#but I think these are some pretty unique stories!

[saltintheseaa]

Oh my god this is so real. I read soooo many webcomics in my teens, I could rattle off a whole list. Off the top of my head my favorites were Gunnerkrigg Court (I found that one in sixth grade and it's the only one I still keep up with), Vattu, Sakana, Octopus Pie, Rice Boy, Sleepless Domain, Never Satisfied, Lavender Jack on Webtoons, Tiger Tiger, Cucumber Quest, Ava's Demon, Kill Six Billion Demons-- there are so many more but those are the ones I remember off the top of my head.

Most of these were hosted on Hiveworks which I found out recently is closing its print operations. Which is really sad, but not surprising given what everyone else has already talked about. Honestly these comics were pretty fundamental to my artistic development and some of them provided a really comforting source of community, especially queer community. Checking up on my favorite stories every week, noticing the artist's gradual improvement over time, these were like rituals that provided a source of stability when nothing else in my life was going well.

Webcomics introduced me to sequential, narrative art and I thought about being a comic artist for a bit before realizing that making comics is for insane people and I'd rather go into film (lol). But they triggered a passion for storytelling that's affected my practice ever since. They are wonderful and there's so many finished ones up online that are so unique special. I feel a lot of nostalgia for them and it's been so sad to witness them gradually fading away as the internet becomes more commercialized. Like first webtoons became a big thing and then tiktok and I feel like those two really killed people's attention span and ability to process big complicated stories in comics. But webcomics still hold a really special place in my heart and I'm glad that people are still thinking about them, talking about them, and making them.

In your view/experience. is the rate of "incompleteness" among webcomics more or less the nature of online personal projects as a whole? Or is there something specific to webcomics like laboriousness, audience expectations, relative medium infancy or whatnot?

well for one thing webcomics has changed significantly in the last ten years. it used to have a much lower barrier for entry, just get a smackjeeves account or set up a website with a wordpress plugin. starting a webcomic when i started my webcomic vs starting a webcomic now are totally different experiences.

so i can only speak to people who started their webcomics roughly ten years ago. and roughly ten years ago a lot of us were a whole lot younger with a lot more time and energy to spend on a comic for free. this part is probably still somewhat true for new artists.

but then you get older. your ideas change. your skill develops and the old stuff isn't as good. or you don't have as much time, you got a day job. unless you're one of like five people on earth your webcomic is not paying your rent. you need to make money. your shoulder hurts. you're 30 now. you're struggling to make updates on time between whatever else makes you happy and what else you need to do to live. you wrote this story when you were 21, you don't relate to it anymore, you have different ideas, you've grown up, your audience has noticeably dropped off from the peak, social media managing is hard, you have to go to work, you're so tired, all the time.

it's a lot of things.

[racketballz]

This is not blossom slander, i love our queen blossom, but i notice in most fanfics, especially MTH, blossom is most favourited. she is always portrayed as the “pretty one” and has a “perfect body”, whereas her sisters dont that. maybe its because buttercup is my favourite but when reading ppg fanfics, i always question why buttercup and bubbles dont get the same treatment as blossom, like cmon. especially buttercup, like her dark hair and light eyes combo is FIREEE but i rarely see her be described as pretty or beautiful. im a big fan of sbj and their work so no hate to them at all, but i noticed this the most in MTH and i just feel like a lot of other writers can be bias when it comes to blossom. i just enjoy all three sisters being in the spotlight, instead of JUST blossom. i also understand that some writers just have preferences but this is just my take.

What do you think about thisss??

I think that it’s because of many things! I can’t speak on a lot ppl but I also think within the context of her already in the show she is perfect! (All the girls are ofc) She even calls herself the full package. Shes a quite the confident little girl lol and In the mention of this and her being the leader and the way she carries herself ppl either read it in a couple of ways. Most them being a critique on it in the first place. A lot of ppg writers are also women who have their own unique relationships with beauty and perception ! Alot of times hair is something people gravitate towards! Maybe even height or like beauty of the mind ya know she’s she’s smart etc!

The pressures around her kinda keep her perfect like a diamond! She must stay tidy she must stay in line and she can’t look weak. Ive even seen this interpretation go the extent where she is constantly fumbling because there only so long you can save face. think blossom is interesting to write in that way but to do any sort of critique on like how much she cares and how much she HAS to care it kinda will to be mentioned a lot especially in writing where there’s no visual element to it so you get the sense from it being mentioned all the time. So I think maybe in the same way how everyone one thinks of her as beautiful gorgeous perfect think about it like a AILMENT LOL

With buttercup who is a bit of antithesis to blossom, she doesn’t like being perceived to a certain extent she doesn’t have to be “perfect” to be beautiful or strong. She just has to be strong! In a sense this is also why you have alot of interpretations of buttercup being self destructive or jealous(I personally dislike) or insecure of the quality that is to be beautiful like blossom! Buttercup in the same way wouldn’t last too long in the confines of blossom having to be perfect look clean tidy beautiful gorgeous girlie strong and all the while keeping a level head she couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t want her to do that either LMFAO

If we’re talking about me i know l personally have a very special relationship with the way i make and portray blossom. There is a reason why i make her dark skinned. My interpretation of pretty is different to others but i find her incredibly head strong and resilient without having to lift a finger. Shes objectively a pretty girl but ppl still have an issue with the way she looks almost like it tells the story itself a story of resilience and control a bit too. I know why people hate it at same time it gives me a lot of wiggle room for her sisters because she’s the one who stands out the most. This is gettin a little intense LOL but she really is like a shield!

If you think about it if people are always talking about blossoms looks in any interpretation and considering her personality there’s really no way to talk about looks and beauty of buttercup and bubbles in the same way! Buttercup doesn’t care and bubbles cares but she essentially does what she feels

[rhodes-knightwife]

Alright, seems the vote is pretty settled, so let's talk about a hypothetical Arknights Versus! Or y'know, AKVS for short.

I'll have a lot of yapping about mechanics and stuff below the cut, but we all know the first thing everyone really wants to know about any fighting game is the roster. So allow me to present to you two hours of my life I won't be getting back!

We'll be going with 26 characters for this; a bit overambitious, maybe, in an era where fighting games hover closer to 16 characters at launch, but we're allowed to dream a little big~ Plus, this makes for two full squads of operators and a couple bonus characters!

As you can see by my mockup, my focus when picking characters was representing as many factions and different storylines as I could; realistically, I think we'd get at least twice as much representation of the core RI cast, but sacrifices must be made one way or another! Besides that, I favored story relevance, playstyle and, when all else failed, trying to have at least a little rep for every in-game class of operator. You'll also note that aside from our guests in the middle there, everyone here is a recruitable unit in the gacha.

Now, if that's not enough nerding out for you, follow me past the cut! Otherwise, keep your eyes peeled for the first character reveal soon~ Though really, there's no points for guessing here...

Okay, so, mechanics! We're looking at a six... ish button game here. We've got Light-Medium-Heavy as well as a 'special action' button in the style of BlazBlue or Injustice, because I'm just a sucker for character mechanics. You also have the ability to dash, though the specifics of dashes/running, as well as air dashing and double jumping all come down to individual characters. We're leaning more on anime fighters than truly traditional things like Street Fighter, but we're still somewhere in the middle.

The last two buttons come in the form of... assists! This isn't a tag fighter, but it would include a list of assist characters separate from the main cast, representing all the side characters and less-offensive operators we can fit in. I'll be including one "related" assist for every character, but you won't be forced to pick them as one of your two assists – it's just a way to have more representation and guidance.

Assists will also have redeployment times, to borrow a little bit of mechanics from the gacha! It varies by assist, and it's independent for each of the two you have, but it doesn't cost any resource to bring them out. The resource you do have is a simple meter system, which builds by taking and dealing hits – a little more by taking, as a catch-up mechanic. It caps out at three bars.

Your meter can be used to augment your specials by spending one bar, which makes them faster/hit harder/have unique properties; it can also be used for a Burst maneuver, which takes two bars of meter but gets you out of any combos you're stuck in. Finally, you can spend all three bars of meter for a devastating Super attack!

Keep in mind that some characters will have additional mechanics that may come with their own resources, too, so watch out!

[reincarnated-asshole]

"Sinners" Characters and the Seven Deadly Sins

I saw an instagram post that was categorizing the character's in Ryan Coogler's Sinners through the Seven Deadly Sins and it pissed me off so much I opened up my forgotten tumblr. I can't remember exactly what they categorized each character as but it was so one-note and surface level I wanted to punch someone. I've seen the movie multiple times IN THEATERS (free tix thanks to such gainful employment as a ticket tearer) and I thought I could be qualified to throw my hat in the ring. To be clear, I'm not saying they deserved to be punished for this behavior or even that some of these actions are bad, but I was frustrated with the mischaracterizations and simplifications that robbed plenty of characters from their agency withins the story. I shouldn't be taking this this seriously. YES. SPOILERS WARNING DUH.

Wrath - Smoke (agreed with them on this post). Pretty Duh-- he carries with him a quiet anger at a little bit of everything. He is the one who killed their dad, he is angry at the death of his baby, and he is angry that Chicago wasn't more than "Mississippi with skyscraper". But His story gets a uniquely happy ending when he pushes his past his need for anger and vengeance (arguably after he does achieve it in killing the KKK) and joins Annie and their child in the afterlife. That gets me choked up every time (no joke).

Greed - Stack. This isn't a 1:1 translation since he accepted the wooden nickels, but his search for profit (sending Mary out to get money from Remmick) and choice to start a Joint based on stolen goods is pretty profit-minded. Also, his clothes are more extravagant than Smoke's AND his vampire eyes are green. Green? Greed? Checkmate, Atheist.

Lust - Pearline/ Mary. Yes, this boils their characters down to a vague defining trait, but I think it's important that it is one of their defining traits within the movie. They were both married women (I'm alright with cheating, I don't care, I'm an ally) and their desire for the men in their lives/a deeper connection again (Lord knows they may not be sexually/intellectually satisfied in their relationships) is what brought them to the Juke Joint in the first place. Mary's commitment to Stack and the Juke Joint's cause is what has her going back out to Remmick in the movie, and Pearline's desire to be seen outside of "just a wife" and as a performer is what eventually put them in harms way.

Gluttony - Delta Slim. Pretty straight forward, even if it does fall under the church's frequent misconstruing of Alcoholism/Addiction issues with gluttony and sloth. Delta Slim's painful past is what leads him to his reliance on alcohol (a practice historically used by groups in power to prevent underclasses riots, like on plantations, industrial-era factory workers, and of course, the Irish) but it is a reliance nonetheless.

Envy - If I remember correctly, they said that Hailee Steinfeld's character Mary embodied envy the most. This pissed me fully the fuck off. It is expressed very explicitly in the movie that Mary does not envy the "in-group" of Stack/Smoke, Annie, and the rest of the Juke-joint. She does not even view them as an ingroup. She is frustrated when she is viewed as an outsider (and always only from the outside is she considered an outsider. Annie says she is family), but she knows herself to be apart of that family and has never viewed herself otherwise. However, the character that embodies the most clearly applies to Remmick. The reason he obsessed with them is to get back with his family, his people through Sammy's ability to unite through music. You see it in that famous "barn burning" scene and it's almost explicitly called out in flashback. He envied their culture, that they could all celebrate and exist together when he had been away from his people for so long. Sounds pretty envious to me.

Sloth - As the idea of a "culpable lack of physical or spiritual effort" (Brittanica) doesn't really fit onto anyone perfectly (and I'd hate to blanket it onto Cornbread, like so frequently done) so I think it can be best be loosely applied to any of the following: the Chocktaw, Sammy's father, or even Annie (the least offensive of the three, though none of them really are). Any of these could be either spiritually/physically lazy when it came to the conflict. The Choktaw, in an effort to protect themselves (THIS IS NOT MEANT AS A BAD THING, IT IS SELF-PRESERVATION IN AN ERA OF CULTURAL ERASURE) gave a half-assed warning about Remmick before leaving. In the case of Sammy's dad, he had the rigor and knowledge that came from struct study of objective biblical study, but his application that was so pivotally black-and-white towards Sammy and Music leads to not only Sammy's emancipation but also the twin's previous mistreatment and shunning by the church. Annie very loosely applies because (it can be interpreted) that she gave up too easily once given the full grasp of the situation, pertaining to physical laziness once her spiritual "work" was done.

Pride - I almost listed this as Stack, since he was the one convinced they could last as the Joint even with wooden nickles and the mob after them, but that was a gross oversimplification and I thought it made better applied/was worth looking into for Grace Chow. This is a bit of a stretch, but her choice to sacrifice everyone else's lives (at the chance of them surviving them through the night) in exchange for her ability to protect her daughter as well as avenge the death of her husband is an inherently selfish act. This may not necessarily be pride, but it is certainly an action that is largely self-serving (when not protecting her daughter out-right).

On a separate note, I know Sammy isn't listed here but I do acknowledge Sammy as the main character. Goddamn Miles Caton is so damn talented.

[polutrope]

End of Year Fic Recs

Thanks @sallysavestheday for starting this template, and for the tag!

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies).

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

This was so hard. I need time for ten more rec lists because I read so much good stuff this year. If you are not on here but I commented on your fic this year, know that I sincerely wanted to put you on here. If you are not here and I didn't comment on your fic this year, please help me find it next year!!

Multi-Chapter/Other

Such a Marriage by DifferentSong (M, 29k, WiP). f!Maedhros/Maglor. Beautiful and unique treatment of these characters and relationship in the years after the second kinslaying. If you’re uncertain about this ship but curious, I highly recommend giving this story a try. 

Droit du Seigneur by destinedatoms (E, 6.4k, WiP). Various elven kings hook up with their mortal vassals. Each chapter is so funny and hot, and features povs from very underwritten female characters. 

Loyalty: A Tale in Three Voices (not rated, 10.1k, WiP) by @grey-gazania. Caranthir, Uldor, Easterling OFC. Compelling story, characters, and incredible worldbuilding following three unique POVs as an alliance is forged between the Easterlings and Feanorians. Great use of first-person. 

Price of Eternity (series) by Encairion (E, 1.83 million, WiP). The novels and stories in this series are not going to be for everyone. They tackle basically every difficult topic you can imagine. They include takes that would probably make some of my mutuals torch the swanships. But Encairion does it all so skillfully. She’s like an artist who has mastered the techniques (i.e., the canon) and then does something radically original that only works because she has that foundation down. Some of her characterisations rewired my brain. I’m still far from done reading the series, but it’s truly a monumental achievement and so worth diving into with an open mind.

Celegorm by @dawnfelagund (reference work). Dawn’s bio of Celegorm for the Silmarillion Writers’ Guild is meticulously researched and engagingly written. Definitely worth a read for any fans of the Fëanorians or just how Tolkien’s characters evolved over the course of the legendarium’s development.

One-shots

The dining room by @ettelene (T, 8.8k). Ettelene kills it with group scenes and dynamics and this riotous fic about a Feanorian family dinner at Formenos from Celebrimbor’s POV showcases it beautifully. 

Against His Wisdom by @melestasflight (M. 3.7k). Fingon/Fingolfin. A stunning, insightful look at the complexities of this relationship. Melesta handles the nature of the relationship so artfully. As always, their prose is so satisfyingly economical and impactful. I know the pairing may make some wary but I really encourage people to give it a try.

stardrop by @welcomingdisaster (T, 0.7k). Daeron/Maglor. I almost wept when I read this fic because it's so perfect. Lena somehow managed to get everything I love about this ship into 700 words. Doom, deceit, cultural misunderstandings, telling the narrative of your own life, immortality/mortality… if you want to know why I love Daemags, read this. 

As Little as Might be Thought by @imakemywings (T, 2.9k). “Kidnap fam”. Rocky is a master of the argument and this spat between Maedhros and Maglor over the peredhel’s upbringing showcases it. So much characterisation and complicated relationship dynamics packed into this short piece. 

Memories, Like Grains of Sand by @cuarthol (G, 1k). Elrond & Elros. cuarthol wrote some beautiful, complex works this year but this short piece stood out for me. The peredhel twins return to Balar and try to piece together their memories of Sirion. Showcases cuarthol’s talent for little moments of intimacy that will make you cry, not because they are particularly tragic (though they may be), but because they feel so real.

Oldies

Maglor and Daeron Sing the Blues by Voidflower (G, 5.6k). Maglor and Daeron meet in the Mississippi delta in the 1920s. I want to pour this fic in a crystal glass and sip on it on a rainy evening. Gorgeous prose and deeply satisfying character dynamics. 2018.

Dancing with my punchlines by LiveOakWithMoss (M, 321k). I know this Modern AU is fandom-famous already, but by god there’s a reason. I could not put these dramamonsters down. It was funny, it was touching, and it was spicy. I want to rip this fic open like a bag of chips and shovel it into my mouth in great handfuls. 2016. 

What We May Become by @naryaflame (M, 8.8k). Caranthir/Finrod. Narya’s prose is delectably crisp and sensuous and I just loved reading this well-constructed nonlinear story of a fascinating rarepair. 2020.

The Redemption of Daeron by Rhunedhel (T, 7.3k). Daeron/OFC. I actually just found this and have not actually finished it, but I’ve read the first two chapters and it’s such a beautiful alliterative verse poem (!!) and original story of Daeron among the Avari. 1997.

An Education by @i-am-a-lonely-visitor (M, 49.4k). visitor has some of the most scrumptious, clever prose and most memorable characterisations I have read in the fandom and this first installment of his Elrondverse covering the early years is bursting with peredhel coming-of-age delights. 2021.

Mine

Scorched (E, 4.9k). Elrond/Maedhros, Maedhros/Maglor, Elrond & Elros. A psychosexual unfamily drama on Amon Ereb. Really enjoyed the experience of letting this tale unravel as I dipped into the minds of all four characters. 

First Contact (T, 2.7k). Daeron/Maglor. Post-canon (they both sail). Daeron meets Fëanor. It’s a silly bit of sitcom, but also it’s about healing. 

Who By Fire (M, 4.9k). Amrod/Fingolfin. A deep dark dive into the psyches of two hurting men in the early days of Fingolfin in Beleriand. 

If You Are the Healer (E, 4.6k). Maedhros/Maglor. Liege/vassal dynamics and heaps of angst surrounding Maedhros’ decision to abdicate to Fingolfin. It’s fucked up, but they love each other. 

Everlasting Darkness (E, 10.2k). Earendil/Maedhros, Elwing/Maglor (also Elwing/Earendil, Maedhros/Maglor). Canon divergence shitshow where Maedhros and Maglor are released from their oath on condition that they serve Eärendil and Elwing. My first fic of 2023, and it set me careening off the rails. No regrets.

[Bonus fic under my pseud: Played (E, 12.1k) by disastrousexpense. Maedhros/Maglor, Fingon/Maedhros. Absolutely off-the-rails smut between two asshole brothers in Valinor. It was SO FUN to write.]

Tagging the people tagged already and @curufiin @elentarial @lightqueer @searchingforserendipity25 @ladysternchen @tethysresort if you'd like to share your recs!

[joshuamj]

Linktober Day 8. Tunic

[cluescorner]

I cannot imagine being a Damian stan right now. You've got both Zdarsky's bullshit (where he clearly doesn't give a shit about your boy) and The Boy Wonder (where Juni Ba clearly gives so many shits about your boy) coming out on the same day. The whiplash must be insane. I hope y'all get some nice warm soup for your efforts jfc

[mylove-thresher]

Rewatched Alien Stage yesterday…….. holy peak

[ladsofsorrow24]

katekyo hitman reborn is truly the only manga with 400+ chapters that i actually read all of them without skimming through any pages

truly the manga that make me love action shonen manga lol

(even then... it still doesn't manage to convince me to read any long running shonen manga other than naruto and jojo lmao)

[acaciapines]

every so often i get a horrible little thought in my head that says but what if you DID adapt all of toh season one into your daemon au.

and every time i beat that god damned thought back with a stick. but do know there IS a section in my notes document that is me REALLY wanting to adapt a few s1 episodes dkjgdfg.

bc like. i made the right choice. the stuff i was/am still most excited to write is all s2 + s3 stuff--but like. agony of a witch? young blood old souls? the intruder?!

it would be me writing like 250k more words of entirely setup but that doesnt mean i dont think about it!

[linawritesocs]

something about me having the seth ships guide and two ocs in works is so funny. like yes, this is everything you need to know about seth's boyfriends. this is me giggling and kicking my feet because of how adorable they are. also here, have two new boys that are just as insane as all my other ocs. what do you mean you thought i was done.

[castleinthemist]

wizadry daphne is a bit of a maddening game by nature of what it is (gacha) but like. far out do they understand how to make your party feel like a fuckign team. The in-battle interactions, a party member giving and pat on the shoulder after a tough fight or a fistbump, the way the party all walk off together into the (metaphorical) sunset in the results scene yeah baby!!

[iamthedukeofurl]

Scott Pilgrim is, I think, the best example I can think of for establishing a setting's Nonsense Limit. The setting's Nonsense Limit isn't quite "How high-fantasy is this". It's mostly a question of presentation, to what degree does the audience feel that they know the rules the world operates by, such that they are primed to accept a random new element being introduced. A setting with a Nonsense Limit of 0 is, like, an everyday story. Something larger than life, but theoretically taking place in our world, like your standard spy thriller action movie has a limit of 1. Some sort of hidden world urban fantasy with wizards and stuff operating in secret has a nonsense limit around 3 or 4. A Superhero setting, presenting an alternate version of our world, is a 5 or 6. High fantasy comes in around a 7 or so, "Oh yeah, Wizards exist and they can do crazy stuff" is pretty commonly accepted. Scott Pilgrim comes in at a 10. If you read the Scott Pilgrim book, it starts off looking like a purely mundane slice of life. The first hint at the fantastical is Ramona appearing repeatedly in Scott's Dreams, and then later showing up in real life. When we finally get an explanation, it's this:

Apparently Subspace Highways are a thing? And they go through people's heads? And Ramona treats this like it's obscure, but not secret knowledge. Ramona doesn't think she's doing anything weird here. At this point, it's not clear if Scott is accepting Ramona's explanation or not, things kind of move on as mundane as ever until their Date, when Ramona takes Scott through subspace, and he doesn't act like his world was just blown open or anything, although I guess that could have been a metaphor. there's a couple other moments, but everything with Ramona could be a metaphor, or Scott not recognizing what's going on. Maybe Ramona is uniquely fantastical in this otherwise normal world. And then, this happens

Suddenly, a fantastical element (A shitty local indie band finishing their set with a song that knocks out most of the audience) is introduced unrelated to Ramona, and undeniably literal. We see the crowd knocked out by Crash and The Boys. but the story doesn't linger on the implications of that, the whole point of that sequence is to raise the Nonsense Level, such that you accept it when This happens

Matthew Patel comes flying down onto the stage, Scott, who until this point is presented as a terrible person and a loser, but otherwise is extremely ordinary, proceeds to flawlessly block and counter him before doing a 64-hit air juggle combo. Scott's friends treat this like Scott is showing off a mildly interesting party trick, like being really good at darts. The establish that Scott is the "Best Fighter in the Province", not only are street-fighter battles a thing, Scott is Very Good at it, but they're so unimportant that being the best fighter in the province doesn't make Scott NOT a loser. So when Matthew Patel shows off his magic powers and then explodes into a pile of coins, we've established "Oh, this is how silly the setting gets". It's not about establishing the RULES of the setting so much as it is about establishing a lack of rules. Scott's skill at street-fighter battles doesn't translate to any sort of social prestige. Ramona can access Subspace Highways and she uses it to do a basic delivery job. It doesn't make sense and it's clear that it's not supposed to. So later on, when Todd Ingram starts throwing around telekinesis, and the explanation we're given is "He's a Vegan" , you're already so primed by the mixture of weirdness and mundanity that rather than trying to incorporate this new knowledge into any sort of coherent setting ruleset, you just go "Ah, yeah, Vegans".

[hayatheauthor]

Can you post something about different kinds of soulmates? The name on the wrist or red strings are nice but a little overused, maybe. Idk. Do you have anything different?

50 Types of Soulmates in Literature

The soulmate trope might feel pretty cliche to most but I love exploring them (great short story material, esp if you want to twist it into horror/thriller/non romance). Thanks for the ask! I hope this list is what you were looking for: 

Fate-Driven Soulmates

1. Shared Dreams – They meet in their dreams every night/[idea] after they turn [age].

2. Reincarnation– They reincarnate in every era and are destined to meet each time.

3. Aura Bonds – Their auras [change] when they’re near each other.

4. Mirror Messages – They see the other’s face in the mirror when they turn [age].

5. Starbound – Their soulmate’s birth constellation forms on them after their first meeting.

6. Heartbeat Match – Their pulses sync when they meet and get more uneven when they’re apart after that.

7. Shared Memories – They have flashbacks of past lives together.

8. The First Words – Their first spoken words to each other are tattooed on their skin.

9. Fragrance – They recognise each other by a unique scent only one’s soulmate carries (i.e. in the world you can only smell roses on your soulmate).

10. Scars – They have matching scars in the same place since their birth.

11. Colour - They only start seeing colour after meeting their soulmate. Can be changed to sound, touch, smell, etc.

Cultural Soulmates

12. Mehndi Marks - In Indian/Middle Eastern cultures, your soulmate’s name appears in your mehndi/henna.

13. Karmic Threads - In Buddhist traditions, invisible karmic bonds pull them toward one another.

14. Feng Shui Alignment – Their energies perfectly balance according to the Feng Shui elements.

15. Ancestor's Blessing – Their names are revealed through a ritual that summons past ancestors.

16. Name in Flames – In some folk traditions, a fire ceremony reveals their soulmate’s initials in the embers.

17. Feather Match – They exchange feathers that later glow when their soulmate is near.

18. Shared Songlines – In Aboriginal traditions, their paths align on the same Songline.

19. Palm Reading Prophecy – Their soulmate’s features or initials are foretold in their palm lines.

20. Dance of Fate – In certain cultures, a soulmate is revealed during a traditional dance when they naturally pair up.

21. Persian Tea Leaves – Their names appear during tea-reading rituals.

Object-Based Soulmates

22. Lock and Key – Everyone is born with a keyhole shape. When you turn [age] you’re blessed with a key that only fits into your soulmate.

23. Shared Journal – They write in the same journal without knowing how.

24. Twin Trinkets – When born, each person receives a magical [trinket]. Your soulmate has its twin. 

25. Compass of Love – A compass always points them toward their soulmate.

26. Two Halves – They carry two halves of the same [object].

27. Enchanted Maps – A map updates itself with their location when they’re near.

28. Eternal Rings – Rings burn hot or glow when their soulmate is close.

29. Song – When they turn [age] they hear a song sung in their soulmate’s voice. (Interesting: in this world, MC hears nothing. They think they don’t have one, rly their soulmate is just mute). 

Connection Through Nature

30. Tree of Life – Their world has a special garden you go to when you’re [age]. In the garden, a tree starts to grow when two soulmates are near. Note: if they ‘break up’ or one dies, the tree wilts and dies too.  

31. Blooming Flowers – When your soulmate is born, you get a flower bud [different for each]. When you meet the first time, this bud goes into full bloom. If you pass without meeting, it dies. This continues till you actually meet, and the flowers finally [fall off?]

32. Animal Guides – At birth you’re assigned a spirit animal who leads you to your soulmate when the time is right. (Ooh maybe your spirit animals are soulmates too OR hmo: they’re enemies! You haven’t met your soulmate yet because your spirit animals are doing everything to keep you [and themselves] apart). 

33. Shifting Shadows – Their shadows always reach toward the other. When you sleep, your shadows break away and meet each other. 

34. Bound by Seasons – They only meet during a specific season each year. Kind of like a Divergent ‘born into a season’ thing. (But what if a Summer and Winter end up being fated? But they can’t survive in each other’s seasons. [omg Tinkerbell] lol). 

35. Ocean Whispers – It’s said if you go to the ocean’s shore and say something there your soulmate will hear it when they go to the shore. (MC’s soulmate hates the ocean. They’ve never been. One day they finally go, and sit for hours as they listen to messages from their soulmate, who apparently lives by the ocean and has been calling to them every night). 

36. Star-Written Names – When you turn [age] only you see a name written in the stars. That’s your soulmate’s name.

Unconventional Soulmate Tropes

37. Memory Keepers – One soulmate is bound to forget each other in each new life, and the other is fated to remember and find them. The other only remembers if and when they meet. 

38. Parallel Lives – They exist in parallel universes but see glimpses of each other via [plot].

39. Shared Illness – They feel each other’s pain, sickness, and recovery.

40. Shared Mortality – They can only die when they’re together.

41. The Final Wish – When you turn [age] you get to make a wish and your soulmate has to fulfil it in order for you to meet.

42. The Sacrificial Lamb – One is destined to save the other through ultimate sacrifice.

43. The Time Loop – They’re stuck in a loop, meeting repeatedly until they get it right.

44. Dual Souls – They share one soul in two bodies, feeling incomplete without the other.

45. The Undying and the Mortal – One reincarnates endlessly, always finding their soulmate, if they fail to find them, their soulmate will not reincarnate and die forever. Except, you don’t know who’s the immortal one. 

46. Time Stopper: Time stops when you’re with your soulmate. It starts again when you’re apart. 

Sense-Based Soulmates

47. Sight: When you close your eyes you can see what they’re seeing. 

48. Warmth: You feel physically cold everytime you’re without your soulmate. Your heart turns colder every year, till when you’re [age] you both die if you haven’t met.  

49. Colour: You can’t see your soulmate’s eye/hair colour till your first meeting. The issue: they don’t know the colour, so often overlook this change. (Many resort to checking a colour chart every day till they see a new colour). 

50. Touch: You can’t feel anything till your soulmate touches you for the first time. Everything simply feels like its weight, not texture. 

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[kathaynesart]

And here we go. For the full experience I would recommend reading while listening to THIS SONG. It inspired a vast majority of the scene as well as the timing, though I fear you'd have to read pretty fast to get to the ending at the same time as the song ends, so uh... good luck! Trigger warnings below:

The Day the Sky Bled Red

BEGINNING || PREVIOUS || NEXT MASTER POST

Whew. I'm so glad to finally be done with these big updates. After over a year I will finally be able to return to my smaller update format.

Some keen viewers might notice the reuse of certain shots from the series. There is very much intentional, though the reason for this will not be made clear until the ending of the arc.

As of the final shot we are FINALLY back to present-day in the Replica timeline (if it wasn't obvious). I'd drop in a timeline for reference but uh... I maxed out on the Tumblr images. Oh well. Hopefully the context clues were enough to help though!

I do want to take a moment to TED Talk about Raph's ninpo, if that's alright. Unlike his brothers, Raph didn't really spend much time trying to come up with unique ways of using his abilities. Why improve what already worked for him? However, I do think one interesting ability could have come naturally to him over time. I always found his way of mentally connecting with his brothers as "Mind Raph" to be a fascinating joke in the series. They way he could help and communicate with his brothers is something that was always really important to him and I see that ability bleeding into his ninpo. Because of this I feel that his Raph clones were always able to find and reach his brothers no matter the distance. His ability to interact with them at the same time was something he was still learning in the series, like when Mind Raph apologized to Leo for taking a moment too long to respond because he was busy helping someone else. Because of this I see his clones being able to react and communicate independently (kind of like Naruto clones), but are in constant connection to the original source, Raph himself. This made it really easy for Raph to relay information to the brothers, though it was seldom needed since Donnie's ninpo tech normally had that covered. On another note, I also wanted to make a point that whenever one of the brothers died in the bad future timeline, it was when they were separated from their brothers. I always liked in the movie how it wasn't until the brothers worked together that they were able to regain their abilities, confront the Krang, and even open portals to different dimensions. I wanted that lesson to resonate in Replica as well, even if subtly. Anyways, thanks for coming to my TED Talk!

The rest of the arc will be a lot less action, but still plenty more emotions. I can't promise that we won't be doing more flashbacks in the future but nothing to the extent of the "Holiday Special." We got a story to get through after all!

Thank you so much everyone for your patience with me as I slowly inch my way through this big story. It means a lot to me! I promise the next update will not be so emotionally draining.

[meowdei]

(temporary) birthday blues — ft. sylus

tara doesn’t mean any harm when she tries to set you up on a blind date—she doesn’t know it’s sylus’s birthday, or that he’s yours. but the thought of you sitting across from someone you’re actually allowed to be seen with hits him harder than he wants to admit

word count. ❤︎ 6.6k words — at least it’s an even number

before you read. ❤︎ female reader ; takes place after sylus bday card but you don’t need it to understand ; reader is a hunter and is implied to have his myth’s lore ; jealous and slightly insecure sylus ; hurt/comfort ; praise (lots actually. almost corny amounts) ; reader wears lingerie ; he picks reader up ; cunnilingus ; hand jobs ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; painfully soft sex ; not proof read

commentary. ❤︎ happy birthday to my angel boy ever. but more importantly — I MADE IT IN TIME LETS GOOOOO

You and Sylus return home from his birthday date just a couple of hours after the sun sets. 

By Sylus-standards, the day has hardly begun—he still has roughly a little under half the day left before it’s his (ridiculously late) bedtime. By your standards, since it’s your boyfriend’s birthday, you have to spend his entire day with him, even if his clock works a little differently than yours. 

Will you be staying up until six in the morning? Yes. But you planned accordingly. You took an entire extra day off just to sleep in with him tomorrow and spend as much time together as possible. It’s your first birthday with Sylus. You’re the only one who knows it’s his birthday at all. Work is important, sure, but sometimes you have to reevaluate your priorities a little.

Boyfriends are a pretty important priority—well, only if they’re Sylus. He’s the only boyfriend that matters. The rest of the boyfriends in the world are not quite so impressive, so they don’t deserve the same privileges as your uniquely, one-of-a-kind special one.  

“Did you have a good day today?” you ask softly, curling your arms around his neck as soon as you both enter his bedroom. (Your bedroom—you practically share it like it’s co-owned. The only thing that fully stops you from moving in with Sylus is that it would make your work commute a very tiresome one. Other than that, you’re here every chance you get.)

He hums, hands planting themselves on your hips and giving them a gentle squeeze, pulling you close and flush against his chest as he pecks the corner of your mouth. “I did,” he murmurs, “although I don’t think having a bad day is possible with you—unless you’re being moody. That’s another story.”

“I would get moody with you just for saying that, but I am a firm believer in being nice to birthday boys. Wait until I get my hands on you once today is over.”

“Oh?” he grins, chuckling as he kisses along your jaw, “I should prepare myself for the claws of a feisty little kitten, then?”

“You should prepare yourself for some groveling to get on my good side again,” you huff. “And maybe some expensive gifts.”

He laughs—not that low, deep, rumbling sound that sounds like light amusement. It’s that loud, booming laugh that sounds like joy and warmth and falling in love over and over again every day. Feeling it start to bubble and fizz as the sun rises, and watching it overflow from the top by the time the moon is out. You grin at the sound, pulling him into a kiss where you giggle in between the presses of your mouth to his, and he laughs because your joy is too infectious not to fall victim to. 

“I have to shower,” you whisper between his hungry bites on your lips. He hums in protest.

“Is that really a necessity right now?”

“Yes, I rolled in the grass with you.”

“Fine, we can—”

“No, no,” you push his mouth away with a palm, feeling his lips practically pout against your skin as you do, “we are not going in there together. That will take way too long because you never behave, and I still have plans we have to get through.”

“What sort of plans,” he grumbles, “surely they can’t be that different from what the shower would bring.”

“You are shameless, Sylus,” you scold, slapping his shoulder with hardly any bite at all, “you don’t get to know until it’s time. Now be good while you wait—and charge my phone while you’re at it. It’s about to die.”

With that, you leave him sulking alone in his room, watching your figure as it retreats into the bathroom without him. Grumbling to himself, he grabs your phone to charge it like you asked—he knows better than to make you hiss at him when he wants things. (He wants a lot of things tonight. Quite a lot of things that require your good side, and he intends to milk this nice, spoiled treatment out of you with that innocent birthday boy charm, so staying in your good graces is his wisest option at the moment.)

He grabs your phone and plugs it in…and then he wishes he didn’t. As soon as he does, and the screen lights up, he thinks his birthday is ruined for the next decade with how bitter a taste the messages on your screen leave in his mouth. 

Tara💗: don’t be mad. i set u up on a blind date

Tara💗: well not exactly a blind date. a double date with me and that guy i met when we were out the other day. he has a friend

Tara💗: u can’t say no he’s cute and he has a cat. you’ll like him i promise

It’s official. Sylus does not like this Tara girl anymore. 

He’s met her briefly before, and vaguely, he’s introduced himself, too. She doesn’t know he’s your boyfriend because Sylus is at the top of your job’s wanted list. Telling a girl who is, arguably at this point, your closest friend that you have a boyfriend while having to keep that boyfriend hidden to a certain degree is not a plausible set of wishes. Tara will naturally want to know more. She’ll ask to see pictures of your dates, perhaps. She’ll invite him for drinks, and activities, and parties, and after-work events because she’s the kind of person who cares about the people her friends care about. And Sylus? Well…again, he’s at the top of your job’s wanted list. You can’t let Tara, who is your coworker first and foremost, get to know your boyfriend’s voice and face too closely unless you’re asking—practically pleading—for trouble. 

So she doesn’t know you have a boyfriend. 

It’s a lie that is for the betterment of everything all around. Instead, she meets him once fleetingly, and she thinks he’s your friend who sells fruit and makes a pretty penny off his business that’s taken off. That’s about all she knows. 

At first glimpse, she seemed like a nice girl. A friend whom Sylus was grateful you had and could count on if things got heavy in your line of work. She seemed kind. Dependable. Trustworthy. Maybe not the strongest physically, but certainly a good friend to ease his mind that you have good people in your circle. (Although, he does hate your stupid partner—but at least that loathsome sleepy bastard who rots in bed for half the day is strong. If worst comes to worst, Sylus can at least bet that the boy would sooner let his own head get ripped off than let anything happen to yours. He’s at least grateful for that.)

But he hates this Tara girl deeply now, and hatred for someone he hardly knows is not a common feeling for Sylus. That’s irrational, and he’s hardly irrational. In fact, it’s because he is so rational that he’s so level-headed when he deals with threats. He hardly hates his “enemies.” Most of the people who make an enemy out of him amuse him—they don’t particularly pose a threat to him, and he has quite a bit of fun making an example out of them for the next bothersome bunch that wants to try something with him. Being enemies with Sylus is usually a one-sided thing—he may be someone else’s enemy, but they’ll always just be a fool to him. A regular sorry little idiot who got a bit too cocky and decided to try their luck against him.

He barely has enemies. The few people he does hate are people who deserve it. Terrible, evil, sinister people who go beyond an ethical code that even Sylus will not cross. 

He barely has enemies. He’s a businessman. A leader. A good fighter. A good boyfriend, too, if he gives himself a little bit of extra (but honest) credit. All of which require a good head on his shoulders, a calm demeanor, and a very, very adequate sense of rationality. Sylus is rarely ever irrationally emotional—unless it has to do with you, of course. And this time, it does. 

So he hates this Tara girl. He hates her deeply. She’s landed herself on his enemy list. 

Just as he sets your phone down, you step out of the shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel as your skin glistens from the fancy little lotions and body care items he has lying around in his bathroom that you help yourself to. Any other day, he’d tease you about it. About using him for his fancy, lavish lifestyle. About that skimpy little towel that you choose to step out in when half of his loungewear is in that bathroom for you to also help yourself to. About how cute you look when you walk out looking like a small, wet kitten. 

But none of those things happen—red flag number one. Red flag number two is that when you go to poke at his side and give it a pinch, he doesn’t stop you right away before you can.

Something’s on his mind. You know that as soon as you see him.

“Hey,” you cup his cheeks, “miss me that bad for fifteen minutes? You look like you’ve aged ten years instead of one with that expression.”

“Very funny, sweetie,” he hums, clearly still distracted, “I thought you made it a point to be nice to the birthday boy.”

“I am being nice to the birthday boy,” you say to him, cheekily leaning up and kissing his jaw, “this is a very nice view to give to a birthday boy.”

He smiles. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Something is wrong—something so, so painfully obvious happened while you were in that fifteen-minute shower. As far as showers go, it might not be the shortest amount of time, but it’s certainly not a long one. What could have possibly happened in fifteen whole minutes to make his eyes clouded with that look? A look that looks so stormy and upset and irritated. 

Something’s on his mind. You know it by simply looking at him. 

“Hey,” you pull him closer by the hands on his face, pressing his forehead to yours, “Sylus, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, sweetie,” he breathes, hands squeezing your hips as he pulls you close. “Just distracted by what a pretty little kitten I have.”

And then he kisses you. It’s…a kiss unlike any you’ve ever had with him. Not bad, of course, but different. Sylus is a confident guy. A terribly cocky, self-assured, and secure guy. He knows he’s handsome by most people’s standards (and definitely by yours), he knows he’s smart and intelligent, he knows he’s strong and capable, and he knows he’s stable in his lifestyle. He’s a confident guy, and you’ve always known him to be.

But he’s kissing you pretty desperately. Not the kind of desperation when he’s just plain needy, or when he’s been worried about you, and rescues you just in time, or when you’ve been away for too long. 

No.

This kind of desperation feels like he has something to prove. Like he needs to kiss you so well, you never want to kiss anything else. It’s a sort of desperation that almost feels…scared. 

“You’re not yourself,” you breathe in between presses of his mouth, gasping when he leans down to nip at your collarbone. “Hey—”

“You’re overthinking it,” he mumbles, “just let me have you to myself, sweetheart—”

“Sylus,” you say firmly. He pauses. “No.”

He lets go as soon as you say the word, letting his hands drop while you gently take them off your hips. He looks unhappy about it—maybe even a little rejected, but he doesn’t protest. He never does. Not if it’s something you say. Some boundary you set. Some line you draw.

“What happened?” you ask gently, hands returning to his cheeks and gently rubbing the skin tenderly with your thumb, “this is supposed to be your day. I…I didn’t mean to upset you if I did. I’m sorry. I just…I just wanted it to be special—”

“It is,” he interrupts, planting his hands on top of yours and keeping them in place, “it’s been great. It always is with you—I promise.”

“Then what changed?” you frown, “and don’t say it’s nothing. Don’t give me that unbothered, nonchalant attitude and pretend to shrug it off—I know you. I know you better than anyone else does, so don’t even think about lying to me like I won’t see right through it.”

He’s silent. For a second, you think he’s not going to say a word. That he’s not going to open up and share and trust you like you wish he would when things are clearly sitting heavily on his mind. Sometimes he gets a look—one that feels like he’s lived a life you don’t even know about. Like it haunts him and curses him and weighs down on his chest. He never shares. Not about his burdens—not with you. You don’t think it’s because he doesn’t trust you, but because he thinks he shouldn’t have to. That he shouldn’t trouble you with things about him because he lives for you.

You wish he didn’t do that. You wish he’d change that habit. You wish he’d live for himself and let you live for him, too. 

But then, he quietly asks, “Do you ever wish you could tell your friends about…us?”

“Huh?” you frown.

“We go back and forth between the outskirts of Linkon and the N-109 zone, and we don’t ever get to do things that involve the people you care about—doesn’t that bother you?”

“...No?” you say in confusion, “does it…does it bother you?”

“Of course not,” he says instantly. He throws on that smug, carefree face again, even though you see right through it. Some people just don’t like putting their defenses down when they’re cornered, no matter how safe they are. Sylus is one of them. “Now, why would I want to share my little kitten? Not everyone can handle her sharp claws.”

“Sy,” you let out a breath, “you know I can see right through you. Just talk to me—telling me how you feel is something you’re usually good at. It’s what I like most about you…why’s it so different this time?”

Telling you how he feels about you is easy. It comes naturally like breathing. It’s as simple as using his evol to move something through the air, manipulating energy to surround you and show you the depths of his feelings. Telling you he loves you and cares for you is a vulnerability that he takes as a privilege. Telling you that the thought of you being with someone more practical, more fitting than him…it’s not as easy. It’s too vulnerable in a way that makes him pathetic, not devoted. You chose him, after all, didn’t you? Isn’t it questioning your own devotion and your own loyalty to him to tell you: I hate the idea of someone deserving you more than I?

That’s what he’d be doing, wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t it be to question you, to doubt you and your love and your choice, all on the same day that you went out of your way to make him feel special? 

Telling you this is not so simple. Not to him. Not when you love him, and he knows it, and yet, for some reason, he can’t help but feel like you’re making a mistake by loving him. Him. The top wanted criminal on your organization’s list. Most targeted person in the N-109 zone with the most “enemies” after his back. A guy that, against every principle that tells you: no, you choose to be with. 

He should just be grateful that you say yes. And he is. But also, he can’t help but wonder if you’d be happier if you didn’t.

“Don’t you trust me?” you whisper.

He breathes—slow, shaky. “I do,” he mumbles, closing his eyes. “I trust you the most. You know that.”

“Then tell me. Please? I just…I worry about you.”

You shouldn’t. But you also should. You were always meant to, right?—even if it wasn’t always supposed to be that way. You did. Once upon a time, you only worried about him. And you do. And you will. And he wants it. Needs it. Craves it. Craves you and your attention and your care and your concern. He should be the one you’re concerned about—but maybe concern is all he ever brings over.

It’s silent for a moment longer before you gently kiss the tip of his nose and say sweetly, “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I love you, so if you ever want to share something, I will always—”

“Your friend Tara seems to be tired of your stagnant love life, sweetheart,” he interrupts. He doesn’t really mean to blurt it out like that—Sylus is usually rational about what he says and when he says it. But…well, the idea of you sitting across from some normal guy with a normal life alongside your normal friend on a normal date has him acting very abnormal. “She’s…well, you go ahead and see for yourself.”

Your phone is pressed to your hands. You look at him in confusion, but his eyes all but beg for you to just look at the screen and end his pure misery by not making him say the words out loud. So you look. The first things you see are her messages on your screen, sitting there as unopened notifications. 

Oh, you think as you read them. Oh. 

“Oh, Sy,” you say softly, setting your phone down. “You know I’d turn that date down in a heartbeat for you—”

“It’s not about that,” he grumbles, swallowing thickly. This is a type of vulnerability he hates. The type of vulnerability he doesn’t ever have to feel. The type of vulnerability where he feels less than—not deeply devoted and open, but just…not enough, despite his devotion. He isn’t used to ever being not enough. At least not when it’s with you. 

“Then what’s it about?”

“Your friend is a meddler.”

“She doesn’t know about us,” you defend Tara gently, “you know she’d never if she did.”

“Well, sweetie,” he drawls with a tight, bitter smile, “I suppose she never will, so I might have to get used to worrying that you’ll need to save a few dresses for some other blind dates here and there, don’t I?”

“I’d never go on a date with someone else,” you reason, “you know that, right?”

“How long are you going to pretend to be single?” he points out blandly. 

“Forever,” you say confidently. He wavers, eyeing you in weariness. You cup his cheeks and squeeze them together as you murmur, “I would pretend to be single for the rest of my life for you if that’s what it takes. As long as you’re mine, as long as you stay mine, I don’t care what I have to tell everyone else.”

“That’s not very practical,” he grunts.

“I don’t think we’re a very practical couple, but I don’t think that’s ever been bad,” you chuckle, “I think we’re good. Really good. As good as things ever get.”

“But not great?” he teases, cracking a small, taunting little smile. You know him well enough to soothe him with another kiss to his nose. 

“Perfect,” you hum, fingers toying with the small hairs at the nape of his neck, touching him so casually, so absent-mindedly, it’s almost like it’s ingrained in your nature. In your DNA. In your biology to be his and to want him. “You’re perfect. To me. For me. With me. You’re perfect and I love you. I love us. We are perfect, and it doesn’t matter if other people see that or know about it. As long as you know, then I’m good.”

“I don’t like your friend Tara,” he breathes, burying his head into your neck, “she seems like trouble.”

“She’s harmless, you big baby,” you tease. Because that’s what he needs—to be teased into knowing he’s not so fragile. Too much of it makes him turn around and retreat, like an animal that’s shown its belly for too long and is at risk of its fragile, precious organs being torn apart from limb to limb. 

You give him a teasing little nibble on his nose, and he cracks a small smile that pulls him out of that weird space in his head. Because that’s you and that’s him. That teasing banter that folds love and devotion in between every taunting remark and every smart little retort. Every second you spend getting under the other’s skin is spent making home there—nestling under that layer of each other, and crawling into the parts that no one else has ever seen. No one else has ever been in. No one else has ever been allowed in. 

“Oh?” he murmurs, “you’d side with your friend over your boyfriend on his birthday? Your priorities are intriguing, sweetheart.”

You’d say something equally as playful back, but instead, you say: “I love you.” You remind him with an awed smile as you take him in. Him and his brute strength and his carefully built empire and untouchable self. Him and his gentleness and all that love he holds in his large hands that no one can take away before he slips it into yours. You remind him. You don’t want him to ever forget.

“I love you, too,” he chuckles, closing his eyes as you press soft, open-mouthed kisses to his jaw. Your hands grab his own from your waist, pulling them up to the top of your chest where the towel wraps around you. 

“You have one more present for tonight, you know—if you’re up for opening it.”

“Is that right?” he grins, “I’d never turn something down from my sweet little kitten. I wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

“You’ll like this one,” you beam, “I picked it out just for you.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” he eyes the small, peeking bit of red lace as his hands slowly unwrap the towel, pupils dilating as he slowly exposes you from its coverings. “You always do know me so well, don’t you?”

A red lace set that hugs your curves perfectly. The stockings are just tight enough around the middle of your thigh that the skin bulges just a bit at the top, spilling over it with pillowy flesh that he wants to spend hours digging his fingers into as he holds you close. Here. With him, right where you belong. Where, whether anyone knows it or not, you are happiest and safest and tailor-made to belong. You always belonged with him—alongside him, where you can be his and he can be yours, and the world would have to stop spinning on its axis before he was convinced that it was wrong. 

“Well,” you pout playfully, “you’re not saying anything—do you like it? There’s still a return period, I think I could make an exchange if—”

“Don’t always be such a tease, sweetheart,” he breathes, leaning down to pull you into a slow, meticulous kiss. Unlike that last one, this one is desperate to know you exist. To be slow and take his sweet time and know that you’re here and you exist in the same timeline as him, and you’re not going anywhere. To rush it would be to waste the seconds he was given to savor. 

Sylus is a man who savors things he likes. Good wine. Good music. Good company—he savors every little part of you like it’s a luxury he shouldn’t take for granted. 

“Happy birthday, my birthday boy,” you whisper, “I’m all yours tonight. Every night. All yours, aren’t I?” 

“Yeah,” he groans, nipping at your collarbone. “All mine—aren’t I just lucky?”

Suddenly, you’re picked up with one strong, muscled arm, the bicep curling around your thighs and hoisting you up faster than you can process as the world is suddenly lower than you remember it. Two seconds later, and your world shifts some more as you’re suddenly eye to eye with the ceiling, and there are soft, satin sheets under your back with a soft mattress to curve around your spine. 

Sylus is hovering over you, hungry and excited, and his eyes lit up like a kid ready to blow out candles. You giggle, holding his face and bringing him close, pressing a kiss to his nose, to both of his cheeks, to the corners of his mouth before the center of his lips, to his forehead until he’s laughing that sweet, happy little laugh that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I love you,” you confess, so quietly, it’s like you don’t want anyone but him to know because it’s only for him. Only for him to hear those words because no one else should know what your love feels like, what it sounds like. “Love you so much, Sy. My perfect boy.”

“If I told you my birthday was actually tomorrow, would you be this sweet to me all over again?” he grins in amusement. You huff, and he chuckles, leaning down to kiss the purse of your lips before he mumbles against them, “I love you, too. No one will love you as pure as I do, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly, “I know.”

That’s all it takes for him to finally snap into Sylus. Your Sylus. Cocky, self-assured, confident Sylus. Sylus, who takes what he wants because he knows nothing can stop him from having it. He wants you—and you’ll never tell him no. 

He’s moved to bury himself between your legs in a split second, so that you hardly have time to process that he’s moved in the first place at all. By the time you attempt to argue that it’s his birthday, and it’s about him, he’s already huffed something about getting the final say as the birthday boy, and this is what he wants. 

And…well, who are you to deny him? 

“Fuck, sweetie,” he groans, pressing his nose against your clit through the fabric. He plants a gentle kiss on the delicate bundle of nerves, smiling when you twitch and whimper at the sensitivity. “All this for me? I’m a spoiled man, aren’t I?”

“S-Sylus—”

“You smell good,” he breathes, inhaling the sweet, rich scent of you, “bet you taste even better.”

With that, he gently peels the lace panties down your legs, little by little, inch by inch, discarding them from you before carefully tossing them to the ground as your bare cunt is exposed to him. He runs a large hand up and down your thigh, squeezing the plush skin just where it collects at the top of the stockings. 

“Mine,” he breathes, “just for me, huh?”

“Only for you,” you pant, impatiently bucking up into the air and waiting for his touch.

He chuckles, but doesn’t have the heart to tease anymore. With a quick motion, he’s throwing your legs over his shoulders, hands cupping your thighs and holding them in place as he buries himself into your core. You’re dripping—the sweet slick pooling and coating your inner legs that he licks off before licking a stripe between your folds. 

“Fuck, Sy,” you gasp, “o-oh—”

He’s good with his tongue. Expert at devouring you the way you need to be devoured and going between fucking his tongue into you and lapping away, and flicking it over your clit and teasing it with his wet, warm muscle. You squeeze your legs around his head, and he groans in approval at the pressure to his skull like it’s a gift to be crushed between your thighs. (It is. To him, anything you give him when you’re pleased is a gift. He likes gifts from you—he takes them readily.)

“You’re sweet, you know,” he sings against your heat, “taste good—we should skip the cake next year. I just want this, yeah? I’ll lick you clean.”

“Stop,” you whine, “you’re being filthy!”

He laughs, the low, deep rumble of his voice vibrating against you and making you shudder. “Yeah? If you don’t like that, then why are you pulling me closer?”

He’s right—you are. Your hands are tangled into his hair and you’re pulling him impossibly closer to your pussy, grinding against his face so his nose bumps against your clit as his tongue fucks into you and explores your folds and licks them from the dripping essence of your arousal. 

“S-Sylus, ‘m…‘m s-so close—”

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he groans, “that’s exactly what I need. Can you do that for me? Let go? Let me taste you, yeah?”

Those words against your cunt, spoken through warm breath that lingers over your sensitive heat makes the steadily building pressure in the pit of your belly snap, a soft, delicious ache spreading through your walls as they quiver, through your lower belly as it flutters, through your spine and every nerve as your back arches off the mattress and you whine into your mouth and chant his name. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—’s so good, make me feel so good, Sy. Hah—”

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” he moans, licking the last drops of your release and pressing a kiss to your fluttering cunt before the waves of your high finally retreat. 

Your ears are ringing, and your eyes are blurry, but you can still hear the praise and make out his contented, dazed expression as he rests his cheek against your thigh and looks up at you. Your fingers card through his hair, smoothing through the soft locks as you ground yourself with the feeling of them while you catch your breath. 

“Hi,” you breathe, staring at him in awe. 

He grins, lazy, smug, and bright. “Hi. Back down to Earth with us?”

“Don’t be so arrogant,” you huff. And then, with a gentle tug to his locks, you signal him to crawl up, face to face and eye to eye with you as his body hovers over yours. 

You reach over, rubbing over his clothed erection and feeling him shiver as his eyes flutter closed and he lets out a soft, breathy moan. He’s so pretty like that—when pleasure is easy to see on his face, and he feels good, and he lets you see it. You love it when you get to see him. All of him. 

It’s a slow, intimate thing, removing his clothes. You bring his shirt up over his abs, gently pulling the fabric over his shoulders, before he helps you tug his arms through the sleeves and expose that chiseled, slightly tanned skin (despite never being in the sun) to you. He’s pretty. Gorgeous. You hum in appreciation as your hands run along the planes of his muscles, raking your nails along his abs and rubbing up and down his sides while he breathes heavily over you. It’s slow—there’s no rush despite the lingering, building ache between both of your legs. You want to admire him, and he wants to let you. 

You want to feel him, and he wants to bask in the feeling of being wanted.

“You’re perfect,” you murmur, “happy birthday. I’m glad it’s me, you know? That gets to say that. And be here.”

“It was never going to be anyone else,” he pants, groaning as your hand finds the tent in his pants and gives a soft squeeze.

Unbuckling his belt and taking his pants and boxers off is less of a slower ordeal than his shirt—he’s a little more quick to get rid of them and let his hard, leaking cock finally be free of its confinements. He hisses when the cool air hits the warmth of his length, but you’re quick to bring the warmth right back as your hand wraps around him, smearing his pre cum along the tip and shaft, stroking slowly as he shudders over you and moans. 

“Feel good?” you kiss his nose. 

“Mmh,” he nods, swallowing thickly as you run your thumb through the slit and feel him twitch in your hand. “Y-yeah. Good.”

“Good,” you smile, “it’s about you tonight. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he grunts in time with a squeeze of your fist around him. 

He lets you stroke him like that for a bit, just the feeling of you touching him. Just the feeling of you surrounding him and undoing him slowly, gradually, just the way you know he likes. You know him so well, and he likes being reminded. Know what makes it feel good for him and what doesn’t—know that he likes when you speed up and focus around the tip for a bit before switching to long, languid strokes along the entirety of his length before giving his base a small squeeze. 

“Ngh,” he pants, shuddering over you as his face twists into a pretty little scrunch of pleasure, “I…I think that’s—that’s enough, sweetheart. I want you now—the real thing.”

He’s close when he says it. You can tell because there’s a small twitch in your hand of his heavy cock that lets you know the build-up is about to hit the crest of good and fall over the edge and into better. You stop, looking at him fondly as he shivers at the feeling of it all coming to a halt before you press a kiss between his furrowed brows to soothe him as he holds onto his composure. 

“Then take me, my birthday boy,” you coo.

“You want it, sweetheart?” he asks softly, just to be sure. “Tell me now before I lose my mind.”

“I want you,” you plead, “want you so bad—give it to me. Please.”

He does. As soon as you say it, it’s like a switch is flipped and he can finally do as he pleases—so he grabs your hips and leans in to kiss you deeply, a hot, open-mouthed clash of lips and teeth and tongue as his fat tip presses against your entrance. He’s pressing into you and splitting your folds open—one inch, then two, then three, and slowly, he’s fully filling you to the brim. His tip presses delicately against that soft, spongy part of your walls that’s especially sensitive, and you mewl at the feeling while he groans at the tight fit. 

“Fuck,” he pants, “fuck, you’re so tight—take me so well. Fit me like I was made for you. I was, wasn’t I? Tell me I was—that we were made for each other.”

“We were,” you whine, nodding as your fingers dig into his shoulders and leave small crescent indents into his skin, “we were—we were made for each other. You’re mine, Sy.”

“I am,” he inhales sharply, “all yours. Always.”

The first snap of his hips is slow. He pulls out almost fully, until just barely the tip is still buried into you, before he slides back in with a firm, swift thrust of his hips. It leaves you lightheaded, wind knocked from your lungs by how good it feels to be split open by him and feel every ridge of his cock drag along your walls. You feel like you’re floating—suspended somewhere between pleasure and bliss as nothing but his body cages you into the mattress, and nothing but him invades your senses. 

Then the second snap of his hips comes in, hard and fast and rougher than the initial, and he starts to set a pace that’s not as gentle. You don’t want it to be—you want to feel him raw and hard and fast. 

“Fuck, baby,” you whimper, “like that…just like that—hah.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles breathlessly, “already so fucked out? You feel that, don’t you? How good you take my cock? You’re taking it so well—that’s a good girl. My good girl.”

“S-so deep, Sy,” you sob, “more. Please, more—more!”

“More?” he raises a brow, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply as you clamp down on him at a particularly rough thrust. He groans, the sound tapering off into a shaky little exhale. “You want more, huh?”

“Yes,” you stare up at him with plump, pouty lips and wet, teary lashes. It’s enough to make him snap and lose the last bits of his composure. 

Sylus has always needed you. 

He was born into this world to find you, and he needs you before he can leave this world, too. He needs you if he wants to find something worth living for. He needs you if his heart wants to find some form of peace and rest. He’s just half of a soul tethered to this planet with longing and no purpose without you. He’s always needed you—body, mind, soul, heart, everything. When you’re gone, he hears the echoes of your laughter in his empty halls. When you’re here, he feels human only when you smile and press your skin to his. It feels like his flesh is not rotten or tainted, only when it has the privilege of touching the soft, precious silk of yours. 

Sylus has always needed you. His purpose in this world is to love you. To be loved by you. To do it right because that’s what you both deserve. He’s nothing if not an empty body with a broken soul taking up the space of him without you. 

Shakily, he whispers, “I love you. You’re all that I love—I…I love you.”

Distantly, he hears you repeat the words back to him. Soft hands are roaming his skin, gliding along the curves and dips and contours of his body, and mapping every detail to memory through your warm palms. Gentle pressure coaxes his head into your neck, letting him take sanctuary in that spot that lets him hide away and be free of whatever clings to his back like a second, haunting skin. 

“I love you,” you both whisper in breathless, heated exchanges. Because there is nothing left in your brains—no other coherent thought besides the fact that there is love and that’s it. You love and he loves, and that’s all that holds you together. 

It’s enough. This time, in this life, it’s enough. 

You come undone first—when his thumb finds your clit and rubs a few quick circles, you fall apart while whining with your head pressing back into the pillow. Your legs wrap around his hips and pull him forward, further and deeper into you as his thick, blunt tip drills into your sweet spot and pulls yet another orgasm out of you. This one is more devastating—this one makes your body still, quivering under him with a force that almost makes it hard to breathe.

The pressure of your walls spasming around him pulls him into his own release, a low, deep groan that draws out as the first few twitches of his cock start to fill you with thick, hot ropes of his cum. He pants, rolling his hips in messy, rhythmless motions as he desperately tries to work you both through the highs of your pleasure. 

“S-so perfect,” his voice comes out strained, “you…you feel so perfect—ngh.”

“S-Sylus—oh.”

He paints your walls white with more of his seed, spilled into you and fucked deep into the back of your cunt with every sharp slam of his hips until finally, with a shaky little breath, he finishes and rides out the last earth-shattering waves of his orgasm.

He slumps over you. You welcome his weight with open arms, rubbing over his back with shaky fingertips. 

“I love you,” you remind him again—because really, you can never remind him enough. “Happy birthday, baby.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he mumbles, kissing your shoulder blade, nestled close and deep where only he fits.

Next year, he’ll fit just as well—maybe even better. 

FOR ONCE I POST A BDAY FIC ACTUALLY ON THE BDAY HAHAHAHAHA I WIN