#how much of an unpleasant person do you have to be to get that nasty over RICE

[crabussy]

I'm so close to deleting that rice poll post because somehow people can't even behave about rice. holy shit

if anyone can find the post can you send it to me? it's vanished from my blog for no reason

[sceletaflores]

woo, my baby's got me all mixed up!

feat: logan howlett & wade wilson

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, swearing, a bastard doomed polycule, more of 'why have just one bf when you can two bf's and why have just two bf's when you can have two bf's that are also each other’s bf's???', p in v, double penetration, one (1) single use of daddy, creampie(s), fingering...kind of (fem!receiving), oral sex, face sitting, face fucking, straight up nasty porn w/ zero plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: this is a shorter one-shot but i can't not format it like a full fic i have to or i'll get hives. this is also just pure freak nasty gross actually probably the filthiest thing i've ever written that i thought up off too much nyquil pm last night. kisses!

wade gets to whiskin’ (and logan's there too)…

"You're killing me babe," Wade groans lowly, cheek pressed to the slick skin of your inner thigh. "If my balls didn't feel like they just got the shit beat out of them in a back alley I'd be as hard as David Hasselhoff watching David Hasselhoff movies."

His hand is at work between your thighs, thick index finger slipped into your sensitive, puffy pussy.

It should gross you out that he loves doing this so much. It should make your stomach twist with all the unpleasant feelings a normal person might get.

It should, but it doesn't.

The familiar stretch is lost from taking Logan and Wade at the same time, a rare thing in your sex life because of how big they both are. But you were in a mood tonight.

Your pussy still clenches around him, trying in vain to tighten up, not used to feeling so empty.

The subtle pressure of Wade’s finger toes the line between pleasure and the sharp burn of 'almost too much' as it swirls along the sensitive walls of your pussy.

The first time he did it you were too fucked out of your mind to do anything other than ask what the hell he was doing.

"Gotta mix it up babe," was his reply, as easy as anything. "Don't want the baby batter to curdle, if you know what I mean."

Your heart stopped, flames lapping their way up your body as Wade scooped the thin line of come trickling from your abused hole to fuck it back in, back where it belonged.

It was so filthy, so depraved that it made you go liquid between your legs.

Your eyes almost immediately slid over to Logan, ready to see him shaking his head in irritation like he usually did whenever Wade ran his mouth in bed. You found nothing, no deep grimace or raised brow in sight.

There was an unmistakable heat in his gaze that matched your own, the inky black of his pupils blown so wide you could hardly see the hazel of his irises.

The casual raise of his right shoulder when he met your eye was undermined by the way his cock started to harden where it laid against his thigh, effectively tattling on him.

It told you all you needed to know about how he really felt watching Wade between your spread legs. That alone was enough to get you ready to go all over again.

It sort of became a thing after that.

"I'm not even doing anything..." you mumble breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't have to baby," Logan purrs from behind you, lips pressed to the top of your head. His hand skimming down the side of your body is enough to make goosebumps pebble along your skin, "Look perfect just like this."

It's been hours now, but they're still going. You're convinced that the two of them are the world's biggest horndogs, just once is never enough.

You lost track of tonight's rounds sometime after number five, not counting mouth and hand stuff of course. And it's starting to catch up to you, you’re tired, spent.

Wade curls his finger just right, brushing against the spot inside you that has a broken whine passing through your grit teeth. Your thighs start to tremble as a smug grin spreads across his face.

"Yeah, there it is," he teases, his voice low. He keeps the tip of his finger snug against that spot, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nerves. "That's that spot ain't it, gorgeous."

"Wade," you mewl, hands fisting the sheets as you fight to keep still. You're worried too much squirming will make their come start dripping out around Wade's wrist, and you can't have that.

There’s a sudden silence to your right, the heaviness of it pulling at your attention. You shift slightly, catching the faintest rustle of movement from Logan.

His breath is warm against the crown of your skill, his strong chest still plastered to your back—but he's too quiet, too still. You tilt your head just enough to peek at him out of the corner of your eye, and the sight alone is almost enough to make you come on the spot.

Logan is leaning against the headboard lazily, arm that isn't circled around your waist snaking down his own with the hard length of his cock in his hand.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him, red and leaking pre-come all over his knuckles each time he twists his fist over the thick head. Your hips grind down unconsciously, a needy moan falling from your parted lips. The wet sound of it has your cheeks burning, eyes fixed on the way his heavy balls bounce with each rough tug, still so full.

"Fuck, that's it," Wade murmurs, slipping a second finger inside you while he presses a shit-eating grin to the soft skin of your lower stomach. "You like it when daddy jerks off while I'm knuckle deep in you?"

"Watch it," Logan mutters warningly, tone gone low and dark as spilled ink. His hand doesn't slow, the loose grip of his fist slipping up and down his dripping cock in time with the slick squelch of your pussy.

Your hips buck up against Wade’s hand, a loud whine tearing from your chest at the dirtiness of this whole thing. The familiar heat starts to stir in your belly, your pussy drooling more mess over his wrist the longer he plays with you.

Wade barely muffles his chuckle against your hip, dropping a quick kiss there before pulling his soaked fingers from your velvety warmth. You whine at the loss, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

You’ll both get what you want soon enough.

"Alright, we should all know the drill by now people," he announces to you and Logan with a loud clap, pulling away from between your thighs to roll flat onto his back.

“Time to hop on the saddle, John Wayne,” he finishes, giving your ass a loving tap.

Logan snorts into your hair, dropping his cock to grab your hips and gently manhandle you until you’re situated directly over Wade’s face while Logan kneels in front of you. The jut of his cock bobbing inches away from your mouth.

Wade’s greedy fingers pry your swollen lips apart to watch the way his and Logan’s come starts to seep out from you, falling to drip onto his bare chest. He blows over the wet length of you, the cool air from his mouth has your hips twitching down in search of any friction you can get.

“Not so fast,” he scolds lightly, grinding his knuckle against the wet seam of you. Your nails dig crescent moons into his scarred shoulders, threatening to break the skin.

���You’ve gotta savor this moment, hot stuff,” he says slowly, leaning up to press a kiss directly over your throbbing clit. “You got the best seat in the house, don’t take it for granted–”

"Enough," Logan grunts, heavy hands falling on your shoulders to push you down on Wade's face, fully closing the gap. "Quit runnin' your damn mouth and make our girl feel good, red."

Wade's hands tighten their hold on your thighs, his hips bucking up off the mattress like he can't help it. His surprised moan rumbles against your clit, loud and shameless.

You cry out at the first drag of his tongue over your aching pussy, hot and wet as it slides through your dripping slit. You pitch forward, too caught up in pleasure to think clearly as you take Logan’s cock into your mouth. You take him all the way down to the root in one swift move, burying your nose in the dark hair surrounding the base. 

"Fuck," Logan bites out, eyes twisting shut as he feels your warm throat enveloping him. He takes your hair in his fist gently, just holding it as you swallow around him. 

Your hands move to rest on his thick thighs, nails scratching over the hair scattered along his skin. His breath shutters in his chest, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly, chasing the tight heat of your mouth.

The mix of your tongue tracing along the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock and the low, wet sounds of Wade devouring you has him pulsing in your mouth.

Your thighs shake on either side of Wade's head, the steady grip of his hands the only thing that keeps you from collapsing into a boneless heap on the mattress.

Your hips twitch the tiniest bit, rocking forward enough to grind your clit over the slope of his nose. He groans under you, squeezing the meat of your thighs in encouragement as he swirls his tongue through the mess dripping from your hole.

“That’s a good girl,” Logan praises gruffly, his hips speeding up. “Shut him up, baby. Make him fuckin’ eat it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, dragging your pussy along Wade’s mouth faster. You moan desperately around your mouthful, brain going hazy around the edges.

The frantic pace you set only makes their come leak from you faster, dripping down Wade’s face faster than he can keep up, and there's just so much.

A steady, thick stream of it that feels almost never ending thanks to Logan coming like he busted a pipe and absolutely flooding your insides every single time.

Wade doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest though, swirling his tongue along you with a new sense of urgency. His hands grip your hips tighter, his blunt nails digging into your skin deliciously as he slurps and sucks with unbridled enthusiasm, chasing every drop of come.

He’s sloppy with it, come sliding down his cheeks and chin in thin rivers of white.

Logan’s rough breath hitches above you, his fingers tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks just the way he likes. His growl sends a thrill down your spine.

"C'mon, Wilson," Logan grunts, his hips speeding up. When you peer up at him, you can see the goading smile that just barely tugs the corner of his mouth up.

“Spitters are quitters, you know that."

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[nisuna]

I am currently losing my mind over some fanart of MEN. Big beefy, rough looking men with scars and stubbly faces BIG beefy Arms and huge caloused hands with thick fingers. Face scars, body scars, let me gobble you up. Be nice to me, be mean, pick me up, throw me around, whatever just manhandle me and fold me in half however you like, haha. Give me arms thicker than my head and pecks bigger than my tits. Rough looking face, mean stares, sharp eyes, fuck me like you hate me upps- So manly and strong, mean and indifferent to everyone but protecting me and treating me like a pricess? Let's gooo. So stoic and emotionless, but I'll make you feel things don't you worry. ....black cat boyfriend??....

First person that comes to mind is Choso, so here's some pent-up Choso thoughts:

TW: smut and fluff, size kink, oral (f. receiving), period sex and oral, manhandling, breeding kink

Choso x f!reader

<3masterlist<3

!!MDNI!!

Choso, who looks so intimidating at first, but let's you do his hair in cute styles when you're alone with him.

Choso who looks just as pretty with his hair down as with any other hairstyle. 

Choso who sometimes doesn't understand how strong he actually is when he picks you up with ease or bends you into any position he likes.

Choso who could crush you to death with those huge arms and big hands, but still tries to be gentle and loving.

His calloused fingers swiping over your skin feel like heaven, especially when they have your tits between them while he's pounding into you.

Choso developing an obvious size kink when he first saw you. Oh, and how it solidified when he first held your soft body against his toned and hard one. After comparing his hands to yours and seeing just how much bigger he was than you in general, he was hooked. His body was a stark contrast to yours, it was rough and firm. He had a few scars running over his skin, which you thought were so beautiful and hot. You couldn't stop your fingers from running along the lines at every chance you got. His sheer mass made your mouth water and knees weak.

He was indifferent about a lot of things, but definitely not you. Choso who's always laid back and nonchalant, but steps up if someone dares to even just look at you in an unpleasant way. And he will always be there to protect his precious girl from all harm this world might throw at her.

It took a lot of convincing to get him to be meaner and rougher, because he's afraid he might actually hurt you (jokes on him, you're into that). Soon getting the hang of it and losing all restraints after seeing how you turn to putty in his hands. Seeing you react and moan at his every move made him crave more. Seeing how much wetter you got whenever he was nasty with you made him go crazy. Adjusting to your every need and kink felt like second nature. Positions? Any and every. I'm telling ya he will try every single one out with you. Just say the word and he's yours. He loved seeing you on all fours with your plump ass hitting against his hips. He loved feeling your soft tummy jiggle against his touch whenever he fucked you while you were spooning. And he loved seeing your face contort in pleasure when he hit the right spot when your legs were slung over his broad shoulders. In short, he loved every detail, because it was you. He was so eager to please you.

Breeding you at every chance he got quickly became one of his favourite activities. Seeing his cum drip out of your every hole ignited something carnal in him. And the thought of seeing you plump up with his child almost made him lose his mind.

Choso, who's not afraid of blood, gobbling and filling you up real good even if you're on your period. Always looking forward to your period and getting lost in your scent and taste when he finally gets between your legs. Your plush thighs feel heavenly around his head as they twitch and squeeze him tighter whenever he makes you cum with just his mouth.

You were blown away when he first went down on you. His tongue and fingers were working you open just right, skillfully sucking and licking you through your highs.

"Fuck. How are you so good at this?", you huffed, hair sticking to your forehead. He was a man of few words so he just smiled and made you cum again and again.

Speaking of smile, you swore your heart started to melt when you first made him smile at you. His smiles were so pretty and reserved for your eyes only. And when you heard him laugh oh so genuinely, you knew you were in love.

He was sooo cute whenever he played along your shenanigans. Duality of a man, one moment he's bending you over, fucking you like he hates you and the next he's hugging and kissing you through giggles like he wouldn't hurt a fly.

------

Haaaaa, don't mind me. I'm just chilling in my horny puddle. 🫠 Late night Choso thoughts *sigh* I definitely want to write more for him, so if you have any suggestions, hit me up!!

[impishjesters]

Jax x Reader w/depression/suicidal tendencies

warning(s): mentions of depression/suicidal behavior/tendencies, nothing graphic though, mentions of morbid/dark humor note: it's only mentioned that he has feelings for you, whether romantic or platonic is left up to the reader. A/N: I think this is the fastest I've ever wanted to write for something utterly new to me, usually it takes a while of being into a series or liking a character to wanna write something. This was...less than twelve hours? This was probably the most self-indulgent thing I've written in a while.

Nobody was safe from Jax’s pranks, including you—regardless of how much he found himself gradually enjoying your company.

It’s actually a right of passage at this point that every new person (as rare as it is) who shows up is subjected to some awful prank to gauge just how much of an easy or difficult target they’ll be.

You handle the pranks with ease. Sure it can be annoying, but there’s little that can seemingly “kill” you here.

Which is a shame really—well, only slightly.

Your therapist would’ve probably found it a good thing, trying to off yourself in a digital world where sleeping and eating were no longer required likely meant the inability to die.

Not in a traditional sense anyway.

You’re the only one ballsy enough to prank Jax back, which isn’t easy but when a prank is successful? Oh, it’s worth it to see his reaction.

There’s an unspoken prank war back and forth, but typically the other’s are the subject of your guys’ pranks. Somehow it feels more rewarding with the joint effort.

It's not often, but sometimes Jax's pranks will go a step too far and trigger something unpleasant. He's not really sure why you just walk off like that, those pranks don't make him feel as satisfied for whatever reason.

Once a special type of friendship grows between the two of you, the pranks lessen—not entirely though—nah he loves the unsuspecting reactions of a prank you didn’t see coming.

The pranks become less hostile and more casual—he’s got a reputation to keep after all, regardless of how he feels about you.

The initial reaction to someone being told there was no way out was to panic, you however, didn’t..well not outright. Your initial reaction is dark humor—even with the whole censorship thing.

Ragatha is the only one initially disturbed/worried over your dark sense of humor, which should be expected from one of them since they’ve been there longer.

Jax is aware of your morbid sense of humor and often plays along with it, especially in the beginning—later in the friendship though? Yeah, there’s no noticeable physical change, but he’s only a tad worried.

When not tormenting the other’s Jax stuck with you, or vice versa.

After the attempted drowning and standing (willingly) in harm’s way of one (or three) of the rides, Jax keeps your bedroom key closer in hand than the others.

And honestly? Ragatha doesn’t even blame him. You aren’t distant from them, but you do tend to favour Jax’s company. Regardless of her feelings about him as a person, it becomes obvious that he feels something less hostile towards you compared to them.

It takes a while before you finally confess to Jax that prior to being trapped in this digital hell, you were medicated for depression/suicidal tendencies. And while the digital world took away things like needing sleep and food, it didn’t get rid of the thoughts or urges.

Now—had this been someone else telling him all this? He’d be very uncaring and probably make a nasty “joke”, but because it’s you? He’s treading into foreign territory here when it comes to emotions.

There’s not really anything he can say that would make you feel better, but he does show a more rare tender side, offering to be there whenever you need him. Just to backpedal like a tsundere and say that he won’t always be free ( a lie, the fuck else does he have to do?), but he’ll try and make time for you during those moments.

He doesn’t do some pinky promise bullshit, I mean he can and would, but he doesn’t expect his offer and attempts to do that much (words of promise aren’t on the same level as a prescription drug after all).

But if being around his rude ass self and doing the occasional nice *gag* gestures of like, hugging or whatever helps you, he’ll do it—just, not with others around obviously. Again, man has a reputation.

From then on Jax is more aware of where you are around him at all times, not in a suffocating way though. Well, not intentionally, he has his moments. But he’s trying, again this is new territory for him.

Jax makes it his unspoken, personal goal to make sure you don’t tread the line of becoming abstracted.

Bonus (fluff)

Jax will make an attempt not to immediately recoil from your touch when others are present.

I’m not talking “Whoops, sorry to bump into you”, I’m talking about grabbing onto his arm or being in his personal bubble because you need something grounding or whatever.

More often than none his immediate reaction is to just use you to lean on, elbow or arm resting on top of your head to give you some contact and pressure. (He does it out of habit even when you don't need it.)

Sure he probably looks like an ass to others, but after a while, they sort of just get used to it since you never bring up being offended by the act.

But in private? Yeah, sure shoot, just don’t expect him to put any effort into returning anything. Maybe the drape of an arm or his legs, but if it’s really bad? He’ll lay or sit there while you cling to him like a koala.

Jax actually finds it kinda funny how tightly you hold on whenever he gets up.

“Wow, you really holdin’ on there.”

[kasagia]

In death's arms

Pairing: Annatar/Sauron x fem!maia! reader Summary: There was nothing Sauron regretted doing. Every nasty thing he did to gain power paid off for him, and given the choice again, he would do it all over again. Or so he thought, until his path was crossed with someone from his past. It turns out that some of his mistakes are destined to haunt him forever. Author's note: A little sth that stuck in my head after watching Agatha All Along... this is pure fiction and probably wouldn't work in Middle-earth, but since I've written it... 😅 I've been completely out of it lately and everything's been going so fast in my life lately, so I'm terribly sorry if I've missed any messages/comments from you! I'm trying to catch up slowly! Anyway, enjoy! Halbrand's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤���~ Main Masterlist

“Have you come to torment me again?” He asks, gathering the last of his strength to mock you as you appear before him.

From the nasty grin you give him, instead of being angry at his mockery, he realises how bad a state he is in. Morgoth has just put him through one of his tests. Sauron no longer remembers what he had to do. But he remembers his master's anger when he failed. He remembers clearly every cut he inflicted on him, every wound, every spilt blood that stained his skin and clothes, or at least the shreds that remained of them.

He no longer counted how much of his blood had soaked into his clothes and how much into the stone floor and wall behind him. And the seemingly irritating digging of the bars into his neck and skin stopped bothering him as the metal and his body became one.

"Contrary to appearances, your new master is not willing enough to hand you over to me. Too bad. You'd look pretty in your grave, Mairon. Oh, forgive me. Old habits die hard, Sauron."

He trembles when you speak his true name. The name given to him by the Valar. It sounds both sweet and deadly on your lips. A reminder of what he has lost, of what he could have had, had his lust for power been kept in check, had he never left the forge…

"He needs me. He knows that only I can lead his army to the victory."

"Victory, death. What's the difference, right?" You reply with a smirk that sends an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

He feels... uneasy around you. It wasn't something he was used to. Your presence always brought him some kind of comfort and peace, but now... now everything was different. He and you had changed. Not necessarily for the better.

"I suppose it makes no difference to you whether you take me in a dungeon or on a battlefield."

"But your honour wouldn't allow you to be beneath me, would it, my sweet deceiver?" You mock him and laugh, which sends a cold, unpleasant shiver down his spine.

Your laughter is so different from the one he remembers. It is bleak and harsh as the blade he once forged for you, and which you now carry at your side.

He remembered loving to bask in the glow of your laughter, in the halls of the Valar, as you feasted and danced, living as carefree a life as could be. Sometimes he longed for those days... to spend another one like this, so that he could engrave it forever in his memory and cling to it to save himself from total corruption and rottenness.

"Why do you keep showing up? You know that you can't get your claws on me."

"I am aware about that. But every moment like this will only sweeten the day when I finally take you in my arms, my dear deceiver. And believe me... you will not escape once I finally get my hands on you. In the end, all paths lead to one person. And it is not Morgoth. It is not any of your Valar. It is not any being that you know. In the end, you will come to me. And you will suffer more than Morgoth ever made you do, my Dark Lord."

You press your lips to his forehead—the place where Morgoth smashed his skull into the wall and split his head. He trembles as your lips press against raw, bleeding skin. You groan, running your tongue over his wound, tasting his black blood. And he cries out as you send waves of pain through him worse than any Morgoth had inflicted on him.

He holds his breath as your other hand lazily caresses the skin of his arm, tracing patterns with your black nails, only to suddenly dig them into the open wounds Morgoth had inflicted on him. Sauron groans in pain, trembling in your arms. You press your lips to his, drinking in his every cry as you caress him with your gentle touch and send waves of pain shooting through every tiny particle of his body.

"I will drink in every one of your sweet screams, my dearest. I will bask in every pain your being feels. Until all you remember, all you know, is me and my blade." You whisper your promise, and as suddenly as you came, you disappeared.

You leave him trembling and crying on the cold stone floor, dirty with his blood. And though he hated the times you came to mock him, he was relieved that you didn't leave him completely alone. Even if you only came to drive the knives Morgoth had placed inside him deeper.

He needed you. As pathetic as it was, he needed those little moments with you to keep him from going completely crazy during his darkest hours and the tests his master put him through.

But he lived with the hope that one day he would be able to repay you with the same sweet torture. That one day he would be the one to listen to your sighs of pain... or cries of pleasure. He wasn't sure yet whether he loved or hated you more—even though you seemed to already have your mind set about your feelings towards him.

Adar has betrayed him. He has betrayed him in the worst possible way. Sauron lies on the floor, surrounded by Orcs who drive the blades of Morgoth's crown into him as their Lord-Father looks on passively.

This couldn't be the end. He couldn't end like this. He couldn't be defeated like Morgoth had been, not by the filthy stinking Orcs and someone he had considered a friend. His master had been right; if they didn't fear you, you were nothing to them. There was no ally so powerful, so loyal, and true as fear. And now he was learning his lesson once again. In the most painful way possible.

He took small, ragged breaths that burned his body every time his lungs tried to expand and draw in air. Blood dripped from almost every inch of his body. And suddenly, in the distance, a few feet from those nasty orcs, he sees you.

You watch his fall with complete calm. You play carelessly with the blade he gave you, waiting for his end, letting the orcs finish their work. He sees no emotion on your face. Ironic, considering that this is probably the best day of your life. He will finally get his punishment from you. There was nothing he could do to escape you... unless...

He gasps especially hard when one of the orcs plunges a blade into his heart. As if through a haze, he sees Adar above him, who, after making sure that his physical body has been completely destroyed, says something to his orcs. Sauron hears only a screech in his ears as his battered heart gives its last beat. And then there is only darkness. Bleak darkness, which is quickly interrupted by a song all too familiar to him.

"Come, come, my lost soul, you will find your peace. Come, come, down your road, straight into my arms."

Sauron remembers the countless nights after Morgoth's torture, when you sang it to him and mocked him, giving him a taste of what you would do when you could finally take him in your arms.

Once it was a simple lullaby. A lullaby you made up for him when he couldn't calm his mind, when he spent too much time in Aulë's forge, too absorbed in his work to see you. Now you were attracting souls who were about to meet their end.

But he is not ready for death yet. He does not want to go like this. Not when he has known no power, not when the sacrifice he made of himself has brought him nothing at all. He does not want to go into your arms, knowing that he has thrown away everything he had with you for nothing.

"Look where your lust has taken you, my darling." You tell him with a smirk, taking your time as you walk towards him.

He kneels, swaying as he tries to keep his balance. He falls on both hands in front of you, taking in shuddering breaths as the black bonds of your magic close around him, crushing him in a tight embrace.

"I thought you loved my embrace? You told me so. Remember? When we lay together in the halls of the Valar, each held tightly, when you swore to me that you would not yield to Morgoth's influence, that what we have was enough, that you would never dream of more than what we have? Tell me, did you plan to betray me even then, or did you forget your promises in time?"

After each of your mockery comes a blow from you. Sometimes it's a simple kick, sometimes a punch delivered from your fist, and sometimes you pierce his body with a dagger, tormenting him even more and twisting him so that the blade grazes every single muscle of his. You were going for your revenge. And nothing was going to stop you.

"Pathetic. You wanted power. You wanted power so great that millions would kneel before you, and now you are on your knees. You were willing to do anything; you gave up everything just to fulfil your dark desires. Tell me, Sauron, was it worth it? Because I am truly happy with this turn of events."

He gasps as you grab him by the neck, forcing his gaze to meet yours. He trembles, staring into your black, dilated pupils. Your face is nothing like the one he remembers. You look like death. You are the real death. He trembles, seeing what the Vaalr did to you after he left and what punishment they gave you for loving a traitor. He looks away, wanting to momentarily ease his guilt and helplessness, but your tightening grip on his neck won't let him.

"You have no idea how long I've dreamed of this. You have no idea how long I've wanted to tear out every last piece of you just to put you back together and present you to the Valar, to give you into their hands so you could suffer as you should. Do you think that what you became was all your fault? That they wanted to punish us for our love? I asked them to make me something you fear, something you must reckon with. I am what everyone sees at the end; I am what takes everyone, even the mightiest of men. I am the end of Morgoth, the end of all evil, all good, the end of everything. I am death." You growl and throw him across the room.

He groans in pain, but he doesn't try to run away from you anymore. He knows that without his physical form, without any power, he won't hide from you. He was in your world, in the thrall of your power. And if he wanted to somehow escape from your grip, he had to play his cards right.

"I never wanted this for you... I never wanted this for us." He gasps, glancing at you. You walk slowly toward him, your black outfit billowing behind you, giving you an ethereal, trash-like look. As much as he fears you, he yearns to have you by his side. But he's not foolish or naive enough to believe you'll ever be on his side again.

"You left me! You left me to rot in the light of the Valar!! You tore my heart, all my humanity, destroyed everything I was, and left me alone. What did you want then, deceiver? What did you want, if not my absolute destruction, so that the vestiges of my past would not torment you in your greedy quest for power?"

He grunts as you drive your sword through his side. He grabs your hand, the one resting on the hilt, and pulls you toward him. You land on the floor with him, and before you can react, he's straddling you, placing the metal against your neck as he leans over you. His blood decorates your skin as his hand cups your cheek. Any attempts to fight him die inside you as his skin touches yours. You freeze for a moment, unused to someone's touch after so long alone, and he takes advantage of it as much as he can.

"I… I've always wanted… I've dreamed of you standing beside me… as my queen. My equal… I… I would never turn my back on you completely." He mumbles, pressing his nose to your temple. You break your dark vision of death for a moment and show him the face he knew so well, the one he had missed for so long that tears came to his eyes. You kick him in the chest and push him away, trying to regain some control. You reach for your neck and wipe away his blood. Without taking your eyes off him, you lick your fingers clean.

"You would trade me for the power Morgoth had at the first opportunity. You have no heart. You never did. And I was too naive to see you for who you really were." With a flick of your wrist, the bonds around him reappear. His wrists and ankles are bound and he is immobilized as he waits for you to make your final move and take his soul from this world forever.

"I have a heart. As black and rotten as yours. And it beats for you. Always has, always will. Even if you seek to destroy me utterly… even if you are left all alone after you have done your duty to the Valar and taken me into your sweet, hellish embrace." He says, only half-feigning contrition for what he had done.

He loved you. If there was one thing he was certain of about his old life, it was that he had loved you deeply. But not enough to become just another servant of the Valar. He wanted more. He had to have more. If he couldn't have you by his side, he would be content to fight with you. Until death do you part.

"If you loved me, you would never leave me." The slight tremor in your voice gives him hope that this meeting will go as he had hoped.

He lifts his gaze to you, studying you as you stand before him. The dagger in your hand is still a painful reminder of what it could cost him if he doesn't say the right words, but for now all he can think about is how wonderfully terrifying you look, standing before him in all your glory and power.

You captivate him. You tempt him. The Valar knew what they were doing when they made you the Lady of Death. You would be his undoing. He knows it. Eventually he will fall, and there will be no turning back. But before he does... he wants to make sure he remains legendary and eternal.

"It was because I loved you that I had to leave you. I didn't want to taint you with my darkness. You were pure. You were the sweetness that I wanted to drink and destroy at the same time for my own pleasure. You would not have had a better fate with me." He tries to defend himself by touching your most sensitive spot. He sees your ardour slowly subside as you begin to really consider his words.

You hesitate. He can see it in your gaze. He can see that the vision of your dream future he's presented to you is starting to tempt you. If he'd pushed you just a little further, if he'd said a few more words, maybe you'd really join his side? Maybe you'd be a force against the world? Maybe if he hadn't left you completely alone, maybe you could have had it all?

You walk up to him and stop a few millimetres away from him. If he takes a deep breath, his chest can gently brush against yours. He wants so badly to drive the blade into you and simultaneously capture your lips in a kiss that it's a confusing feeling in his current situation. You wanted him dead. That's what you came here for. To take him away. And yet you still had your ways of making him want you.

You lean forward, your hair brushing his cheek as your tongue traces the shell of his ear. He shivers as your cold breath contrasts with the warm saliva you spread before you bite down on his skin teasingly.

"I was soaked in it long before you even thought about leaving, my sweet deceiver. Now, I am just darkness." You whisper in his ear. You move away millimetres, far enough to look him in the eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you raise your blade, preparing to deal the final blow and take his soul forever, locking him away in a cell next to Morgoth, most likely.

So in a desperate act of self-savement, or perhaps out of the lust you've awakened in him, or perhaps out of the pure desire to taste your lips one more time before he leaves this world, he leans down and kisses you.

And it surprises you. Sauron hears the dagger fall from your hand to the floor as you reach for his hair, tangling your hands in it. He groans and tugs at the bonds you've trapped him in so he can wrap his arms around you and take you in his arms like he wanted to all along, but you don't let him move an inch. He growls in rage and bites your lip in retaliation, drawing blood—a random action that saves him from his predicament.

With each drop of your blood, he feels the power within him begin to bubble up again. Before you know it, he breaks your bonds and pushes you against the wall behind you. You groan in protest, trying to push him away from you. You try to summon your powers to immobilise him again, but he plunges his blade into your arm, effectively distracting you.

You cry out in pain, cursing his name, but he has only one goal in mind. He tears your clothes and burrows into your skin, biting and caressing every exposed part, feeding on your blood and power, restoring his soul the vitality it needs.

You are a mess of black blood and tears as he feasts on you, outsmarting you and binding you in your own shackles that you used against him.

"You won't take me as easily as you take these mortals." He growls against your skin, drinking your blood as he uses his knife to carve tiny cuts into your skin, decorating it with both black liquid and hickeys, marks from his bites and fingers.

“You’ll pay for this.” You moan as he bites into your neck, leaving a messy, bloody trail. He licks his lips and grabs you roughly by the waist, pulling you closer so you can feel the bulge of his cock against your thigh.

"Then, my sweet death, you will take me as a happy man." He growls in your ear before smashing his lips against yours in another kiss. You don't register the moment he takes your amulet from you.

His kisses numb you to the point where you don't register anything but him. All that matters to you is the way his hands caress your body, the way his lips defile every little inch of you. It feels so good to finally feel someone's touch on you…so good to finally feel HIS touch on you.

"I think that few people have the privilege of saying that they fucked death..." He mumbles in your ear, drunk on the feeling of you beneath him.

And just when he's about to bring you the greatest pleasure, just when he's teased your core long enough that you clench around his fingers desperate for more, he does something far worse than drive your dagger through you. He leaves you completely alone again.

You scream, furious and frustrated, both for having him deceive you and sexually for not giving you the release you deserved. You pound your fists on the ground and scream long and shrilly—enough that he will surely be able to hear you, whatever pathetic form he has taken since breaking out of your realm.

And driven by hot fury, you know only one thing—he will pay for this. Even if you were to seek him out and ignore your duties. You'll get him in your arms.

There was something addictive about the way people were drawn to him.

Ever since Sauron took the form of Annatar, the people of Eregion had flocked to him like moths to a flame, seeking gifts from the great messenger of the Valar. He liked the power he had over them. How one of his (false) words could turn them into his obedient puppets who would do anything to fulfill the prophecy he had foretold.

However, with the number of creatures circling around him, he had increasing difficulty maintaining the illusion he had cast over the city.

This is exactly what has happened now.

Annatar/Sauron was cleaning up the mess he had made by killing one of the elves who had discovered too quickly what was happening beyond the walls of his safe illusion. He could not afford for the whispers of panic to reach the ears of the only blacksmith whose skills were satisfactory.

Lifting the body, he freezes suddenly as a cold shiver runs through him. The atmosphere in the room changes. The only lit torch goes out, the smell of sulfur begins to fill the air, the rats that were roaming the basement disappear, and the only sound in the room is his breathing. He looks around, trying to see through the darkness of the room, but all he can see is red blood on his hands..

He frowns, looking around him as he realises the body he was supposed to get rid of is gone. He walks over to the extinguished torch and relights it, illuminating the room once more. He looks around for the body, but all he sees are the empty corridors of the underground. He frowns and focuses his senses, trying to sense any additional presence or power that would mess with his head.

And then he hears it. A soft humming from down the hall. He automatically reaches to his side, where his sword is strapped to his belt, and slowly walks toward the sound of soft singing.

"Come, come, my lost soul, you will find your peace. Come, come, down your road, straight into my arms." He freezes in mid-step. Goosebumps rise across his body, and he feels his breath quicken.

Memories—unwanted, painful memories—flood his mind as he stands in the empty hallway, wondering if he should go down. Involuntarily, his memories go back to the day he survived one of Morgoth's most demanding trainings—the day he found out what the consequences of his actions brought to you...

"I didn't know you were a coward, Y/N! Are you going to show yourself? Or should I leave you to your work and go back to mine?" He asks cheekily, trying to get you out of your hiding place. He knows how dangerous you've become, and as much as it fascinates him, he doesn't want to be on the receiving end of your blade... or claws. "I bet you're as busy as I am these days." He mumbles, pacing the empty hallways where your humming still echoes.

He glances over his shoulder a few times, wanting to make sure that you won't surprise him with a dagger to his neck.

Sauron won't admit to himself that he's afraid of you; he just knows the threat you pose to him. There was nothing worse than a mad woman—especially an unpredictable woman. And he was foolish enough to get on your bad side, to betray you, and don't look back. But how could he possibly know that you would get punished for his action? How could he predict that you will be paying off his sins to Valar? That only showed how unjust they were. Not only to you, but to him as well.

"Won't you show me your face?" He asks, still searching for the slightest sign that will give away your presence. But your soft singing, the haunting song that makes his heart beat faster, pumping adrenaline through his body, makes it impossible for him to fully devote himself to the task of finding you. Not if he doesn't want to end up with a sword in his chest. "Valar knows how I missed looking at it."

He turns around and, as if on cue, you appear to him. He presses his lips together tightly, refraining from gasping in surprise when he sees you in all your glory. He swallows hard when his gaze falls on your deformed face that you show him. A bloodthirsty smile, full of black fangs, sunken cheeks, and no nose, is one of the less... drastic forms in which you like to show yourself lately. Sauron knows how much you want to scare him; he hopes he doesn't give you too much entertainment.

"I would have a lot less work to do, my sweet deceiver, if you would just give yourself to me as you should and stopped playing Valar. You won't fool me a third time." You warn him, stepping closer. You see his throat tremble as he swallows, and he gently closes his eyes for a moment to inhale your scent and take in a little of your closeness.

You were so damn dangerous, deadly even... and he wanted more. Even though he knew full well that this desire would probably lead him to his grave.

"But wthout me you'd be terribly bored, wouldn't you?" He asks, giving you one of his smirks. He was playing with death, literally. He wondered how many times he could get out of your cruel clutches before he finally ran out of escape routes.

He freezes when you gently place your hand on his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingertip. He grits his teeth, staring at you wordlessly as you play with a strand of his blonde hair.

"Where's your elf?" You whisper against his lips, leaning in close enough that it’s a challenge for him to stay away from you. You should be a repulsive threat to him, nothing more than an enemy to be defeated. But for some reason, whether it’s your past, the pull that’s always been between you, or the power that’s bound you together, he can’t feel anything for you but pure lust.

"She left." He says shakily, wondering if you were jealous of him, if you watched him and Galadriel, if you planned her death when he declared that he wanted her to be his queen...

"Too bad... I would gladly take her in my arms. I guess I can only wait then. There is nothing more pleasant than meeting them all at the end of their path. They act as if they were truly immortal. You have no idea how surprised most of them are when they cross my path. Almost as surprised as you were when you first saw me in this form."

"I would appreciate seeing you more often if it weren't related to your current… job position." You chuckle darkly and grab his hand at his words.

You lift it between the two of you and pull out your dagger. You cut his palm, and he can only stand there, dazed, watching as you lick his black blood. You hum, tasting your power as it courses through his veins.

"Oh… but then it would be too boringly easy for you, right?" Your voice is velvety, like a balm to his frayed nerves. He allows himself to cling to you, completely forgetting that he should always be on guard with you. A mistake you won't fail to remind him of. "Tell me, Sauron… have you never heard of such a thing as being utterly charmed by death?"

Before his mind can process the meaning of your words, you have already pierced his hand with a dagger through and through. He groans in pain and tries to rip his hand from your iron grip, but you won't let him. You rip off your amulet that he stole from you, which he hung on a necklace around his neck, and you place it on his wound. You chant the appropriate words and drain him of all the power that he stole from you all those years ago—the power that helped him be reborn again.

"Next time you lay your hands on something that doesn't belong to you, I'll chop them off. I think I can find a much better use for them. A more… satisfying one, if you still know what I mean." You mock him, twisting his wrist.

He growls in pain and shoves you back, sending you crashing into the wall behind you. You raise your blade higher, pressing it against his neck as he steps closer to you. You laugh as you feel him press his own weapon against your chest.

"Well, well, well. I see you've learned something after all. Tell me, my beloved, are you afraid of me?" You whisper hoarsely, licking your lips as you lean into him. You make a move to bite into his neck, but he pulls away from you at the last second, frowning at your amused, dark chuckle.

"Only a fool wouldn't be afraid of you."

"Like calls to like, right?" You pose the question, raising an eyebrow at him. You take advantage of his momentary distraction and push him against the wall. You press yourself against him and capture his lips in a bruising, hungry kiss.

He gasps into your mouth and tangles his hands in your hair, pulling you even closer. Your darkness is addictive. He wants to bask in it, to experience it so deeply that he can become intoxicated by it. He wants to bond with you and experience the same kind of limitless power that you possess. A force that borders on death itself.

As the kiss deepens, he begins to feel you slowly draining his life force. He knows he has to pull away, but not yet. He wants to taste your lips, your sighs, and your soft moans as he caresses you through the material of your night-black dress for as long as he can. But he knows that with each little touch, kiss, and soft moan, he will want more, and it will be harder for him to pull away from you.

That's why he's reluctant to push you away. But when he does, he feels how much you've weakened him with that little kiss. He gasps, laughing thoughtfully as he struggles to even out his heartbeat and his breaths. Now he understands all that talk about deadly kisses. But if he had to choose how he died, your lips were a very tempting option.

"Enjoy the time you have left. We both know that eventually you too will find me at the end of your road. On the way… try not to bother me too much with all the dead bodies and souls you've forced me to take care of." You wink at him and blow him a kiss before disappearing, returning to the other side where the soul of the mortal he killed was waiting for you.

Sauron is surprised that you let him go so easily after his last... antics. But he knows that you didn't leave him alive out of the kindness of your heart. You enjoyed the cat and mouse game between you; you enjoyed tormenting him with the idea that you could take his soul at any moment. So he had to think of a way to make it harder for you.

He returns to the forge and absently strokes the box with the 7 rings for the dwarves. If he had divided his soul… left fragments of it in each of them, it would be impossible for you to gather them all and drag him to the world of the dead, where you could torment him as you pleased…

Or perhaps, in time, he would find a way to tame death itself and submit it to his will?

One thing was sure. At the right time, you will come for him. And you will take away everything he has worked so hard for.

Just like you always do.

He had a few centuries to figure out how to cheat death again. And how to make sure that you will be the one to fall into the trap of his arms. Not the other way around.

[hirukochan]

Blindsided

A Severus Snape x fem!reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Severus Snape x former student reader

Summary: Complaining to your friend about Snape's complicated presence in your life ends up with you being pulled into the battle of Hogwarts. Will Snape survive?

Warnings: Smut, some degradation, angst, blood

Wordcount: 6300

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

“I don’t know!” You whine and drop your head onto the counter.

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’ how can you not know why you fuck someone?”

“It was a lapse in judgement.”

“A huge bloody lapse that must have been.” Aberforth grunts and dries a glass with a dirty rag. “Severus fucking Snape - his name is almost as feared as you-know-who’s these days.”

“I know!” You peer up from the counter. Aberforth looks grim - but he always looks grim. In your sixth year, you once and for all decided the Three Broomsticks is too crowded and unpleasant to be in. The Hog’s Head already had a terrible reputation back then, but you didn’t care as long as it was quiet. A sorta friendship developed between you and the barman after that. “Do you hate me now?”

Aberforth grunts. “Hate you? Ridiculous girl.” He turns to put the glass back on the shelf to the other glasses that were never used. “What would I hate you for?”

“I slept with Snape.”

“And?”

“Twice.”

“I repeat, and?”

“He- he killed your brother…”

“I’m certain he has killed a lot more than just my brother and as you know Albus and I haven’t spoken in years. When you are as old as me you don’t view death as something so terrible anymore. Anyway, I heard he was sick. Caught some nasty curse or something.”

“I’m a terrible person.”

“Don’t flatter yourself! There are way worse people out there. Snape for example.” He makes a sound that distantly resembles a laugh. A rattling  humph  sound. You glare at him, but can’t help the corners of your mouth twitch.

“Was it at least good?”

“That’s the worst part.” You groan and prop your head up against your hand.

“That bad?”

“The opposite.”

“That good, hm?”

You blush and quickly take a large gulp of your drink to hide it. 

“You know, I’ve said it before you should-”

“I’m not joining the resistance, Aberforth!” You groan. “I have nothing to bring to the table. I was decent at best in Defense. I’d get myself killed within the first few days.”

“You know Snape.”

“I fail to see the connection.” Aberforth raises a brow and you shrink a little under his intense ‘are-you-kidding-me’-gaze.

“A spy in their midst would be useful.” He says gruffly and places another glass on a shelf.

“I’m no spy! I can’t fool Snape! We can hate him as much as he deserves to be hated but you have to agree that he’s a bloody genius! I could never fool him.”

“You said he broke into your flat while fatally injured. Even a genius is sometimes just a man thinking with his cock.”

“I’m not whoring myself out to-” Your outrage is cut short by an ear-splitting scream outside.

“This damn Caterwauling Charm!” Aberforth roars and hurls his dishcloth to the ground. You press your hands to your ears to shield them from the scream. It rips through the night like a sharp knife through skin, tearing at your eardrums and every nerve in your body. It is like the caster of the charm is standing right next to you but the terrible sound clearly comes from outside.

“What is this?” You shout over the wail towards Aberforth.

“Curfew’s been broken! They were boasting about being sent here to catch Potter. Seem to be thinking he’d be stupid enough to come here and they seem to be right.”

You get up from the bar stool and follow Aberforth to the window.

The wailing stops. You take a relieved breath and drop your hands to your side. Multiple Death Eaters dressed in dark robes are storming out of the  Three Broomsticks . They are talking about something, but you can’t hear.

“Poor Rosmerta.” You grimace at the thought of having to serve those monsters at your establishment. Instinctively you grab your wand in your pocket. Dementors flood into the village. You tense.

“Bloody fool!” Aberforth growls. A shimmering blue stag runs through the town centre, fighting off shadowy dementors. Potter’s Patronus. You gasp, clasping your hands over your mouth. So Aberforth is right. Harry Potter is here in Hogsmeade.

“What would possess him-”

Aberforth stalks through the room and rips open the door. 

“Potter!” He hisses. Wind tears at his robes and what sounds like three sets of hasty footsteps cross through the room and up the trickery wooden staircase behind the counter. You see nothing. If it weren’t for the steps you’d think nothing happened. 

“Invisibility cloak.” Aberforth mutters over his shoulder, but his attention is suddenly pulled away by multiple hooded figures reaching the pub. You take a step back, disappearing in the shadows. 

“So what?” Bellows Aberforth in response to something you didn’t catch. “So what? You send dementors down my street, I’ll send a Patronus back at’em! I’m not having’em near me, I’ve told you that. I’m not having it!”

“That wasn’t your Patronus! That was a stag. It was Potter’s!” A Death Eater shouts back, sounding rather childish you note.

“Stag!” Roars Aberforth. He draws his wand and you tense, grabbing your own tighter, your knuckles going white. If they attack Aberforth you’ll- jump into a fight you’re gloriously outnumbered in? “Stag! You idiot - Expecto Patronum! ”

Aberforth’s large goat Patronus jumps from the tip of his wand. Head down, it charges toward the village centre, and out of sight. 

“That’s not what I saw” says the Death Eater, sounding less convinced than before.

“Curfew’s been broken, you heard the noise,” Another Death Eater interrupted the first. “Someone was out on the streets against regulations-”

“It was me.” You say and step forward, out of the shadows like Snape always used to when catching you out and about in the castle after curfew and the thought almost makes you laugh hysterically considering what you’re about to do. “When I arrived that horrible sound started.”

“You set off the charm?” The first Death Eater says confused. His eyes roam over your body, causing a cold shiver to run down your back and a foul taste to spread in your mouth. You resist the urge to wrap your arms around yourself to hide from the hungry stares of the dark wizards.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“What are you doing here at this hour, beautiful?” The second one purrs in a sickly-sweet tone of voice. You somehow manage to keep your blatant disgust from showing on your face. You square your shoulder and raise your chin, looking down at the men with nothing but disinterested arrogance.

“That is hardly of your concern.” The men look at each other, snickering mockingly.

“‘Hardly of your concern’?” One sneers. “Princess thinks herself too good to follow the rules.”

“Perhaps we ought to teach her a lesson, boys.”

“I am-” you raise your voice to drown out their beginning discussion of what to do with you. “-here to see Severus, so do yourself the favour and fuck off, yes?” A murmur passes through the Death Eaters. Saying Snape’s first name feels weird.

“The headmaster doesn’t receive walk-ins - especially not at this hour, even if they are as pretty as you.”

“He’s expecting me, you moron!” He is definitely not expecting you! He said he hopes you’ll never have to see him again!

“She sounds just like him.” One of the figures murmurs.

“Wait-” Another interrupts him. “I recognise you! You’re Snape’s little whore! Yes! The one in Diagon Alley, you remember boys? The shop that’s off-limits. I wondered why a pathetic bookshop would be off-limits until Wilkies said he was sent to get Snape from there and who do you think opened the door?”

You keep your chin held high and your clenched fists hidden in the pockets of your coat you had not taken off in your hurry to get out all the things weighing on your chest. Aberforth catches your gaze. His brows are knitted, an unspoken question in his eyes. You give him a tiny nod. 

You can do this. 

If Potter is here, here, there must be a damn good reason for it and if you could keep Snape distracted long enough-

Something in your chest tightens painfully at the thought of deceiving the man, which is ridiculous! He’s a Death Eater and a murderer!

He said this will all be over soon and while he probably meant that you-know-who will kill Potter soon - you have the chance to help the resistance here, help Potter. Everyone says he’s your only hope so here goes nothing.

“If you’re done wasting my time, then!” You growl, pissed off by the way they speak about you right to your face.

“You’re not going anywhere alone!” The Death Eater who recognised you says sharply. “Wouldn’t want you to get lost on your way to your…” His eyes roam over your body and he licks his lips. “ Date .”

It’s hard to resist the urge to claw his eyeballs out with your fingernails but you succeed. Somehow. 

He steps to the side and gestures for you to lead the way. “We’ll escort you.”

You shoot him a snide glance and leave behind  The Hogshead  and Aberforth and the pretended safety you have been surrounding yourself in ever since Albus Dumbledore died.

Your stomach drops further with every step you take towards the imposing castle looming over the quiet village. You are flanked by two of the hooded figures. Your mouth feels dry and fuzzy and not even the sight of your beloved Hogwarts with its glimmering windows can ease your anxiety.

What if Snape blows your cover? ‘Expecting her? Why would I be expecting her?’  What if he decides to play along? Or maybe he’ll ask why you lied?

You take a deep breath, inhaling the cool night air into your lungs, focusing on the way they expand in your chest.

Snape came to  your  flat when he was fatally injured! Aberforth is right, that has to mean something! It just has to…And Potter is here for a reason! They say he is the only one that will be able to defeat you-know-who and while placing your fate on the shoulders of a seventeen-year-old sounds ridiculous  you  will certainly not defeat the most powerful Dark wizard to ever live! But you can distract Snape. Yes. You can keep him busy and buy Potter a chance to do whatever he is here for- 

Or Snape sees right through you and Potter doesn’t have a plan.

You can’t even begin to tell yourself you don’t want to distract Snape like that because your body is already working against you.

You reach the iron gate. It opens with a shrill squeak and your feet once more hit the grounds of Hogwarts. Even with your nerves raw and plotting an escape from your body to save themselves while you walk to your doom. There is light in Hagrid’s hut. The treeline of the forbidden forest is cloaked in shadows, thicker and somehow darker than normal shadows and just like when you were a student here you feel like eyes are watching you from between the trees. The water of the Black Lake splashes against rocks and while in your teenage years you found the sound soothing it now only serves to unnerve you further. 

You don’t look up to the headmaster's window. 

You’re also shamefully aroused and your heart flutters at the thought of seeing Snape’s endlessly dark eyes that look so cold and apathetic from a distance but when you were standing right in front of him they had looked so soft and filled with emotion you could not dissect and you wonder if they always looked like that. Perhaps you had just never stood close enough to him to notice? A vein part of you whispered that it is all for you and no one else. 

You squash the voice.

Your steps echo in the entrance hall. Your eyes catch the piercing gaze of Professor McGonagall, the strict head of Gryffindor house and Transfigurations Professor. Next to her in the doorway to the Great Hall stands Professor Flitwick. As soon as they see you and your escorts they hastily end their hushed conversation. They stare at you in quiet recognition and shock and you fail to conceal your fear from them.

“This way, beautiful.” One of the Death Eaters sneers and grabs your arm. You rip free and glare at him, barely resisting the urge to punch him. “Headmaster must be waiting already.” He grins, bearing his yellow teeth at you with unabashed ridicule. Disgust prickles over your skin, sinking into your stomach.

“Don’t touch me.” You hiss because you can’t help yourself. Without looking at your former Professors again you turn towards the grand staircase. Each step worsens the brooding feeling of inevitable doom that’s waiting behind the Gargoyle and then you’re standing in front of him much sooner than you ever would have expected or been ready to.

Snape is sitting behind a large desk, bend over a stack of parchments, greasy black hair falling in front of his face like curtains. He is holding a raven feather quill with a sharp silver tip which is gliding over the parchments with quick, elegant motions. He doesn’t bother looking up. He doesn’t seem to think the Death Eaters worthy of his attention.

You look around the round room. You were a good student - or at least a boring one. You’ve never been called into the headmaster’s office. The walls are lined with portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses and you feel transported back in time, just another student flinching at the stringent eyes of her professors. Dark leather-bound books adorn the many shelves and you can’t help but wonder whether Snape has read them all.

“I seem to remember you having been assigned to guard the village.” His deep voice cuts through the silence with taunting indifference and the way the words roll over Snape’s tongue and vibrate in his throat has you pressing your thighs together.

“This one claims you’re expecting her.” At that, Snape looks up. If he is surprised to see you, he doesn’t let it show. You shrink under his intense gaze no matter how much you told yourself you wouldn’t on the way up to his office. His eyes are cold…empty somehow. A man who has seen too much horror to not have lost some part of his humanity along the way. 

He’s even skinnier, the shadows under his eyes deeper. You feel the overwhelming need to hug him despite everything he has done.

“And?” The other one says impatiently. “Are you?” 

“I was waiting for you to leave but it appears I need to spell it out for you - unless you were expecting a treat for fetching what is mine like good guard dogs?”

He- he didn’t- he is playing along?

The hooded men grumble a few unsavoury insults and slam the door shut behind them. The sound leaves behind an eerie silence that Snape doesn’t seem too interested in breaking.

His gaze drops back down onto his parchment and he begins scribbling again. The portraits share looks and whisper with each other.

“Hi…” The word gets stuck in your throat and sounds far higher than you usually talk - you doubt he understood more than a gurgle. You clear your throat and take a hesitant step forward, closer to the man who these days is as feared as you-know-who.

Snape sets aside his quill and steeples his fingers. His intense gaze seems to burn right through your forehead and has you squirming. Something in his eyes softens, a change so miniscule you almost missed it.

“What are you doing here and why are you lying?” He asks. He speaks softer too. Less cold, less sardonically.

“I kinda…tripped the Caterwauling Charm when I arrived in Hogsmeade and…there were Dementors and Death Eaters and they said some things…I got scared so I kinda told them….you were expecting me-”

His lips curl. “‘Kinda told them’ ?”

“I did- I did tell them.” You let out a nervous laugh.

“Why were you in Hogsmeade to begin with?” Suspicion flashes through his eyes. You take another step forward.

“I- I missed you.” Not exactly a lie. You do miss him for some fucked up reason! You’ve been thinking about him every day since that stupid blind date stood you up and his eyes haunt you every night when you close your eyes. The memories of what happened in that exact bed you were lying in came back to you and more often than not ended with you panting his name as you made yourself cum - knowing your own touch would never compare to his.

His eyes darken, his jaw tense as though he can- 

You blush.

He can read your mind. He told you at the restaurant! You try not to think about Potter, but trying not to think about something always leads to thinking more about it so you bring your thoughts back to you in your bed. Covered in sweat, clutching your pillow-

“You missed me?” He asks, pretending to not have understood you but the subtle taunt in his voice betrays him. Perhaps he wants it to betray him. “And so you…what? Thought you’d go to Hogsmeade and try to get into Hogwarts? You could have sent an owl, dear.”

“The thought didn’t occur to me.”

“My, my…oh well, you’re here now aren’t you?” He pushes back his chair and spreads his legs. “Show me how much you missed me.” Mischief and an unspoken challenge glitter in his eyes and for some reason it turns you on further.

As though caught in a trance you move, rounding the desk and closing the distance between you and Snape. Distantly you are aware that the portraits are watching you. Your stomach churns and flip flops and the liquor you had at Aberforth’s turns out to have been a huge mistake. 

Snape undoes the buckle of his belt. Something in the way his hands move and his shoulders are drawn into a tense, straight line tells you he doesn’t expect you to go through with this.

Joke’s on him.

You’re not at all against this turn of events.

Not now that he is in front of you, so close you could just reach out and press your body against his, feel his hot breath on your neck or his lips against your breasts.

You push your coat over your shoulder, letting it fall to the ground as you sink to your knees between his legs. His eyebrows rise and lips part, his eyes following you.

“You’ll have to teach me though, headmaster.” You purr. A smirk pulls on your lips. Snape’s surprise lasts for another few seconds before it flickers and morphs to sombre satisfaction.

“Take out my cock.” You can’t help the trembling of your fingers when you reach for the buttons of his trousers. It’s not fear, rather the opposite. You bite your lip and slip your hand into his trousers. He inhales sharply when your fingers close around his cock. He is already half hard and throbs in your hand. Gently you free him and then look back up, waiting for instruction.

You’re not stupid. You know the basics - kinda. You’ve never done this, after all, a fact Snape seems to relish in.

“Dumb slut can’t even suck cock, hm?” He snickers. His insult should offend you. You should get mad and insult him back and get up, storming out of his office in a cloud of rage - you don’t. You get  wetter . An uncomfortable wet spot in your knickers - the testament of your decaying moral compass. 

‘Fuck it’, you think. ‘Potter is here - we might all die today.’

If the world ends today what does it matter if you’re a traitor? A terrible, depraved, morally corrupt woman that is drawn to you-know-who’s second in command? A man almost as feared as his master?

“Lick it.” His voice cuts through your thoughts. Cold and sharp like an icicle falling from a roof, large and fast enough to pierce through a person. You part your lips and swipe your tongue over the tip of his cock. Snape groans under his breath. He reclines in his chair. The old leather creaks under his weight.

He tangles a hand into your hair, stroking your head as though you’re his loyal pet, seeking its master’s closeness.

You press your flat tongue to his cockhead, licking several hard, broad strokes over it. You place kisses just beneath it and work your way down his shaft, alternating kisses with licks all while dragging your thumb gently over the underside of his cock, just by his cockhead.

Snape’s groans get louder with each pass of your tongue, his grip on your hair tightens. 

“Ahhh-  fuck….what a good girl- a filthy, dumb slut satisfying her headmaster, huh? Or at least trying. You’re giving this your all, aren’t you girl? How pathetic you are.” He tears at your hair, pulling your head up and pressing your lips against his cockhead. Beads of a milky liquid are gathering at the slit. “So desperate for cock you come all the way here in the middle of the night on the off chance I might be willing to fuck you again.” Keeping your eyes trained on his you catch the liquid with the tip of your tongue. It doesn’t taste as horrible as you feared it would. Salty, kinda bitter.

“Open your mouth.” You do. You obey without hesitation. Snape looks like a king sitting on his throne and you’re the new addition to his harem, learning to please her king in all the ways he likes.

Snape brings your head closer, pulling on your hair, keeping iron-like control of your head. You grab hold of his trousers, clutching the fabric between your still-trembling fingers. 

His cock slips between your lips, forcing you to open wider to him, your lips stretching around his girth. Snape looks at you with a mixture of admiration, tenderness and roaring lust and your chest swells with something akin to pride. Pride that you caused such a shift in a stoic, controlled man like Snape. And perhaps hope that Snape is not merely the barbaric Death Eater he is appearing to be. Perhaps there is more to him.

“That’s it, girl-” He groans and drops his head back against his chair, grabbing your head with both of his hands now, forcing it down on his cock. Force is unnecessary of course. You wouldn’t stop doing this even if he wasn’t holding onto you.

You drool over his hard cock while Snape bobs your head up and down, muttering words you can’t hear over your own sputtering and choking and the blood pounding in your ears. Your knickers are ruined at this point. Your cunt clenches around jarring nothingness. You’re so aroused it  hurts . There is an unbearable need deep inside you and you can’t- can’t-

You let go of his trouser, dropping your hand between your spread-out knees and under your skirt. Never have you been so wet. Your fingers slide into you without any resistance. You moan around Snape’s cock. 

He opens his eyes, blinks as though he isn’t quite aware of his surroundings. His eyes meet yours. You must look pathetic. Drooling over his cock, tears and snot smeared on your face while he uses your mouth to pleasure himself.

“Are you touching yourself, dear?” He coos, his lips curling into a smug grin. Your eyelids drop shut and you moan again. Snape pulls on your hair, plucking you off his cock. You whine both at the sting and the loss of contact. Before you can fully catch up with the situation Snape has gotten to his feet, pulling you with him. He smashes his lips against yours. His hand is securely tangled in your hair, pressing you closer to him while also preventing you from pulling away.

You don’t want to.

You missed him so much. Even though you don’t really know him. Even though you really shouldn’t. He was your teacher and he is a murderer and you don’t give a shit.

You mewl into the kiss and cling to the front of his robes.

“You’re fucking beautiful.” He murmurs against your lips. His hand leaves your hair. He grasps at your arse, squeezing your cheeks in his large hands that have slipped under your skirt. He is grinding you into his erection. 

“Snape-” You moan. He forces you back. Your thighs hit the edge of his desk. Snape lifts you up on it and drops to his knees. Your hands tangle into his hair instantly, pulling him closer, parting your legs for him. 

“So fucking beautiful.” He repeats, sounding almost dazed. He kisses your knee, trailing up your thigh, inching teasingly, torturously towards where you need him most.

“-Snape…”

“I don’t want to die without knowing how you taste.” Your mind is too far gone, too useless, too lust-drenched to register his words or the pang of worry you would normally feel at hearing them. Just a few minutes earlier you would have noticed the certainty in the word die. Like a man on death row, walking towards his execution. 

Snape tears at your knickers, pulling them roughly down your legs.

Hot. His tongue is so hot- heat that sears at your skin, killing and saving you all at once. 

You grip his hair tighter and throw your head back. Snape laps at your cunt, licking broad, hard strokes over your folds, pulling moan after pathetic, whimpering moan from you.

Much too soon he stops, leaving you just on the edge of release, suspended in the air, surrounded by heat and desperation and roaring pleasure.

“Snape.” You rasp, your voice strained.

“You’ll cum on my cock or you won’t cum at all, dear.” He says. He probably aimed to sound teasing, in control, smug maybe. But control has long left this room. Neither of you possess a single ounce of it and he sounds equally as needy as you feel. You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him closer.

“Yes, headmaster.” You say. His Adam’s Apple bobs with the hard swallow he takes. He closes his eyes and his jaw tenses.

“Vixen.” He growls and pounces at you. One second you’re sitting, smirking at Snape, the next you’re buried under his weight, pressed down on the desk. He enters you in one thrust, a truly sinful groan falling from his lips. He fucks you rough - much rougher than the last two times. You’re kissing, clicking teeth and gasping for air. Snape pounds into you, his thick cock stretches you open, hitting all the right spots. You cling to Snape, grasping at his sleeves and collar, desperate to touch him, feel him. 

Last time Snape clung to you like a dying man to life - now you’re clinging to him like life not ready to let death take what is hers. 

“Snape!” He sucks on the delicate skin over your throat, hard enough to leave a bruise.

“I had made my peace with never seeing you again.” He rasps in your ear between feverish kisses. “I don’t- I can’t-” Whatever it is he wanted to say, it’s lost to your shared pleasure. Snape presses his face against the crook of your neck, panting and groaning and you cry out, pressure mounting inside you. Ripples morph to tidal waves, swallow you up, pull you under and lift you up all at once and Snape murmurs something against your collarbone you can’t make out. 

You can feel it’s important though. 

Crucial, world-changing, momentously significant information and you sob. The worlds slip through your fingers like sand in an hourglass and you hold onto Snape tighter, tighter so perhaps those words aren’t lost- he isn’t lost-

Snape lifts his head and kisses you. Soft, gentle. A stark contrast to before. There’s longing in the kiss, regret and pain and you weave your fingers through his hair and kiss him back, begging for him to shatter your worries because something isn’t right here! You can tell- something- 

What aren’t you seeing?

Droplets hit your skin.

Are you crying?

An explosion tears you apart. It’s in the distance, muffled through the many ancient walls separating the headmaster's office from the source. Both of you look up. Snape at once composed, his eyes once more distant. Wetness lingers in them. 

“Stay here.” He orders.

“What’s going on?” Is Potter here? Snape has meanwhile straightened up and fixed his clothes and hair.

“Stay.”

“Snape!” You push your skirt down and jump from the table, following him towards the door. He pauses. Tension drawn into every muscle, in the very way he stands, unable to face you. “Please-” Your voice breaks.

“I need you to stay here.”

“Please talk to me.” Now you’re definitely crying.

“I told you this will be over soon. Today’s the day.”

You shake your head. Can he stop being a fucking enigma and just be honest with you for once! 

He wants to leave, but you grab his hand and hold him back. He’s trembling. You couldn’t tell before, but touching him now- 

He’s scared.

You wrap your arms around his waist and press your face to his back, sobbing. 

“I need to know you’re safe. Please- I’m begging you- stay here.” His voice is heavy and crack at the end.

“Severus-”

He swirls around in your embrace and cups your cheeks before kissing you. The kiss tastes of salt…

“It’ll all be over and if it goes according to plan you’ll be free. You’ll be safe. It’ll be over. Promise me- promise me you’ll find happiness. That you’ll live, that you’ll find love and have a family of your own and- that you will be happy  and safe  and loved !”

“Severus-” Snape presses his lips to your forehead before leaning his own against it. He has his eyes closed.

“Promise me.” He sounds like the words physically hurt him. “Please! ”

“If you promise to come back to me!” You’ve grasped the front of his robes again. Tears stream over your cheeks. Snape doesn’t answer. He gently disentangles your hands from his clothes and with a billow of his cloak he is gone.

You clasp your hands over your mouth and sink to your knees, shaken with silent sobs.

This can’t be happening- this can’t be real. You feel numb. There is no fear left, not even pain which you had expected. You feel empty. Like Snape took a part of you with him when he left.

For a long time, nothing happens. You gather your pathetic self from the ground and drag yourself over to Snape’s chair. Aimlessly you open drawers in search of some liquor. Snape surely would have liquor in his desk, right?

“Bottom drawer, dear.” A warm female voice says. You flinch but quickly remember you are in fact surrounded by a bunch of portraits. You don’t even have it in you to blush.

You open the suggested drawer with more force than necessary. A bottle rolls over the bottom of the drawer. It’s some fancy whiskey. Not that you care. You pick up to bottle and are about to unstopper it when-

A picture lies in the drawer. It was hidden underneath the bottle. With knitted brows, you set the bottle aside and pick it up.

It’s you.

You are in front of the bookshop. Wind is pulling at your hair and snowflakes are falling down on you. You’re laughing and trying to catch them with your tongue.

Why does Snape have a picture of you in his desk? Why is it in his whiskey drawer?

Your mind pictures him sitting here, taking swigs of his fancy liquor and staring at the picture of you.

You should feel uncomfortable. This is- weird. It should  be weird. 

It’s not.

It doesn’t feel like it at least. It feels of suppressed longing, of a yearning for something he can’t allow himself to have but is unable to let go of.

You can’t stay here. You have a terrible feeling about all this. Something terrible is going to happen. 

Leaving Snape’s office you stumble into a war zone. Hexes and curses flash through the air, there are screams and shouts. You duck, draw your wand and join the battle. 

It’ll all be over today .

Snape’s words play on repeat in your head. Everything blurs together. You send your nastiest curses at the hooded Death Eaters all while looking out for greasy black hair and slimmer than they should be shoulders. 

You don’t find him anywhere.

Out of breath and scared for your life and everyone around you, you wind up in the Great Hall. You’re bleeding from a wound on your head and several gashes all over your arms and upper body of varying severity. 

And there you spot him. He’s standing in the middle of the room. The battle seems to come to a halt. The remaining fighters have gathered around the walls of the former dining area. Next to Snape stands Harry Potter and they’re facing you-know-who together- 

Wait.

Snape is facing his own master?

A blood-soaked bandage around his throat Snape glares at the pale, noseless monster. He is hunched over, his breaths seem to be laboured.

There’s a duel. Halfway through you-know-who’s red eyes lock with your own. The intensity of the sheer cruelty in his eyes knocks the air from your lungs.

“How ill-conceived of you to bring her here, Severus.” A pale, long wand is aimed at you. Snape swirls around. His eyes widen with shock and fear and accusation.

Everything goes quiet.

Green light speeds towards you. You-know-who turns towards Potter. Snape runs towards you. Potter’s spell hits you-know-who’s in the air.

Snape shouts your name. Droplets of blood fly through the air.

And at once the sounds return, smashing into your eardrums with deafening force. You throw yourself down on the ground. The curse hits the wall behind you. It bursts into shards of stone that fly through the air. Some hit you. Some hit others. You look up, your heart racing in your chest, your fingers tremble from the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

You almost died. 

Fucking Voldemort almost killed you!

Quickly you look up, gripping your wand tighter, prepared to defend yourself if necessary-

There’s cheering. Voldemort is dead, they shout. You spot the pale figure on the floor with Potter standing over him.

He is dead?

Truly dead?

It’s over-

You let out a laugh somewhere between hysteria and pure joy.

“Severus-” Where is he? He was running towards you- “SEVERUS!”

Heads turn towards you. 

Snape is on the ground, surrounded by his black robes, a puddle of deep red blood growing around him steadily.  “HELP! HELP! SEVERUS- ” You sprint towards him, dropping to your knees even before you reach him and slipping over the ground. “SEVERUS! SEVERUS! PLEASE-” He is still warm. You gather his slack body into your arms, cradling him to your chest. No no no no no no- please-

“Severus- Severus-” Warm blood sticks to your hands. Too much- way too much.

“Please please- no- Sev- no-” Arms wrap around you, tuck and pull on you, tearing you away from Severus. You scream and flail around, trying to hit whoever is trying to take him from you, take you from him- no-

“SEVERUS! LET GO OF ME! SEVERUS- ” 

Madam Pomfrey rushes towards Potter and Snape. She sinks to her knees and waives her wand over Snape’s lifeless body. You give up your fight. You sob and cry and whimper Snape’s name, pleading with whichever deity is listening to you to not take him- no- not now-

“He was on our side all along-” Potter says, his voice cracking. “Dumbledore asked him to kill him- He was on our side-” 

You watch the healer work with bated breath. Magic flows out of the tip of her wand in a steady flow, battling whatever had Snape bleeding. Potter has fallen to his knees in the meanwhile. McGonagall is silently crying.

“He’s stable.” Madam Pomfrey says, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “For now at least.” The hands holding you, release you and you scramble off the floor. Snape is lying in a cot the healer summoned. She is already gone, hurrying towards the next victim of this battle needing healing. You have no strength left to care or to even consider helping anyone. Nobody asks you to.

You lie down next to Snape. 

“Please don’t die-” You whisper the words again and again until your voice fails you and you just watch his chest rise and fall because as long as his chest is still rising and falling he is still alive. 

Your eyes fall shut.

You let them.

For just a moment. A moment of rest.

“I- told you to…stay-” You startle awake. “You never listen…” Black eyes blink at you. Tired but alive. So alive.

“Severus!” You sob and crash your lips against him. A hysterical laugh of relief escapes you. 

“Ow- careful-” He groans.

“Sorry sorry sorry!” Quickly you back off. “You’re alive.”

“It would appear so. Believe me, I am as surprised as you are.”

“Idiot! You fucking wanker! How dare you almost fucking die on me again!”

Snape laughs, but it sounds horrible. Like nails on a chalkboard. You heard that Voldemort’s snake tore open his throat and Potter just about managed to save his life.

“I apologise.” He rasps. “Allow me- allow me to take you to dinner. Proper dinner. With at least five courses and wine.”

“As long as you actually show up to the restaurant.” You chuckle and wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“Only a fool would waste the opportunity of a date with you.”

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

ok im not going to tag this but i need you guys to know that my endgame ships for eridan and karkat are

eridan ♦️ karkat

eridan ♥️ roxy

roxy ♦️ calliope

eridan ♠️ calliope

karkat ♥️ calliope

i call it "the polycule only a blood player could love" and although it manages to be perfectly healthy, from the outside, everyone looks like they're cheating on everyone else. nepeta is staring at it going ":33 < dodged a fucking bullet!!!"

Eridan ♦️ Karkat

the ship with the most canon backing. this ship needs to be true before all other ships can be true because it keeps the two of them normal enough to have a shot at romancing anybody else. nobody realized they were pale for each other for an embarrasingly long time because their regular day to day conversations feature slurs and death threats. sometimes looks pitch or flushed from the outside because karkat is a mess who can't stop yelling at people he's trying to romance in the red quads, and because eridan gets really needy sometimes.

Eridan ♥️ Roxy

They get together within five minutes of knowing each other and, despite Rose's protests, never ever break up. Eridan is into cute, pink, bubbly, nice girls, and Roxy is into eccentric troubled princes. Not to mention she fucking loves wizards, and Eridan is a wizard, and that they're both hipsters who use rifles. Also Eridan is weird as hell and Roxy thinks he's hilarious for it. Despite the fact that he puts on this unpleasant, nasty act, he'll pretty much do anything Roxy tells him to, and she likes that. She thinks he has himbo energy. Everyone else thinks she's deranged. Like girl that guy is an insane murderer. Girl he will not stop saying slurs

also their specific abilities are diametrically opposed in an interesting way? prince of hope = can destroy anything he believes he can destroy, rogue of void = can create anything by stealing away its nonexistence. neat!

Roxy ♦️ Calliope

since they aren't trolls and don't need to calm each other down, it's not really a proper moirallegiance, but they're bffffffs and the kinds of silly fun-loving gals who would call their friendship a moirallegiance even if it doesn't have the biological components or serve the social function of one. Two girls that just love each other.

Eridan ♠️ Calliope

biologically, cherubs only engage in pitch romances and are attracted to other cherubs that remind them of the other half they lost in predomination. what i'm saying is that calliope - unfortunately for her - has brother issues. initially put off by eridan's superficial similarities to caliborn - his bluster, his riflekind, his insane logic and thick skull, and how damn often he talks about murder - as they get to know each other, the feeling becomes mutual. eridan is generally totally ok with outright hostility, but calliope's faux-nice smugness when taunting an opponent would drive him nuts, as would the earnestness with which she approaches magic (what kind of POSER needs to RELOAD their WAND), and in general, i think he'd take her genuine well-wishes toward other people as a personal affront, a la "i didn't ever need anybody to look after me!"

they somehow have a 50/50 win ratio at the board games they play, which drives calliope nuts. "believing in your pieces" is not a valid chess strategy!!!!!!!!!

also i think it's fun and thematic, the angel killer and the cherub, whose adult form features hope-shaped wings.

Karkat ♥️ Calliope

We know two things from his crush on terezi: the first is that karkat is into clever, cunning gals, and the second is that he's really fucking messy, the kind of guy who would tell his flushed crush to "set the table on his bone bulge for their candle light hate date." Fortunately, or unfortunately??? for calliope, the fact that he will scream obscenities at her is kind of what she's into. everybody, please, a moment of silence for calliope, who somehow manages to have worse taste in men than roxy.

but yeah more seriously, karkat has a big and loving heart, and so does calliope, while calliope maintains a cleverness and intellect that karkat would be into.

normally, it would be a huge problem for your moirail to be pitch for your matesprit, and we have that both ways here. however, a few factors are mitigating that here. first, eridan will always prioritize karkat or roxy over calliope when they're around. this actually does kind of piss her off, although she feels annoyed that it does. second, calliope is generally mature enough to compartmentalize. third, karkat WILL auspicetize if they aren't careful, and nobody wants that. and fourth, everybody wants to keep roxy happy.

but yeah everyone else watching it is like. are you guys okay? blink if you need help

ofc ship what you want to ship this is not at all me telling you what you should be into. im just saying that these ships have been calculated for Maximum Funnyness, which as we know, is the only objective measure for what makes a good homestuck ship

[nagycyra]

No Calls

Warnings: No minors in this story, creampie, fingering, size difference, infidelity.

Summary: After a nasty surprise from your boyfriend, a little distraction would be just right, wouldn't it?

It was the fifth time your phone rang that night, it shouldn't be important, you shouldn't answer it, you knew that, still, curiosity was enough to get you to answer, a nasty mistake.

It was your boyfriend, who was demanding and asking between awkward words for you to go get him, normally you wouldn't stop watching the movie that was playing on the TV to go take care of someone who is old enough to do transactions through bank apps, but unfortunately you are too nice for your own good, besides, he is your boyfriend, helping him shouldn't be a bother.

With that thought, you just grabbed some pants and a sweatshirt so you could cover yourself from the cold, please, it was close to twelve o'clock at night, if you were going to rest you wouldn't be made up and dressed up the whole time, definitely going out casual one night wouldn't hurt.

After a few minutes, you had arrived at the bar where your boyfriend was, with a small smile you managed to say hello to some of his mutual friends, but something was strange, those friends looked, tense. You didn't know how to describe the situation. The orange and blue colors of the lighting made the atmosphere look a little crazier than you remembered.

People dancing to loud music, the smell of beer and the mixture of some people's perfumes made the atmosphere heavy and somewhat unpleasant, was your boyfriend really planning to introduce himself to your parents after this?

No, it definitely wasn't supposed to be like that, it was disgusting, but what you saw was the last straw, how to describe it?

Oh, yes. Your boyfriend kissing and groping the woman sitting on his lap.

Your stomach churned at the very scene, you closed your eyes uncomfortable at what you had seen, some of their mutual friends tapped your boyfriend on the shoulder in an effort to stop him and warn him that you had seen everything, but it was too late, you had taken no time at all to turn around and walk to the other end until you reached the bar.

The feeling of bitterness and discomfort completely filled your heart, it wasn't nice to be cheated by the person who was supposed to love you, he could fuck himself if he wanted to, but at least it was fair to finish before, wasn't it?

Tears were showing at the corners of your eyes, making your vision slightly blurry, you didn't want to cry in a public place, much less be seen by one of his supposed friends or in the worst case, the nasty man who had cheated on you without seeming to remember that he had asked you to come for him.

-That bastard - you muttered between your teeth as you walked away from the bar, ready to leave the bar, but your task would be stopped when you bumped into someone. A small squeak escaped your lips as you took a couple of steps back, only to be pushed back by the crowd of people and collide with the same person again. Your hands landed on his abdomen, you startle as you feel the firm muscles under your fingers, it wasn't like you were used to that feeling.

-God, I'm so sorry - your soft voice showed the embarrassment you were going through, the mixture of shame for the situation and the discomfort of discovering an infidelity caused a sea of sensations.

However, you didn't expect to be answered by a soft laugh, your heart skipped a beat as you felt a hand gently clasp your lower back. It was a warm, comfortable feeling, pleasant even.

-That way you won't get pushed around anymore," the pleasant voice commented, causing you to look up.

Your cheeks blushed instantly, to say he was tall was an understatement, this man, who was holding you so gently with one of his hands to keep you from falling was someone you didn't expect to see.

Tanned skin, slightly messy and wavy brown hair, eyes that you could swear have a curious reddish glint, the man is strong, that's for sure, your hands still held close to his abdomen to be able to check it, the black shirt with the first buttons loose only allowed you to see more of those muscles. Your breath hitched as he leaned forward just to get a better look at you, that small movement let you see how his expression was more attractive than you thought, was that what they called having an angular jaw? God, the details were so many that you could hardly understand that this man had started to lead you with some subtlety to one of the corners inside the bar.

You put up no resistance as you walked with him, much less when he had your back to him and his hands traveled to your waist to guide you more easily. The difference in height made it easier for him to see you.

-My name is Miguel," he murmured, leaning down a little so he could whisper close to your ear, something that made you shiver, his voice so soft and deep that it had caused a slight fluttering sensation in your stomach, "Miguel O'Hara.

A little nervous, you nodded your head as you told him your name. Your cheeks were still flushed, but now the urge to cry wasn't the cause, how could such a man distract so much from your feelings?

-So, are you coming to have fun? -Miguel's soft and deep whisper caused you to shiver, making your stomach flutter with excitement, you had a partner, technically speaking, I mean, you hadn't told him you were going to break up or anything, the impact of the scene only caused you to run away as fast as you could through the crowd of people, the memory of those who were supposed to be his friends laughing and trying to warn that idiot who called himself your boyfriend didn't help your heart either, maybe, just maybe, you should find a way to vent that feeling of uneasiness.

-Only if it's with you - you answered in an effort to show your best interest in Miguel, but for him it was nice to see you nervous to suggest something like that, to see from his perspective how such a pretty little thing like you accepted it so easily provoked an undeniable desire in him.

-That's good, honey," he murmured, leaning forward to give you a little kiss on the side of your neck, provoking a rush of sensations in you, "but not here…".

Miguel's voice became deeper, deeper, as if he was holding back the desire that had been growing in him little by little, the idea of turning you into a trembling bundle of nerves made Miguel smile with a certain triumph, but he had no intention of exposing you in front of other people, no, those sweet sounds, those awkward expressions should be only for him.

You startled as you felt the slight pressure on your waist, Miguel's hands held you firmly, guiding you to the exit of the bar, you hadn't noticed, but your boyfriend was dumbfounded at how you allowed someone to be so close to you, the jealousy of the woman he had made out with was evident in the disbelief of his expression, it almost seemed as if he wanted to take his place.

But that didn't matter, it wasn't even what caught your attention the most, you were totally focused on Miguel's touch, on the gentle, firm way he guided you away from the crowd and into a parking lot. Your heart skipped a beat when Miguel took his hands off your waist, leaving you standing in front of his car, a red sports car, you could even say it was ridiculously spotless.

Miguel opened the door, letting you into the passenger seat, you didn't deny that the excitement caused you to be a little nervous, almost as if you were worried about making a mistake that could get you out of the situation. But the nervousness leaves your body as soon as you got into the car, a smell similar to wood filled your sense of smell, it was pleasant, you could even say that it gave a more attractive touch to Miguel, you had not noticed it inside the bar because of the various smells and perfumes of the crowd, but here, it was different.

The walk was even more tense than you had thought, not only because of the gentle caresses and squeezes Miguel was giving your thighs, but also because of the excitement of what was to come. As soon as they arrived at an apartment complex and Miguel parked the car, you knew there was no turning back. The ride seemed to be longer than you once thought, but as soon as they entered the elevator Miguel rushed towards you, cornering your body against the cold walls as he placed constant, soft kisses down your neck, your hands gently wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

Feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin had become so intimate and exciting. Miguel's hands traveled to the edge of your sweatshirt, but his actions stopped when the elevator opened its doors, you could have sworn you heard him let out a grunt at being interrupted.

Miguel took your hand and led you out of the elevator, his steps were quick and you admitted that excited you, it had taken him longer to open the door to one of the apartments than it had to get you inside. You couldn't see the apartment clearly, once the door was closed, Miguel carried you in his arms, you didn't hesitate to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing your foreheads together, the warmth of your bodies increased every second, Miguel knew it, he could feel it, you would be his, only his.

A smile tugged at Miguel's lips as he watched your cheeks tinge a nice red color at their closeness, Miguel gave you a soft kiss on the tip of your nose, noticing the way you moved on his arms, as if you were looking for more.

Miguel's footsteps continued until you reached your room, the dim lighting caused by the moonlight gave a charming, almost romantic touch.

With a certain softness, Miguel laid you on the bed, you felt the comfort of the blankets under your body, as if you were made to be there. But you didn't have time to think about that, Miguel was hovering over your body, trapping you under his as he began to place soft bites and kisses on the tender skin of your neck, making you lie fully on the bed, moving your head subtly to allow him greater access to your skin.

A shiver runs through your body as you felt one of Miguel's hands venture under your sweatshirt, touching your warm, soft skin with his fingertips, causing a small tingle to run down your spine, causing a small gasp from your lips, helping Miguel, you began to pull your sweatshirt up to reveal your breasts under that thin bra fabric, Miguel smiled as he watched your breathing become shallow as you shed your sweatshirt, leaving it somewhere on the bed. Shyness returned to your body, remembering your boyfriend's words about the way your breasts looked, the very memory caused you to try to cover up slightly, something Miguel noticed immediately.

He took your wrists firmly, bringing his grip over your head until he left you exposed, your heart raced, you don't try to stop him, but he certainly surprised you.

-Don't do it, if you try to hide again, I'll tie those pretty hands -Miguel's words provoked a mixture of excitement and curiosity in you, for a moment you thought about provoking him to do it.

But your mind was divided between desire and anticipation as you saw Miguel's predatory smile, he leaned in until your lips brushed in a soft touch, you reacted to that, trying to move closer to kiss him, but the grip on your wrists kept you constrained, luckily, he didn't wait any longer, finally kissing those pretty lips of yours, kissing with desire and desperation, as if you were the most desired sweet for him.

A small gasp drowned against his lips the moment Miguel licked your lower lip, asking for permission to be able to deepen the kiss, something you didn't refuse, giving him access. You felt Miguel's tongue slide between your lips, playing with your tongue, teasing until you felt the wetness between your legs increase.

You tried to move your hands, you wanted to embrace him, to take off his shirt to feel his skin against yours, but he didn't loosen his grip, instead, he smiled arrogantly as he watched you slowly become desperate for more.

The gleam in his eyes dulled with lust, Miguel moved a little away from your lips, placing small kisses on your chin, moving down the softness of your neck until he reached your collarbone, biting gently until you let out small moans.

Miguel continued down, reaching the fabric of your bra, you arched your back slightly in search of his touch, you wanted it, he was being so considerate and gentle that you felt desperate to touch him and ask for more.

-Miguel, please - you murmured with a pleading expression, every action of that man turned your body into something needed and desired, he was so accurate in his movements that you felt he knew you better than you could.

-If you don't try to hide again," he murmured in a low, low tone, causing your heart to race.

Between little sighs you agreed, nodding your head, making him smile as he released your wrists. Without being able to wait any longer, you brought your hands to the buttons of Miguel's black shirt, he didn't object, he moved a little away to let you achieve your goal, he instead, took care of easily removing your bra. His hands squeezed your breasts gently, your nipples hardening to his touch, eliciting such warm pleasure that it reached your needy core.

Your hands caressed his warm skin, gently teasing the contours of his muscles with your fingers, it felt so good under your hands, you had barely noticed the moment Miguel had pulled down your pants and panties, leaving you fully exposed under him.

Miguel made you lie back down, settling his body between your legs as he pinched one of his turgid nipples, pulling and pinching, causing your core to feel more needy, he knew it, he was teasing you, he likes to see those cheeks flush, to hear your moans as he slowly finds every sensitive spot on your body.

Your body jolted as you felt Miguel's kisses travel down to your belly, the wetness of your arousal was growing, until he blew against your core, causing your hips to move slightly.

Miguel's hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs wider to allow him greater access, you were slightly nervous, but you felt so aroused that you didn't protest, your breathing became shallow as you felt his tongue pass between your wet folds, little gasps escaped your lips as Miguel began to suck greedily on your little bundle of nerves, using two of his fingers to stretch your tight walls, curving his fingers experimentally inside you, touching that spongy spot that caused your back to arch gently, you had never felt anything like this before.

You tried to close your trembling legs out of mere reaction, but Miguel wouldn't allow it, with his free hand he took his place again, humming as he listened to your loud moans, feeling your soft walls press against his fingers, as if you were silently begging for something bigger.

Moisture was beginning to stain your thighs, your breathing quickened as you felt the stimulation in your body, your hips shifting slightly in search of more. Miguel pulled away with a small pop of your sensitive clit. Running his thumb over the sensitive core, curving his fingers in a faster, steadier motion, stretching your wet walls as you moaned and trembled. He was right, you looked so pretty, cheeks flushed, breath quickening, your pretty body quivering from his attentions until you rolled your eyes as you felt the tension in your belly increase, warning that you were about to climax.

Miguel smiled arrogantly as he watched you come undone by his fingers, deftly returned to sucking on your sensitive, swollen clit, prolonging your orgasm. Your walls clenched eagerly between his fingers as wetness stained the sheets and he drank eagerly, savoring the sweetness of your release as if it were the most exquisite drink he had ever tasted.

Your mind was in a total daze, dizzy from the pleasure you had experienced, your breath hitching, you could barely feel Miguel remove his pants and boxer shorts, leaving his large erection on display.

You let out a small moan as you felt the tip of his hard cock rub against your sensitive wet entrance, you squinted your pretty eyes, he smiled in pleasure as he pushed his hard length in. The wetness of your orgasm eased his entrance, but you let out a little squeal as you felt the stretching of your walls, you were so tight for him.

Miguel let out a small gasp, feeling your walls squeeze his hard cock deliciously, pushing in halfway, he watched your expression, looking for any hint of pain or discomfort, but could only see how dumbfounded you were at the pleasure, spreading your legs wider to welcome him.

Miguel leaned forward, placing his hands on the sides of your head as he pushed in until he filled you completely, smiling with satisfaction when you took it so well.

-That's it honey, you can take it so well," he cooed in a husky tone and then bit your lower lip, causing you to let out a small moan, you felt so full, so sensitive, you accepted him so perfectly, you seemed made for each other.

You let out little moans as you felt Miguel begin to move his hips, the sensation of his hard cock moving in and out made you incredibly sensitive, his hard length stretched and touched your most sensitive spots, causing you to cling to him more, moaning and taking him with such perfection, wrapping your legs around his waist as Miguel's thrusts became faster and faster, deeper and deeper, touching the spot that made you see stars.

Your moans became louder, drowning on Miguel's lips as you tried to reciprocate the passionate kiss he was giving you, letting out a small squeal as Miguel ran his thumb over your swollen, sensitive clit.

Your walls clung to Miguel's hard cock, becoming more sensitive, more wet, the sloshing caused by Miguel's constant pumping making the sound more and more obscene, more and more filthy. Miguel felt more and more excited as he listened to the sweet sounds coming from your lips, pulling away a little to put his hands on your hips and pull you in each thrust, the tension in your belly increased, you moaned as you felt each thrust completely fill your insides, hitting your cervix, once, twice, three times, until finally you released again, whimpering as Miguel kept on thrusting, prolonging your orgasm.

Miguel smiled in pleasure as he watched your hips twitch from the spasms, you were so sensitive, so tired and aroused, but he wasn't finished.

-W-Wait - you squealed as you felt how Miguel came out of you only to make you turn around and lift your ass, your trembling legs could barely hold in that position.

-Come on honey, you can do it - cooed Miguel with a smile as he lined up his hard cock against your entrance. It was a sight to behold from that position, your thighs moist, your entrance so sensitive that just the feel of it gently arched your back.

Even though you had already gotten a little used to the size, feeling him enter again was so stimulating that Miguel had to grab you by the hips as he plunged into your warm interior. He knew you could take it so well, pumping hard as you sank to the mattress and squeezed the sheets under your hands.

Your mind was boggled, you had become a complete clumsy, excited mess, each onslaught stretching your walls, touching points you never imagined. Miguel was giving you no rest, moving one of his hands up to your bundle of nerves, moving his fingers deftly over your clit. Your walls clung to Miguel's hard cock, the overstimulation making it easier and easier to bring you to orgasm.

Senseless moans came from your lips, your cheeks wet with tears of pleasure as you felt Miguel coming deeper and deeper, you couldn't stand it and neither could he, his cock swelled at his imminent release, painting your walls white, making you cum again on his cock as he filled you with his warm semen.

-Good girl, take it all - he whispered to you then leaving soft kisses on the side of your neck, using his hand to move the strands of your hair and tenderly kiss the back of your neck.

It was the first time you felt so satisfied, so desired, was it possible for someone to make you feel this way? It seemed so.

You let out a small moan as you felt Miguel spurt from inside you, the warm, thick liquid overflowing from your sensitive entrance, staining your thighs and the sheets. If it weren't for how exhausted you were, Miguel would sink back inside you, but he knew, how satisfied and tired you were.

-We should have lunch tomorrow, shouldn't we? - he asked as you awkwardly agreed with your head, falling into a deep sleep.

Miguel watched you, you looked so cute, so kind, you arouse feelings in him that he had never experienced before, possibly, it should be more than just one night, if you agree to stay with him, he would definitely be happy to give it a try.

With that feeling in his mind and warmth invading his heart, he lay down next to you, hugging you so you could sleep against his body, covering you both with a blanket to sink into a pleasant sleep with you.

The rest of the night passed without a hitch. You opened your eyes slowly, letting out a small sigh as the sun's rays ruined your comfortable sleep, your heart skipped a beat as you felt Miguel's arm around your waist so softly, he had slept next to you. The pleasant feeling made your cheeks tinge with a nice blush, but that feeling was interrupted when you heard your cell phone vibrate, you had thrown it somewhere when you arrived at Miguel's apartment, who could blame you for that?

Slowly you moved until you reached the edge of the bed, taking the phone that had been left on the side of Miguel's shirt, luckily it wasn't broken, checking your phone, you saw several messages, things like; it's not what it looks like, last night you were with someone else, I think you were the one who cheated, etc.

What did it matter?

You were tired of the hypocrisy of those people, you knew it.

The gentle caress on your waist made you startle, as you turned around you saw Miguel, smiling in that confident and assured way that barely allowed you to have a breath, God, that man loved and adored you as if you were the only person who deserved the best of attention, was it really fair to go back to something so low with your boyfriend?

-Is something wrong baby? - Miguel asked with a smile, causing your cheeks to blush at the cute nickname, if last night his voice was low and deep, in the morning it could definitely get better.

-Solo, I think I have the day off - you admitted with a smile on your pretty lips, sending a single message to then put the phone down and return to Miguel's side, who welcomed you with kisses, soft and sweet.

-Should we take a shower first? - Miguel asked, while you hummed in response, you definitely preferred to stay with him.

Who did you write to? Well, you should make something clear to the person who had cheated on you, shouldn't you?

Seriously I'm not the best person writing in english, so if I have some mistakes I apologize, I also understand if you need some corrections, since I publish the stories in english and spanish.

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/765221485179731968/writing-about-my-favorite-characters-as?source=share

I'm really sorry to hear you're going through this, anon. I'm even sadder that it's not an uncommon story.

As another trans writer (trans woman, in my case) that's stumbled into other people eviscerating her works for "fetishizing" and being "het in f/f's clothing" I really sympathize with you, dude. The way I look at it is that you cannot try alter who you are for these people. They will always find a way to dislike you because you are their ideological enemy. They dislike seeing trans men in what they see as their ship tags, not yours, so they will always find something they view as a flaw and flog you for it until you either conform or leave.

I've had a similar experience to yours, though not a literal thread dedicated to me. Ouch. I write f/f and sometimes that features non-op/pre-op trans characters because I am personally non-op after many years on E, and I'm always astounded by how it obviously upsets people that otherwise claim to be progressive. I also tag things extensively and I even include some terminology clarifications at the beginning of smut fics so that everyone knows what they're getting into. It doesn't matter to them. It'll never matter to them what you or I do, so why bother trying to coddle them?

There are readers that like my works, but after walking into a fandom Discord's NSFW fic channel, I saw how many people assume that my fics are written by a cis person or the fabled Dirty Fetishizer. It's one thing to intellectually know this happens and another to see your own work - something that you as a trans person created to talk about some part of yourself - ripped apart as this nasty tripe that no "real" trans person would write or read.

To make matters worse, I saw all that after I went through a rather nasty spate of transphobic anons when the fandom was very young. It was so tiring. I was exhausted. Seeing virulent hate in the real world and then having it thrown in my face for writing characters in a way that people disagreed with was just too much for me.

My way of dealing with this was disengaging from my own fandom, turning off anons on tumblr, and blocking anyone I even felt slightly annoyed by just in case it boiled over into something else. It sucks, but it's how I continue to have fun with writing for my ships. I basically never go into my ship tags on Tumblr now, I curate whose fics I read carefully, and I only hang out in one Discord server that's very small. I still read and comment on others' works when I have the mental bandwidth for it, but I avoid most other writers, especially those I don't know just in case they're part of that -phobe segment, and keep the most vocally unpleasant authors permanently muted for my own sake.

Frankly, it is what it is, as thought terminating as that phrase can be, and I gave up trying with these people/this fandom. You could keep trying to interact with the greater fandom, but you should block the assholes that disregarded your lived experience for your own mental health.

It's an isolating process for sure, but that's why I supplemented it with seeking out other fandom friends, most of whom are trans. Maybe we disagree with headcanons, and in a lot of cases we're polar opposites, but we all stick together because otherwise we're all thrown into isolation. That, and I always try to focus on the folks that do like what I write.

--

[gothicprep]

I know it’s sort of gauche to comment on how other people organize stuff like domestic division of labor in their marriages, but whenever social media shows me little vignettes of how other couples manage this stuff, I don’t know how to process it. the calculus obviously changes when you have children, but it’s the tone that weirds me out.

personally, I don’t see cooking as a chore. I like doing it. i like doing something sort of mindless when I’m stressed. and between my wife and me, I have significantly better knife skills than she does. so I’m much faster at it.

she’s like my opposite when it comes to deep-ish cleans. i personally find it unpleasant. she’ll just put her headphones on and rock out with her headphones on while she’s vacuuming and making sure the toilet isn’t radioactive. can’t relate, although it’s probably a similar feeling to what I get when I have a stressful day and go all o-ren ishii on an innocent onion.

stuff like “who puts the laundry away” is sort of circumstance dependent. depends on which one of us is more swamped with work related things.

I think many long term relationships have a similar vibe. but it’s the aggressively type-a stuff I find so off-putting. i get the overwhelming feeling that when you have this sort of rigidity in your partnership, it’s going to leave you ill-prepared for situations where your partner genuinely needs your help. it might be something like a nasty depressive episode. it might be something like a recovery period from a medical procedure, or god forbid, an illness. especially in the context of a marriage, you need to have the breathing room that allows you to adjust for these possibilities.

maybe I’m overthinking it, but stuff like this doesn’t translate to “happy marriage” to me. It’s more like watching the beginning phases of One of Those divorces where people are fighting over silverware and shit.

[cheriecelestial]

Paper Rings

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ angst (?), canon typical violence, gore (?), crude humour, strong language, typos, grammatical errors, cliché moments

genre *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ drama, romance, action-thriller, fantasy

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ based on this one dream i had and also cuz pjo was my first comfort series and jjk is my current one (only s1)

╰ ┈➤ Chapter List

╰ ┈➤ Master list

Chapter One

Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood.

If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal

life. Being a half-blood is dangerous. It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways.

If you're a normal kid, reading this because you think it's fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened.But if you recognize yourself in these pages - if you feel something stirring inside - stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it's only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they'll come for you.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

My name is Gojo Kanao . Age fourteen, raised in Tokyo, Japan . As the youngest family member of the Gojo clan , niece of the Gojo Satoru and an aspiring sorcerer - my life was going as perfectly as it rightfully should . Except my uncle got a call from an old family friend three weeks back and before I knew it I were to pack my bags and enroll in a 'summer camp' meant for 'children like me' . And that's really funny because apart from my uncle , I'm pretty much one of a kind . It's not like ever other generation has a six eyes user gifted with limitless. My existence is what most people call an 'anomaly in the power balance of the world' and sparked much debate amongst higher ups but it stopped bothering me after a point considering how uncle Satoru threatens to decimate any person that as much as dared look at me wrongly .

He took me in after my father died when I was four and him eighteen . Following my father's death , the Gojo clan was pretty much reduced to me and uncle since not much was known about my birth mother . The first time my uncle got to know that he, in fact , not only had a sister in law but also a niece from his absentee elder brother was when the fore mentioned "family friend" came knocking to at the Gojo Clan's door with a drooling four year old with white pigtails in tow .

As much as a shock it must've been to know that he was now a single father , uncle or as I call him Satoru nii-san , seemed to have developed a knack for parenting much too quickly with his reasoning being 'the baby looks like mini me and I vibe with that' . And as he liked to say to me and my also-adopted siblings Megumi and Tsumiki Fushiguro "having you kids just adds to my dilf appeal" followed by Megumi deadpanning at him , Tsumiki awkwardly smiling and me audibly gagging. Needless to say , he isn't much liked and not even half as tolerable as he considers himself to be.

"How could you do this to me ?" I mumbled while my eyes trailing the silhouette of the trees passing rapidly by my car windows . Almost inaudible cursing was what my opposition was shamefully reduced to . After much fights , screaming , crying , scratching and attempts at running away I was forced to join this camp . His description of the camp with strawberry fields , flying horses , Greek gods and half goat people was enough for Megumi to call bullshit on it however I couldn't deny its existence because that's where I grew up from birth to age four.

" Nyao-chan , this is the 33rd time you're saying this in the past fifteen hours of flight time . Do better" I could feel nii-san rolling his eyes from the front seat .

" Toru nii don't call me that" I hissed back at him and turned my face with 'hmph' so that maybe , just maybe I could appeal to his conscience. I remember that place and it wasn't particularly unpleasant and under normal circumstances I would really like visiting . However , he simply refused to understand just how it would derail my development as a sorcerer , quoting ' your development as a demigod is just as fundamental to your growth as your development as a sorcerer . Take it as a learning experience. Have fun and for the love of god make some friends that aren't the fushiguros or your pet snake .'

My previous attempt at socialising ended up with the boy calling me a brat and me activating my cursed technique for the first time in attempt to kill him , stunning breakthrough but not a suitable first impression. That meeting ended well for their family and the incident was ruled out as a 'all is well that ends well' . And after that I decided that I had enough and rated the experience 2 stars , do not recommend . 

" I mean looking at how much you like small spaces , scratching and hissing you might as well be one . But hey cheer up ! you're going to see your Chiron sensei and Dino oji-san again . Won't it be fun ? Childhood memories all coming back to you. Plus I've heard summer camps are really fun." He shrugged with his emphasis on the names causing me to cringe inwardly .

" What sort of summer camp runs in November ?" I retorted followed by him sighing . It was much later that I found out that my 'Dino oji-san' was actually Dionysus , the Greek god of wine. I could only imagine the emotions he must've felt holding a toddler in his lap , butchering his name to her convenience. The embarrassment of the memory just made me even more unwilling to go . Our satyr chauffeur said we were fifteen minutes away from camp so of course going back wasn't an option.

Before I knew it , the car came to a screeching halt in the middle of road . There was nothing but an empty road ahead surrounding by dense vegetation on either sides . " What happened ? " I asked leaning forward. The saytr looked at me and blinked . Then I realised I forgot to switch to English while talking . Except for my struggles with dyslexia, English was fairly easy to learn . I credited Satoru nii's obsession of Friends and Britney Spears for this but learning , in general , was something that came naturally to me . I never had to try too hard to learn a skill and it puzzled others and even me . Apparently this was the trait of a true Gojo . Being godly perfect . It applied to everything but my cursed energy technique . Sometime back I realised I reached a plateau of my skills  and no matter what method I employed , my growth remained stagnant . Maybe that's why he's sending me here .

" She meant why did we stop ?" Nii-san asked .

" We're here" The saytr plainly replied . I looked around in confusion because I saw nothing . He asked us to follow him , and with luggage in hand , so we did .

After a small hike through the woods , we reached a big stone arch . It was partially of wood and stone and looked really old with greek symbols carved at the top and several cracks and moss . I stared at the sign and noticed that the letters began to rearrange themselves . At first I thought it was my dyslexia acting up but the Greek symbols rearrange themselves to spell out the letters 'CAMP HALFBLOOD' .

"You look surprised. What do you see Kana ?" He looked at me . I explained my observations and he smirked and muttered something to himself .

I extended my hand and much like how jujutsu curtains worked by hand went passed the barrier emitting a faint blue light . " Nii-san you try it " I gestured him to do the same . The barrier pulsated against his hand as if resisting his touch . With a faint smile , he retracted his hand and said to the saytr " This barrier is stronger than I expected . I'm impressed"

"Nii-san if you were to break through , how long would it take ?" I asked out of curiosity . If you were to ask anyone to describe Gojo Satoru in one word the word would be 'strongest' . Once he put enough effort into it there was no barrier he couldn't break nor there was any curse he couldn't exorcise . " Hmmm it's strong I'll give it that . But we wouldn't want to endanger a camp worth of kids, right ?" I shrugged in a 'makes sense' gesture.

"It's just her from this point on. You can't go inside." The saytr said. Yeah we noticed. Satoru- nii clapped his hands and smiled," Just give us two minutes. You know I need time to see off my precious baby." The saytr blinked and moved out of earshot wordlessly. Satoru nii cupped my face and cooed as if he was on the verge of crying. I rolled my eyes at his dramatic display," you didn't feel any remorse for the last few days and you're crying now ?"

"It's not easy ! I knew I had to let my baby bird out of the nest because that's what's best for you but I -" his bottom lip wobbled and I was hit with a sense of guilt. I sighed and hugged him," I'll miss you too. I'll be fine."

"Call me everyday you hear me ? And eat and sleep well. Oh my god I'm starting to sound like an old woman !" Gojo Satoru was one man who liked to completely disregard the fact that me, Megumi and Tsumiki had mother -albeit absent, and very seriously behave as if he was the one who carried us around for nine months and birth us. But hey, who doesn't like being coddled ?

I rolled my eyes and gave him the signature Gojo smirk," I'll be just fine, don't you worry."

" I know. You'll be fine. Always. You'll be better than me, I know it." Satoru nii-san's voice dropped to a low and almost wistful whisper. " Even though you're the best there is ?" I asked offering him a kind smile. To that he said something in a tone  I didn't expect hearing from him. "You've inherited only my powers , I don't want you to inherit my tragedies too ." The statement left a bad taste in my mouth. People often assumed that since he was the strongest, he had it easy. It’s people like him that suffer the most, so much so that sometimes it has you wishing you didn’t have power at all.

"And lastly. Don't kill anyone, and even if you do. Get rid of witnesses and call nii-san first, Nii-san will take care of it." I raised my brow in questioning. Firstly, shouldn't he be teaching his kid to be nice to other people or something and second of all why is he referring to himself in third person.

"Shouldn't you be saying 'dont bully people and be nice' or something ?" Though what he said wasn't the first of its kind. My brother Megumi had a track record of beating up people in his school but Nii-san never saw a problem because the people he beat up were hardly innocent and he never lost a fight so that was no shame brought to the family name.

"If there's anyone you think shouldn't be alive. Then they shouldn't be. This world is ours, the others are just living in it." One thing that everyone knew what that Gojo Satoru was a firm believer of the Gojo family supremacy. And he's not wrong. "Then what about those sleazy higher-ups ?" I quipped. I knew of his grand plan to demolish the old reign and establish a new jujutsu world, the reason he became a teacher. It was something I looked forward to since the day he showed me the dream of it, but for that I had to get stronger. To become more, to become unstoppable. So I would gladly accept any wisdom the Greeks had to offer and make sure that by the time I’m done here, I’ll be the strongest demigod they’ve had the honour of laying their eyes upon.

“All in due time Kana-chan.”

Taglist: @kentply / @sleepykittycx / @yourpersonalgaybird

[valle-de-sombra-de-muerte]

Homestuck Reread: Act 4, Part 2/4 (p. 1523-1668)

Read the previous post here.

Time to finish the first half of Act 4. I can't believe how long this is compared to the previous ones, and the upcoming Acts will only get more expansive from here on.

Rose has to be doing this on purpose. Using big words she knows John won't understand. She's stroking her own ego by acting intellectually superior to someone who might genuinely be mentally impaired.

Rose is still seething about Dave. John clearly has no idea what's going on between them and thinks she's perturbed by Dave being able to watch her constantly. But yeah nah, she's still bitter about how she barely survived entering the game (and jealous that Dave is schmoozing with Jade).

In Terezi's first appearance, she has nothing but animosity toward the humans. She even goes as far to say that she'll be pissed at them even when the rest of the trolls warm up to them. Uh huh. Strange how that part of her personality gets quickly swept off to the side.

Terezi used to be such a nasty, annoying edgelord and I kind of miss that about her. Her character progression is honestly all over the place, which I'll get into deeper as we move along.

Rose drinking the martini is framed as her making an "important decision [...] without supervision." There's something to be said about how one of the first things she decides to do as an independent person is try to emulate her mother. As the only adult presence in her life, Mom is her only frame of reference for how adults behave.

PM's brief encounter with Jack is fun. Jack is no-nonsense and knows his job inside and out. He's also determined to pursue every opportunity to avoid actually doing said job.

So much suspense is being built around this package. It's so important that PM is willing to betray her own kingdom for it. Of course, this all amounts to probably one of the worst reveals in the whole comic. There's no satisfaction upon learning what's in the box and as soon as the reveal happens, it's swiftly forgotten about. Yet there's so much narrative weight being assigned to it that I cannot even begin to fathom what Hussie's thought process was when writing this.

Dave and Jade spend several pages combining the alchemiter with the other Sburb devices. This is to condense everything into one space so the characters don't have to scurry from the different devices to craft items. But we haven't been seeing much scurrying lately since Hussie has been skipping over the crafting process anyway, probably because it's lengthy and repetitive. It may be convenient "in-universe" but I don't see what use this has from a storytelling perspective.

There's a reason "John do what I say" is a bit of a meme. Because he will follow commands no matter who's issuing them. Even if it's someone as unpleasant as Terezi.

Terezi is transparent in her motives. She is uninterested with what the rest of the trolls are doing and just wants to spread chaos in the kids' session, basically fucking around and finding out. John still decides to follow her directions because ????????

I might as well screencap the entire conversation between Dave and Rose here because it's great stuff. Rose puts on a sanctimonious act about killing the ogre she had just mercilessly thrashed, all to annoy Dave. This is the kind of back and forth I love to read.

Also note the metaphors Dave uses at the beginning. "whipping that ogre like a rented mule"? "sailing that ogre down the mississippi with a runaway slave"? Again, not to bring race discourse here, but I don't think he'd say that kind of stuff to Rose if she was black. If anything, he'd probably be more tasteless about the metaphors he's using. You know how teenagers can be.

Did he just call himself Rose's pimp? 😳

Hmm I wonder what might motivate Dave to give Kanaya bogus advice about winning over Rose. Between this and his earlier log where he turns the tables on Tavros, I do think it's interesting how Dave is shown to consistently out-troll the trolls. The key must be to not give a shit.

Dave calls Kanaya "bro" twice in this log and seems to mistake her as a man here. John will repeat this mistake later on. Kinda odd that the troll the fandom depicts as sultry and feminine is actually super stoic and awkward to the point where multiple characters think she is male.

I love how Rose is making passive-aggressive remarks about Dave to a total stranger. And calling him "that guy" as if he isn't living rent-free in her head.

Rose is getting a lot of joy out of using Tavros as a proxy to annoy Dave. She even offers to help him out in writing disses (because of course she'll jump at any opportunity to write).

I really love the ending of this log too.

Kanaya is a total dork in case it isn't clear already.

Tavros puts so much effort in his diss rhyme against Dave, but Dave's completely ignoring him to draw more SBaHJ. Tavros never attempts to troll Dave after this which, again, is a fucking disgrace.

Where is the version of Homestuck where Tavros is Dave's bumbling pupil in the slam poetry arts, constantly brushed off until Dave eventually (and reluctantly) decides to take him under his wing, if only to stop him from embarrassing himself? It would be a good role-reversal where Dave inherits Bro's position of the master instead of the student, and maybe get some perspective for why Bro was so dismissive and distant from him all the time.

I guess this kind of obvious character growth is too much of an advanced writing technique for Hussie to implement, so he didn't.

I like how Karkat starts off being a jerk but stops in his tracks because he too is a fan of cheesy movies. Also, I liked Serendipity. It's not great, but it might as well be a masterpiece compared to a lot of the garbage John likes.

Terezi's reaction makes it seem like she really wants to see Karkat's "bone lump." I can't imagine Karkat being outwardly flirty at all, so the idea that he may have expressed any kind of fondness for her must be something she has to read herself.

As a sprite, Jaspers' personality is like a cat voicing thoughts relating to his natural instincts. He focuses mostly on food and expressing affection toward Rose. Anything else he says, like information about the game, is stuff he says without any comprehension of what it means. It's like the game placed that knowledge in his mind and he just thoughtlessly repeats it. I do like that.

The closure Rose expected from Jaspers is about what one would expect (or at least, until her dream self awakens). I wonder what she really expected from asking a cat what it meant by meowing at her.

It only took over 1300 pages, but John has finally responded to one of Dave's messages. He does this in a very detached, oblivious manner, not mentioning the previous messages Dave sent him that he missed. He wants to skip all that time when Dave was in distress and ask only about the recent happenings upon his entry.

I feel bad for Dave, considering his "best friend" is pretty much a plank of wood. And not the fun kind of plank like in Ed, Edd n Eddy.

In what might be the most poignant page of the comic in my honest opinion, Dave and Rose have been trapped in this doomed timeline for four months. Dave is keen to stop wasting any further time and to go back to the past to reverse the actions that led to John's death, but Rose seems very reluctant to let him go. Her words are chosen to imply Dave might be too hasty and to suggest that he should stick around a little while longer "to gather information."

But that isn't the real aim of why Rose wants Dave to stay. She knows that as soon as he leaves, she will die. Trapped in a universe where she's the sole surviving human, it's a cold and lonely death she'll experience. Dave seems to know this too, but tries to assuage her worries by telling her not to think about her impending doom. Perhaps he also doesn't want to think about it, and that's why he wants to leave quickly so as not to dwell on how he's essentially condemning her to death.

But really, four months alone together as the last two humans in existence? That's a lot of off-screen time we aren't shown. And yet it's treated as this brief afterthought, a scene only used as a means to bring Davesprite into existence. I wish we could've seen more of this doomed timeline, more of Dave and Rose realizing their hopeless situation and the harrowing choice they ultimately need to make to set things right.

Yes, it's only a brief page that never gets brought up again, but it's one that sticks in my mind and refuses to leave.

John is being unreasonably (and uncharacteristically) obstinate here. Normally he has no problem following orders unless they place him in direct harm. Why does he trust Terezi so much over his supposed best friend? He ends the log suggesting that he'll listen to Dave, but the next page shows him blasting off anyway. What a prick.

People want to portray Terezi as some master strategist, but she really isn't. She's very single-minded and only ever considers outside information if it aligns with her set goal.

Remember when Terezi said she intended to stay pissed at all the kids forever? That didn't last long. And now through the power of memes, Davesprite has turned Terezi into a good guy now.

Considering how weak most of Homestuck's villains are, it's a real shame we lost out on one who was genuinely effective, engaging, and menacing so soon.

Oh, so I guess the Frog Temple really was "planted" when the meteor first hit Earth ages ago. I'm not sure how satisfied I am with this explanation.

[S] Jack: Ascend not only serves as a big flash to mark the midpoint for Act 4, but it also celebrates the fact that Homestuck turned one year old at this point.

Anyway, Jack's "Joker moment" is when the Queen force-femmed him. Just thought everyone should know that.

So if John's big "awakening" moment was about learning that his dad isn't really a clown, Rose's moment was triggered by being left all alone in a dead timeline and just waiting for the universe to extinguish her life. These are very comparable events! The fact that Rose's future dream self is shown to merge with her present self means that she likely remembers the events of the doomed timeline as well. What a nice load of trauma to be shouldered with!

Here we get the only time the box's contents have any real use: when it turns the Black Queen into soot and blood. Good to know that this MacGuffin only ever serves the villain in a meaningful capacity.

This part of the comic had some good moments, but I'm conflicted. When I revisit these "high points" in the story, I'm reminded of how Hussie never expands upon them and how they just end up as wasted potential. I fear this will set the mood for the remainder of this reread, which kinda sucks honestly. I'd much rather talk about more positive stuff and things I like, but they're few and far between with all the negativity surrounding them.

Read the next post here.

[thewoollyviking]

"Do you assume creators have to be nice to the characters they like or are you the same chickenshit coward who keeps telling me I’m a piece of shit for calling out Steven’s shitty attitude towards Rose?"

There's so many fucking things wrong with your statement to begin with. I did not harass you once before, you're the one who starts calling people names the second they disagree with you. Have you taken a moment to think about how unpleasant you are to be around?? You aren't a good person when you call people a chickenshit coward for disagreeing with you!! Maybe if you treated people like humans they wouldn't go an anon- but you don't. Is that why you like Greg? You two seem to love treating people like shit- including Rose (who would hate you btw <3)

considering how you've acted it's not a stretch to think you want steven to go through hell to make him "pay" and that is nasty. But i guess all you know how to do is be a nasty asshole. Learn to debate with people and disagree nicely and maybe your anons will be nicer jackass. You are awful and you sway no one to your side acting like you do. This isnt pre-k, you could've acted nice before but no you jump straight to insults and victim playing. Im being an ass now because I am sick of your shit and so are a lot of people. You're a grown man that has failed to grown up

Again, imma assume you’re the same coward that said I was an awful person for my opinions on Future Steven.

You were the one that first said I was a bad person because I didn’t agree with your opinion. Don’t get that mixed up. I gave my honest opinion about SU:Future and Steven and then tried to tell me I was a bad person for having those opinions.

And seeing that you’re willing to lie and twist my words I don’t see much of a purpose in debating you. You’re clearly incapable of having an honest conversation with me and you know that if you weren’t hiding under your security blanket of anonymity, you’d be blocked and forgotten.

You aren’t going to change my mind by guilt tripping me, so I think it’s fair to call this harassment.

I think Steven was an asshole towards Rose and dismissive of her abuse. YOU told me I was a piece of shit because you took that as me discounting Steven’s abuse. And if that’s what you took away from my statement than that’s your problem.

Stop hiding behind anonymity, you spineless coward.

[cinebration]

Sherlock Holmes Fluff Alphabet (Sherlock Holmes x Reader) [Request]

Will you do a Sherlock fluff alphabet please? 🥺—Requested by anon

I hope you like it anon! This was really difficult to write, haha.

Warnings: none

Gif Source: dailyhenrycavill

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Activities!? There is only the work, else Sherlock goes mad with boredom. As such, he brings you along when working, valuing your insight but also enjoying your proximity, so long as you don’t get in the way.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Intellect and wit are by far and away the aspects Sherlock most loves about you. You are aesthetically pleasing to the eye, certainly, but Sherlock values the hidden depths beneath.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Sherlock struggles with emotional intelligence. Thus, he has one of three reactions when you are in distress: 1) He can’t understand the feeling, 2) He panics because he doesn’t know what to do, or 3) He wants to provide a fix-it solution. As your relationship progresses, he learns the ways in which to help you specifically, committing to heart and perfecting the methodologies that best aid you.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Ever a pragmatist, Sherlock has already factored you into his life for the future. He does not want or expect children, but he will (begrudgingly) admit he finds the idea of having you to speak to and grow old with over the decades a warm, not altogether unpleasant feeling.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Sherlock very much prefers things to occur along the plans and designs he conceives, but the intricacies of relationships elude him, thereby placing him on uneven ground with you. As such, when it comes to facets of the relationship outside of his experience, particularly with the emotional, he defers to your expertise—with a high level of skepticism, of course.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Despite his determination to avoid emotionalism, Sherlock is not immune to experiencing things deeply. Arguments in which he feels he is the afflicted party will turn nasty, as he does not understand how to keep the emotion in check in the heat of it. Afterwards, once the heat of the moment has passed, he is likely to apologize—mostly out of embarrassment for letting things go too far. If you are the afflicted party, however, he may not understand why the fight is happening and will either brush it off or suffer from confusion so deep you will be arguing to a wall.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Sherlock can be very grateful (inwardly)—assuming he notices. While the man is capable of noticing minute details that escape the eyes of normal men, the motive behind it is what’s crucial. As such, noticing things in his home will only matter if they pertain to a case or pique his concerns that someone is riffling through his things. Only big, flashy changes are likely to catch his eye enough to elicit a comment or two.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Sherlock is a vault of secrets—but only because it doesn’t occur to him to share. Much of what he withholds aren’t really secrets anyway, just information about plans and cases that he’d rather let sit around in his mind, unvoiced. However, a little nudging and genuine interest in his work can coax information out of him until he learns that talking things over with you is more helpful than letting it all sit in his brain.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You most definitely have changed him, allowing him access to his more emotional side and opening him to the world of true partnership.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Sherlock may experience jealousy if a strong enough, insidious seed of it works itself under his skin. In general, he is unlikely to react with jealousy if he sees you speaking to another man, as he will invariably draw up reasonable, rational explanations as to why you are doing so; additionally, he trusts you implicitly. If, however, enough aberrant behavior occurs, he may be seized with concern and jealousy, the latter of which he is little equipped to handle well. This may result in tense situations and irrational behavior.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Sherlock has little experience with the physical aspects of relationships, requiring you to take charge at the outset. However, as he grows more comfortable, you’ll find Sherlock a quick study.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

His first confession of love may fly over your head due to how clinical and rehearsed it is. How were you supposed to know that “I do not mind your presence, and I find your contributions useful” was the equivalent of him saying, “I love you”? The thing is, he doesn’t want to admit it—just as much as he does. Love is something he always proclaimed to despise, and yet…

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Marriage isn’t something that immediately comes to mind for Sherlock. If it does, it merely serves as a social convenience, possibly one pressured by his brother Mycroft for the sake of propriety. Deep down, in parts of himself he may not easily acknowledge, however, Sherlock finds it nice to be officially married to you, for everyone to see that you are his.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

He calls you by your name. Sometimes, after marriage, if he feels rather cheeky, he may call you Mrs. Holmes.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Love plunges Sherlock into a riot of emotions he doesn’t know how to handle. It’s a phenomenal feeling—and also the worst. He wants to revel in it and simultaneously flee from it. The most obvious clue he is in love is general agitation; the lulls between cases are worse when he’s away from you. And when he is with you, he locks up, caught in an internal battle between wanting to succumb to the feelings and berating himself for feeling them in the first place.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Public displays of affection are a huge offense in the Victorian eye. All public interactions are defined by modesty and humility, with only high praise being the closest to “bragging” anyone can ever get. Sherlock, a pragmatist, will quickly and readily admit to his relationship with you once it has been firmly established. Know that it’s likely the public already knows even before an official declaration, as gossips abound.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Sherlock’s deductive ability is a double-edged sword. He may not notice new things around the house at first, but he will always notice new or unusual things about you. You are, to some degree, a perennial obsession, a case he’ll be “solving” for the rest of your time together. While in some senses that is flattering, in other senses it’s frustrating. He isn’t jealous or suspicious, but if he catches a different type of mud on your shoes than usual, he’ll jump to conclusions or ask you questions until he’s satisfied with your answers.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

The idea of romance is something best left to the Romantics of the Romanticism era, in all senses of the movement. Sherlock’s romance includes quality time spent with you, whether that be solving cases together or reading in front of the fireplace in the evenings. Sharing his thoughts is the most intimate he can be emotionally.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Sherlock is your ardent supporter. While he is aware of your skills and limitations, he stands by your side once you reach a decision. Leading up to that decision, however, he may offer dissenting opinions or advice, but he does so out of love. He wants to ensure you see all sides of the problem before settling on a solution.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Sherlock likes routine at home because his cases are anything but. Having certain systems in place at home, such as stable meal times (when he’s present) and daily activities you share (such as reading together), allows him the mental energy he needs to solve his cases.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Sherlock knows everything there is to know about you; as mentioned above, you are a low-key obsession, a case he will be “solving” for decades. As such, he makes it a priority to understand you as best he can. That does not mean he is overly empathetic, however; he spends more time trying to intellectually understand problems than emotionally understand them. As time passes, he becomes more empathetic—but only in relation to you. If he is a tuning fork, you are the instrument to which he is attuned.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is its worth in comparison to other things in their life?

As time and the relationship progress, Sherlock comes to value the relationship highly. Would he give up his work for it? Not likely, but the devastation of losing you would certainly take its toll on him. As such, he does his best to maintain the relationship.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Because of his observational skills, Sherlock will notice what you notice. That is, he will follow your gaze to things, scrutinize your face, etc. If he catches you admiring something in a window, he will surprise you with it later.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Behind closed doors, when the mood strikes him, Sherlock can be very affectionate. He treats it, however, as a curious phenomenon, one to experience and then view from a disconnected perspective. That is, he will catch himself reaching for you, touching you, tracing your profile with his eyes in bed, and then wonder, Why? Why am I compelled to do this? And then start all over again.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

It takes much for Sherlock to miss you. That is, if he knows where you are or when you both will reunite, he is less likely to experience your absence as anything other than temporary and treat it as such. However, if you go away to the country to visit your family, he will devolve into chaos in your home, throwing himself into the most tangled of cases to preoccupy himself so as not to think about how much he misses you.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of lengths?

In most cases, “great lengths” means emotional intimacy that Sherlock never imagined he would experience—or even knew he could experience. However, if harm should come to you or you should be put in danger, he will burn the world down to save you.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

So I was reading your meta about why Tom/Minerva wouldn't be a thing or work out in the long run past a date or two, and thought I'd take a stab at how Tom and Alphard did make it work in your and Vinelle's fics.

Alphard's high tolerance for relationship shenanigans

Tom might care about his partners (he wouldn't start a relationship in the first place if he didn't), but he's often bad at letting them know, and also pulls a lot of obnoxious shenanigans/is pushy in general, which can drive off many potential partners. Being in a relationship with Tom means having to put up with a lot.

So Alphard is one of those people who can tolerate this. Maybe part of it is just his natural personality, but I feel like Walburga being so domineering during their early childhood (she's like this in their early adulthood too, and I doubt their dynamics have changed that much) also plays a major role. Alphard's still capable of being assertive and stubborn over things he finds particularly outrageous, but his default reaction to things he doesn't like is to give up after his first few attempts to change it fail, and just grumble and despair to himself in a corner. So when first-year Tom comes along beating him up, Alphard just goes with his well-practiced response of letting the other party have their way and getting it over with already.

He's also introverted and uncharismatic, which means he doesn't have much of a social life and gets lonely as a result. So having a boyfriend who values him for his thoughts and he can have a deeper connection with is something Alphard really likes, so even if said boyfriend is sometimes being negligent or pulling/having pulled crazy stuff (ie constantly beating him up in the past), it's still better than nothing. The fact that he's gay which massively cuts down on potential romantic partners, and would make him stigmatized if he got outed doesn't help. Neither does his massive crush on Tom. (Lily's more charming and doesn't have the orientation issue, but she's still lonely and without deep connections. In any case, she also displays the same high tolerance for less-than-stellar boyfriend behavior)

Minerva, who probably has a better social life and isn't so lonely, would be less tolerant of all of Tom's baggage.

2. Alphard already being aware Tom isn't all sunshine, and in general gets to see past the facade more

He's in Slytherin, and they're dormmates to boot, which means Alphard is getting a front-row seat to Tom being a horrible menace to their housemates (and him). Nonetheless he still finds things to admire about Tom, and though that could be kickstarted by teenage hormones, a good chunk of that attachment must come from Alphard himself or the crush wouldn't last so many years. Alphard is already at the point of being able to accept liking Tom while still knowing he does unpleasant things. So if you drop the revelation of Tom doing worse than just nasty school bullying onto their heads (ie the basilisk and horcruxes), Alphard will still be in for a shock, but that's less for him to process than Minerva who only gets the shattered charming perfect facade of Tom to work with.

Also, being dormmates means that Alphard in general gets to spend more time observing Tom, which combined with his perceptiveness means he knows Tom as a person rather well, maybe better than Tom knows him (Tom spent several years not paying attention), dirty secrets aside. Even the less observant Abraxas manages to see more of Tom by virtue of his position than Minerva.

3. Tom's actually interested because of circumstance and the mystery/newness factor

Tom is fresh from all the crazy stuff that went down last year and in the summer, and while presumably still having a mental breakdown has gotten some of it out of his system. He's still unhappy and restless and wants to do something to distract himself, but he probably wants it to be something less, uhh, exciting than what happened earlier. (I'm assuming what was described in OOI is also canon to TMWWBK or other fics)

And then while going through his usual kicking housemates in the stomach so they know their place routine, he notices Alphard's choice of reading material. Come on, there's no way his stupid dormmate actually understands that stuff, right? He's probably just being pretentious and wants to make himself feel smart. Nonetheless, there's nothing lost if he asks, and then when Alphard doesn't give the expected answer he gets curious. Isn't this exactly the kind of harmless pursuit he wanted? (Alphard, meanwhile, sees what's happening and decides to deliberately bait Tom into following up) One thing leads to another when Tom realizes Alphard himself has some pretty interesting thoughts sometimes, and then they're friends and romantically involved.

This also seems to be the case for other fics where Tom gets romantically entangled with someone. More than even intelligence, Tom seems to need that other person to have hidden depths or a mystery that he can pursue. Bonus points for them being evasive, which eggs him on. Minerva, as a known factor that he already gets the gist of, just doesn't interest him enough.

4. General romanticism and Alphard's willingness to commit

So you said Tom's romanticism makes him want to skip the dating stage and do relationships in an all or nothing way. Either they commit or there's no relationship at all.

And Alphard, who isn't exactly swimming in other options, is quite attached to Tom, and does have a dramatic streak himself, is willing to take the plunge. The fact that it's a taboo relationship (both same-sex and a pureblood seeing an apparent muggleborn) and they have to see each other in secret, demanding a higher level of commitment, just amplifies it.

5. The blood purism and societal issues thing

This is the part where it doesn't work. Well, those two have other things going for them, and have enough of an established relationship and care for each other that they try to work around this issue, but it never gets fully resolved in the canon and near-canon timelines. The blood purity debate is one of those things that comes up every now and then, and always ends with them deciding to call it quits because neither party is convincing the other anyways, and don't they have more productive things to do with their time?

So Tom of course struggles to get anywhere in the wizarding world as himself, and concerned, Alphard tries to help by giving him financial support, which often is turned down. Alphard might think it's just Tom being too proud to accept handouts, and that is part of the reason he won't take substantial gifts unless Alphard gets smart about it, but it's also a matter of principle. The issue is the wizarding world being built on nepotism and closing its doors to outsiders, and Tom only managing to do well with his insider boyfriend's help kind of proves the point.

Alphard is better about understanding muggleborn issues than most purebloods, but he isn't muggleborn himself, and there's still a remove between watching something happen to a loved one and experiencing it yourself. So he's aware of Tom's struggles to get anywhere in society legitimately, and acknowledges it's unfair, but the same tendency towards resignation that helps him put up with Tom's nonsense also works against him here, in that he gives up on the system changing too easily. For him, yes, the system is broken and there's a lot of things that could be done better so muggleborns don't get screwed over, but it is what it is, and it's not like they can actually change things. Tom, of course, refuses to accept this, and this tension eventually leads to Alphard being unable to prevent the Voldemort thing because he can't fully get it.

So that's at least what I got from analyzing things. Please let me know if I missed anything significant or got something wrong.

This is a truly beautiful post anon, I love it, but unfortunately confirming or denying anything would be spoilers to a lot of things..

Look, @therealvinelle, ship thoughts!

[transformersvn]

Hey do you have any knockout x Megatron relationship headcanons because their very interesting

Oh, so, so many (mostly dependant on the situation I've wrangled them into this time).

I like the idea that Knock Out is a night owl and as late to rise as he can manage, whereas Megatron has a touch of insomnia (at least, in as much as Cybertronians have a human-like sleep schedule) and that can lead to odd conversations happening at unreasonable hours.

I want them to encourage each other's worst behaviours while finding comfort and security in the ways they don't have to be nasty to each other. A certain amount of rough edges is to be expected (and looked on with less suspicion than a perfectly polite person) and their particular brands of unpleasantness don't bother the other hugely.

I'm very attached to the idea that Knock Out is a self-taught medic and Megatron likes that. Megatron likes competence and while Knock Out isn't always successful, he's got a fairly good track record and (possibly more importantly) doesn't usually screw up in spectacular ways. Conversely, Megatron learning how easy it can be to meet the demands Knock Out actually wants is fun.

I also think it would be hilarious if Megatron was the younger one out of the pair. TFP!Megatron being one of the youngest Cybertonians in the show is something I desperately want to write but haven't found a good enough plot to hang it on yet. Let Knock Out try an "age before beauty" line only to have it blow up in his face XD

Knock Out has a taste for expensive fuels (he claims its a race car thing) and it's fun to picture him trying to ply Megatron with different flavours, but Megatron has a very fuel is fuel is fuel attitude.

(I'm trying to come up with more specific relationshipy things, but I'm the type of writer who doesn't know what any specifics are going to be until I write them, so a lot of character interaction moments are up in the air until I get them down -.-).