#caruso writes

[horseb0y]

I don't really like the terms FTM or AFAB, really.

I don't like everyone knowing I was born female or assuming that because I was assigned a woman, I understand and experienced all things a woman did. That because I was assigned a woman at birth, I feel a strong connection with my AGAB or womanhood.

I feel a strong connection to cis womanhood...in the sense that I hated performing it. It robbed me many years of my life making me think I couldn't be anything else but a (cis, white) woman.

It's happened to me, as a trans man, that I've received the insinuation from some people (99% cis women or AFAB nonbinary folks) that they feel "safe" around me for "who I am"; that if I was a cis man, they wouldn't feel safe. Which may look like a compliment, but it has soooo many awful implications I couldn't even begin listing them...

On the same note, I also hate anything to do with "female socialization". It's reductionist, bioessensialist and erases all differences and nuances of growing-up. A lot of the time, it's treated as this inmutable fact of life. It's not, cause socialization is literally the opposite! It's an oxymoron (and a bad one at that)!

…

Regardless of what I was assigned at birth, you're not entitled to my know what I have between my legs or assume what my life experiences have been.

Just because I can relate to some of the experiences of women, does not mean you can reduce me to a box for your own comfort and prejudices.

Don't feel safe around me because of your assumption about my life and body pre-transition. I want you to feel safe around me because I've EARNED your trust, because I've SHOWN myself to be someone you can trust. And even then, don't doubt that I'm capable of wrong or harm. EVERYBODY is capable of harm, at different degrees. The harm I've done is not exonerated or minimized because I'm trans, AFAB or whatever. And my capacities to listen, mediate, recognize, apologize, repair, learn and grow don't vanish either.

…

I'm a man. I'm a boy. I'm a trans man. I'm transmasc.

I'm NOT FTM, AFAB or was socialized as a woman.

I transition from one state to another. What I was before should not matter to you. Because I am not that anymore. I am ME. I am the present.

…

If you feel identified or use the terms FTM and AFAB because they help you describe your individual experiences, go for it.

I'm simply arguing why I generally don't like or use these terms for myself or to describe others.

[horseb0y]

This. I don't use binders very often because how uncomfortable they are (difficulty breathing and skin rashes), not to mention how difficult it has been to find one that fits by bigger chest and general frame. Tape has been difficult for me; I've watched a lot of tutorials but I still feel my chest doesn't flatten a lot, it's still readable as a feminine chest. It takes a lot of time and resources to bind and it is extremely demoralizing when it doesn't turn out.

I've realized I've sunk a lot of money and it makes me wonder how much cis men (or cis people in general) spend on gender-affirmative care in comparison. Do they have to go through similar struggles?

I could go on, but I don't wanna doom-spiral or vent too much on someone else's post. I merely want to say, I feel all of you, and I want you to know that you're all still valid and beautiful. It's not your fault

the emotional labor of binding. trying to do it as safe as you can while trying to be comfortable. still getting rib pains and finding it hard to breathe no matter what. feeling like a failure because it hurts sometimes. feeling bad if you can’t. sucking at using tape. the absolute struggle t tape is. it’s painful in so many ways and i don’t think people really talk about how much of an emotional labor it can be sometimes

[cephalopod-celabrator]

In my opinion, all the best media makes you feel like you've been picked up and thrown against a wall.

[greatkinglulu]

okokok vi el post de juanicar, YO SUGIERO (humildemente) un imagina así bien cute donde en un stream revela q está en una relación amorosa y tdo eso para luego presentarlx (fem, male o gn) al chat recibiendo mucho amor y apoyo x parte del chat

Sorpresa

Imagina Juani Caruso x fem!character

Warning: Ninguno? Fluff.

Conteo de palabras: 850.

27 de febrero, 2024

Mensajes nuevos: Juanicar 🎀

16:27 holaa locurasss

16:27 hoy prendo a las 18, atentiss

16:29 los espero con una sorpresa 💋💋

Así se comunica Juani habitualmente en su canal de difusión de Instagram. Cada mensaje que manda, ansiosamente esperado por sus fans, recibe incontable cantidad de reacciones con emojis, a modo de respuesta. Por supuesto, hoy no fue la excepción con miles de corazones de diferentes colores, caritas felices, enamoradas y banderas de diversos países entre otros adornando cada uno de sus textos. Mucho menos cuando en el último que envía antes de desaparecer hasta el horario pactado, promete esperarlos con “una sorpresa”.

¿Una sorpresa? Esto puede significar cientos de cosas distintas. ¡Qué manera de generar suspenso este pibe!

Algunas de las hipótesis que rondan las mentes de los integrantes del fandom: ¿Anuncia una canción?, ¿Alguna participación en otra película?, ¿Capaz una serie?, ¿Y si invita a alguno de los chicos del cast hoy? ¿¡Y si aparecen todos!?

¿Y si está de novio?

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Los minutos pasan, más lento para algunos, más rápido para otros y poquitos minutos pasadas las 18:00 llega la noti de Twitch del amigo más personal de todos.

No puede y no falta el recordatorio en el canal de ig.

Mensajes nuevos: Juanicar 🎀

18:06 bebyyyysss 

18:07 ESTAMOS AO VIVO EN TWITCH.tv/juanicar_

18:07 los veo ahí para charlar un ratoo

Entrando al stream, aparece Juani con su fondo habitual, solo y con música para ambientar de su playlist de spoti, Juanicar musiquette🎀. Tiene puesta una de las musculosas que acostumbra, color blanco, que no deja mucho a la imaginación con sus brazos al descubierto. El sol que entra por la ventana le baila en la cara a medida que él se mueve y charla con miles de espectadores del otro lado de la pantalla y sus icónicos rulos se están formando después de una ducha; tiene el pelo húmedo todavía.

Después de semejante anuncio apenas hora y media antes por insta, el chat está revolucionado y quiere respuestas, pero Juani trata de no darse por aludido. Los mensajes preguntando por la sorpresa no paran de llegar y solo siguen aumentando a medida que más gente se prende al vivo.

A Juani se lo nota algo distraído, fuera de lo habitual; incluso hasta un poco nervioso. Se le escapan risitas sin motivo aparente y mira demasiado hacia un costado fuera de cámara; está pendiente del vivo y del chat, por supuesto, pero algo más llama su atención. Mira como expectante hacia un lugar que la cámara de su celu no llega a enfocar sea a propósito o sin intención.

El chat enloquece todavía más viendo esto, pero nadie está preparado para lo que se escucha apenas de fondo, mientras Juani está respondiendo alguna pregunta que se quedó muy arriba, sobre el detrás de escenas de la peli.

“Amor, ¿no viste la crema de peinar? No la encuentro.” 

Seguido una sombra apenas visible por la rapidez de su caminata, pasa por detrás de él de una esquina de la pantalla a la otra y desaparece. Juani sonríe una sonrisa enorme, se le sube un poco el color a los cachetes y solo puede asentir, tapándose un poco la cara con las manos, cuando los mensajes del stream le pegan a la sorpresa: “JUANI ESTÁS DE NOVIO?”, “JUAN IGNACIO CARUSO CÓMO NO NOS CONTAS QUE SOMOS TUS AMIGOS MÁS PERSONALES???” Son tantos, tan rápido que no llega a leerlos todos.

“¡Tranqui, ya la encontreeeé!” La voz femenina alarga la última vocal de la palabra, con un tonito algo cantado.

“Bebé,” llama él, mirando para un costado, sonriendo embobado otra vez. “¿venís un toque?” 

Se escuchan pasos a la distancia cada vez más sonoros hasta que aparece en pantalla una castaña desenredándose el pelo mojado, con una remera manga corta blanca, visiblemente grande para ella y un short azul. Él la abraza por la cintura y gesticula que se siente sobre sí. Ahí cae en cuenta: miles de personas la están viendo. “Ay no, no no. ¡Qué vergüenza! Estoy así nomás, desarreglada, amor.” Se señala de pies a cabeza. “¿Cómo me vas a pedir que aparezca así?” La chica se tapa la cara con las manos y Juani aprovecha a sentarla en sus piernas, riendo. 

Le da un beso en la frente “¿Pero qué decís? Si sos hermosa vos, bombón.” 

La observa con ojos amorosos y niega incrédulo, mordiéndose el labio; no puede creer que ella le haya dado bola. El chat no para, explota. Aman a la pareja. Exigen un nombre para formar el ship. Es hermosa. Él repite el beso, pero no en la frente.

“Sí, chicos.” Vuelve su atención a la cámara, risueño. “No, no es una canción, ni otra peli, ni serie. No viene Blas, ni Fran, ni Enzo. Sí, estoy de novio y con esta belleza. no, yo tampoco lo puedo creer. Se las presento.”

Agradece todos los buenos comentarios y deseos que llega a leer de parte de los fans, se despide y promete volver mañana.

juanicar_ ya no está en vivo.

Taglist al 08/03/2024 para fluff con Juani: @thqueerestmf @motherandloverofallfandoms @sotsfan @motley-baby @dark-122-blog @f1lover55 @jaspimirandera

N/A: Hola, Nonnie! Cómo estás? Disculpá la tardanza, lo prometido es deuda. Espero que te guste, estoy medio oxidada porque hace muchísimo no escribo, pero le puse toda la onda :).

A aquellas personas que dejaron un mensajito en el form del taglist: muchísimas gracias por sus palabras ❤️.

Nos leemos pronto!

Si querés estar en el taglist, anotate acá.

[matchalovertrait]

Alegría VS Caruso: Day 1, Part 1

Next

After weeks of organization and preparation, it was finally time to commence the court trial. Dulce Alegría was going to sue Leslie Caruso for the false claims that she stole his recipes and published them in her cookbook.

Today was a Friday. Not ideal since it could interrupt the flow of the trial, but there was no way around it. Antonio also convinced Dulce to have a jury trial inside of a bench trial. He’s glad that she’s also a fan of the facts, but they need to emphasize Dulce’s high numbers of supporters. A jury on her side would be a key factor.

The courtroom fell silent as the judge entered through the grand doors and walked toward his bench.

In his mind, Antonio was replaying the meeting held shortly before. He, his team, and Dulce gathered in the courthouse’s boardroom. That’s when he divulged important information: Isabela Campos, his main rival, was now the lawyer that they were up against.

Of course, he let out the parts of their conversation regarding Dulce and the unprofessional trash-talking. The only crucial takeaway was for them to know the change, thus not being caught off-guard. They would not falter and continue with what they have.

The judge made his way up the steps.

Dulce was fidgeting with her ring, given to her by her mother a few years back.

Antonio gave her a reassuring look. At least, he thinks he did? It might have looked more like judgment.. He was not very good at expressing his emotions, and his typical stern behavior did not help.

The judge took a seat.

“This court is now in session,” the man said with his powerful voice. “We’ll hear the defamation case between Ms. Dulce Alegría and Mr. Leslie Caruso.”

Antonio adjusted his tie as he walked to the front of the courtroom.

“Your Honor, we intend to prove that Ms. Alegría’s success and reputation were intentionally damaged by Mr. Caruso’s false statement," he began.

"He released a video accusing her of stealing his work. This video led to a significant loss in her sponsorships, followers, and revenue.”

“We will provide evidence showing the drop in her followers, a decline in her cookbook sales, and analytics that illustrate the drastic effects of Mr. Caruso’s false claims.”

He returned to his seat. It was now time for Isabela Campos, Caruso's lawyer, to make their opening statement.

“Your Honor,” she began. “We will show that Ms. Alegría’s declining career was due to her own behavior. Mr. Caruso’s account was merely a reflection of her actions.”

She turned to the audience. “We’ll argue that Ms. Alegría’s manipulation and greed are the source of her problems, not the honest story shared by Mr. Caruso.”

Dulce looked up. These bitches. They’re going to run with that... They could do that. In the video, he said I stole his recipes and was a toxic ex-girlfriend. They’ll insist I lost fans because of my behavioral flaws.

Next

[thesideburnsalon]

[blasdavinci]

heyyy could you do a juanicar smut? there’s nothing about him here on tumblr😭😭 xoxo

WORDPLAY - JUANI CARUSO

pairing juani caruso x f!reader genre smut wc 1129 warnings pet names, pussy eating, not proof-read, lowercase intended (lmk if i missed anything!) synopsis trying to read is impossible when juani is literally pussy drunk

when it came to juani's frequent tossing and turning in bed next to you, you were totally unaware of it. he was heated and anxious yet it appeared like he was only attempting to find a comfortable sleeping posture. and the guilty party, completely clueless, was seated next behind him.

he was trying to tell you that he wanted your attention by shifting and moving all the time. however, he also didn't want to pry in such an obvious way, especially given how engrossed you appeared in your book.

his pleading eyes kept fixed on the pages of your book, but yours remained fixed on the ceiling. your most attractive features were highlighted by the lamp's soft, amber illumination as it brushed across your skin.

your pajama shorts' drawstring was teasing him, it was just itching for him to untie them and rip your underwear off. with the icing on the cake, a tempting amount of your cleavage was visible as your top dropped low against your chest.

glancing over at your needy partner, "yes, juani?" you ask, a giggle coming out naturally.

"nothin'." he sighed, trying to hide his apparent desire.

"seems like something’s bothering you." you reply, glancing back down at your book.

his hands rose to his face, his fingers caressing his eyelids in circles as he thought about what to say next. he gave another sigh, but this one sounded more desperate.

"can we try something?" juani smiled, his eyes finding yours.

"maybe. like what?" you respond with a half-smile.

"you’ll see." the brunette puffed out, lowering himself to the perfect position between your legs, his knees digging into the mattress as he did so.

his palms massaged the tiny portion of your bare stomach as your eyes peeked down at him through your book. He planted a gentle kiss right over your shorts' waist.

you squirmed at every kiss he planted on your skin, but his hands remained gently around your waist. juani could sense your curious gaze following his every action.

"just concentrate on your book, princess. i got you.” he mumbled.

"okay,” you respond, glancing back down at your book as you attempt to bring yourself back into focus.

juani treated your body as though it were made of glass, keeping its touches delicate and kind. you were the most valuable thing in the world to him, and he always made you feel that way about your relationship in all respects.

his fingers brushed the plump skin of your breasts as he carefully moved his hands upward. your stomach twitched with every kiss he planted along your tummy, growing more intense and seductive with each one.

"juani," you whimpered, your brows furrowing with desire. it was impossible to divert your attention from him. the same sentence had looped in your mind for the past few minutes, completely forgotten as his presence consumed you.

"are you okay?" he asked in a whisper, his warm breath grazing against your skin.

"yes, but I can't really focus," you admitted, peering over your book to meet his intense gaze.

"i believe in you, baby. just keep trying for me," juani urged, his hands returning to your waist, leaving a trail of kisses amidst his words. the movement of your hips became involuntary, instinctively seeking more than just those teasing kisses.

a desperate sound escaped your lips, and your fingers clutched the pages of the book. juani chuckled in satisfaction, watching as you ground against his hand. without hesitation, he loosened the drawstring of your shorts and discarded them to the floor.

"already so wet," juani muttered, a triumphant smile etching across his lips as he cupped your clothed pussy outside the fabric of your panties.

you whimpered, the sound primal, as you surrendered to the pleasure building within you. juani relished in your reactions, his fingers teasing and tormenting, driving you to the edge.

his hands, rough but tender, encircled your thighs, gently parting them, revealing your glistening, aroused center. the dim light showcased the wetness of your desire as it dripped down from your tight opening.

juani left a trail of gentle kisses along the tender skin of your inner thighs. slowly, almost torturously, he made his way towards your throbbing clit. impatience welled up within you, and you couldn't help but release a series of desperate whimpers and pleas for more than just his teasing kisses. however, he persisted, continuing to taunt you with his sensual movements.

"fuck, juani! please, stop teasing," you begged, your voice husky with desire.

in response, a soft hum escaped his lips, sending electrifying vibrations throughout your body. juani valued and prioritized your pleasure, but when it came to going down on you, he savored every moment. getting you off was his ultimate goal, and he relished in dragging out the teasing, savoring the anticipation that heightened your pleasure.

minutes passed before juani finally responded with actual words.

"stay focused for me, alright?" he murmured, his speech slightly slurred, just before he pressed his tongue against your swollen clit.

"juani! oh my god—" you cried out, one hand still clutching your book while the other tangled in his curly hair.

his hands slid up to your waist, holding you firmly in place as you squirmed and writhed beneath him. his tongue danced across your sensitive nerves in a tantalizing circular motion, eliciting a chorus of whimpers and moans from you. juani hummed against your sensitive flesh, consumed by the taste and sensation, savoring every drop of pleasure you allowed him before he lost himself in his own satisfaction.

the words on the pages of your book morphed into an incomprehensible blur of ink. despite juani’s request, he made it impossible for you to maintain focus.

your legs trembled on either side of his head, lightly pressing his flustered face between your thighs. butterflies fluttered in your belly as your impending orgasm slowly approached.

"fuck!" you cried out, forcefully shutting the book and tossing it aside onto the pillow. ecstasy surged through you, causing you to tilt your head back, stifling your boyfriend's face underneath your thighs. however, he swiftly pushed them back open with a determined motion.

"keep them open for me," he exhaled, momentarily giving your pulsing clit respite. one hand firmly gripped your thigh, gently pressing it down into the bed, while the other stayed at your waist, anchoring you in place.

"juani... please, i’m so close," you sighed, your voice filled with desperation and longing.

"i know, baby. i wanna taste all of you. can you let go for me?" juani replied in a throaty rasp.

with a fervent nod, you granted his wish, and he eagerly returned to pleasuring your eager pussy. this was only the beginning of a night filled with many more orgasms.

a/n: sorry for making you guys wait so long </3 work is literally hell😭

[horseb0y]

I've been noting this pattern for a while and it has left me feeling disappointed. And when big transmasc blogs (I know op especifically mentions Vaspider, but I do not point to anyone in particular, just in general) actually reblog or say something about Palestine, it's this "both sides" argument or a "you don't actually care about palestinians". It's frustrating.

I don't have anything personal against any of them and I don't think they need to be talking about what's going on every single minute of the day. There's also the fact that a lot of people on Tumblr get very intense, borderline hostile about Palestine; some don't actually care about the cause and just use it to harass someone they already hate and be transphobic, antisemitic, etc. So I don't fully blame them. But at the same time, something feels off. I don't think they'd do that with any other subject.

It has left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. I've been hesitant to talk about it since it can get pretty messy pretty quick.

For me, all of this (in)actions make the transmasc community on Tumblr not feel very intersectional or caring in dismantling systems of oppression—How can you claim others don't actually care about the situation in Palestine when you don't do anything but scold people on Tumblr all day, treat them like they're all stupid and then act almighty? It feels ridiculous.

-

Again, no hate to anybody, I have no personal qualms with any user and don't support any hate campaigns against them. Big Tumblr blogs don't owe "activism points" to anyone. However, I wish things were a little different. My criticism doesn't come from a place of hate, it comes from the hope to do better.

this is probably unfair but to be so honest seeing people write fucking 5 paragraph essays about transandrophobia or whatever the bullshit of the week is and not saying word one about palestine actually has me feeling fucking insane

[horseb0y]

I firmly believe that we should start phasing out the idea that "transmasculinity" as a label and identity can only be adopted by AFAB individuals.

Many articles and wikis state that AMAB individuals cannot and should not use this label to describe their own experiences because, in some persons' logic, trans means transitioning from one gender identity to another and this doesn't count as such. Which is fucking bullshit. You cannot gatekeep transitioning and what that means to a specific person. This also leaves intersex people out of the conversation.

We. Are. Not. The. Gender. Police.

AMAB and intersex folks have their own experiences with masculinity, and if they feel the word "transmasculinity" encapsulates their unique experiences and them as a person, that is completely valid. By claiming they cannot use it, we're projecting our own biases based on their AGAB.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, sex isn't binary. There's no clear difference from when a "man" ends and a "woman" begins (and vice versa); these concepts and distinction are a social construct. By insisting that only AFAB individuals can be defined as transmasculine, we're reinforcing an oppressive gender-sex binary, not breaking it. We're blinding ourselves to a diverse array of experiences apart from our own, from which we may find we aren't as different as we thought. We're denying companionship and knowledge to drive us further.

Similarly, transfeminity shouldn't be defined as exclusive to AMAB individuals either, nor should transmasculinity and transfeminity be mutually exclusive.

If you're AMAB and you identify as transmasculine, you're fucking valid.

If you're intersex and identify as transmasculine, you're fucking valid.

If you hate AGAB labels and identify as transmasculine, you're fucking valid.

If you're AFAB and you identify as transfeminine, you're fucking valid.

If you're intersex and identify as transfeminine, you're fucking valid.

If you hate AGAB labels and identify as transfeminine, you're fucking valid.

If you identify as transfeminine and transmasculine, you're fucking valid.

If you don't fuck with these labels, you're fucking valid.

Whatever you chose to label yourself or not, you're valid AF. Don't let people gatekeep your gender identity. Be happy, be yourself. FUCK these outdated articles and wikis.

[simperoniandcheese]

Good Cop Fic Ideas I Had 1

For future reference (or if you wanna take ideas, thats good! just maybe credit me I don't know)

A re-do of the department's snow resort event like in episode 7 except someone actually helps TJ to ski (the poor little man)

Burl's retirement date arrives and the whole force has a giant like a GIANT party for the dude :D

Big Tony screws something up (and more news at ten)

(IDEA FROM @merryfeastingcrank) Cora's cat Freeloader (aka one of TJ's favourite things) (besides from Cora) (ahem ahem)

Transmasc! Ryan because it just feels like it makes sense (im so sorry if this offends someone idk)

post-appendix removal (it's weak but what else can I do)

TJ and Cora being obliviously in love and the entire department losing their minds over it

PART 2 COMING YES SIR YOU HEARD ME

[urfavenarrator]

~On the edge~

Alt tital: rooftop [Leo x Vincent] [rope work, stigmatophile, body worship, muscle worship, degradation and praise, oral fixation, some humiliation, soft dom/sub, slight comfort/low-key angry sex, impact play] [towards the end of the game, maybe even post cannon (if we say the rooftop scene never happens)] 

I forgot about the stigmatophile sorry pookie

Vincent held the gun in his hand and looked down at Leo, his body stuttered trying to breathe; he was bleeding from the earlier fight in the building. "Fuck," Vincent looked away, unable to look at the criminal in front of him. 

Vincent stood on the rooftop, the city’s lights flickering below like a sea of stars. The chill in the night air did nothing to ease the burning in his chest. He held the gun tightly in his hand, his fingers trembling despite his grip. Blood seeped through the fabric of his shirt from the gash on his side, a reminder of the brutal fight inside the building. 

Leo, sprawled on the cold concrete, looked up at him with a mixture of defiance and resignation. His suit was tattered, and the sneer that once adorned his face was now replaced by a painful grimace. Vincent could hardly meet his gaze. The weight of the decision he was about to make felt like an anchor dragging him down.

"Fuck," Vincent muttered, his voice cracking as he turned his head away from Leo’s piercing eyes. The sight of him, vulnerable and defeated, was almost too much to bear. He could still hear the echoes of their fight, the sharp retorts of gunfire, and Leo’s taunts that had once cut deep. But now, those words seemed distant, drowned out by the roar of Vincent’s own inner turmoil.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” Vincent said, his voice barely more than a whisper, filled with regret. He took a deep breath, trying to steady the rapid beating of his heart. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a heavy exhaustion that made his knees buckle slightly.

Leo's eyes, though filled with pain, held a flicker of something akin to understanding. He had always been a step ahead, always knowing the dark paths Vincent would tread. “Do it.” Leo’s voice was raspy, but there was a strange calm in his tone. “If you’re going to pull the trigger, just get it over with.”

Vincent’s hand shook even more, the gun lowering as tears blurred his vision. He clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of the moment press down on him like a vice. He could no longer separate justice from vengeance. 

With a final, shuddering breath, Vincent dropped the gun to the ground. Leo took a tentative step forward, his eyes searching Vincent’s for any sign of lingering hostility. When he found none, he closed the distance between them and, without a word, wrapped his arms around Vincent in a tight, desperate hug. Vincent stiffened at first, unaccustomed to such an overt display of emotion, but then he relaxed, allowing himself to be held and to feel the warmth of his friend’s embrace.

“I’m sorry,” Vincent whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I let things get out of control.”

“Me too,” Leo replied, his voice muffled against Vincent’s shoulder. “But we’re going to be okay. We’ve always got each other’s backs, right?”

Vincent nodded. A lump formed in his throat. The hug lingered, both men holding on as if afraid to let go, afraid that the moment would slip away and leave them in the cold, harsh reality once more.

After what felt like an eternity, they pulled back, both a little embarrassed by the display but also feeling a weight lift from their shoulders.

“I think we need to get out of here,” Leo said, his voice lighter, almost teasing. “How about we find a place to crash for the night? Somewhere… quiet.”

Vincent smirked, the tension easing from his features. “Yeah, that sounds good. Let’s go.”

They left the rooftop together, the heavy silence of the city night enveloping them as they walked side by side. Neither spoke much as they made their way to a nearby motel, the neon sign flickering in the darkness like a beacon of hope.

Once inside the modest room, the door clicking shut behind them, a sense of calm settled over them both. The adrenaline that had fueled their confrontation had long since dissipated, leaving only exhaustion and the lingering remnants of their frayed emotions.

Leo flopped down on one of the beds, kicking off his boots and letting out a deep, weary sigh. "Man," Vincent had left for the bathroom for a medical kit; he came back a moment later. "I am exhausted."

Vincent chuckled softly, sitting on the edge of the other bed and running a hand through his hair. “No kidding.”

For a moment, they just sat there, the quiet between them no longer strained but comfortable. Vincent and Leon patching themselves up both had terrible aim, only grazing each other with bullets but.Eventually, Leo patted the space beside him, a small smile tugging at his lips. “C’mere. We could both use some rest.”

Vincent hesitated only for a moment before he joined Leo, lying down beside him. There was no need for words as they settled in, their bodies instinctively curling toward each other, seeking warmth and comfort.

Leo draped an arm over Vincent’s waist, holding him close as if to reassure himself that his friend was really there, alive and well. Vincent let out a contented sigh, his eyes slipping closed as he allowed himself to relax completely, something he hadn’t done in far too long.

“I’m glad we didn’t do anything stupid back there,” Leo murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, me too,” Vincent replied, his voice drowsy with exhaustion.

They lay there in the dark, the steady rhythm of their breathing the only sound in the room. It wasn’t long before sleep claimed them both, the weight of the day finally lifting as they found solace in each other’s presence.

In the morning, there would be time to talk, to sort through the mess they had made and figure out where to go from here. 

After a while of just lying there in silence, Leo made the first move; he snuck his hand to Vincent’s hip. "Leo, what the fuck are you doing?" Vincent huffed, opening his eyes and turning his head to the criminal; Leo was just rubbing circles into Vincent’s hip bone.

"You know... You're kinda," Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Pretty, i guess," Leo mumbled. Maybe he had lost more blood than Vincent originally thought. "Pretty? Your joking." "No, I'm not maybe not pretty, but you are attractive." Vincent still had an odd feeling about this, like something in his gut was just hit. Well, something hit a few hours ago, but that's not the point.

Vincent relaxed a little bit and just let Leo be touchy, then he felt it. "Please tell me you just brought a gun to bed." Vincent's grimace was evident in his voice. Leo moved a little closer, his nose grazing Vincent's neck. "Guess agian~" Leo purred his cold finger, touching the bandage around Vincent’s midsection; it was now covered in wounds, he said, because then again he had matching ones.

Leo bit Vincent's neck, surprised that Vincent didn't object or push him off; he sucked on the skin a little before pulling away and assaulting another bit of Vincent's neck. Leo sat up and moved in front of Vincent in between his legs. "What are you doing now?" His tone was harsh, but it lacked bite. "Youll see."

Leo unzipped Vincent's dirtied pants and pulled his boxers down a bit. He leaned down and took Vincent length into his mouth. He bobbed his head. Leo could almost feel his eyes roll to the back of his head as he started sucking, his tongue rubbing over the underside of the Vincent member. It felt good, almost soothing to Leo, a warm, heavy weight on his tongue, pinning it to the bottom of his mouth.

"... hmmm fuck, I swear to god you and your damn sucking fetish," Vincent groaned. Leo rolled his eyes but continued anyway.

Leo was melting under the attention, Vincent's rough grip in his hair, the heavy weight on his tongue, and his growing erection getting rubbed raw by the front of his jeans. Leo's pace slowed even more, until he was just sucking on Vincent Cock; it was a perfect fit for Leo's mouth. He started to palm himself while cockwarming the cop in front of him. His nose was pressed against Vincent's fupa as he undid his own pants while lazily sucking on Vincent.

Vincent grew tired of the slow pace; after a while, he pulled Leo off by the hair and turned him around. He helped Leo lay back on the pillows on the bed; he slid Leo's pants down to his midthigh. 

"Open," Vincent muttered, "eye-caps," "dont... just don't," Leo groaned, "your boring." Lep grabbed Vincent's hand and placed two of his fingers between his lips and started to suckle his tongue, sliding around, between, and over Vincent’s fingers. 

Vincent pulled his fingee from Leo's mouth much to the displeasure of the other man. He gently rolled Leo over and very slowly pressed one finger into Leo's ass, "Good, stay nice, and still for me." 

Soon he pushed a second finger in pumping them in and out before moving to sissor him slowly listening to Leo's soft groaning and grumbling. Vincent removed his fingers and said, "What? Hey, I wasn't done," Leo huffed. His agitation melted when Vincent pushed his length to Leo's ass. "Oh, shut up." Both men hissed at the friction. Leo's face was pressed to the bed as Vincent got a grip on his hair hanging. The only glue between the two was spit and a half-streched hole. 

After some time, Vincent pulled his belt out from his sagging jean loops; he pulled it around Leo's arm, making a handle of sorts to hold onto, and started to pump in and out. Leo snarled at the feeling but didn't say anything. He started to go faster, one hand on Leo's prominent hip and the other on Leo's head, shoving the younger man into the bed.

"Can you go any slower?" Leo growled, trying to enable Vincent, resulting in a slap. Vincent hit his hand against his bottom, earning a yelp out of Leo. "Hey!"

"Fuck you, fucking brat." Vincent grunted his hand and came into contact with Leo's ass again, leaving a stinging red mark in its wake. Leo was starting to tire a little, his wrist just starting to chaf from the belt. 

"Fuck," Leo groaned as his guts were rearranged; he felt a familiar coil in his loins; Vincent did too. Vincent huffed, trying to keep his pase; he was sweating in places he didn't know he could; it trickled down his plush stomach, dripping to Leo's equally sweaty body. Leo's face was red and hot, his neck from the pressure Vincent applied.

Leo was panting hard; his eyes clamped shut and eyebrows furrowed. "Mmm, sorry," Vincent said lazily, his pace slowed as he came filling Leo up. Leo followed quick, gasping from his exersion. Vincent stayed inside, removing his belt from Leo's wrists; they were red from friction.

Vincent leaned over, spooning Leo as he gulped in air. They were winded, sweaty, and tired; Leo was a little thirsty but didn't complain. Leo was the first to fall asleep, soon followed by Vincent, who half pulled the sheet over them.

[kazz-brekker]

there’s a little venn diagram in the back of my head labeled “bird-themed wizards with white hair who are always up to something and whom i spend far too much time thinking about” and kathe the crow lord from the swords and fire trilogy and bloodraven from asoiaf just hang out there together

[goldoradove]

i’ve got ocs on the brain.  redo of isaac’s sim based on his artbreeder version.

[cephalopod-celabrator]

I love protagonists who aren't exactly immoral but exhibit traditionally villainous traits. They are caring and principled, but aren't above manipulation, scheming, or brutal tactics. Sometimes it's just satisfying to see your noble hero put the fear of god in a bitch villain just by giving them a death stare. This is personal bias, but it's especially satisfying from female protagonists. One of my favorite authors, Melissa Caruso does this very well.

[d20owlbear]

A scuffle of shoes were muffled on cold, brick pavement; it was damp, and lights reflected at the end of a dirty alleyway from the street. They didn’t reach far past the initial grime.

The rustle of clothing accompanied a low grunt as a man was pushed forcefully against an equally cold brick wall, nearly as grimy as the ground if not for the occasional rain leaving rusty stains from fire escapes above. A solid wall of muscle behind him pinned him just as surely as the brick before him did, with his right arm twisted around against the small of his back and the left instinctively thrown out in front of him to cushion the fall.

It hadn’t been much of a fall, not with the way the person behind him had controlled every part of it. The whole thing had been poetry in motion, if he’d anything to say about it. The grab, the twist upon the fulcrum, the power and control and economy of movement! There was not a single bit of effort wasted–

“I have a knife.” The voice behind him was low, pleasantly so. A sharp point pressed against his back, just barely, just enough to feel it through the wool of his three-piece suit, and oh that took a good bit of knowledge and practice, didn’t it? Presuming he only wanted to frighten some poor sod, rather than actually harm them, and there was no indication this would-be-thief was in any way violently inclined at this time...

He hid his smile with a curl of his hand on the wall, and twisted his neck just enough to look back at the towering man behind him, eyes widening so that the whites showed enough he might even look a bit frightened while he was at it.

The man had a hat on, and a hoodie over that, both of them black, which was cliché enough to almost be cute. But it obscured his face well enough to work, so perhaps it was classic for a reason, he mused silently to himself. But the man had a surprisingly delicate jaw, which threw him for a bit, he’d been expecting something a bit more rugged or defined to go along with that voice, but this man seemed to have a more naturally rounded face, more rounded shoulders too instead of squared, now that his eyes wandered...

“Don’t move, and I won’t have to use it,” the man continued, “where is your wallet? Tell me.”

Pausing for a moment, he couldn’t help but tremble as he bit back a laugh. What a wonderful delivery! Well done!

The man behind him sighed, and the grip on his arm loosened, just a tad, almost unnoticeable really, though the pressure keeping him otherwise pinned to the wall hadn’t changed, and he said, almost comfortingly, “I won’t hurt you, just hand over your wallet, or maybe a watch instead if it’s valuable, and you can be on your way back home, unharmed.”

“Oh no, that’s not–” and at that point he couldn’t keep it in anymore and snorted a laugh that was entirely out of place. The man behind him paused, he couldn’t say the man quite froze—as he didn’t stiffen up or anything like that, it would have been easier to pull off the next move if he had, actually—and pushed off the bricks in front of him with his left hand while pivoting towards his right to face the taller man. From there it was simple enough to catch him off guard, loop a heel behind him to pull a foot out from under him, and then happily kneel down on one of the few drier spots in the alley to give the man a winning smile as he groaned.

“Oh, pardon me,” he said jovially, leaning over to tenderly pluck the switchblade out from the man’s hands, “I’ll just hold on to this for a moment. I’ll give it back in due time. Now, if you like, my watch is on my wrist, and I’m happy to give that to you. As for my wallet, it’s in my suit pant’s left, back pocket, but I daresay you’ll have to fetch that one yourself if you want it.” He tilted his head to the side and his eyes narrowed to crescents with the force of his, if he did say so himself, utterly charming smile.

The man on the ground blinked up at him slowly for a moment or two before groaning again and letting his head thunk down to the brick pavement.

“S’alright. Can’t say I want it much anymore.” The man shrugged, and threw his arms up to fold behind his head as a cushion, making himself comfortable, even going so far as to raise a knee up and then cross his leg over it, as if to say he was fine down there and wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon, he wasn’t bothered by this turn of events.

“Well.” It was hard to keep the delight from his voice. And despite what he’d said about his wallet, he dug it out of his pocket anyway, and pulled a card from it, a business card to be exact. “My name is Savin Reep, please do give me a call. I’ll be waiting.”

Savin stood with another smile, and pushed his hair back out of his face from where it’d fallen free from its previously slicked-back appearance, and casually walked back out of the alley and merged into the after-work commute back home as if he were any other office worker on any other Tuesday night.

And he would be, waiting, that is. Even if that’s not all he would be doing, he’d be waiting too.

The man would have to come find him to get his wallet back, after all...

[rillabrooke]

edgy/misc OC ask meme last but certainly not least, my precious child isaac for @quietwaters

7. What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

Isaac actually has an interesting history because 1) I hardly made contact with him during Version 1.0 though @bluebellwren worked with his character for some time; and 2) he was completely absent from Version 2.0, other than maybe a cameo appearance. As a result, this version of Isaac is entirely new (at least to me). Of all the Salamangka cast, he arrived in my head full formed, and he's lived free-rent there ever since.

24. What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

There's the whole kidnapped as a child resulting in complete loss of autonomy situation, so there hasn't been much choice in Isaac's life. I think years ago, he could've become heartless and callous and cruel—sadistic, even—but instead he maintained his humanity. I think that was choice. So to answer the question, he could've ended up like Samael. Yet, despite the cards stacked against him, he didn't.

25. What is your favorite thing about your OC?

Oh, I don't know, just everything. I love a good redemption story about the power of (non-romantic) transformative love. Choosing to be kind and compassionate and tender even when he has every reason not to. Even when he doesn't know how to. Maybe it's the salt-&-light writer in me talking, but he's my favorite blorbo archetype.