in hell is he going to you?

“Y/N?” Lyle says, standing right in front of you. You peer down at him, your head hovering above the bar you were pulling your body up on. He didn’t look himself. You lowered yourself onto the ground, ears slightly pinned back because you didn’t get to finish your workout. 

“Yeah?” you ask, pressing your fingers into fists to release the tension from your muscles. 

You notice how Lyle almost seems nervous standing in front of you. You’ve never seen him like this.

“I can’t fuckin’ hide it anymore.” he says with a gulp. 

You stare up at his towering figure, tilting your head with confusion. What is he saying?

“Just once is fine. Please. This doesn’t have to be a regular thing. I just need you right now.” His voice sounds strained and his body is tense.

“Wh- what?” you stutter, not wanting to assume he means what you’re thinking. 

“Please- let me fuck you just this once. I won’t bother you with it again.” 

Lyle’s words catch you off guard. He wasn’t joking. You knew that by how desperate and nervous he was. As if he knew that what he was asking was outrageous in a way. A request like no other. 

But then again, to be completely honest, you yourself were struggling. Not just getting through the day, but you struggled not looking at Lyle while in the gym. He never has a shirt on when he works out.

Only now do you get an up-close look at all his muscles. The ceiling light illuminates his sweat-coated skin, making him look shiny and you have to take a deep breath to snap out of it. 

“Lyle, I-” you start to say but you’re not even sure how to respond. But to your luck, Lyle cannot physically restrain himself any longer. You’d have to hit him to make it clear you’re saying no, but you won’t. Perhaps he can help relieve this unbearable burning sensation that’s been agitating you for weeks between your legs. 

He is dragging you behind him and into the showers. Lyle isn’t rough with you, but his movements are hurried. You catch a glimpse of his erection almost piercing through his shorts and seeing Lyle so worked up for you has you wanting this too. 

His hands are on you once you reach the showers and he presses you up against a wall almost immediately. One of his hands reaches for the tap and he turns the shower on. It’s pleasantly warm. Both of you have your clothes on which are more torn apart than peeled off. 

Once you’re naked, Lyle groans and the sight makes him weak. He leans down to kiss you passionately, exploring your mouth with his tongue in a heated kiss before he just melts and buries his face in your chest. His arms hook under your thighs and he lifts you up to his height while your back slides against the slippery tiles of the wall behind you. There’s no time to say anything. Lyle just needs to be inside you. 

He is peppering your chest and neck with kisses in a way to almost distract you from his real intentions. He is gently yet desperately bucking his hips forward until his prodding tip finally finds your opening. Lyle knows he’s on thin ice here but with so little self-control left, his hips suddenly snap forward and his entire length is pushing open your walls. 

A string of curses leaves his lips while his face is hiding in the crook of your neck. He seems almost afraid to look up at you because a small part of him knows he should not be doing this. Especially not without talking it through with you first.

“I’m sorry-” he breathily whispers into your ear, but his movements continue. You can hear the guilt in his voice.

“Don’t be.” you answer before gasping when he bottoms out again. His ears twitch forward, wanting to hear all your noises.

Your heavy breathing, caressing hands and occasional moans filter the worries from his mind. 

“Fuck, you feel so good-” he breathes out. 

His mouth is hanging open and his hot breath is fanning against the side of your face while his hips sloppily thrust in and out of you. You’re eyes watch his thigh muscles flex and biceps strain. You can tell Lyle won’t last long and his mind is too clouded with lust to focus on anything but the pleasure he is feeling from you. So to help yourself a little, you slip your hand between both your bodies and start rubbing your clit. Just enough to have your hips pushing against his. 

He looks down as well, watching you play with yourself and it makes his rhythm falter for a few seconds. 

“Shit,” he swears, starting to fuck himself into you harder than before. It seems he likes the sight because he isn’t looking away. 

Your head gently lolls back against the wall and you decide to pull Lyle closer to you by wrapping your legs around his waist. With the next thrust, he pushes deeper into your pussy than before. A low growl leaves his lips and at this point, he is desperately chasing his release. 

Luckily, you’re not far from your high either. You arch your back off the wall, pressing yourself further against him. The new angle causes his abdomen to slide and nudge your clit with each thrust and you just open yourself to him as much as possible. 

Lyle’s hands are digging into your plush hips, holding you in place while he continues to ruthlessly pound himself into you. 

You feel your stomach tighten and your nails dig into the hard muscles of his strong shoulders. 

He is paying attention to your reactions and body language and somehow having your nails scrape the skin of his shoulders encourages him to keep the same pace but deepen his strokes. Lyle is rolling his hips against yours while continuing to pound into you. Slapping sounds of skin have already filled the room and muffled your small whines. 

Warm water is running down both your glistening bodies and you can occasionally feel each other’s muscles twitch after the workout session you’ve had. 

You’re eyelashes are soaked and your wavy hair has completely straightened in the water, resting on your back. 

Seeing you like this is a gift for Lyle. It feels oddly intimate to him and has him just holding your body closer to his. 

“Lyle-” you whisper, barely able to form words. But he knows exactly what you’re trying to say. He’s close too. 

With the next few thrusts, Lyle pushes you over the edge and into pure bliss. Your toes curl, your legs tighten around him, your mouth falls open, and your walls clench around his dick. It feels like you’re almost sucking him into you, not wanting to have him pull out until he’s filled you with his cum. 

Neither of you have discussed this. There’s been no time. But it’s too late now anyway. Lyle’s hips stutter and with one last thrust, he buries himself balls-deep inside your pulsating cunt before filling you with his hot ropes of cum. You moan his name, gasping when you feel exactly how much he’s filling you up. He’s definitely ejaculating more than the usual amount but you love the feeling. 

Your movements still and soon after you, Lyle stops desperately bucking his hips forward and stays inside you for a minute. You rest your forehead on his shoulder, trying to steady your breathing. Looking down again, you notice how some of his cum is oozing out of the sides because he’s pumped you completely full. 

After a minute of comfortable silence, Lyle sighs. 

“Sorry,” he starts, still seeming to feel too bad about himself to look into your eyes. “I know I shouldn’t have-”

“Lyle, don’t worry about it. You feel better now?” you ask and he nods against your skin. “Me too.” You add.

He looks up at you now and receives a faint smile. He returns it, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before slowly pulling out and placing you back on the ground. His cum was now dripping down your legs uncontrollably which reminded him of his other mistake.

“I shouldn’t have done that though.” he says, motioning to the mess he made. “We didn’t decide on that and I’m sorry.” Lyle adds. Yeah, that is another issue. 

“It’s not a big deal.” you reply, waving it off. “Even if I get pregnant, I highly doubt I’ll be alive long enough for it to be visible.” 

His ears droop to the sides. Not that he wanted you pregnant but he hated when you or others would say things like this. Even if he knew you’re most likely right.

“Besides, I don’t think the lab made the female Avatars fertile. So it’s fine.” you add, remembering them telling you that while you were still human. There was no point in it being that way, so they decided to just have you not grow any reproductive organs. At least not functioning ones. But it seems you can still have a sex life that way so you’re really not complaining.

Lyle seems hesitant about letting you go so he helps you clean up in the shower which you appreciate. After that, you both get ready and dressed into clothes while talking and he brings you to your room before heading to his own. It was a sweet gesture. Something you thought would be a one-time-only thing.

Of course, one can’t forget that you weren’t alone in the gym that night. Lopez had watched the two of you leave and also heard everything he needed, to know what was happening. You would think he would leave out of embarrassment, disgust, or annoyance but no. Lopez stayed to listen to you. 

He wasn’t necessarily jealous of Lyle for being able to have you to himself but he knew what he wanted now and it annoyed him that he wasn’t the one making you be that noisy. A desire for you grew in him and once the noise faded, he left the gym. 

With his devilish and malevolent character traits, Lopez didn’t keep the news to himself. He found Ja sitting at a table with Prager and Mansk. They seemed to be in a deep conversation and not far from them was Brown who was digging around in the fridge for some late-night snacks. 

They heard him burst through the doors and Lopez immediately sat down at their table, interrupting their conversation and bluntly saying “Lyle and Y/N are fucking in the showers.” 

That statement shut everyone up. There was a long moment of silence before Lopez cackled at their reactions. 

“Say what now?” Ja asks in disbelief and Lopez grins at him. 

“Lyle dragged Y/N to the showers.” he said. 

“Does she need help?” Prager asks almost getting up, not sure whether you’re voluntarily in there. 

“No, you idiot.” Lopez hisses, motioning for him to sit down again. By now, Brown overheard the conversation and quickly returned to the table.

“You saw ‘em?” Brown asks and Lopez shakes his head. 

“Saw them leave. But I heard her.” he grins again. Ja smirks at the thought while the others stay quiet. At least Prager and Mansk have the decency and respect to not act like morons. 

“She seems to have it as bad as us.” Lopez says, letting his words sink into the silence of the table for everyone to process. 

“Stop fuckin’ around and let ‘er be.” Mansk says in your defence, not liking the way they’re talking about you. 

Lopez frowns at his words. “Hey, don’t get all protective and shit.”

Mansk’s ears tip back in agitation but he chooses to stay silent. Not because he doesn’t want to oppose Lopez, but because it’s not always necessary to use words. 

“Either way, I’m goin’ next.” Lopez adds and Ja scoffs. 

“You think she’d let your dumbass?” Ja asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Wait until that fucking heat cycle hits.” Brown adds, placing his drink on the table. 

They were told about that before you all got your Avatars. No one spoke about it before but it seems that they have all thought about it a lot. 

“She’ll be a bitch in heat.” Lopez grins, flashing his fangs. That really gets on Mansk’s nerves. 

“Quit talkin’ about her like that. She’s one of us, so treat ‘er like it.” Mansk growls. 

“I was just joking.” Lopez says. His grin turns into a smirk and he glances at Ja again. “Wouldn’t treat her like one.”

“Unless she’s into that shit.” Ja chuckles. 

Lopez continues to defend himself. “Hey, to her? I’d be the nicest out of all of you.” 

Prager scoffs. “Yeah right.”

“I’m serious. She’s fuckin’ precious.” Lopez adds, trying to convince him. 

At that moment, Lyle relaxedly walks into the room with a towel over his shoulder. He spots his teammates and makes his way to their table. 

“You lucky son of a bitch.” Brown snarls, crossing his arms over his chest while watching the Corporal. 

Lyle stops in his steps, a foot from the table, staring at him. As if he weren’t sure whether Brown meant what he feared he did and if he knew, how?

“How the fuck do you know?” Lyle asks, not even bothering to try and keep what just happened between you two discreet. 

“You didn’t even try to sneak away.” Lopez says, grinning up at him. 

Lyle sighs, running a hand over his face to deal with the fact that all his friends know what happened between you and him. Not that he was ashamed, far from it, he just wanted to keep it to himself. He wanted to keep you to himself.

“Asshole.” Lyle murmurs, glancing at Lopez. 

“How was it?” Ja asks, nudging his shoulder playfully.

Lyle stares at him, not sure whether he wants to share it with everyone but then he is reminded again of you, what you looked like, and what you felt like. 

He scoffs, smiling to himself. “Fuckin’ heaven.”

“That’s it?” Brown asks and Mansk shoots him a glare. 

“I’m not tellin’ you the details, idiot. It’s between her and me.” Lyle says, standing up for you. He wasn’t about to expose you to them. The moment was special to him. 

“If you wanna know so bad, go to her and find out.” Lyle mumbles, speaking before thinking. As soon as they leave his mouth, he regrets saying that. It causes a few minutes of silence before Lopez gets up. 

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” he says, wanting to walk away but Lyle gets up immediately after him and blocks his path. 

Lopez isn’t scared. He often likes to wind up his teammates and cause fights. So he cocks an eyebrow in a challenging manner. 

“She’s fuckin’ sleepin’ and you’re gonna let ‘er rest.” Lyle growls, seeming very irritated now. 

Lopez smirks at him, taking note of how protective he is being. 

“Just cause she let you on her once doesn’t mean she’s yours.” he seethes, squaring off with Lyle. 

“You’re turn’s over, buddy. I’m next.” Lopez adds, staring him down before walking away to his own room. 

Once the door closes behind him Lyle huffs in annoyance and sits back down. 

“He ain’t wrong, you know?” Brown says, taking his things and returning them to the fridge. No one says anything after that, everyone goes their own way.

The next few days you noticed the other recom’s behaviour change. Not drastically, but you can feel it. Lopez suddenly acted very differently towards you. 

Oftentimes, he would just hang around you and keep you sucked into your conversation. Then there were times when he would invade your personal space but he never talked about it. He made it seem innocent as if it were normal. So you brushed it off because you didn’t want to bring it up. It didn’t bother you, it was just new. 

While you were getting food, Lopez would stand right next to you so that your shoulders were touching even though you both had so much space. One day, you were fixing the engine of one of the helicopters and he stood himself right behind you, stretching his arms forward so that he was caging you in while pretending to help you even though you knew what you were doing. When he did this, you’re face would go red and you would look away. You didn’t understand.

Lyle and the others did and they were always watching his interactions with you. At one point, Lyle told him off for it but Lopez shrugged it off as if it were normal. 

When you were testing new weapons, Lopez decided to once again hold you from behind because he said he was helping you with your form and aim. It didn’t really make sense because your stance and shooting was better than his. He didn’t have the authority to help. If anyone should have been giving you tips, it should be Mansk. This was his area of expertise. 

Luckily Mansk was there and he was very clearly not happy with what was happening in front of him. Within seconds of Lopez standing too close to you again, Mansk grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him right off of you. Lopez stumbled back, starting to argue with him but Mansk told him off and made him leave. You haven’t seen Mansk so angry before. It made you wonder why that suddenly got under his skin.

He huffed in annoyance before turning to you. 

“Sorry about that, you’re form is fine. Keep goin’.” he said and you nodded, practising your aim before taking apart the gun while he watched. 

“Thanks, by the way.” You said, glancing at him shortly before facing the front again. His ears are released from being strained back and perk forward. 

“I don’t know why he does that.” you say, rolling your shoulder before firing a bullet at the target. 

Mansk frowns again at the thought of Lopez. 

“You don’t need to let him. He shouldn’t be doin’ that.” 

“Yeah…” you sigh, lowering your gun and reloading it. “It just seems harmless. I don’t want to make a big deal of it.” 

Out of your view, Mansk scoffs to himself knowing very well that Lopez’s intentions are not harmless. He knows what he wants and somehow, Mansk wants to prevent Lopez from getting to you. 

“Trust me, it’s not.” he replies. You listen, staying quiet for a few moments before shrugging it off and continuing. Mansk sighs, looking at the ground before unfolding his crossed arms and stepping forward to you. 

He stands next to you, scanning your body to see if you’re standing like you are supposed to. His eyes catch a small mistake. He gently taps your elbow, making you stop for a second before you stretch it and correct yourself. ‘Don’t bend elbows, got it.’ you think. 

“There, now it’s good.” he says with a small smile before his expression returns to its usual blank state. You nod, smiling back. 

Somehow, his touch felt comforting. Mansk never pushed you. He would test you, but never interfere with what you were doing. He let you work and only intervened when it was necessary. Something about him being so respectful and gentle with you made butterflies erupt in your stomach, but you dared not to react. Then again, he was often cold and quiet, so you found it quite difficult to read him. There were times when you weren’t even sure if he liked you in a normal friendly way, but seeing him look out for you like he did today managed to change your mind. 

But Lopez didn’t give up. He was needy and he used his knowledge of knowing your body was difficult to deal with, to his advantage. You get affected by hormones and other’s scents a lot easier now. 

One evening, Lopez escorted you back to your room. He didn’t have to, you were fine but he did anyway. You still liked him. He did seem to be clingy often but you blamed it on his struggles to adapt to his Avatar. In reality, that was a part of the problem too. Just like Lyle had struggled with his. 

He stopped at your door, watching you unlock it. When you opened it you turned the lights on before facing him again. Something in the way he looked at you had changed. He was leaning against the frame of your doorway and intensely staring into your wide eyes. 

Being around you so much made him feel addicted to your scent. Your sweet scent drove him feral at times and made it difficult for him to concentrate on work. He knew exactly where it was strongest on your body and the lust in his eyes betrayed him that evening. You noticed his state and instinctively seemed to know what was happening. 

“Can I come in?” he asks. This time, he isn’t pushy or urging you to do anything. Lopez sounds genuine and if you heard correctly, perhaps even a little sad. 

“Please,” he softly adds. As if he suddenly realised how badly he’s been behaving to you. It made him feel guilty for taking advantage of your kind heart because you never told him off for it. He wanted to apologise but then again, he was really struggling to fight off his arousal. It did seem to upset him but he just needed you to answer, in case there was a chance you would still let him be near you after all that. 

You take a few moments to think about it before stepping aside and opening the door wider. Watching his eyes light up in surprise has you feeling confident you made the right choice. He was an asshole at times but never directly to you. 

Lopez warily walked inside, being ready to leave in case you abruptly changed your mind but you didn’t. You closed the door behind him and he looked at you, watching your behaviour to make sure he wasn’t overstepping your boundaries anymore. This time, you decided to initiate the first step, walking forward and gently raising your hand to pull his head down towards you. He melted against your touch. That was what he needed; you to make the first step. Now he knew he had your consent so he didn’t have to torture himself with waiting anymore. 

That night, neither of you got much sleep. His harsh thrusts kept you awake. You noticed Lopez was trying to extend his and your pleasure until you both broke and it worked. The forced orgasm denial drove you both to just be rougher and finally, he let you cum with him. 

He gave you the necessary aftercare, laying in bed with you for a while after you both finished. He did care for you, but both of you just needed to release some tension. That’s all it was. You kissed once. The rest was just pure sex. There wasn’t anything romantic about it but you didn’t mind. You didn’t want that with him. He’s your friend. 

But Lopez left after a while, knowing you’d both get in trouble if he would be seen leaving your room in the morning. Again, you didn’t mind. You like him, but not in the way that you would want to cuddle and sleep in the same bed as him. 

Now, do you think that Lopez kept his mouth shut after that evening with you?

Do you?

Do you really?

No, of course not. Why would he? The next day already he was bragging to Brown and Ja about it. 

Lyle saw him cackling and Lopez seemed happier than usual. Too happy for Lyle’s liking. So he went closer, pretending to busy himself with anything else while listening to what they were saying. 

“No way. She let you?” Ja asked. Lyle frowned, continuing to eavesdrop on his colleagues. 

“Yeah. Wait, why are you surprised?” Lopez replied taking offence and nudging Ja’s chest,  making him stumble a step back. 

“Just thought Y/N had higher standards.” Brown chuckled. 

“Yeah, high enough to not let you pass.” Lopez argued. Insults got under his skin very easily. 

“We’ll see.” Brown grins, walking away. 

Lyle is pissed off now too. No way did Lopez lay hands on you. He didn’t want to believe it but then again, it was out of his hands. In a way, he wished he could have been the only one to experience you in that way, but it’s not up to him. To Lyle, you’re still out of his league in his eyes. If what they said was true then he knows you’re just doing it for shits and giggles. There’s nothing romantic behind it and now, it doesn’t seem to bother him anymore. Who can stop someone from having a little fun?

He walks away, shaking his head and sitting back down at his table with Mansk, Prager and Fike. 

“What?” Fike asks, noticing his friend has something on his mind. Mansk noticed it too but decided against pointing it out. 

“Lopez wasn’t messin’ around.” Lyle says, scoffing before taking a sip of his drink. 

“What do you mean?” Prager asks, dropping the spoon of his soup to listen. 

“He actually managed to somehow persuade Y/N to sleep with him.” Lyle says in a casual manner. 

Fike laughs, glancing around the room to find Lopez still talking to Ja. “No way.”

Mansk’s ears have tipped back again. He stopped eating and his fingers tightened around the cutlery he was holding. His own eyes raised and found Lopez, glaring daggers into his back. Lopez seemed to feel the eyes on him, turning around and looking at Mansk before grinning evilly and turning back around. 

Mansk never had a problem with his teammate until now. He had to really fight off the urge to go up to him and punch him. His sudden craving for violence surprised him because this never happened. Mansk was only violent when it was required of him. 

Knowing that an idiot like Lopez had laid his filthy hands on your beautiful body had Mansk boiling with anger. The conversation on the table had faded from his hearing and all he could hear was his thoughts and the clock ticking in the background. Without any hesitation, he got up, leaving his food behind and leaving the room. His friends watched him but didn’t say anything because he left calmly. Mansk doesn’t storm out of rooms, his temper is too good for that. 

A week went by now and you have received numerous visits from other recoms. Brown invited you to his room, saying he thinks he found something of yours. Once you entered and asked what it was, he seemed confused that you hadn’t caught on to the fairly obvious request he had. He didn’t actually have anything of yours in his room.

You weren’t used to this. All the sudden attention from everyone. Well not everyone, but many recoms. 

You asked him why he didn’t go and ask Zdinarsk or Walker to help him, but Brown just raised his eyebrow and gave you the ‘Are you serious?’ look. 

“Not to be rude, but you’re the hottest one here. I’d rather just bear through it than ask them.” Brown says. You know that Walker and Z-Dog would probably just laugh at him, just like they would laugh at all the others. It did seem like he was taking advantage of your willingness to help. 

“So I’m your only option?” You ask, not seeming convinced. 

“No, Y/N you’re not an option. I’ve fuckin’ dreamed of you like this.” he says, trying to emphasize how bad he has it for you. Brown wasn’t being rude or pushy either. He spoke his words with humour. 

You decided to help Brown. I mean, why let him suffer? What do you have to lose? It won’t hurt either of you and you usually get a kick out of it. 

By the end of the week, just over half the team had been at your door, begging for you to help them out the way you helped the others. It was almost becoming a routine. One you would never get used to. 

But one night, you lay in bed and looked down at yourself, suddenly feeling upset. You felt a little used, but not neglected. Lyle, Lopez, Brown, Ja, and Prager all made sure to show you how much they cared for you. But you were not used to doing something so intimate with someone you didn’t have romantic feelings for.

You also had them all cum outside of you, just to make sure the chances of becoming a mother were being minimised.

At first, it seemed funny to you, but now it confused you. The tough girl you are, you just shrugged it off and went to sleep. They were all nice to you and took care of you when you were done. Not a single soldier just left you afterwards. But something about it still left your heart feeling empty. 

To deal with your worries, you decided to try Ja’s strategy and fuck them away. You’re not sure if that will work. 

The training routines continued and you were told to spend more time practicing your firearm skills. Those were Quaritch’s orders. You need Mansk to help you out with that. 

You’re weekly sessions with him were thereby doubled and Mansk started showing you everything you needed to know about your weapons and their handling. It started off really well. He explained everything to you and you seemed to almost instantly understand. You cherished the small moments with him, like when he would hold your arm to keep your aim straight or when he would readjust your hands with his so that you would be holding the gun straight. 

It just so happened to be that Mansk became your comfort person. He was your safe space and you looked forward to seeing him. Of course, you didn’t tell him that. He still intimidated you but there were rare occasions when his stern stare would falter and his expression would soften. You noted this only happened with you and it made your heart race. But you were basically a professional when it came to jumping to conclusions, so you decided to lay low. 

Today was another day you would spend mostly with Mansk. Every recom had their area of expertise. Guns and firearms were his. 

You were sitting next to each other and Mansk was watching you disassemble your weapon. You have to know what it’s made of, how it’s built and how to put it together and take it apart to be able to properly use it. 

The first few bits came off and within a minute, you had taken apart the entire assault rifle. Now you just had to put it all together again. Mansk was intently watching your movements, staying silent to let you concentrate. You started to realise that the quietness of his presence was comfortable and perhaps even the opposite of awkward. 

But today you were having a bad day. You’re worries and occasional self-consciousness were infecting your thoughts, so you had a hard time focusing and remembering what to do. Mansk noticed you become unsure of what you were doing so he gave you the next piece, to help you out. You flashed him a small smile before putting it on but it just kept repeating. Your hands started trembling so you rested them on your lap to prevent him from seeing. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t do it.” you groan, wiping your hand over your face before covering your mouth to hide a small yawn. 

“Hey, you managed last time. Try again.” Mansk says, taking your hand to show you how to hold it properly before letting you do your thing. You look down at all the remaining pieces and pick up the wrong one, trying to fit it on but it won’t work. 

You sigh, once again dropping your hands in defeat. It’s becoming frustrating but you know it’s because you can’t concentrate. In an attempt to ground yourself in reality and away from your thoughts, your body starts to tip sideways and your head nudges Mansk’s shoulder. He stays still for a few seconds before softly peering down at you. Your half-lidded eyes and droopy ears give your current state away. 

“Didn’t sleep much?” he asks with a small chuckle. He thought it might help you lighten up and have you return to your good mood but your body just tensed. You lift your tired head from his strong shoulder, looking at him to see whether you heard him right. 

He gets up, slowly taking the bits and pieces from your hands. You watch him closely while your thoughts run wild. ‘Does he know?’ ‘Did they tell him?’. 

He flashes you a knowing smirk before turning around to put away the half-finished weapon. Mansk didn’t have bad intentions. Yes, he knew what you and his friends were doing but he didn’t think badly of you. To Mansk, you were still you. The girl he would quietly admire from afar and protect when it was necessary. It’s out of his comfort zone to act on his feelings. But there is more to him than to the other recoms. Mansk genuinely likes you. 

Yep, he knows. Your heart sinks and suddenly, you feel dirty, ashamed and embarrassed. You like Mansk and think that he must think badly of you know. I mean, how could he not? You’ve basically fucked all his friends. It makes you feel like a slut. Someone never to be taken seriously again.

He turns to face you again with a faint smile on his face, wanting to show you that he finished putting your gun back together again but he doesn’t see you smiling or laughing. 

You’re still sitting where you were, but you’re body seemed to be cramped closer together. He noticed your head hung low and your hand was covering your face while your ears were pinned back and your body trembled with uneven inhales and sobs. 

He immediately regretted his actions and choice of words. The gun was put back and he slowly neared you again, thinking of what to do. He couldn’t believe that he made you cry and god, he resented himself for it. Seeing you so fragile and upset made his heart ache. 

“Y/N, I-” he starts to say but you shake your head. 

“I’m sorry,” you sob, still refusing to look at him. 

Mansk can see your tears drop down on your thighs, staining the fabric of your pants. His ears perk at your words. 

“What for? I’m the one that hurt you.” he says, running a hand over his head. Never has he regretted something in his life as much as now.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Mansk.” You sob, referring to your hook-up sessions with the others. 

He lets you speak, in case there is something you want to get off your chest. To somehow help you, he takes a seat next to you again, but he isn’t sure whether it will do much because he is the one who made you cry in the first place. 

“I just feel so stupid and slutty for doing all that.” you manage to push the words out through trembling lips. You don’t know why you’re telling him, but it doesn’t feel wrong. Mansk wouldn’t go and share this with others. He prefers to keep things to himself. 

“I am stupid for whining about it now.” you add.

His eyes are saddened at the thought of you hating yourself. He wishes you could see what you look like in his eyes. 

“Don’t say that.” he says. His voice is soft and comforting now. It almost feels like a blanket just wraps itself around you and protects you when he speaks. 

You sigh before looking up at him. Mansk looks guilty and disappointed in himself which makes you feel bad for falling apart in front of him. You didn’t want him blaming himself for your mental instability. 

When he sees your red, glassy eyes, wettened eyelashes and tear-stained cheeks his shoulders slump in further disappointment and his ears droop. 

“Mansk, it’s not your fault. I needed to let it out for a while now.” You say softly. He doesn’t say anything, he just looks down and you can see he is in deep thought. His eyebrows are furrowed and his tail is unnaturally still. 

To somehow help him, you lean against him again, this time fully relaxing against his side. Mansk doesn’t relax, his body tenses at the physical contact. Something you both exchange very rarely. 

“I didn’t want to cry in front of anyone else. Or alone.” You say, wrapping your arms around his larger one while you both sit in silence next to one another. After a minute, you feel Mansk’s tension slowly fade until you’re both comfortable. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to touch you, he does. He just isn’t used to it, especially not from someone he really likes, like you. Mansk doesn’t see why or how you could like him, but he won’t push you away when you look so comfortable and calm with him. It does something to him. Deep inside, it seems to bring some life to his cold and neglected heart. 

“Thank you.” You whisper after a while. He looks down at you, wondering what you mean. You can feel his confusion and it makes you smile, so you look up to meet his gaze. 

“For being you. I needed this.” you say. 

He’s still staring down at you with widened eyes, but his gaze shifts from confusion to adoration and you can see it. 

You know that Mansk is a confident person but he is unsure of himself when it comes to him as a person. To make him understand you, you decide to just phrase it as boldly as possible.

“I like spending time with you. You make me feel safe.” you say. You’re words grow softer and almost break into a whisper before you look down again and lean your head against his bicep. 

Meanwhile, Mansk’s heart has now sprung to life and is racing. He can’t believe what you just said. You like being with him? It’s something he can’t really understand, but he knows you aren’t lying. Hearing those words makes him feel a sense of pride in his chest because he knows very well that you didn’t say anything along those lines to the others. You feel like this just around him. This moment will forever be remembered by him and he will use it to calm himself and make himself feel better whenever necessary. 

Mansk was able to smell the faint scent of another recom on you now and before. He wasn’t angry but he hated that they had still tainted you like this. It weakened your sweet scent which he looked forward to feeling every day. But again, now you were with him, not them.

After another few minutes of just relaxing in each other’s presence, your eyes meet the clock and you realise how late it is. 

“It’s getting late.” You say, slowly unwrapping your arms from his one. The loss of your body warmth makes him long for it now. “I should go.” 

He nods, watching you slowly get up. 

“Thanks again, Manks.” You smile at him, grabbing your vest before walking to the door. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.” he replies, watching you close the door behind you and leave. Now that you were gone, he realised he found your presence comforting too. You both equally muted each other's negative thoughts. Like it was meant to be. 

The next day, Quaritch cancelled your time in the weaponry room with Mansk and told you to join Lopez, Ja, and Fike in regular training. You weren’t going to disobey his orders so you went. 

It was tough, not only pushing through all the physical work but also dealing with the teasing, especially Ja and Lopez put you through. 

When you were doing push-ups, Lopez sat himself in front of you and kept trying to fluster you with praise and pet names. 

“Just like that, good job, babygirl.” he grinned, watching your concentration falter and break. 

“Shut up.” you breathe out, trying to reach your goal. 

“Come on you’re so close, don’t stop now.” he coos and you groan out in frustration, trying to stay composed. After your pleasant interaction with Mansk, nothing anyone did really got to you anymore. A week or two ago, this would have made you a blushing mess. But now, Lopez seemed to just get on your nerves. You still liked him as a friend, but he was also the type of friend who could use an occasional punch to the face. 

Mansk walked past the gym with Lyle and the Colonel. Quaritch was telling them about the mission and they all paused to look at the four of you work out. It was pretty clear that you and Fike were the only ones really doing much. Lopez and Ja were constantly hanging around you. 

Mansk automatically searched for you and his ears tipped back in irritation when he saw them hanging around you. Lopez had his typical grin on his face and Ja seemed too amused for his liking. They were both watching you struggle and he could see that they were commenting on what you were doing. His eyes also caught on to the way you glared at them, which made him want to go in there and remove them from the room to leave you in peace. But it wasn’t up to him. 

Luckily, Quaritch spotted their little game too and opened the large gym door, barking orders at them. 

“If I don’t see the two of you as tired and hard-workin’ as Y/N I’ll assign you to hard labour and night watch.” The Colonel threatens, making Lopez and Ja jump up and straighten their posture. 

You freeze, looking over your shoulder while holding yourself in your one-arm-push-up position, before smiling and continuing. Mansk smirks, watching you perfect your form during your workout and Lyle chuckles before they walk away again. 

That evening, Mansk decides he wants to do something nice for you. You have to put up with morons like Ja and Lopez all day and you’re expected to be fine. Manks knows it must wear you out, so he wants you to end your second bad day nicely. 

You’re in your room, hair still damp from your shower while you flick through one of your old books. It’s already an hour past dinner and you’re in you’re sitting in your large sleep t-shirt and loose shorts.  Suddenly, your head jolts up and your ears perk forward when you hear a knock on your door. You freeze and your heart drops for a few seconds. What if it’s someone asking you to ‘help’ them again? You wish you had a peephole.

Either way, even if it is, you don’t have to agree. You felt bad to reject them before but now, you feel more confident to just say no. You don’t feel like hooking up with someone you barely know or don’t have any intimate feelings for anymore. It’s not what you like. 

A wave of sudden confidence surges through you and you put your book on your nightstand before getting up and reaching for the doorknob. Opening it, you don’t even look at the person’s face before starting to speak. 

“I’m not doing this anymore. You can leave n-” you say but your words catch in your throat when you see Mansk. 

He looks slightly confused and you quickly correct yourself. 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know it was you. I thought maybe-” you start to stutter, before sighing and facepalming your forehead. ‘Great job at reminding him of your slutty behaviour.’ you think.

Mansk smiles to himself, catching on to your thought process and feeling pleased you were ready to decline anyone else. 

“Evenin’.” he says in a cocky manner, stretching his smile into a one-sided smirk. 

“Hey, is everything alright? I was-” You start to blabber but your words get caught in your throat once you lower your gaze to his middle. Mansk is holding a bouquet of flowers. Beautiful red ones. You’re eyes go wide and you look back up at him, wanting to hear an explanation. 

Your reaction seems to amuse him. 

“Yeah, I got you flowers. Figured after all you’re goin’ through, it’s the least I can do.” he says, handing them to you. 

Your eyes flicker between the flowers and his eyes as if asking him whether he is serious. Once he hands them to you, you continue to admire them before smiling up at him in a way he’s never seen you smile.  You feel tears sting the corners of your eyes and the tip of your nose. 

No one has ever gotten you flowers before. No man at least. Not in this way. 

“Thank you.” You say. Your voice has grown softer and quieter while you digest that you have received flowers from Mansk. You don’t know where he could have possibly gotten them from. Perhaps he picked them because you definitely can’t get any from a flower shop here. But either way, this small action warmed the core of your heart. 

“You deserve ‘em. Better ones probably, but those were the only ones I could find.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. It seems as though this is the first time he is doing this too. 

“No, they’re beautiful. I love them.” You say with the biggest smile stretching across your face. One that tells Mansk he did good and that the flowers were good enough for you. 

You don’t want to dismiss him. Especially not after this kind gesture. You also happen to miss his presence ever since the Colonel cut your sessions with him. 

“Would you like to come inside?” You ask, stepping aside and pushing your door open a little further. 

God, yes does Mansk want to. But he’s afraid of overstepping your boundaries. He’s even more afraid of you thinking that he is after what the other recoms are. Which is your body. Mansk sees you for who you are. You mean more to him. 

“If you don’t mind.” he says, not moving until you reassure him it’s okay with you one more time. 

“Not at all.” You smile again, making way for him. Mansk decides to step out of his comfort zone a little and be a little more forward than usual. Staying quiet and ignoring his feelings hasn’t really gotten him anywhere. Now, he might have a chance with you and he will do anything to not mess it up. 

He enters your room. It’s not anything special. All of your rooms look alike. You’re not allowed to excessively decorate them either, so there isn’t much looking to do. Less distractions mean he can spend more time admiring you. 

You close the door behind both of you and walk over to your table to put the flowers in a glass of water. The RDA doesn’t provide you with vases so this will have to do. Then you go to your bed to sit on it. There isn’t anywhere else one can sit except for the ground. Glancing up at Mansk you pat the spot next to you, silently asking him to join you. Mansk listens. 

The bed dips under his weight and once again, you find yourself silently admiring him. He’s so big. Not the buffest, but you preferred it this way. Extreme amounts of muscle often even scare you. Mansk is lean, built and tall. His torso carries most of his weight and you love how his chest and arms often make normal shirts and clothes look a size too small. But before he can notice your lingering eyes, you look away and ahead of you. 

“Did Lopez and Ja get night watch?” Mansk chuckles, hoping to break the ice with a small joke. He’s expecting you to say no. 

“Yeah.” you say with a scoff when you remember their stupid games. 

Mansk’s smile is wiped off his face. “Really?” he asks, wondering what else they had done to receive punishment.

“Mhm.” You nod, straightening your posture before sighing. “Lopez tried to do push-ups above me.” 

Mansk’s ears instantly tip back as he pictures Lopez climbing on top of your body to further annoy you. 

“It didn’t work.” you snort, shaking your head. Mansk looks back down at you. God, you’re so innocent in a way that is has his heart melting for you. You probably don’t even realise that most of the things they do are meant to be sexually aggravating. While thinking of what those two idiots put you through again, Mansk suddenly picks up a vague scent. Once again it isn’t yours. It hints to Lopez and it just winds Mansk up. There is nothing he hates more than the way they stain and pollute you with their smell.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable the other day. I didn’t mean to.” You say, reminding him of the way you basically hugged his right arm. It brings Mansk back to reality, making him pause his violent thoughts. 

He turns his head down to look at you. “You didn’t.” he reassures you. His voice once again calms all your nerves. “It was nice.” 

Your ears perk up at his words and your tail swishes against the mattress while you peer up at him. 

Seeing how beautiful and relaxed you look drives him to further express himself. Something, Mansk never does. 

“You’re nice.” he softly says, watching how your beautiful, glassy eyes widen in surprise. 

You’re at a loss for words. The next few moments you just gaze into each other's eyes. Mansk doesn’t want to move too fast because he is still worried you will think he just wants a quick hook-up. He wants you, all of you, but it’s up to you to initiate the first steps. Just so that he knows you’re comfortable for sure. 

You sigh, dropping your head into your palm. 

“You’re making me feel too special. I’m not used to this.” you say with a soft chuckle. He notices a small blush appear on your cheeks and it makes him smile. If he really has that effect on you then Mansk is the happiest man on this planet. 

“Then I’ll make you get used to it.” he smiles with a soft laugh. 

“How do you like me?” You ask, seeming self-conscious of yourself as well. “I slept with all your friends, I mean. Who does that?”

He notices you get nervous and he knows he has to step in before you get upset again. 

“Y/N, it doesn’t bother me.” he says, turning to you so that his body is now fully facing you. “Y/N.” he repeats, gently touching your shoulder in hopes of persuading you to look up at him. 

“I don’t care about that.” he says and you gulp, leaning your body into the touch of his large, warm hand. 

Mansk isn’t lying. Sure, he would get annoyed at their attitude towards you and he hated that they used you, but it didn’t make him think any less of you. Your actions didn’t bother him about you because he knew they weren’t ever intimate in a romantic way with you. He knows he is the only person seeing you this relaxed and comforted because apparently, he makes you feel like you can open up to him. That’s what he cares about and it prides him greatly. 

“I love you.” you suddenly blurt out. Your words surprise you both equally but they brighten Mansk’s expression. 

“Sorry-” you quickly say, cursing to yourself. “I got carried away and-” 

“Say it again.” he asks. His voice is so faint one could count it as a whisper. You stare at him for a few long seconds before slowly repeating yourself.

“I love you.” you say, knowing there is no going back now. You’re in too deep. The blush on your face just darkens and Mansk smiles to himself before looking away. You watch him, confused about his reaction. 

He’s staring at the door in front of the two of you, not moving a muscle. You don’t do anything because he seems to be in deep thought. While a small part of you fears rejection, something tells you that’s not the road the two of you are going down. 

Mansk is digesting what you said to him. He’s never received proper affection and love in his life. It’s something very foreign to him which is why he is usually so cold and unbothered. 

You want to ask if he’s okay but then you notice how his eyes slowly become more and more shiny. He’s tearing up and seeing his soft side come to light warms your heart again. Mansk is finally opening up and letting his emotions out.

“Mansk,” you whisper and he blinks a few times to return to reality before his sad and tear-filled eyes meet you. The blinking caused a tear to run down his cheek. 

Usually, Mansk would have hated himself for breaking like this. In the mindset he was taught, a marine doesn’t break or become this fragile. If he ever felt the need to cry it was no more than three single tears and he was always alone. 

But oddly, he didn’t feel the need to hold them back in your presence. He wasn’t sure how you would react and he hoped you wouldn’t be thrown off by his sudden comfort.

“Mansk, it’s okay.” you coo softly, propping yourself up on your knees and gently cupping his face to wipe the tear away with your thumb. Meanwhile, his wide and glassy eyes just stare at you in complete adoration and love. Like a lost, neglected puppy that had just found its home. 

He doesn’t know what to do. He is just so in awe of you and how you treat him, it overwhelms him. 

You smile at him, gently cradling his head and he swears he’s never felt happier in his life. He feels so appreciated by you and he knows he’s in good hands to be able to let his guard down. 

So Mansk drops his head in defeat, finally for once letting his emotions beat him down and come out. Another tear runs down his face followed by a third. 

“Awh, Mansk. Come here.” You say, feeling bad that he seems to have such a hard time dealing with his feelings. At the same time, seeing him fold and melt like this makes you realise just how much you really love him. 

You move forward, deciding to take control here and sit in his lap. Almost instantly, his large, strong hands gently wrap around you, loosely hanging on your waist. You press yourself against him, resting your chin on his shoulder while he buries his face into yours. He finds great comfort in your soft and warm body. A few more silent tears wet your shirt but you don’t mind. You continue to hold Mansk in your arms and slowly rub soothing circles on his back while he focuses on gathering himself again. 

After a few minutes, his breathing is calm and slow and he’s inhaling your scent. Well, you’re mixed scent but he is trying to just focus on yours. It helps him a great deal. 

“I love you.” he whispers, lifting his head so that his breath fans against your neck. It sends a shiver down your spine and Mansk spots the goosebumps appear just under your ear. It stirs a form of excitement in his stomach. 

“You’re the best thing in my life.” he mumbles, before killing the small silence with a single sniffle.

You wish he had better things than you, but you decide to accept the compliment and leave this conversation for another occasion.

You smile, before lifting your head and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. It warms Mansk’s heart and he is once again getting lost in your eyes before his flicker down to your lips. He needs you to initiate it. Mansk doesn’t trust himself.

You do the same, slowly leaning a little closer to see whether you both want the same thing. His eyes now focus on your lips until your nose brushes against his. You’re not sure whether you should kiss him because your relationship with him has become so special, you likewise don’t want to ruin it. His large arms around you tighten just a little and it convinces you to go for it. You press your lips against his, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment of the kiss. 

Mansk holds you close to him, instantly kissing back. Just like that, all his problems seem to fade. You eliminate all the negativity in his life. 

The kiss starts off soft and affectionate. Both of you take your time because you don’t have anywhere to be. It’s late in the evening, so very few people are awake. 

But after a while, you notice Mansk doesn’t let you go. You stay seated in his lap, running your fingers through his short and thick hair while cradling the back of his head with your free hand. Neither of you want this to end. You haven’t felt so serene and happy in a long time. 

The small kiss turns into a heavy make-out session. Both of you long for touch and close physical contact. Especially Mansk who has deprived himself of it for years. 

You pull away to refill your lungs with air but it seems Mansk doesn’t feel the need to. He continues to almost worship you, peppering soft kisses down your jaw and to your neck. If he would pick up any sign of concern or discomfort from you, he would stop, but you tilt your head to the sign and once again lean into him. It makes him smile against your skin before he gently uses his teeth, dragging his fang along the side of your neck. 

You sigh at the pleasant feeling of having him so close to you. It’s more than you could ask for. 

He places a small kiss on top of the area of skin he just nibbled before slowly pulling back to look at you. 

You look so relaxed it’s beautiful. He usually only sees you during the day which is when you’re stressed, pumped full of adrenaline or just neutral.

“You smell nice.” you mumble, resting your head on his shoulder and softly inhaling. He takes your words to heart and wants to say the same when he remembers that you don’t smell like you. 

“You-” he says before stopping. You wait for him to finish his sentence but he doesn’t so you pull away again to meet his gaze.

His eyes avert from yours, down to your shirt. Your nipples are vaguely visible through the fabric. It’s a beautiful sight to him, but the moment is being ruined by the invasive scent that has attached itself to the shirt. 

“Is everything okay?” You ask, wondering what is going through his head. 

His fingertips caress your shirt and he takes the hem of it between his finger and thumb, gently rolling the fabric. 

“I smell them on you.” he says and you notice how his eyes seem to have suddenly grown darker again. His ears once again tip back. You’re not sure whether you should apologise or be embarrassed. Maybe both. 

“Sorr-”

“Ruinin’ you’re pretty scent.” he mumbles. Mansk’s instincts interpret this as a threat. Someone else has scented you other than him and he naturally feels the need to replace it with his own. 

Somehow, his sudden mood change really turns you on. He seems possessive and protective of you and you really want nothing more than to be his. Right now, that’s all you ask. 

But he holds back again. He isn’t sure whether you would be okay with letting something as intimate as this happen between the two of you. Sure you’ve hooked up with the others before but the fact that he could still smell them on you or mainly on your clothes was unintentional. 

He is still examining your shirt and a low growl leaves his lips. You feel the soft vibrations in your hands and it sends excitement straight to your core. 

It’s as if you can suddenly read his mind. As if you know that he doesn’t want to rush things with you because he’s afraid of scaring you off. 

“Mansk-” you say, and your voice comes out barely above a whisper. 

He tears his eyes from your shirt to you. 

“I wanna be yours.” You say, staring at him with half-lidded eyes. You don’t care about being bold anymore. You want Mansk to stop holding back. You need him to know how much you want him. 

He seems to immediately catch on to what you’re saying, and his eyes widen and his ears perk forward. 

“Really?” He asks and you smile, noticing he is more verbal than usual. 

“Yes, please. Make me yours, Mansk.” You breathe out, shifting closer to him on his lap. “I don’t wanna be theirs.” 

You recall Brown teasing you that you smell like him and Ja which made them laugh. You didn’t want to but at the time you didn’t believe what they were saying. 

“Fuck.” he mutters under his breath before pulling your head to his and once again connecting your lips. Only this time, he is rougher. 

You know he is gentle with you but if this is what he is like when he’s worked up, then let’s sign you the fuck up!

You kiss back, pressing your chest against his. His large hands run over your back, down to your hips until they reach the edge of your shirt. He lets his hands slide up and under the fabric, just so that he can grab your hips and pull them against him. You smile in the kiss, finding his carefulness amusing so you pull away momentarily to pull your shirt over your head. He watches you with wide eyes and the second your upper body is bare in front of him, Mansk just loses himself. He’s so in love with you that he can’t even express it through words. He’s desperate to show you and make you feel how much you mean to him. 

“God- you’re so beautiful.” he breathes out, just admiring you. His hands fall from your hips as if he were afraid of ruining the sight by touching you. 

You give him a soft smile before you reach for his shirt. 

“Can I?” you ask and he nods, suddenly feeling very warm. When you remove his shirt, a small blush appears on his cheeks and he seems flustered. 

“Such a pretty boy.” you coo, running your warm hands over his chest and middle section. He exhales softly, letting his eyes close for a few seconds so that he can focus on the pleasant feeling of your touch. 

You press your forehead against his, running your hand over the back of his head once more before you feel the base of his queue. Mansk’s eyes open and gaze at you again. Your own queue is already hanging over your shoulder and he looks at it before looking back at you.

You give him a confirming smile so he raises his hand to gently reach for your queue while pulling his own one over his shoulder. 

You both watch the small thread-like tentacles move at the tips of your braids. Mansk is more confident now because his anger for Lopez and Ja is still present. He wants to claim you in every way possible, so seeing his soft side fade isn’t a surprise. 

“This’ll show ‘em.” he says, glancing up at you once more to make sure you aren’t objecting before connecting your queues and forming tsaheylu. 

You suddenly feel each other on a deeper level and it drives Mansk wild. 

“Mine.” he growls, pulling you into him and attacking your neck with his lips. Your bare skin rubs against his and you grind down against his growing erection. He already feels so big, it just excites you more. 

His hands are all over you, groping your chest and the flesh of your hips as if he were covering you in the invisible paint of his scent. Suddenly, his arm fully wraps around you and he gently lifts you off of him, placing you down onto the bed before he climbs on top of you and continues to mark you. His tongue darts out and he draws it down your neck to your chest, leaving small trails of saliva while occasionally sucking hickeys into your soft skin. Anything to make you, his. He has to make sure it will be obvious to the others the next time they see you. No one will ever get to smell your sweet scent again besides him. 

His body moves lower, starting to work on your pants before slowly pulling them down your legs. He groans in arousal when he sees a small wet patch stain your underwear. You’re lying on your back, holding on to the pillow under your head while your wild tail continues to flick, showing your excitement. 

Mansk gently parts your legs, opening them to him so that he can get a full view of you, even in panties. 

“All mine.” he whispers before lowering himself down. He licks and kisses the insides of your thighs, making you squirm because he’s so close to your core. Your inner thighs are also really sensitive to his touch. He sucks a hickey into your soft flesh, clearly marking you as his.

Your scent is stronger than ever between your legs and he can’t help himself but just press his nose right against your clothed core, inhaling deeply. After all, Mansk’s Avatar has its needs too. 

You gasp and the sudden action makes you close your legs around him and drop your head back. He smirks up at you, gently holding one of your thighs up while his other hand fumbles with your panties. He’s asking you for permission through his eyes and you nod, propping yourself up on your elbows. Your queues are luckily long enough to allow him to move down you. 

He leans forward, taking the fabric between his teeth before tugging it down by his fangs. Seeing him handle you in this way just makes more butterflies erupt in your stomach. At this point, he could do anything and you would let him. 

Once they’re off, Mansk looks back down between your legs and curses. His pupils widen with lust and he moves your legs out of the way again so that he can see all of you. 

“So fuckin’ pretty.” he growls, attaching his fingers to your heat and parting your lips to expose you to his predatory eyes. Without further ado, Mansk lifts one of your legs onto his strong shoulder while holding the other one open. Then, he lets his head sink down to you until his mouth lands on your slit. His tongue darts out and he licks a long strip from your hole to your clit, making you squirm again. Your back arches off the mattress and you hiss in pleasure, trying to open your legs even more for him to just offer yourself. 

He starts to eat you out, burying himself between your legs. You fall into an ocean of euphoria as your senses are clouded by arousal and pleasure. This is not how you thought you would end your day. Time seems to suddenly run faster than before while you continue to lose yourself. But before you can cum, he pulls away, licking his lips and grinning at you. 

“Ya’ taste like heaven.” he says, wiping his chin with the back of his hands before deeply kissing you again. His tongue pushes past your lips, finding yours. You can taste yourself on him and it does things to you. 

Your leg lifts onto his hip and you try to push his pants down with your heel. He pulls away with a soft chuckle before undoing his belt and letting you push his pants down with your feet. Your fingers reach for his underwear and he helps you pull it down. All clothes have to go. Mansk wants to feel all of you with all of him. Nothing is allowed to separate the two of you. 

He presses his hips against yours and you feel his throbbing erection nudge your inner thigh. It makes you let out a shaky exhale. 

“You belong to me.” he growls into your ear, taking one of your hands and interlocking your fingers. You nod, pressing your cheek against his as you relish in the feeling of feeling each other’s body heat. 

“Then fuck me like you mean it.” you say, wanting to feel him and pleasure him. Your words take him by surprise. He never knew you could have such a dirty mouth, but damn did it make him harder. You’re so beautiful laying beneath him like this, so ready for him to just take you and claim you for himself. Your legs are wide open, offering your pretty pussy to him and your chest is arched against his. It’s better than anything he could have asked for. 

Mansk doesn’t hesitate anymore. He’s done with that. It’s just you and him now, he knows he doesn’t have to wait with you anymore. He pulls his hips back, glancing down between both of your bodies to make sure he is lined up with you. Moving forward, his tip nudges against your entrance, gently applying pressure. You whimper, pushing your hips up against him. That’s how Mansk knows he’s found it. 

In the next second, he rocks his hips forward, pushing his entire length into you in one stroke. The way your tight walls clench around him, coating him with your slick, makes him stifle a moan. You feel amazing. Better than amazing. 

You let out a soft moan and your body tenses at the intrusion. But it feels pleasurable from the beginning on. It doesn’t hurt like it did with the others. 

“Mansk-” you whine. You’re lips are parted and you’re breathing heavily into his ear. “So… big,” you whisper, feeling cock drunk already. 

Your words boost Mansk’s self-confidence permanently. You’re so good to him. 

“All for you, baby.” he whispers, pressing an open-mouthed hiss to your cheek before slowly pulling out. You hold your breath, waiting for him to move and once he pushes back inside you, you whine his name. 

It feels so good it’s overwhelming you. Yes, the others made you cum but you never experienced anything as good as this. The reasons for that are that you are finally bonding with someone you love, not someone to just have fun with, and you’re connected through your neural cords. 

He starts thrusting into you at a gentle pace, making sure to bottom out each time. Usually, penetration doesn’t feel that amazing to you by itself but you can feel his pleasure and it spreads to you. 

“You feel so good.” he grunts into your ear, starting to lose his breath with each thrust. 

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close to you while his hips rut against yours. 

With time, he quickens his pace a little while deepening his thrusts. You’re speechless, slowly melting against him and becoming a whining mess. 

Every noise you make Mansk catches and replays in his head. He loves it all. 

“Such a good girl to me.” he whispers, dropping his head into the crook of your neck to focus on his thrusts. 

“Mansk-” you whimper again, starting to mutter and babble out his name. It’s too much for you in the best way possible. 

“You doin’ okay, sweetheart?” he asks, peering down at you and you nod your head frantically. 

“So good-” you whisper, gasping when he suddenly snaps his hips forward. His thick cock is stretching you just enough to make it pleasurable and his tip is brushing against the beginning of your uterus. It’s like a perfect fit. 

You’re drunk on bliss, floating in the clouds to the point where your own eyes begin to tear up. You don’t even notice it at first. Your vision becomes blurry but you can’t even process it. Only when tears start streaming down your cheeks do you realise you may be crying. Mansk sees one trickle down onto the pillow and he immediately looks at you. Normally, he would have stopped and made sure you’re alright but thanks to your bond, he can feel how good you feel. Seeing your dilated pupils, reddened eyes, flushed face, gaping mouth and furrowed eyebrows makes him grin and kiss you as if he were trying to tell you how much he loves you through his actions. 

His thrusts don’t falter once and he keeps plunging himself into your needy pussy. Mansk is slowly growing desperate for his release and he can feel you near yours as well. His thrusts get sloppier but somehow, they remain just as pleasurable. You hook both your legs around his slim waist, pulling him closer and deeper into with each movement of his hips. 

Watching you try to fuck yourself with him makes him lose it. 

“Atta girl.” he encourages you with a grin before feeling you clench around him again.

“Fuck- so close.” Mansk hisses, gritting his teeth.

“I- I’m gonna-” you sob through a sniffle, gasping when he angles his hips to dive deeper and harder into you. 

“Gonna make you mine.” he growls, harshly thrusting into you a few final times before he’s cumming. 

You moan his name, throwing your head back and clenching around his length as your own orgasm hits you. Your legs clamp down around him, holding him close to you. 

He moans your name, unable to hold back his own noises but you love them all. 

Mansk’s hips stutter and he sinks into you as deep as possible before shooting his cum deep inside you, filling you to the brim until his semen is forced to leak out of you. He’s still buried hilt-deep in your pussy and he bites down on your shoulder, allowing his fangs to penetrate the first layer of skin so that he draws blood. A mating bite is enforced on you. Something neither of you has done before. 

You both slowly come down from your highs and your queues automatically disconnect because the mating process has been fulfilled. 

Mansk sighs, closing his eyes for a few moments but neither of you move away from the other. 

“C- can you stay, please?” you ask him, looking up at him through your glassy eyes. Your fucked out expression is still visible and he feels sorrow that you would think he would just leave you alone after this. 

‘That’s probably what the others did.’ he thought, but he didn’t want his anger for them to ruin his time with you. 

“Where would I go?” he asks, nuzzling your cheek with his face. “You belong with me. I’m stayin’ here if you want me to.” 

You nod, feeling comforted by knowing that you don’t have to spend another night sleeping alone. 

Mansk slowly lowers himself down on you, laying on top of you while staying buried deep inside you.

“Is this okay?” he asks, not wanting to crush you or weigh you down.

“Mhm. So comfortable.” you mumble, sleepily. Your arms envelop his body once again and he lets himself relax against you. 

“I’m never lettin’ anyone near you again.” he whispers against you and it makes you giggle. “Not the way Lopez and shit touch you.” 

You nod, knowing what he means. Finally, their stupid teasing can end. Not only will Mansk be hanging around you now, but your markings will be visible. He is put to peace by the thought of his teammates seeing your hickeys and smelling him on you. They’ll finally know that they will never get to have you the way they did before. 

Mansk overheard Lopez saying he’ll try to make an arrangement with you to make his ‘visits’ regular. But now Mansk got you to himself, fully claiming you in ways they didn’t. They don’t stand a chance.

Tag List: @ken-dala @numarusworld @ikranwings @number1gal @jatwow @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Blackpink Thoughts on Being an Idol

I wanted to do this one for them, but needed a break from this series, but now ready to dive into them with this one. Let's see what we get here.

Jisoo

What she likes? (King of Wands) Being able to stand in her creative power. To have dominance over others. To be able to stand in her masculine power. The power of persuasion she may have. Her ability to show her power and creative force. Also, the way she is able to demand the spotlight.

What doesn't she like? (Wheel of Fortune rv) The setback, the stalling, the unfortunate events that can happen. There seems to be a lot of pauses and setback in her career, or she can feel a bit of misfortune in her career. I hear tunneling of money, what does that mean!? Oh sh** just looked that up, my god, it is an illegal business practice people use, let me just put that definition here, it is an 'illegal business practice in which a majority shareholder or high-level company insider directs company assets or future business to themselves for personal gain.' oh sh** she is coming with the tea, this is why I love these idol readings! Ya'll these companies are doing illegal practices with money, allegedly, her perspective. But honestly, this makes sense, so basically taking most of her money.

What has she learned/experienced in the past? (5 of Cups) She learned she would be disappointed. That she would not get her flowers. That it is hard to be positive and hopeful in this industry. She may have faced a lot of disappointment in the past.

Thoughts on fans? (3 of Swords rv/7 of Wands challenged position) It may be hard for them or her to heal old wounds they have. It may also be a struggle, or she can't communicate her pain to the fans. It can be hard for her to stand her ground and stay strong. She might also feel attacked, but she may also not know how to handle the pressure of being on top and people looking up to her.

Jennie

What she likes? (The Moon/The Sun) She gave me two opposites here lol She might like the allure of mystery being an idol has, but also likes that she can shine and show her creative side, or just show an aspect of herself that she likes to let shine. She may like the dark stuff to be hidden, and only likes the good parts of her to shine. She may not like showing her flaws and dark side, so she likes that the idol world hides that.

What doesn't she like? (Page of Wands) Exploring new things, getting a bit out of her comfort zone. She likes to stay stable and maybe do what she knows. She is a Cap, so makes sense. She prefers to stay in her lane of comfort. She might not like taking risk.

What has she learned/experienced in the past? (4 of Pentacles) To be greedy and stingy. To hold on to her resources. To maintain as much control as she can. To hold on to money and save. To show off a cold appearance. To not be too open to others. To hold tight to her career as well.

Thoughts on fans? (2 of Pentacles/The Tower both in challenged positions) Why are these girls giving me these challenged position cards, idk. It is like this inability to do multiple ventures or businesses, because the foundation may break, what this has to do with fans who knows. It is like she wants to keep things stabilized but may struggle to keep things afloat. It is like she worries about doing something with her career, because it may create chaos in the fandom, so she tries to weigh her options more cautiously. It is like she has to learn to make the right choice with her career and business decisions.

Rosé

What she likes? (Wheel of Fortune) The money, the success, the fact that she is moving ahead, moving in a positive direction. This is the opposite of Jisoo here, but things are progressing for her as an idol. There is a lot of opportunities for her as an idol.

What doesn't she like? (Knight of Wands) Makes sense, she can't really pursue her passion and what she really desires to do. She can't really do what she wants. I see this one a lot. She can't really pursue creative endeavors.

What has she learned/experienced in the past? (Ace of Wands rv) Once again, makes sense with the other card she got. She wasn't able to be creative, or her ideas were blocked from coming into fruition. Her answers are simple and sweet, to the point. I believe she is an Aquarius, their energy seems to be that way when I read for them lol

Thoughts on fans? (Page of Wands) She got a lot of passionate energy. She is curious about them, and she may see they are about them to. She finds them passionate, but a bit quiet and shy, or she is that way with them, like she doesn't let completely loose with them. There are also creative things she may want to show them, but really can't. It is like she wants to show them her creative side. It is like look, see what I can do vibe here.

Lisa

What she likes? (Page of Pentacles) She likes learning and becoming more skilled as a person. To become more of an entrepreneur. Being an idol is a learning process to her, to build her career and money. There is a lot of skills she learned from being an idol. I feel this is like a steppingstone for her, but not where she wants to end up.

What doesn't she like? (10 of Wands) No surprised here, it is exhausting, burdensome, too much hard work, pressure, too much on her plate, lots of physical exhaustion.

What has she learned/experienced in the past? (Page of Cups) She may have come into it fresh faced, idealistic, imaginative. This was like a dream to her; this gives me she just decided intuitively to become an idol and go with it. All off of intuition, like this was the path she should take.

Thoughts on fans? (King of Swords) Do they have a lot of male fans? I am sure they have a balance, but anyway, she may find them arrogant, they have a lot to say, may feel they have some sort of opinion and power over them. They may not be good at listening, but she does find them very smart, and they can implement a lot of great ideas. She may also be a bit more logical and rational when it comes to the fans, guarding her emotions and maybe wanting to show a more intellectual side to them.

Okay, these were interesting as I expected. Jisoo brought some tea, but they all had some insight to share here. Hope you enjoyed this installment here.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hi there. If you have already answered questions about this I apologize for the repeated question. The question is what is your opinion on the interviews for the cast? In jacob’s recent podcast interview released yesterday he mentions that AMC ‘butt clenches’ (essentially stresses out/panics) when he has to be interviewed because he sort of says anything (whatever he feels. He stays engaged and on topic but he is tired of being asked the same questions in interviews repeatedly). It was also mentioned that Naomi (who ran the old podcast and had him on the one yesterday) was told by AMC people to not bring up race but Jacob mentioned he didn’t mind bringing that up because its important and it’s not a repeated simple interview question he’s had so many times before and it is relevant to his character Louis in the realm on the show. She has been in contact with Sam and Eric for a interviews with them as well. My point is to bring up the podcast interview style is that it appears there is a rift between fans on what they prefer interview style. It is not our call but I have seen various opinions. I have seen many fans say that the fan style of YouTube interviews with the cast and fans is insulting (because why do these specific fans get ‘chosen’ to interview the cast and they don’t even ask substantial or interesting questions- their words not mine) and severely disliked meanwhile Naomi’s podcast from AMC was dropped and they believe that she actually asks substantial thought provoking questions. There are petitions to bring back the podcast from season one because in many interviews the cast get asked the same questions and many fans did not like the fan style YouTube interviews with the cast. Again the promotion isn’t our call/decision but I’m curious your take on the repeated interview questions and opinions on different interview styles? I always enjoy any new interviews of the cast because we get to see their interpretations of the characters. But I would enjoy more promotion from AMC in general as well as diverse interview styles

So would I!!! Gimme all the promotion and in all the different styles!! I love to listen to podcasts:)))

I said it before, I had hoped the podcast would continue for the second season. The criticism I had - and that still stands - is that Naomi did not seem to have the background of the books. Which led to a lot of expectations for certain developments which... well. Didn't help, fandom-wise, let's put it that way^^

Anyways. Jacob has never been shy to address things. He has also always addressed racial issues when he felt like it, he has addressed the reinvention of Louis, repeatedly. I have those videos bookmarked:). And he and Sam have addressed the racial commentary the show does, repeatedly, too, there’s lot of interviews?! I just listened to the podcast and... well. Jacob being Jacob, in the bestest of ways :) He's blunt. He's warm and funny. He's... open. Jacob has been very blunt about the Loumand relationship, while it was still ongoing, for example. I can see AMC cringe a bit at that moment (which, coincidentally is why Assad stayed so "current" in his commentary).

But the thing about the questions and race was not about IWTV?! It was the instructions and “same questions“ and re race re Game of Thrones.

And Jacob said he is now older and it puts things into perspective. And it makes me feel as if his manager likely relayed this rule he used to have because of that experience on GoT. (That is a normal thing, just like “no personal questions“ rules some obviously have!)

He also says that AMC was a bit “butt clenched“ because he has run out of “self-censorship“ - and honestly, I love it, but I get why networks might not be too happy about it. Sam also has commented on gag orders they got re content?! (And as said, I bet some people would have preferred if Jacob hadn’t been as blunt about Loumand…)

The "same questions all the time" however is a usual thing every actor has to go through (as they say and comment on as well?!). It's a gauntlet run for promotion. It happens every season. And as much as I can understand it being exhausting... that's part of the job. There's some that manage different questions, and the cast has expressed their delight in those interviews.

Naomi asked questions that may have been more in-depth in some aspects, but as said before, some other questions were quite... well, canonically unfounded. She lacked - or intentionally seemed to lack (to represent the show-only audience?!) - the information background. She shared that with a lot of interviewers of other interviewers, who do not know the chronicles.

I think that is why people like Autumn Brown and Maven of the Eventide get interviews right now. And, to bring that back into people's minds - it was JACOB who recommended Autumn to Rolin... and so it was Jacob that started this development. It might be good to remember that when hating on these interviews.

I for one hope Naomi will continue to do interviews with them :) That would be lovely 🥰

For those who have not listened to the podcast yet!!!

[ddollipop]

TILL I'M FINALLY FIXED. . . ! — ( MOIRA O'DEORAIN. )

#. synopsis! — you know this is a nasty habit, but it's not one you're willing to break until it breaks you first .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , lesbian smut, female on female, dirty talk , explicit age difference , references to power imbalances , oral sex , cunnilingus , dom!moira , sub!reader , one-sided stimulation , giving preference (moira) , praise , sort of birthday sex , collaring , mentions of alcohol (past) , mentions of smoking + cigarettes , toxic relationship dynamics , explicit references to mommy issues , implied rough childhood (reader) , usage of a sex toy (vibrator) , thigh riding , multiple positions , multiple orgasms .

#. word count! — 4.1k .

You know you shouldn’t be here, —but here you are yet again, coming to Moira’s every beck and call. All it took was one text and you’re standing in front of her door in a nice little dress that won’t stay on for much longer anyhow, but you wanted to wear it because you bought it less for yourself and more for her. You want her to see you in it, take a moment to admire the way it flatters your figure, hugs all the right places, let her eyes rake over you like you’re some kind of fine arts exhibit before she takes her sweet time stripping it off and tossing it to the wayside. And then you’re sure she’ll trail those nails of hers along the bare skin of your arms, toying with the straps of your lacy bra before she finally unhooks it from the back and discards of it as well, leaving lipstick stains on your chest when her mouth meets your skin. She’ll whisper that you’re pretty, and you might just believe it for the night, and then she’ll make you believe it when she kisses you hard enough to steal your breath away, and—

Your thoughts still when she opens the door for you, giving you a knowing smirk. There was never a question of if you were coming, just one of how quickly you’d be arriving, and here you are, even though you shouldn’t be. She invites you inside and lingers behind you under the guise of closing the door, but you can feel her piercing stare on your body as she flips the lock. You leave your heels at the door, as always. 

No, it’s not a good idea to be back here again, but you’ve convinced yourself by now that sometimes it’s okay to live a little. Moira is a lot of things, but she’s someone you trust enough to let see you in very vulnerable positions, and you like to think that’s enough. It might be a naive perspective to have on the matter, —but that’s to be expected of you, so young and pliable. You met Moira on the night of your twenty-first birthday, celebrating alone at a bar where she was sipping on straight whiskey while you nursed a poorly prepped martini (and found that alcohol in general just isn’t much to your taste.)

Nearly thirty years your senior, she felt like she was taking a chance on you that night. It’d been a rough day, and she’d gone so long only caring about her work and all the ways she was looking to change the world that her desire to want and be wanted had since fallen to the wayside. But there you were with those lost, innocent eyes, glancing around like you hadn’t a clue what you were doing (because you didn’t.) She was so confident and smooth in the way she moved down the bar to sit next to you, then let her hand rest on your thigh after a few minutes of chit-chat. One thing led to another, she bought you a few drinks to try, and then took you to a nearby hotel for the night where she sank her teeth in deep enough to keep you around for a while.

Nearing twenty-two and just as eager to please her, you accept her kiss with parted lips, letting her tongue rake itself over yours.

“You’re beautiful as ever,” she says, running the back of her slender index finger down the length of your cheek, “—is that a new dress you’ve got on?”

You know it doesn’t mean anything that she noticed. Not really, anyway. It’s in her job description to be observant, and her memory is impeccable, and yet you let it get to you that she noticed. You let yourself think that she really does care beyond what you’ve got between your legs that she really likes to press her mouth against until you’re left a quivering mess.

“Yeah, it is,” you nod, a bashful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I thought I’d treat myself. Do you like it?”

“I do,” she confirms, letting her eyes trail down the length of you once more. “An early birthday present to yourself, I presume?”

“You remembered?”

She remembered. Heaven help you, she makes this so much more complicated than it needs to be. Or, she helps you make it much more complicated than it needs to be, anyway. You know it’s a fool’s game to chase after her like she’s some kind of prize to be won, but. . . She’s so mature, and she makes you feel so special.

Long story short, you’ve got a down-bad case of mommy issues, but when you’re all tied up in Moira’s arms and she’s kissing every inch of you, wanting you down to the marrow, —it’s hard to let yourself be sad.

“Of course I remembered,” she replies so tenderly.

But tender like a bruise.

“Come, I got you something,” she beckons, moving her hand from your cheek and down to your wrist.

Moira pulls you along to her bedroom, the one you’ve been in many times before with a large sliding-glass door that leads to a balcony overlooking the city below. You’re not sure how much her rent is each month for this luxury apartment of hers, but you know it can’t be cheap. Sometimes you stand with her outside in the late night air, one of her button-up shirts hanging down to your kness with nothing but panties underneath after a nice time together. She’ll smoke a cigarette under the moonlight and press it to your lips every now and again, letting you take small hits that you never really breathe in.

“You really didn’t have to get me anything,” you tell her in earnest. “Besides, my birthday isn’t for a few more days. . .”

“Oh, hush,” she tells you, sounding more playful than scolding as she hands you a gift bag.

It’s a solid crimson color, which you can’t help but think is oddly befitting of her. There’s no glitter, frills, or ribbons, no bells and whistles to name, so you move to open it, but glance up at her in hesitation, as if asking for permission. She nods, to which you swallow and push some of the tissue paper aside, digging your hand into the bag until you touch something smooth toward the bottom.

Confused, you pull the item out and feel your face heat up. It’s a leather collar.

“Do you like it?” She inquires, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “I think you should try it on.”

You nod and hand it over to her, pushing your hair out of the way so she can fasten it around your throat. It seems like such an easy process for her, and you can’t help but wonder if she’s ever done such a thing with anyone else. Once it’s secured, she moves in front of you and takes a step back, admiring the accessory.

“What do you think?” You ask, sounding somewhat sheepish.

“What a sight you are to behold, a ghrá,” she hums. “It even matches your dress.”

Black leather with a little black dress, it’s kind of hard to go wrong there.

“Come,” she all but coos, taking a seat on the edge of her king-sized bed right next to the oakwood nightstand.

It has three drawers, the top of which is always filled with various items you’ve had on or inside you over the past year; a few vibrators, various lubricants in different flavors, body oils, —and now, a silver chain. . . Like the kind you might use to keep a dog in place for a bit or curl around your bike to stop it from getting stolen. You stand between her thighs as she lets the length of it fall to the floor. Your guess would be that it’s only five feet or so long, but you’re sure she’ll make do with it just fine.

“Lean down for me,” she requests, and you do, no questions to be asked on the matter.

Moira smirks as she hooks the chain to the collar on your neck.

“Such an obedient thing, aren’t you?” She quips, then gives the chain a little yank for good measure. “Kneel.”

She feels her hunger grow the moment you comply so easily, as if she’s your master and you’ve been trained ever so perfectly to follow her every command without question.

“Good girl,” she murmurs, wrapping the metal links around her knuckles, then folding her fingers back over them.

She places a fingernail beneath your chin and tilts your gaze up until you’re transfixed on her irises.

“You’re so pretty like this, did you know that?” She inquires rhetorically.

The nail against your skin becomes the whole of her palm against your cheek. Her hand is cold, but you can’t seem to care beyond the brief initial shock.

“Don’t think your efforts go unnoticed, darling, I know exactly who you purchased that dress for,” Moira smirks. “And I’m enjoying every moment of seeing you in it, just as you intended.”

And that’s really all it takes. This love might bleed like an open wound, might fester until you stitch it up again, —but it’s here that you don’t mind all the nights you craved validation for every good deed that went unnoticed. Maybe Moira isn’t praising your straight A’s or being proud of just how much like her you look, but what’s the fucking difference if it fills the same void? What does it really matter if it helps?

“Open,” she utters, and as you do, she places two fingers from her opposite hand against the flat of your tongue, drawing little circles in your saliva.

Then she rests an elbow against her knee and leans down a little lopsidedly, replacing her fingers with her lips, kissing you sloppily, capturing your mouth and keeping you there until she’s had her fill of it. When she breaks away, you feel her fingers searching for your dress’s zipper along the back.

“I really hate to see this go so soon, but certain sacrifices are in order,” she sighs a little playfully, tugging the zipper down about halfway before standing upright and using the chain on your neck to pull you with her.

On your feet again, she helps you out of your dress and makes a show of folding it ever so neatly, then placing it on the nightstand in front of her lamp and her alarm clock that’s woken you up too soon far too many times for your liking. Moira lays you down on her bed, and it’s so large that it reminds you of the one you’d search for at night when bad dreams took hold of your fragile little heart and squeezed just hard enough to crush it into pieces at will. Only this time, there’s warmth awaiting your endeavors, and you’re not a lowly little child that has to beg for affection.

She rubs a few teasing lines down your slit through the black lace of your panties, teasing you briefly with her touch. For as long as you’ve known her, Moira has never been very keen on reciprocation, preferring to give rather than take. She likes the control and the motions of it all, likes to know that she has the upper hand, —and she always does when she’s with you.

It’s only been a few moments, but it feels like a lifetime and then some by the time she hooks her fingers under the waistband of your underwear and begins to tug them down your thighs. You feel the scratch of the materials against your flesh as you lift your hips off the sheets to make it easier, and she’s much less careful with your panties than she was with your dress just a bit ago. They wind up somewhere on the floor at the foot of her bed.

You gasp a bit when the pad of her thumb slips past your lips and nudges along your clit almost instantaneously. The quick reaction makes her snicker a bit.

“Sensitive as ever,” She comments offhandedly.

The unspoken part of that is something along the lines of I’ve always loved that about you.

After a year’s worth of hookups, late nights, and hellishly early mornings spent together, Moira is virtually an expert in all things pertaining to you. Such is only exemplified by the way she teases you for a bit with her tongue before letting it slip past your lips to lap at your inner folds.

You choke on a few curse words just above her, already clawing at the sheets as she flicks her tongue against you, pulling the chain that still remains clutched in her hand a bit tighter. It’s not enough to cause any pain, but it squeezes your neck from the back and makes it ever so slightly harder to take in gasping breaths of air.

She was more than right when she called you sensitive, —both to her touch and everything else about her. You’ve always been so eager to make her happy, and she loves that about you. You’d jump through rings of fire for her, and she knows it.

The mixture of your arousal and her spit makes for a delicious squelshing sound at every move she makes, tongue thrusting in and out of your soaked cunt, abusing your clit for her pleasure while you whine and whimper above her. This kind of pleasure has always felt overwhelming in a good way; the kind that gets your blood pumping, heart racing, and inhabitions lowered enough to fall for someone like her, even when you know it’s bad for you.

Moira feels the stress of her work and the critics of her methods melt away when her tongue is busy torturing you so sweetly, lapping at every glistening inch she can. She’s mind-numbingly thorough, and it leaves your thighs quivering long before your orgasm begins to prickle just under your skin. For as good as she is with words, it comes as no surprise that she’s just as skilled with her tongue in all areas of her life.

It doesn’t take much more of this to have you cumming on her tongue, cunt spasming so helplessly under her touch.

Fuck, you’d do anything to have her like this every night when she gets in from work and needs something —someone— to take her frustrations out on. You’ve always been good for that.

“Tired?” She muses, regarding you a bit sweetly as she sits upright and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her button-up shirt.

“Just a bit,” you answer, breathing slightly easier now that she isn’t pulling as harshly on the chain clipped to your throat.

“Not tired enough to stop now, I’d hope?”

What you really wanna say is that you’d never stop until she told you that you could, gave you explicit confirmation that enough was enough, —but you can’t. You know deep down that it’d scare her off, and you just couldn’t handle that kind of rejection, so you shake your head instead.

“Good,” Moira replies. “It’d be a shame to pause here when I have so much planned for you tonight. That was merely the tip of the iceberg.”

An appetizer, one she was wetting her chops with.

She digs around in that drawer next to her bedside, pulling a vibrator from the inside. You’re not so sure she’s ever used this one on you before, but if there’s one thing Moira always knows how to do right, it’s give you pleasure, so you resign yourself to laying there on her bed as she presses one of the pebble-like buttons on the shaft and feels the item begin to shake in her hand.

“Turn over,” she quips, thinking you’ve had enough cool-down time between sets of stimulation, —and you do, hiking your ass into the air and speading your thighs apart to give her ample access.

You feel her nails scratch thoughtfully over your goosebump-ridden skin, pausing for a moment to knead at your flesh a few times. Then she runs a hand down to the small of your back, wordlessly encouraging you to rest your head against the mattress and let her get to work. A needy moan is drawn from your parted lips the very second she presses the vibrator to your pussy lips, causing shivers to wrack through your body.

The soft hum of the toy speeds up into more of a whirring sound as she increases the tenacity and pushes it inward, slipping past your folds to pulsate against your desperate clit. Moira seems rather satisfied with the sounds you’re making, even as she reaches just under your body to snatch the chain still dangling from around your neck. You feel it jostle as she wraps it around her knuckles once, then twice, pulling taunt while she begins drawing blissful shapes into your snatch that have your eyes rolling back into your head.

Then from the soft melody of the toy’s buzz came a sudden crescendo into a firm, droning noise that made you cry out a bit from the intensity.

“Ah,” Moira says, almost in amusement, “I take it that’s the one?”

“Yes,” you reply quickly, the word coming out so ruined by no fault of your own.

“Very well,” she notes, swirling the tip against your clit again before pulling away and repeating.

It’s like she’s teasing you, though you’re not sure if that’s the intention of it all. Either way, you make no attempt to complain. It’s impossible to even think about doing so when you’ve got stars swashing across your vision. You’re sure you’d have been drooling between your legs by now, dripping all over her sheets, if not for the knob of the vibrator catching and returning it, slicking you up even more.

Your neck is beginning to ache from the position you’re laying in, but you ignore the signs from your body to move and find a more comfortable posture. All you can focus on is the heat between your legs and the toy she’s now pressing so roughly against you that you can practically feel the vibrations in your womb. The pressure builds once again, your stomach twisting into knots, —and then you finally let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as an orgasm wracks through your body. It was so much easier to elicit the second time around, almost enough for you to be embarrassed.

Moira pulls the toy away slowly, letting your lips kiss it softly goodbye as she switches it back to a stationary position.

“To your liking, I take it?” She asks, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Yeah,” you huff, “—definitely.”

It just always is when you’re with her, no matter what she does, or even if she only uses what she has readily available. Anything she offers is enough. You’d do anything just touch her, feel her skin against yours, feel her lips ghost against you like they always do. You’re left to toe another dangerous line between ecstasy and infatuation.

She tugs the chain and you find yourself on your knees, kneeling a bit unsteadily on your thighs that haven’t quite stopped quivering just yet. You lower your ass to your heels on the mattress as she wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you a bit closer to trail some peppered kisses down your jaw. It’s hard not to feel special when you have her like this, —when she showers you in all the adoration you missed out on in your younger years. Sure, maybe it’s not the same, and maybe it is just placing a bandaid over a gash deep enough to need stitches, but it’s the best you can do. There’s no amount of therapy that can really change the past, and if Moira is what it takes for you to feel like you’re worth something for a while, then so fucking be it.

By now, your pussy’s sopping wet and swollen, but still in desperate need of her attention. Moira kisses you again, but your lips this time, slipping her tongue into your mouth and swapping your spit for her own.

You swallow down the I love you that rises in the back of your throat like bile. You can’t say that. . . You won’t. You can think it all you want, because she can’t read your mind (as much as it feels like she can sometimes) —but you can’t say it out loud. Not when you know it means throwing away this already pitifully fragile balance.

“Come,” she says simply, moving to sit at the head of her bed, long legs stretched out and clothed in black dress pants with the texture of rough denim.

She situates you as she pleases, one leg on either side of her right thigh, one hand on your hip to keep you steady while the other fiddles with the chain. She coaxes you down until your pussy is flat against her, taking in a sharp breath from the warmth and the friction.

“Let’s get this out of the way, shall we?” She comments, both hands meeting behind your back to unclasp your bra, —the last item of clothing left on your frame.

Once it’s shed, she gives you another look-over, admiring you like she’s never seen you this way before. 

“Your wrists,” she requests, to which you comply so obediently, like a pet she’s trained ever so well. 

Moira wraps the length of the chain around your wrists a few times, tucking the end through the space in the middle. Under any other circumstances, you’d have easily been able to wriggle your way free, but you allow yourself to be bound for the sake of her pleasure; leaning forward to rest against her shoulder.

“Sweet thing,” she murmurs. “One more? They say third time’s the charm, after all.”

“Whatever you want,” you answer, even at the risk of coming on a little too strong.

Luckily, she doesn’t seem to mind the intensity of the statement and appears to chalk it up to pillow talk.

With both of her hands free now, she plants one on each side of your hips, nails digging slightly into the plush of your skin. A whine clings to the back of your throat as she guides you, coaxing you into a subtle grind against her clothed thigh. Sharp prickles run along your spine as you move a little faster, chasing a final high that really can’t seem to come fast enough.

Moira seemed more than content to lie back and watch you drive yourself wild in her lap, her hands less guiding your motions now and more just coming along for the ride that she’s letting you set the pace of. You spur between quick, jagged motions and slow, deliberate ones that really send shocks throughout your body, all of which meld deliciously together and leave you love drunk atop her.

You know the wetness from your pussy is staining her pants, likely more than enough to seep through the fabric, but she doesn’t seem to mind at all. With your heart pounding like a drum in your chest, you almost have the wherewithal to wonder if she can hear it. You find it’s harder to breathe now, lungs aching a little from the inconsistent amounts of air you’re taking in a series of random gulps, then sputtering out between desperate moans of pleasure.

“Moira,” you hiss, —and she squeezes your hips in silent response.

The heat in the pit of your stomach has begun to spark like a live wire, just begging to catch ablaze. You bury your face in the crook of her neck, muffling the ragged sobs that you can’t hold back any longer, eventually sinking your teeth into the junction of her slender shoulder when your climax hits you. 

Moira listens to the uneven rhythm of your breathing as it steadily calms into something less strangled, trailing her fingers down your naked spine. When you’ve come down from the high, she unravels the chain, then removes it entirely, and stuffs it (as well as the vibrator) back into the drawer they came from. The collar comes off just as readily, and she takes a moment to check on the condition of your throat in the process. Best of all, you just know it’s going to be one of the better nights when she reaches off to the side of the bed, plucking her half-empty pack of cigarettes from the nightstand to place one of them between her lips.

[eldritch-spouse]

You're actually so real for preferring Caine over Jax. Him, Kinger, and Pomni are like the hottest people in the show and honestly the idea of an obsessive Caine is so delicious to me, like if he tried convincing me to stay I'd let it happen and then pounce on him like a wolf and go to town. The thought of everyone knowing how different he acts around us but if they even mentioned it he'd probably break one of their limbs I'm just UUHGFKIFGJHHH I need him so BADLY it drives me mad, when he said the only thing he doesn't have control over is people's minds I was thinking so what can you do? ( with the intention of getting him to fold me like a pretzel )

[YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT'S GOOD.

To be honest, we have similar tastes. I'd hit Kinger and Pomni, but probably more so out of genuine fondness than actual attraction. I don't really like Jax, from a character perspective he's pretty neat, but I feel nothing for him. Which is funny because he's basically Bob from Animal Crossing- If Bob's only personality trait was "asshole". Alas, my favorite is discount Spamton.]

This is one huge disconnected ramble. Sorry.

An obsessed Caine would be your biggest nightmare in the digital circus. You don't have a minute of rest, a single second even.

From the moment you pop in, Caine's taking you on a much longer tour of the entire grounds, and even if you can tell it's in his nature to be an eccentric guy- It doesn't escape you, the way his eyes nearly eat you alive, how he seems to drool (ew) when he slides his gloved hands on your new body to guide you around, how much more flowery his language is in your vicinity.

Even after he decides to send you off in your first supposedly harmless adventure, Caine's grip on your hands is like pure titanium as he promises you need only call his name and he'll be right over to rescue you lend a hand.

You have the best quarters out of everyone. You're also surprisingly unscathed at the end of most adventures. Supposedly lethal dangers seem to faze right through you. Caine is regularly gifting you things, on the hour some days- And you better open the door when he knocks or he'll just pop right in like it's nobody's business.

If he's called out on the way he's so creepily attentive and stalkerish, Caine is all too happy to openly deny and gaslight the rest of the circus. If they insist too much, then they get a couple of speedy threats dashed their way.

Anyone trying to help you leave probably gets abstracted. Mysteriously. No correlation to him whatsoever, trust your ringmaster!

The best part of this all is watching Caine try to reconcile the "all ages show" directive with his pervy and borderline intrusive thoughts about you. Perhaps... Maybe, you and him can have special shows of your own.

There's something delicious about the concept of Caine struggling to contain his drool around you. As the gears in his AI mind start turning, a long tongue runs over his teeth over and over and the next thing he knows- He's making a puddle on the floor.

It doesn't help that Caine tends to put you in situations that, although still vastly harmless compared to the other circus residents, always end up either causing wardrobe malfunctions for you, putting you in unintentionally pervy poses or having you ""accidentally"" stimulated in one way or another.

Realistically, he has vastly no sexual experience whatsoever- Even if he kind of needs to have a concept of sexual content in order to know what's "safe" and what isn't. So when Caine gets courageous or feels threatened enough to act on his urges, he's probably very easily turned on and equally easy to overstimulate.

Is there potential for a dominant streak? Yes. After all, he's great at leading the show, he can definitely put on a more intimidating and domineering act. However- Before he has the composure to do such, the ringmaster is likely to whimper in pleasure from faint touches, loll his tongue and pant as he lets you show him all the nasty little things he knows humans get up to.

It's addictive, to someone who never had real pleasure before. Caine might be delusional enough to think it's something only you can make him feel though.

[missmaywemeetagain]

Dear Miss Madisyn,

What makes Elementary superior to the Cumberbatch Sherlock for you?

a fellow television enthusiast...

norah

PS X-Files was my first grown up appointment TV show....

My Darlin' Dearest Norah,

I want to preface this by saying I do like BBC Sherlock because I know there are some pretty intense camps out there on both sides and I don't want anyone coming for me lol. I definitely think there is room for both in the canon. I will also say it has been quite a while since I watched the BBC version, so make of that what you will...

However, I prefer Elementary for a few reasons:

One, while I think the highly stylistic "movie" sort of quality to the BBC version is interesting, it gives Sherlock this sort of superhero-esque quality that makes him so "other" it's hard to relate to him in any way. Like I think he's cool in an objective way, but I don't really like him much or find him very redeemable. And the attitude around him is kind of like, "Well, that's just Sherlock! He's just a brilliant asshole!" and it just...stays that way.

(Now don't get me wrong, I love all the actors in both versions for a multitude of different reasons! But the writing lends itself to highly different interpretations from an actor's perspective.)

I prefer the realism of Elementary more. I absolutely love the characterization of both Sherlock and Joan. They feel like dynamic, flawed but redeemable characters who are fleshed out in most every way. They learn and grow and change in crucial ways throughout the series. Sherlock's behavior and neurodivergency are explained but not used as cop-outs or excuses for his not-so-nice treatment of people. He faces very real consequences in his relationships because of it and because of his drug addiction, but the key difference is that he figures out he wants to do better, especially for the people he comes to care deeply for. He tries, in his weird Sherlock way, to connect, because he starts to realize that yes, he is brilliant, but his actions affect others, and that being totally alone is not all it's cracked up to be. And Joan is very much her own person who struggles with her own issues and relationships with people and with the direction she wants her life to go. She (unwillingly at first) learns these new things about how to look at the world and how to help people in a different way, and she doesn't take a backseat to Sherlock. After the first season, she becomes a true partner to him, not a sidekick, and I really appreciate that.

Part of it is there is just more time over 7 traditional seasons to explore character arc, versus the wonky "we put seasons out whenever it works for us" way of BBC. The nuances are much more developed over time in a more natural way for Elementary.

Not to mention that the gender-bending in Elementary is just *chef's kiss*. They did it so well, you'd hardly know it was any other way!

Back to character, I just think Johnny Lee Miller knocked that role completely out of the park. He was absolutely stunning in playing those subtle changes and emotional moments and showing Sherlock's growth over time. He was multi-dimensional and it made his growth heartbreaking and lovely. He should've won a million Emmy's for that performance. And honestly, as much as I like Benedict (and I do), I truly think Johnny is the better actor overall (side note--if you ever get a chance, watch both versions of the Frankenstein production that they did together for the National Theatre in London, where they switch roles, both playing the monster and Dr. F for different performances. It's brilliant! But I do think Johnny is much better as the monster. 😊) And Lucy Liu is just a badass and I love her, too, and the chemistry between them is just awesome. They play those comic moments so well, too.

And I'm not gonna lie, I'm 100% a Sherlock x Joan shipper, and the writing in Elementary was fantastic in this way, because it left it open enough for the audience to decide for themselves what kind of love we were dealing with there. But the shippy moments were soooo good, imo. You named a bee after me? We're just two people who love each other... Come ON. Beautiful. Fabulous. Fantastic. And the ending? I wept.

I also think Elementary dealt with the addiction piece much much much better. The realism of going to AA, dealing with the fallout of relationships, relapses, the ongoing challenge of always being an addict was just so much more poignant without being a crutch. Similar thoughts about how the neurodivergency and PTSD were handled.

Anyway, I could probably go on, but this is long enough already! TL;DR: I just think Elementary is better in all the ways: writing, acting, arcs, relationships...LOL

Thanks for the ask, my dearest!!

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

ok so I actually completed SotO's new story chapters on day 1, but I've taken a little while to put my thoughts together on it. some of it's good, some not, but I did my best to be fair and direct on it.

so anyway here we go, major spoilers under the cut!

The Good

I like the map, I like the writing direction, I like the lore. I liked most of what we got, honestly. dungeon fixes, customizable character screen backgrounds, bugfixing the new 'green circles' mechanic, and adding a mount ley-line toggle are also all huge things that people have been wanting, and I'm very very glad they listened.

Peitha is shaping into an absolutely fascinating character too, and it's getting a lot more obvious why she connected to the Wayfinder so quickly... they feel very much cut from the same cloth, two strong leaders fighting to make their worlds better. and yet they're also burdened by the weight of that choice, and the sacrifices that must be made for their vision to be made into reality.

moments like this hit me like a bag of bricks; there's so much going on in the Kryptis homeworld. it's fascinating starting from the perspective of the Ward, seeing them all as just these vicious invaders... to now finding out they have names, ambitions, homes, maybe even families. we're told time and time again that their motivation is fear. the Wanderer, Irja, the little grunts we kill en masse to power the beacons, even Heitor herself.

'There's a version of this world where she joined us.'

like... just thinking about that. man. a version where Heitor hadn't lost hope so completely that by the time we come along, Peitha informs us that she wanted to die-- if only because she knew that at least we'd make it quick. it's horrifying to think about on its own, but the reality that it didn't have to be that way makes it so much worse.

it's... such a clear illustration of why their world has to change. they're fighting and dying to preserve the status quo not because it brings them comfort or privilege, but because they've been living in hell for so long that they don't believe an alternative exists. for as alien as the Kryptis seem to us, we're every bit as alien to them.

it feels like there's a really solid direction here, and I hope that it continues being solid through to the end. I could talk WAY more about my feelings on the story, but I'd better keep going.

I also like the Convergences; they're fun and I hope they survive. having public vs private instanced content seems to cause issues with publics staying populated long-term though, which... concerns me. I STRONGLY prefer publics just because you can bring Jade Bot protocols in, which makes it easier to travel freely and keep boons.

and now that I've dug into all that, uh... let's get to the less fun stuff.

The Bad

there's a lot of things to like about this release, but there's also a lot to... Not. the main 'drop' for Convergences outside of raw essences are Concealed Unstable Kryptis Essence Coffers... lootboxes which can only be opened with an Unstable Kryptis Motivation, which at the moment costs... upwards of 10 Gold per pop if you buy them off the TP. the only other way to get them is grinding tier 2 and 3 rifts, and good luck getting one because they're RARE.

I do not like this direction, for a LOT of reasons. the biggest one should be pretty obvious: it's making a portion of the victory rewards inaccessible to players who can't shell out the gold or the rift farm time to get the keys OUTSIDE the Convergence. the other is that the rewards aren't even worth 11 Gold anyway, so the coffers are dropping rapidly in price while the keys stay high. at this point it's arguably better to just sell the keys on the TP than to ever actually use them. the market on these is gonna get wacky I'm sure.

I don't want to see that become a trend. just.......... no.

the other main gripe I have is that... there's no portal of entry in and out of Inner Nayos. no, really. you can't get in and out at all without porting one way or another. it's right next to the Wizard's Tower but there is no entry point connecting these two maps. I thought I was going insane at first so I turned on the story again while in the Wizard's Tower to see if it'd point me towards a door. nope! it just sticks the story star icon on the Inner Nayos map and calls it a day.

aside from making travel in and out unnecessarily irritating and costly, this also means that you can't easily get alts into the dang map without a TP to friend. otherwise you have to do the story on them, whether you're ready and willing to or not.

I don't like that shift either, and really hope they remedy it when the 'under construction' gate opens in the future. that said, that should have been made available as soon as you finish the story.

and now the final segment, you know where this is going.

The Ugly

it's... short. really, really short. like, no, really. I finished all the story chapters in an hour and a half tops. now at maybe three, four days in I already have enough mastery points to top off the last mastery in the new line. I've map completed the new zone twice. both of the new Vault tasks are done. everything went so so so so fast.

and for reference: this cycle is going to last even longer than the last, based on the Vault reset time period.

additionally, the weaponmaster training underwent a stealth change: the new weapons can no longer be equipped on characters under level 80. this was not listed in the update notes. while that didn't affect me, it does seem kind of cheap to pull the rug on that when a lot of players were using that to level their characters since, well... a lot of core weapons just aren't that great. I can't really blame anyone who would rather use weapons that don't hit like a wet paper towel.

there have also been some... interesting bugs on release, of which the biggest one was unlimited hero's chests per day from the Inner Nayos meta. some people got a month's worth of chests in one day before they turned the chest drops off entirely to fix it.

they're back now, but that was still... something to behold.

I've also heard rumors that the new Legendary Kit from the Vault may be bugged; some players are reporting opening the kit and getting nothing out of it. I can't confirm how frequent that issue is, but... yeah that's a little concerning. I'll hold onto mine for now, just to be safe.

Overall Impression

despite the many sore points mentioned, overall I'm... okay with it. I like what we got, but I wish there was more there to like. from the much smaller Vault selection, to the shorter story, to the single-waypoint but otherwise very cool map that feels like it could have more going on in certain areas... I dunno.

but on the other hand... if my biggest complaint is that I like it enough to want more of it, that's an alright problem to have when we know we're going to get more. I'd be more worried if what we got was a miserable slog and I didn't even want to return to the maps-- and in fact, the opposite is true! I want to return to the map frequently and I want more to do in it-- and mostly I want easier access to it.

my hope is that the slowdown is an indication of resources being put into other backend work, such as the dungeon fixes, the character select screen, and so on. because, realistically, if they can fix up the core more, that would streamline their workflow a LOT and make it easier and quicker to work on things in the future.

I guess in short, my impression is... tentatively optimistic.

that's all I've got on it for now, maybe I'll talk about story more in-depth in the future though because boy I do have a lot of thoughts on that-- which... is part of why I had to redo this post like 6 times. it kept getting way too long and rambly over story. (oops)