#i love love loveeeee being strong

[lexosaurus]

I know that was a shitpost for the latest Danny Phantom fandom meme, but I'm genuinely impressed and how authentic it sounds. How much of Dash's monologue is real advice, and how do you know all of that? Do you work out?

Yes I'm so sorry to inform my good people of Tumblr that I've secretly been a part of the gym fandom for all this time. I've only recently come out as a gymbro in this phandom via my creation of the current dp gym bro au meme that I've forced upon everyone in this good holy christian space. I mix whey protein into my overnight oats, I track my macros, and I have a closet full of Gym Girlie Outfits™️.

And just know it's a badge of honor that I carry to be able to say I've converted multiple members of the Danny Phantom phandom into regular gym goers as well 💪

[im-still-watching-anime]

i LOVE how we can always rely on atsushi to acknowledge how impressive akutagawa is anytime he does anything

[ntaras]

it always shocks me that there are people who dislike ambessa and the same people who dislike ambessa love silco like you love a bad father why can’t you love a bad mother…

they’re both horrible people who soooo deeply love their children. one sent her beloved daughter away because she was her weakness while the other kept his beloved daughter possessively close with him because she was his weakness i don’t see how you could love one but hate the other

silco has enough defenders and ambessa has many people who love her but she truly deserves the same amount of immense defense of her parenting that silco gets

[comradeboyhalo]

sorry i dont even want bads totems to be nerfed. he uses them to tank damage so its interesting and fun. and he works for them!

[arolesbianism]

You know, I think the reason I've never been big on the idea of Abigail not actually being Abigail is because it's just so much more fun and fucked up if it Is Abigail and it's partly because of the whole watching your twin die over and over, but it's also because holy shit does Wendy say some shit that sucks so bad to say when Abby is literally Right Next To Him. Like imagine your fucking twin constantly talking about you like you're not there, all while also being constantly held up as the only thing keeping him going, and then he pulls out the "I have nothing worth protecting" and it's just all like godddd this kid's shitty coping mechanism of being an edgelord is causing him to unintentionally be such a dick sometimes and that is so fucking delightful to me. Abby has spent god knows how long watching her twin die and treat her like a past tense and like a concept and most of the cast don't even refer to her by name and it's unclear if she can even talk to them and that's all on top of literally being a ghost who is bound to death seemingly irreversibly and all of that while shes like 12. No wonder she kills moles and rabbits for doing nothing lol

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

the limit does not exist!

how spencer helps college!reader understand a little calculus and therefore understand how he loves her.

MDNI | smut word count: 1931 warnings & tags & stuff: fem reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lil bit of overstim hehe, pure unbridled affection, LOVE, FLUFF, hugging, reader cries, this was in fact meant to be written for spence's birthday... sorry about that school is kicking my butt lets just pretend it's october! author's note: this one is for my folks who HATE their calculus class and want spencer reid to give them head instead <3 maybe this can help you romanticize it a bit. i think this is classified as self indulgent…like REALLY self indulgent… hah... anyway i hope you enjoy! let me know your thoughts if u have any, i loveeeee you!! have a great day my hands are shaking posting this smut is so scary!!!!!

You sat in bed, staring down your notebook, eyes narrowed. Limits stared back at you. You were just about at your own limit, if you were being honest. 

Your brain, however sharp and witty it may be, is absolutely not one designed for calculus. A literary analysis essay? Done in half an hour. In depth scientific research project? Easiest months of your life. But there’s something about finding the instantaneous rate of change of a curve at one point in time by finding the slope of a tangent line that hasn't clicked yet. 

A slew of other papers- notes, practice worksheets printed from obscure websites, and formulas- surround you, a sea of unfinished thoughts from the past month of the semester.

You bite on the end of your pen, the little hope you had for a good grade in this class slipping further and further away with each passing moment, like the last ember dying in the remains of a fire.

What you really wanted to be doing was celebrating Spencer’s birthday with him right now. A chocolate cake lay on the kitchen counter and pasta simmers on the stove, but you and your boyfriend had agreed to do a solid hour of work before the celebrations ensued.

You were never particularly strong willed when it came to following through on such agreements.

“Teach me calculus,” you say, a very impressive three minutes later, flopping down on the couch. Your head makes its way to its forever resting spot, Spencer’s lap. He raises his eyebrows slightly, thumb reaching out to trace over the slope of your nose. His eyes flit between you and the file to the side of him. 

“I thought we agreed on an hour.”

“Yeah. But it wouldn’t be a very productive hour if I didn’t know how to do what I have to do. And I missed you.” 

He sighs quietly, closing the file next to him. 

“What do you not understand?” You smile at that, loving how quickly you won.

“Related rates. Like, conceptually.” 

Spencer hums in response.

“It’s October. You’re not even supposed to know related rates yet.”

“Fine. Then let's open presents,” you respond, smiley. His eyebrows get impossibly higher, hand stroking your cheek delicately.

“No. I want our night to be a little more stress free when we celebrate, okay? How about you think about that lovely cake you made for me. What if I decided to squash it so that the diameter would get bigger, going from…let’s say, 20 centimeters to 26 centimeters in 3 seconds, and the height would get smal-”

“That wouldn't be nice. It took me like four hours,” you interrupt, grumbling. He cracks a smile.

“For the sake of the example, let's say I was an awful boyfriend and really wanted to ruin all the hard work you put in for me.”

You roll your eyes.

“Hey,” he says, hand moving down to touch your jaw softly. “Don’t do that. Don’t be difficult. I’m helping you.”

“Sorry. I guess I need you to zoom out a little. I don’t really get why I’m learning this as a whole.” Spencer’s eyes pore into yours, staring down at you adoringly for a small moment as he comes up with an answer.

“Calculus helps us begin to explain the unexplainable by harnessing what we can,” Spencer says simply. “Einstein once said that, ‘Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas,’ which makes it simple in practice, but I actually like to think about it as the opposite philosophically. Trying to find logic in the more poetic ideas.”

You cuddle deeper in his lap.

“Think he would agree with that?” you ask. “I do answer to Einstein before you, unfortunately.” Spencer bends down to kiss your hair.

“I think so. He also had a really nice quote where he remarked that, ‘Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love.’ He said, ‘How on earth can you explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love? Put your hand on a stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with that special girl for an hour and it seems like a minute. That's relativity.’”

Spencer takes a deep breath.

“Math doesn’t explain how I love you. It can’t. But I love the fact that it tries to. It kinda makes you wanna learn it as best you can.”

You process that for a long second and nod. He keeps talking.

… 

Presents get opened, and cake gets eaten before dinner. Of course.

You’re now in bed, on top of the covers, forcing Spencer to give you a fashion show of the new sweater vest and tie you got him. He turns to you after putting it on, and you beam. 

“I really like it. You look great. Do you like it?” you ask. He nods, smiling back at you.

“I’m gonna wear it to work tomorrow.” 

You beckon for Spencer to come closer, sitting up in bed. Your hands go out to the tie, tugging at the knot softly. He stares down at you until eventually interrupting your motions with a slow kiss, hands cupping your face.

“You’re so pretty,” he mutters.

He pulls away and finishes what you started, folding the tie neatly and setting it in the drawer. Then comes the vest, and soon enough, he’s just in his boxers.

“You’re the pretty one,” you say quietly. “Come to bed.” He crawls on next to you, tugging you into his arms. “Happy birthday, Spence. I love you.” He dips his forehead to your shoulder.

“I love you.”

Before you know it, he’s shifted on top of you, moving down. Fast. You blink, hard, trying to rid your head of the hazy endorphins as you register what he’s doing.

“What? No, I was gonna do that. It’s your birthday. You don’t have to,” you protest.

“But I really, really want to, darling girl,” he murmurs back, kissing your knee and softly pushing it to the side.

You fluster and Spencer just looks at you, fingers tracing shapes on your waist, waiting for you to be ready. 

“Well. Um. Okay. If you insist. I can’t really deny the birthday boy.” Your voice is small, and a little giddy smile grows on your face. Of course Spencer Reid would want to give you head on his birthday. 

He smiles a little against the bare skin of your hip where your top meets your shorts. Then he meets your eyes. 

“You know you can, though, right?” he asks, voice a little more serious. You reach out to touch his hair softly. 

“Yeah. I know.”

Fingers hook your shorts, gently pulling them down. He presses a kiss to your thigh, and then he suddenly looks down at it. 

“Soft,” he murmurs, like he’s making a mental note. He presses another, and another, incrementally going closer and closer to your soaked through underwear. His eyebrows scrunch when he sees the wet spot. “All this from a few kisses?” 

You blush, unable to respond. 

Spencer’s fingers hook a centimeter of your underwear. “These?” he checks.

“Yes, please,” you manage. He tugs them down, silently noticing the slickness of your sex, and exhales shakily.

“How many times on average does it take for a guy to call you pretty on a given day before you get annoyed?” he murmurs, soft smile playing on his face. You smile too, head cloudy from his words, but it immediately drops when his lips press directly against your pulsing clit, kissing it softly.

“Fuck,” you say (Spencer would argue moan) softly (loudly). You let out a content sigh, and he moves to suckle it, actions becoming less and less delicate. 

It’s not harsh, but incessant. Spencer knows what you can take. He knows exactly what you can take. You’re both quiet for a bit, save for your breathy moans. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, ripping you both out of your individually hazy and dirty and distracted minds. “You’re too far away.” He looks up to you, face parallel to your aching core, hair beautifully messy and mouth glistening.

After a second, he grabs your hips, gently pushing you up against the pillows so you’re propped up at a better angle. He then shifts his body up wordlessly so he’s more above you, dipping his head down to give you a soft kiss. You taste yourself, tongue darting out to lick your lips.

His hand takes over where his mouth was, sliding in between your folds with a practiced ease. Spencer looks down at you, eyes wide and flitting between yours, searching for a reaction.

You reach out and wrap your arms around him, holding him close. “Holy shit, I love you,” you murmur.

His fingers lightly graze your clit again before one slides into you. “Angel,” he breathes out, so quietly. “I love you too. This okay? Are you okay?”

You nod feverishly and lift your hips to meet his hand, always in a perpetual state of wanting more, to be closer. Your bodies are melded so close together, barely giving him room to push his hand into you. He doesn’t even bother to ask you to use your words or keep your hips down, like he might on a regular night.

He pulls his head back to watch as he pushes another finger into you, stretching you just a little. “There we go. You always feel like heaven around me.”

Your eyes flit up to his face as he says those words, now having a little more room to observe him. You focus on the slope of his nose and curve of his mouth. 

“You’re so perfect,” you say quietly, adoringly, before you even realize it was true.

You blink at that thought. Spencer Reid is perfect, despite whatever universal odds deeming that impossible.

Those graphs, those formulas, now laying discarded & crumpled on the ground. They click, a little bit. You understand why Albert Einstein wanted to spend his life developing theories of relativity.

This is how Spencer sees you? What he was talking about earlier?

This is how he sees you?

The thought is almost too much.

Spencer sees your face, and not knowing what's going on in your head, slides down his free hand from your cheek to your carotid, feeling your racing pulse. “Take a deep breath for me, okay? You're about to come, huh?”

You inhale and are met with peace. Then your orgasm hits you like a wave. You clench hard around his fingers, and he just watches it happen, fascinated. “Baby,” he coos softly at you.

It wasn’t just your sensitivity he’s currently maximizing on or the little kisses he dips down to leave on your neck that sealed the deal, but the very thought that you could be loved in a way that is so perfectly impossible.

You exhale breathily as Spencer pushes you through the last trails of your climax, fingers not caring one bit that you just had your world tilted on its axis. 

“Spencer. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you say eventually, overstimulated.

“You’re okay. Did so good.” he murmurs, fingers slipping out of you. 

His thumb brushes your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even realize was dripping down.

“Don’t cry, you always cry. It’s my birthday. Don’t cry on my birthday,” he whispers soothingly, affection lacing his voice.

“I’m not.” 

Another one falls. 

You reach and press out that perpetual little slope between his eyebrows with your thumb, gentle, like you might break him. “I’m not crying.”

Spencer lets you lie.

[solxamber]

Hello! I, unapologetically and shamelessly, love love loveeeee buff ladies, id like to see how the second-years, + leona, jack, malleus and vil react to the only female student of nrc that can also carry them no problemo, no sweat🤭🤭🤭

added Lilia in for funsies, hope you don't mind and thank you for waiting so long!!

Second Years + Leona, Jack, Vil, Malleus, Lilia x Buff! Fem! Reader

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle would initially view your incredible strength with disbelief and a hint of skepticism. The idea of someone so effortlessly strong, and a female student at that, would challenge the traditional rules and expectations ingrained in him.

When he finally witnesses you in action—whether it’s carrying something impossibly heavy or, worse, someone else—he’d stand frozen, staring with wide eyes and a flush creeping across his face. "That is… certainly impressive," he’d mutter, trying to regain his composure.

However, if you ever picked him up, he’d be a spluttering mess. “Unhand me this instant! This is entirely inappropriate!” he’d exclaim, his voice high-pitched with indignation.

Despite his protests, there’d be a tiny part of him that felt oddly reassured by your strength. After all, it’s not often someone can lift him with such care and ease.

Over time, Riddle would quietly admire your abilities, though he’d never outright say it unless pushed. His respect for you would deepen as he realized your strength isn’t just physical but also tied to your determined and confident nature.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona’s initial reaction to your strength would be a raised eyebrow and a nonchalant shrug, he’s used to the strong women back home, after all.

But the first time he actually saw you lifting something—or someone—effortlessly, his sharp eyes would narrow slightly, and a smirk would spread across his face. "Huh. Didn’t think herbivores came that strong," he’d comment lazily, though the glint of interest in his gaze would betray his amusement.

If you picked him up, however, the teasing would take a turn. “What do you think you’re doing?” he’d grumble, though he’d make no effort to get down. Instead, he’d lean back slightly in your arms, acting as though being carried was the most natural thing in the world.

"You’re lucky I don’t care enough to make this a big deal," he’d mutter, but the flick of his tail would betray how much he actually enjoyed it.

Leona would respect your strength but wouldn’t openly praise it—he’d show his appreciation in subtle ways, like trusting you to handle difficult tasks or letting you take the lead in tough situations.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie would immediately see the practical benefits of your strength and wouldn’t hesitate to make jokes about it. "Oi, you’re like a walking moving service, huh? Betcha could carry all my shopping bags with one hand."

His tone would be playful, but there’d be genuine admiration behind his words. Seeing you carry heavy objects—or people—without breaking a sweat would make him stare in awe (just for a moment though!)

If you carried him, Ruggie would laugh even harder, playfully clinging to you. "Careful, don’t drop me, yeah? I got big dreams!"

While he might make light of the situation, there’d be a part of him that felt incredibly safe in your presence. He’d trust you more than he trusted most people, knowing you had the strength to protect and support not just him but anyone who needed it.

Over time, Ruggie would take pride in being your friend, often bragging to others about your incredible abilities.

Jack Howl

Jack would be one of the few people to respect your strength without a hint of doubt or hesitation. As someone who values physical fitness and discipline, he’d immediately recognize how hard you must have worked to achieve your abilities.

"You’re really strong," he’d say bluntly the first time he saw you in action, his tail wagging slightly as he observed you with admiration. Jack would likely ask to train with you, hoping to learn from your techniques and perhaps even find a friendly rival in you.

If you ever picked him up, Jack would be caught completely off guard. His ears would flatten, and he’d stammer, "W-what are you doing?! I can walk just fine!"

Despite his protests, he wouldn’t struggle too much, secretly marveling at how effortlessly you carried him. Afterward, he’d apologize for overreacting and thank you for helping him.

Jack would see you as a dependable ally and someone he could always count on, and he’d quietly admire the strength and determination you brought to every situation.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul would be utterly flustered by your strength, especially if he witnessed it firsthand. The logical part of him would be impressed—after all, having someone with your abilities on his side could be quite advantageous.

However, the more self-conscious part of him would struggle to process how effortlessly you could do something that would leave him winded. "You… certainly have an unusual amount of strength," he’d say, adjusting his glasses and avoiding your gaze.

If you ever carried him, Azul’s reaction would be a mix of mortification and grudging acceptance.

"W-what do you think you’re doing?! Put me down this instant!" he’d protest, but as he realized how steady and strong your hold was, his protests would fade into awkward silence.

Once he was back on solid ground, he’d clear his throat and mumble a thanks, clearly embarrassed but oddly grateful.

Over time, Azul would grow to appreciate your strength and even rely on you in situations that called for it, though he’d always try to mask his dependence with formalities and business-like excuses.

Jade Leech

Jade would be thoroughly intrigued by your strength and composure, finding it a delightful surprise. "How fascinating," he’d murmur with a small smile, studying you intently.

He’d probably ask a few pointed questions about how you developed your abilities, though his tone would remain polite and composed. If he saw you carrying something—or someone—effortlessly, he’d remark, "You’re truly full of surprises."

If you picked him up, Jade would chuckle softly, seemingly unfazed. "My, my. I never thought I’d find myself in this position," he’d say, clearly amused.

He wouldn’t struggle or protest, instead observing the situation with keen interest.

Afterward, he’d tease you lightly about your strength but would also express genuine admiration, finding your abilities both impressive and endearing.

Floyd Leech

Floyd would be absolutely ecstatic about your strength and would make it his mission to see how far he could push your limits.

"Shrimpy! Pick me up! Do it, do it, do it!" he’d exclaim, practically throwing himself at you. The first time you carried him, he’d laugh uncontrollably, flailing his legs and making exaggerated comments about how fun it was. "You’re the best! Strong Shrimpy is my favorite Shrimpy!"

Floyd would constantly pester you to carry him again, treating it like a game. While his enthusiasm might be overwhelming at times, it’d be clear that he genuinely admired your strength and found your abilities endlessly entertaining.

He’d also brag about you to anyone who’d listen, making it clear that he thought you were extremely interesting.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim would be absolutely delighted by your strength, his bright smile lighting up even more as he watched you carry things—or people—around with ease.

"Wow, you’re amazing! I didn’t know you were so strong!" he’d say with pure excitement, clapping his hands together.

Kalim wouldn’t hesitate to shower you with praise and would likely ask if you could teach him a thing or two about how you became so strong.

Uf you ever picked him up, Kalim would laugh joyfully, throwing his arms around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. "This is so much fun! You should carry me around more often!" he’d exclaim, his cheerful energy making it impossible not to smile.

Kalim would admire you deeply, not just for your physical abilities but also for your kind and easygoing nature.

He’d see you as a source of strength in every sense of the word and would look up to you as a close friend and role model.

Jamil Viper

Jamil’s initial reaction to your strength would be subtle surprise, though he’d quickly mask it with his usual calm demeanor. "Impressive," he’d remark with a slight nod, his sharp eyes studying you with curiosity.

Jamil would be intrigued by your abilities but wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, preferring to observe you quietly from a distance.

However, deep down, he’d feel a twinge of admiration for how effortlessly you carried yourself, both literally and figuratively.

If you picked him up, Jamil would tense immediately, his eyes widening as he muttered, "What are you doing? Put me down!" Though his tone might sound irritated, there’d be a faint blush on his cheeks, betraying his embarrassment.

Once he was back on solid ground, he’d clear his throat and pretend nothing happened, though he’d secretly appreciate how strong and dependable you were.

Jamil would quietly respect your abilities and would come to see you as someone he could trust in times of need, even if he never outright admitted it.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil would be both impressed and intrigued by your strength, though he’d maintain his composed demeanor as he acknowledged it. "Well, aren’t you full of surprises," he’d say with a raised eyebrow, his tone carrying a hint of approval.

Vil would appreciate your abilities as a testament to your dedication and discipline, though he might offer some teasing remarks about how you should ensure your strength doesn’t compromise your elegance.

If you picked him up, Vil’s reaction would be a mix of indignation and surprise. "Excuse me? What do you think you’re doing?" he’d demand, though there’d be no mistaking the faint flush on his cheeks.

Once the initial shock wore off, he’d sigh and compose himself, commenting, "If you insist on doing something so bold, at least make sure you’re doing it gracefully."

Despite his protests, Vil would respect your abilities and admire how effortlessly you seemed to balance strength and confidence, though he’d rarely express his admiration openly.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus would be genuinely fascinated by your strength, his eyes lighting up with curiosity the first time he saw you in action. "You possess remarkable power," he’d say, his tone carrying genuine admiration.

As someone who values strength and capability, Malleus would immediately see you as someone worthy of respect and would likely seek out your company more often.

He’d find your abilities both impressive and endearing, particularly because they set you apart from others at NRC.

If you ever picked him up, Malleus would be surprised but not offended. Instead, he’d tilt his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips as he remarked, "You are full of surprises, aren’t you?"

He’d remain calm and composed, treating the situation as if it were entirely normal.

Afterward, he’d express his admiration for your strength more openly, likely sharing stories of powerful warriors from his homeland and how you reminded him of them.

Malleus would hold you in high regard, seeing you as a kindred spirit and a source of strength and stability.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia would be absolutely delighted by your strength, his mischievous grin widening as he watched you in action. "Oh, how wonderful!" he’d exclaim, clearly impressed.

Lilia would find your abilities both fascinating and entertaining, and he’d likely tease you playfully about how you could easily carry anyone who needed it.

If you picked him up, Lilia would laugh heartily, clearly enjoying the experience. "How refreshing! It’s been centuries since someone carried me like this," he’d say, his tone light and amused.

Lilia would admire your strength not just for its physical aspect but also for how it reflected your determination and spirit.

He’d see you as someone truly special and would delight in telling stories of your (slightly exaggerated) feats to anyone who’d listen.

Silver

Silver would be quietly impressed by your strength, his calm demeanor remaining unchanged even as he watched you lift heavy objects—or people—with ease. "You’re incredibly strong," he’d remark simply, his tone carrying genuine admiration.

Silver wouldn’t make a big deal out of it but would silently respect your abilities, seeing them as a reflection of your dedication and resilience.

If you ever picked him up, Silver’s reaction would be surprisingly composed. "Oh," he’d say softly, blinking in mild surprise.

He wouldn’t protest or struggle, trusting you completely and even finding the experience oddly comforting. Afterward, he’d thank you sincerely, his admiration for you growing even stronger.

Silver would see you as a dependable and trustworthy ally, someone who could be relied upon in any situation.

Masterlist

[lvlyfawn]

KATE MARTIN X WIFE READER -

authors note; comments + reblogs are always better than likes!! i loveeeee feedback!

request; “i loved your pregnancy hcs with kate, could you do some of after the baby is born? like taking turns with the baby, meeting the team etc? love your writing!” — first off, thank you so much angel 💕 i hope this was good!!

word count; 640 words

— kate sat next to you with fear in her eyes as she watched your body be taken over by tremors. the poor girl hadn’t even heard of “the shakes” until the nurse explained how, and why this was happening to your body during labor and that it might possibly happen after birth aswell. for you, it was also quite frightening, the feeling drowning out all other senses besides the pain of your contractions. despite trying her best to stay strong for you, the sight of you lying there, broke her heart. there was nothing she could do besides hold your hand.

— as soon as the two of you find a quiet moment together with your baby resting peacefully in his bassinet, kate lovingly positions herself next to you, gently pressing her lips against your knuckles. her voice when she spoke was all that could be heard in the room, besides the baby’s unlabeled breathing, “you did so good, baby.”

— your wife and you had both had agreed that there were to be no visitors allowed until after the three of you had safely returned home. every family member who asked, was told the same. after the two days you spent in the hospital, then you’d open your home for only close family on both sides. under the condition that nobody was ill at the time of their visit. the two of you stayed focused on your little family and creating a sense of privacy during your time together, making sure that your experience remained undisturbed and cherished.

— during your entire time postpartum, she was your rock. physically, mentally, and emotionally. from the minute you brought the baby into the world, she is there to provide nothing but her love and support. whether that be feeding the baby in the middle of the night while you slept, or listening to you as you ranted. no matter what, kate was there.

— most nights, you’d open your eyes, the sound of the baby's cries gently nudging you awake, making you to rise sleepily and shift your weight to the edge of the bed. you’d yawned and drag your feet over to the bassinet, barely a couple of steps away, kate would get up aswell. the blonde’s hair was tousled from sleep, but she still remained gorgeous. your wife was a bit groggy, but determined to tend to the baby. 

"hey, baby, you should rest. i’ll handle him for now," kate whispered to you softly, before kissing your forehead and sending you back into bed.

— on the phone with your overly persistent mother, she begged and pleaded to come see her grandbaby. but, with her living out of state, you didn’t want to risk the baby getting something she caught on the plane over. so you told her “no”, over and over.

“i don’t want to sound mean, mom —“ but you were cut off by kate, who was usually the sweet one in the relationship, “i don’t mind being mean. you can wait. he’s not going anywhere.”

— around a month and a half later, you’d decided the baby was in a place where he could meet extended family or friends. kate’s teammates began coming over. first it was kelsey and a’ja, then the others followed suit. eventually, caitlin and her girlfriend flew down aswell. the amount of flower bouquets you had by now was insane, and you finally had to ask people to stop bringing them, just in fear that they’d take over your whole home. 

— you and kate often took turns. whenever something needed done, you’d just hand the baby off to the other one. your favorite moments were when all three of you cuddled together or when you’d wake up to kate and the baby sitting in the rocking chair in his nursery.

taglist; @bveckers @kmoneymartini @cosmopretty @charlottehughess @aubreygriffin @favreader23 , divs by @/anitalenia

[tklmeadi]

Can we talk about hands for a second?

On this app I see so many body parts get the appreciation they deserve. Most common being feet, belly, and armpits. One thing I don’t see talked about enough is HANDS!

I loveeeee hands! The palms, the knuckles, the fingers, the nail beds 😩 Hands can be so strong or dainty. Hands are one of the first things I notice about a person. 🤚🏼

Attractive well taken care of hands and finger nails never goes unnoticed when it comes to me! Let me kiss on those hands and suck on those fingers! 🤤 🥰

I am curious about the correlation between liking hands and being a lee. Seeing some sexy hands, and envisioning them completely wrecking me 🫠

Either way, if you also love hands sound off in the comments or something. I’m curious!

🤲🏻🤲🏼🤲🏽🤲🏾🤲🏿 😍

[peachhcs]

i love your wonder years works!! i feel like you write young and pining will and samy sooooooo welll 🫶🏽 would love more of them and their friends in highschool they are so cute - (i just reread the jealousy blurbs). you are so talented 😊!!

aww wait i’m so happy to hear that bc i loveeeee writing the wonder years so much and i always feel like people don’t like it as much 🥹🥹 anyways you ask and you shall receive!!

i feel like most of the pining happens senior year because that’s when both of them have feelings for one another so here’s new year’s eve 2022 in samy’s basement where she has a bunch of people over to celebrate and her breakup with kevin is still somewhat fresh but will’s feelings are at an all time high (and so are samy’s!!)

warnings??: underage drinking, will lowkey being a perv by looking at samy constantly but like not because he’s also a 17 year old with a huge fat crush on his best friend

au masterlist

will seriously shouldn’t have come to this because how was he supposed to stay away from samy on new year’s eve with alcohol in his system knowing how good she looked standing five feet away from him, but she just broke up with kevin not that long ago and will was pretty sure it was really wrong to drunkingly make out with her like they sometimes did because she just went through a breakup.

he was so fucked.

the blonde tried keeping his eyes on gabe and drew where he stood with them talking in their small circle, but the urge to look over at the brunette was so much stronger. too strong. he peaked a glimpse and every time his breath hitched in his throat and his brain short circuited for a good five seconds when his eyes traveled the expanse of her outfit. her, marcie, lauren, and riley had a mix of similar outfits on, something they planned. will’s gaze was trained on her black mini skirt that was reused from halloween and her shiny, sequined long sleeve top where he could totally see her black bralette underneath.

he needed to stop looking. he was being weird and creepy and someone was definitely going to clock him on it if he didn’t quit it, so the blonde tore his gaze away again and tried focusing on the words leaving drew’s mouth.

“honestly, i think we’re gonna win the whole thing,” the taller brunette mumbled taking another sip of his drink.

will was pretty sure they were talking about u18 worlds in may. “i mean why wouldn’t we? we’ve got the best lines, the best defense, the best players. we’ve got nothing on them,” gabe listed off on his fingers.

the other thing will couldn’t shake from his mind was that kevin was here. samy still invited him since they were still friends and will knew he didn’t really have anything to worry about with him anymore, but he just couldn’t really shake the feeling of all three of them being in the same room knowing how tense things used to be. kevin was on the other end of the room talking with his soccer friends, very oblivious to will’s erratic heart beat and racing thoughts.

“i need another drink,” will muttered because he couldn’t focus on what his friends were talking about and he also just wanted another excuse to walk past samy and check her out without being too obvious.

he squeezed past her and she happened to look at him as he passed. she flashed a wide smile at the blonde and his knees almost gave out seeing that smile directed at him.

“you having fun?” she turned to talk to him for a second.

“yeah, this is great,” will nodded, forcing his eyes to stay on her face.

“i’m glad!” she turned back to her friends leaving will to continue to the drink table.

he mulled over his options when he got there wondering which one would maybe help him forget the feelings he had and make him remember that samy was strictly his best friend and would never see him as something more than that.

he hoped the high noon would do the trick.

“hey,” the voice snapped the hockey player from his thoughts. kevin stood beside him, eyeing the drinks too.

“hey?” will wondered what he wanted.

“maybe i just see it more now that samy and i aren’t together, but you’re really obvious,” kevin said.

“what?” the blonde was caught off guard.

“come on, man. it’s so obvious you have a thing for her. you’ve been staring at her for the past like..hour,” kevin laughed and will’s face flushed hot with embarrassment. was he really that obvious?

“well she doesn’t like me. she never will,” will took a large sip of the high noon to wash that thought away. he didn’t notice the way kevin grimaced because he actually did know how the soccer player felt, but he wasn’t that shitty to tell her secret.

“i mean how do you know that? you’ve never asked,” kevin said instead.

“you really think i’m gonna go up to her and ask? real funny, man,” never in a million years would will put everything on the line to ask samy if she liked him the way he did.

“i dunno. what’s it gonna hurt?”

“our friendship?” that felt like a given, but kevin just shrugged.

“all i’m saying is that i think everyone at this party knows you like her.”

“why are you being so nice to me? i thought you hated me,” will found this interaction weird because him and kevin have never been able to talk to each other like this.

“i’m just trying to make up for being shitty to you. trying to help is all,” the brunette mumbled and walked away before will could respond. he pinched his eyebrows together, watching as kevin went back to his friends in the corner.

what he didn’t know was that samy had been watching their entire interaction. as soon as kevin approached, her eyes were on the two like a hawk. she knew her and kevin were fine and he promised to leave will alone, but she still worried he’d get set off and do something stupid again. surprisingly, nothing happened and maybe kevin was gonna chill out from now on.

“you’re staring again,” marcie mumbled when she caught her friend’s eyes on will’s back. samy quickly snapped her attention back to the group.

“sorry,” the youngest hughes blushed.

“this is totally your chance. he’s been staring at you all night,” riley poked.

“no he hasn’t. you’re delusional,” the brunette shook her head, never believing her friends when they started saying stuff like that.

“i’m being serious! he totally thinks you look hot at least,” riley continued meaning samy’s outfit. all the soccer play did though was shake her head.

“he’ll never see me like that.”

“what about all that shit him and kevin argued about? wasn’t that about you?” lauren piped up.

“kevin says a lot of shit. will and i are just friends,” samy mumbled, drinking the rest of her “tropical, fruity” punch as marcie liked to call it that was just a huge mix of different chasers and vodka.

“i could not be friends with someone that i kiss when i’m drunk,” lauren shook her head, but samy quickly shushed her.

“shut up. we don’t talk about that,” her and will hadn’t even done that since summer because of her thing with kevin.

“i can’t wait for the day you two finally put your pride aside and realize how much you like one another,” marcie mumbled.

“i’m getting another drink,” samy determined because she desperately wanted to escape the conversation and will still hadn’t moved from the drink table.

she shuffled her way over there and leaned her head on will’s arm. “found you again,” she looked up at him with a smile.

“hi again,” the blonde chuckled, but internally he was freaking out.

“can you pour me so more punch?” samy pointed to the big bowl and held her cup out. will nodded.

“are you having fun at your own party?” he wondered

“i’m having a blast. best new year’s party don’t you think?” she wondered and will nodded again. he handed her cup back, unable to stop his gaze from dropping below her face for a split second to stare some more.

“i don’t think i’ve been to one as good as this,” the blonde admitted because he hadn’t really been to a party like this before. being in michigan with samy meant that she introduced him to a lot of random house parties her high school friends were throwing on the weekends.

“i’m honored. you flatter me,” the youngest hughes giggled.

that urge will’s had all night only got stronger standing so close to samy. he wanted to kiss her so bad, but he had to think better of it because he wasn’t a rebound and they were drunk (not like that’s ever stopped them before though).

“found anyone to kiss on new year’s yet?” samy teased and will flushed.

“i haven’t. have you?” he asked and hoped she would say no because will did not think he’d be able to handle it if he saw samy kissing someone that wasn’t him.

“nooo, i probably won’t kiss anyone. i’ll kiss my myself,” the girl giggled, the alcohol starting to talk for her.

“self-love is very important,” the blonde smiled hearing her little laugh and then took another big drink of the high noon because he couldn’t be having these thoughts.

if will had any new year’s resolutions it was that he needed to stop believing he had a chance with samy. maybe in 2023 he’d finally find someone that would get his mind off of her. (wrong)

“guys, it’s almost midnight!” someone yelled and then everyone turned their attention to the tv stream of the local ann arbor news that did their own countdown.

samy grabbed will’s hand to the tv so she could see better. the boy flushed feeling her hand in his and even worse when she didn’t let go.

“ten, nine, eight, seven..”

the countdown faded out of will’s ears because the only thing he could focus on was the girl beside him jumping with excitement about the new year. she squeezed his hand tighter when they got closer to 1 and everything in the hockey player was short circuiting.

“..three, two, one! happy new year!” the whole basement erupted in cheers as everyone jumped onto one another in excitement.

a few people kissed because of the alcohol buzzing through their systems and will was caught off guard again when samy jumped into his arms screaming in his ear.

“happy new year!” she smiled widely and will couldn’t help but smile back.

“happy new year,” he said and his stomach flipped when he watched her gaze drift down to his lips briefly. was he seeing things or did she actually do that?

he didn’t have time to question it because samy jumped towards her friends before he could even say something. will watched her hug marcie, lauren, and riley when his friends went over to him. they excitedly jumped onto his back and the boy because immersed in their excitement, the thoughts of samy almost kissing him leaving his brain as he celebrated with the boys.

[oros-ash3s]

Author Ask Tag 𓇼 ｡ﾟ⋆.˚ ⋆ ﹒₊‧

What is the main lesson of your story?

જ⁀➴ Magicae, as a whole, centres around grief. (Which is also a coincidentally a theme with most of my other WIPS. What can I say, I love an allegory for how grief changes a person.) The main lesson is about living in the present, and not becoming stuck in the dirt, left alone in the past. Not wallowing in your grief, as much as you want to. It’s about moving on, learning from your mistakes and changing for the better.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

જ⁀➴ Worldbuilding is not one of my strong points, I will admit. Most of my WIPS I still need to work on that to be honest. Magicae’s worldbuilding is pretty simple when it comes to it, based pretty closely around our own world, if fairly dystopian. Although it wasn’t intentional, after we had created the story I watched V for Vendetta, and the world is very similar to that. Slightly futuristic, with technology and heavy monitoring being a large aspect of it. I’d say most of the inspiration comes from dystopian settings and just ideas I or my co-writer have.

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? So you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help them grow as a person?

જ⁀➴ Wren’s main goal throughout Magicae is to put an end to both the Congregation of the Chosen and Eden, and unite Magicae and humans once and for all.

જ⁀➴ Their story is very coming-of-age, spanning from their early teen years right to adulthood. As the story progresses, I’m trying to teach how it’s okay to change, and how life ends up in ways you could have never expected.

How many chapters is your story going to have?

જ⁀➴ To be honest, I have no clue. Although the current timeline we have set up is pretty set in stone, things are always changing! Currently there’s around…. 27 arcs, but who knows if that will stay the same by the time we (hopefully) finish it.

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

જ⁀➴ It’s entirely original content, and all of it will be posted here on my blog! You should also give @ohagi-writes a follow, as she will be posting writing too.

When did you start writing?

જ⁀➴ I think it’s probably been 10 or 11 years now, but when I started writing fics had to be since 3rd grade. (I’m in 11th now.)

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

જ⁀➴ Some amazing writers to follow:

@whumpsoda — I love all of their work and if you’re looking for good whump fics I would HIGHLY recommend her.

@seastarblue — I think one of my first real moots on here!! She has a lot of writing posted for her WIP Interwoven which I also recommend checking that out ^^

@vesanal — she has an incredible art style and all her ocs have such interesting, unique designs! Her writing is also incredible, I loved all her contributions to Writemas.

@ohagiwrites — I LOOOVVEE LOVE LOVE LOVEEEEE her writing. Shes the co-writer for Magicae and I could not have asked for a better co-writer than her! Everyone go check her out she’s PHENOMENAL

@cepheusgalaxy — Sami is so kind and friendly! He has a great list of ocs and WIPS up on their page I would recommend taking a look at ^^

@bioniclechronicles — Noah is firstly, an incredible artist, I love looking at all his different character designs on @kikuwaters!! His OCS are super cool and I definitely recommend checking him out.

@melodxi — first found them through their whump blog @mellowwhumps and fell in love with their writing! Can’t believe they actually followed me back what a dream ^^ anyways definitely go check them out

@sugaredparchment — Ivory is incredible ^^ He’s super friendly and nice to talk to and don’t even get me started on her writing style. Each one of the snippets they’ve posted has pulled me right into their WIP, I’m absolutely in love with the way he writes!!

જ⁀➴ Those are just a few of the amazing people I’ve been introduced to during my time on writeblr, I wish I could name them all. Some advice to any new writers on here: Don’t feel afraid to post your work or interact with other people!! I’ve been posting on writeblr for a year and a half now, and everyone here is super nice. Don’t be afraid to make moots and put yourself out there.

✎ thank you @aalinaaaaaa and @seastarblue for the tag ^^

✎ tagging @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @bioniclechronicles @sharkblizzardblogs @sugaredparchment @blackboxwarrior-mkultra + open tag

[chloecherrysip]

A detailed list about everything I adore and cherish re: Mario and Luigi's reunion in the Mario Movie (to pair with this post of mine)

Luigi almost DYING but then happily, cutely laughing two seconds later once he sees it's Mario who's holding him because HIS BROTHER'S HERE, HE KNOWS HE'S SAFE NOW, NO MATTER WHAT

The way they just stand there and LOOK at each for a split second to register that this is really happening, and all the joy and relief on their faces!!!

How Luigi looks startled briefly when he lands on the ground but Mario is just :D :D :D :D personified and then Luigi mirrors him

How Mario is still powered up (obviously) so he moves SO FAST to grab Luigi in a big hug, and him being the tanooki, it must be such a nice, strong, soft, fuzzy hug, like a big blanket all around Luigi :)

How it's not just ONE really good hug, it's TWO really good hugs!!!!!!!

I WILL LITERALLY NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT MARIO HOLDING LUIGI'S FACE SO SWEETLY WITH THOSE BIG, MISTY, DEEPLY LOVING EYES

Just EVERYTHING about the way they framed it!!!!!!! the way the shot spins around them!!!!! it's beautiful!!!! like, at first i wished they had shown more of Luigi's reaction because it's SO focused on Mario but now I love that, i loveeeee watching Mario's truly heartbreaking and tender face journey without any cuts

Speaking of, it's amazing that Mario is SO emotional, even more than Luigi! The man is very choked up and just SO CLEARLY FLOODED WITH BONE DEEP-RELIEF AND JOY AND LOVE AND EVERY LAST SHOT OF HIS FACE MAKES GRAVITY LITERALLY ABANDON ME BECAUSE HE LOVES HIS BROTHER MORE THAN ANYONE AND HE NEEDS HIM BY HIS SIDE LIKE HE NEEDS TO BREATHE

FOREHEAD TOUCH FOREHEAD TOUCH FOREHEAD TOUCH FOREHEAD TOUCH FOREHEAD TOUCH FOREHEAD TOUCH

The way their noses bump together cutely as a result of the forehead touch, SOB

The way Mario initiates the forehead touch with his hand on the back of Luigi's head so GENTLY, everything about the way he interacts with Luigi here is SO GENTLE and i cryyyy

The quick shot when they both have their eyes closed in the forehead touch!!! Maybe incidental but the screenshot of it has ended my life, i'm a ghost now, goodbye

Mario rocking Luigi back and forth a little when they're hugging the second time and his hand gripping tight on his back ;____;

MARIO SWINGING HIM UP INTO THE AIR, JUST BECAUSE HE HAS TOO MUCH HAPPY ENERGY AND HE CAN

Luigi's BIG sigh of relief, so big it's like he's been holding in the breath since they were first separated <3

THE WAY MARIO IS LOOKING AT LUIGI ONCE THEY SEPARATE THE SECOND TIME. THIS BIG, DELIRIOUSLY HAPPY GRIN LIKE HE JUST WANTS TO HUG HIM MORE. CAN HE HUG HIM FOREVER???? MARIO IS SURE GOING TO TRY

Luigi finally registering what Mario is wearing and immediately, affectionately grabbing at him/teasing him like brothers do!

That Bowser is literally being forced to watch them hug from his ice prison atop the stairs LOLOLOL

That they're framed by the wedding arch that's a heart at the end because their relationship is the TRUE HEART of the movie :) :) :)

Basically just the fact that you can literally see these two brothers, who have been lost and sad and struggling for all this time, become WHOLE again right before your eyes because they have each other back and that's all that really matters

[axkirak]

The Curse of Cassandra [EP : XIV] - END

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings :  Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader)  [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+ Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary : ‘Pick a flower on Earth and you move the farthest star.’ This describes chaos theory and the workings of fate as well, which illustrates how your final change of destiny moves the fate of the entire galaxy.

Status: Completed (Finally! 😭)

A/N : I can’t believe I actually finished writing this fic! It’s my first long English fic, and I’m pretty proud of it. I know my writing still has a lot of flaws (since English isn’t my strong suit), but I’m so happy people enjoyed it.

I loveeeee yapping about my own writing, so I plan to share more about this fic in another post—things like plot points I didn’t include and alternative endings I considered. Hope that sounds interesting to you, LOL

Lastly, a huge thank you to everyone who stuck with this fic till the end. Your comments and encouragement really kept me going, and I couldn’t have done it without you <3

Ps.Please go back and read the Intro again before starting the final chapter, as it’s part of the ending. (I used a storytelling style where the story opens with the ending) Reading the Intro first will help you understand the story more clearly.

And don’t forget to play this song while reading >> Skugge

I listened to it while writing the ending, and it really sets the mood

➡  Intro // EP : 1 // EP : 2 // EP : 3 // EP : 4 // EP : 5 // EP : 6 // EP : 7 // EP : 8 // EP : 9 // EP : 10 // EP : 11 // EP : 12 // EP : 13

Special OS : Phantom Thread // My mother is my enemy

[Episodes 14] The Power of Two. (Completed)

When contemplating deeply, every entity in the universe is intricately connected in various ways.

On the quantum level, all particles are entangled and influence each other regardless of distance. Even the smallest, minor actions can trigger unforeseen consequences that ripple through the universe. This is far more complex than ordinary humans can immediately comprehend. 

And that’s exactly how fate works.

You know that the chain reaction has already begun the moment you decided to shoot Yord yourself. 

The stun blaster is designed to be non-lethal—at most, it would knock Yord unconscious and possibly immobile for several hours. But this is all you need to save his life from the fate you've foreseen on the path ahead.

You've always known—Yord and Qimir are polar opposites, destined to kill each other. Yord stands for the light, while Qimir embodies the darkness. They cannot coexist in the same world. Whenever they fight, one must die, or both shall perish. There are only those three possible outcomes.

So you chose a fourth path: to prevent them from confronting each other so that neither would have to die.

You’ve only just realized how much selfishness lies beneath love. Instead of seeking a way to prevent the disaster that’s looming a hundred years from now, you chose to defy fate. You interfered with the story as it was meant to play out, pushing the universe toward an unpredictable risk—all for the sake of one word: 'love.'

The essence of Paul that flows within you still remembers the agony of the day Chani and Alia Atreides departed. Even though thousands of years have gone by, the torment remains too vivid to forget—like your heart being torn apart while still beating and your soul shattered beyond repair. You can't bear the risk of losing anyone to fate’s cruel hand again.

That's why you did it. You gambled on a path that has never appeared in any of your visions, not knowing what the consequences would be.

And you never expected that the consequences of your choice would ripple out so quickly.

You didn’t realize it...until you had to face the truth before your eyes half an hour later.

How could this be?

You stood frozen, as though the entire world had stopped spinning. Your gaze was fixed on Jackie's body, now lying motionless on the ground among the other corpses. The deep, searing wound from a lightsaber had cut through her flesh, blood pooling beneath her, staining the Jedi robes that were once yellow but were now soaked in a dark, gruesome hue.

The acrid stench of burnt flesh mingled with the metallic scent of blood, hanging thick in the air.

Jackie is still breathing, but her breaths grow weaker with every passing second. Her face contorts in excruciating pain, a pain that lasts only for a brief moment before her final breath escapes. Her eyes remain wide open—a sign that life has already slipped away.

At that moment, you hear a scream echoing in your ears, but the haze of shock leaves everything muffled.

You don't even know whose scream it is—Sol's or your own?

Never once did you think Jackie would die. In every vision you’d seen, she always survived, though gravely injured—losing an arm in the fight against Qimir. That was why you decided to come back instead of escaping alone. You knew that as long as Qimir lived, there was no escaping him—not for you. But Jackie still had a chance. If only you could get her and Yord aboard the ship in time before everything spiraled out of control, that would be enough.

But when you arrived, it was already too late. You saw it clearly with your own eyes: Qimir’s red lightsaber pierced through Jackie’s body three times, each strike aimed at a vital spot. There was no way she could survive such an attack.

You realized too late that the death of someone you loved was inevitable and unchangeable. If Yord and Qimir lived, it meant that Jackie would be the one to die. This was the consequence of your selfish attempt to alter fate. Jackie didn't die by Qimir's hand—it was your decision that sealed her fate.

You want to cry. The corners of your eyes burn with the sting of unshed tears, but none come. The grief is suppressed by the flood of information about the future that surges through your mind. You know you’ll mourn when the time comes, but not now. Not when death is crawling toward you.

“Run!”

A sharp voice jolts you from your thoughts. Finally, you hear it clearly—it’s Sol’s voice. He stands across the way, disheveled and wounded, with a minor gash at his side. His face shows shock, his voice shaking with fear. “Run! You shouldn’t be here!”

But his warning comes too late. You don’t even have a chance to respond, let alone follow his command. Suddenly, an invisible force wraps around you, tightening with each second, squeezing the breath from your lungs as if trying to crush you completely. You gasp, struggling for air, unable to move, like a drowning person on the verge of losing consciousness.

In that instant, memories from the depths of your mind flood back, dragging you into the nightmare you once foresaw. Each scene is like pieces of a puzzle coming together to form the terrible reality before you. 

Your eyes fix on a tall figure in a black cloak, his deformed metal helmet etched with a grotesque grin. He stands amidst the scattered corpses of fallen Jedi, radiating an aura of ruthless malevolence. His gaze, hidden beneath the helmet, stares intensely at you. Though you cannot see his face, you clearly sense the fury seething within him.

And in the blink of an eye, a tremendous force pulls you toward him with ease, leaving you powerless to resist.

You are completely at his mercy, your body suspended in mid-air as his large hand grips your throat. He could crush your windpipe or snap your neck in an instant; however, he holds back. You sense his intent through the shared consciousness that binds the two of you. This is how The Stranger plays with his prey. When he wears that helmet, he becomes a merciless hunter, driven only by the instinct to kill.

Sol doesn't hesitate. The moment he sees you in danger, he charges forward, his blue lightsaber flashing brilliantly as he swings it toward the Sith Lord. But the enemy moves with surprising speed. He yanks you closer, locking you in a chokehold with his arm, then tilts his body slightly, using his helmet as a shield to deflect the attack. When Sol’s lightsaber strikes the cortosis metal, it sparks and fizzles, rendering Sol’s weapon temporarily useless.

You draw a deep breath, your body tense as the Sith Lord's lightsaber hilt presses against your neck. He hasn’t activated it yet, but you know the moment he does, your face and brain will be reduced to charred flesh in an instant.

“Don’t even think about trying any tricks if you don’t want to lose your tongue,” comes the cold whisper in your ear. You understand the threat well: Qimir is the only one who knows your true capabilities. The Voice is a powerful secret weapon for the Bene Gesserit, and he won't give you the chance to wield it.

Even if you dared to try, it wouldn’t change anything. It would only hasten the end for both you and Sol. You’ve already seen the future that awaits if you choose that path. So, you stay silent for now, your mind racing to find another way—any way to turn the tables on Qimir.

“Let her go. She has nothing to do with this. Let it be between you and me!” Sol shouts, reigniting his lightsaber, but you can see that his hope hasn’t reignited.

Apart from Yord, who lies unconscious somewhere in the forest, Sol is now the only Jedi left breathing, while his comrades, including his padawan, are all dead. He should have been dead too, if you hadn’t intervened.

“But you brought her here, didn’t you?” the Sith taunts. “And I’m certain you wouldn’t have made it this far without this Bene Gesserit witch guiding you.”

As he finishes speaking, you feel his arm tighten around your neck, making it almost impossible to breathe. The suffocating pain forces you to struggle, your hands weakly hitting his arm to no avail. All you get in return is a mocking laugh.

“Bene Gesserit... the origin of both the Sith and the Jedi. Isn’t it fascinating that such remarkable beings still exist in the galaxy?” He reaches out, gripping your chin and studying your face closely before turning his attention back to Sol. "But what a pity that she chose the wrong side."

Sol shifts, readying himself to strike again, but the man in black is one step ahead. He lifts the hilt of his lightsaber to your temple without a word, yet his intent is clear—if Sol dares to take another step forward, you will die.

The Jedi grits his teeth, reluctantly deactivating his lightsaber. His eyes remain fixed on you as he addresses the Sith, "Tell me, what do you want?"

He’s stalling for time, you think. But how long can it last? You know you can’t rely on Sol alone. You need to find a way out too.

A harsh breath hisses out from beneath his helmet; it’s hard to tell whether it comes from exhaustion or amusement.

"At first, I thought I only wanted freedom: freedom from the Jedi's absurd rules, freedom to feel regret and anger, and freedom to follow my own desires," he answered flatly, as if what he desired were something ordinary, not the taking of lives. "But now I know what I truly want. I want to change; I want to liberate this universe from self-proclaimed guardians like you..."

His words stop abruptly. The silence that follows makes your heart tremble. You can feel his cold, burning rage—rage directed at the Jedi and rage directed at you.

"...And I would have achieved it sooner if I hadn’t been betrayed by someone.”

A scream rips from your throat, unprepared for the sudden, crushing weight of his boot as it slams hard into your shin. The sound of breaking bones is crystal clear. The pain is so intense that tears spring to your eyes, and your legs give way, no longer able to hold you up. But you don’t collapse completely, as Qimir still holds you upright, his grip on your arm unrelenting. His lightsaber is still pressed to your temple, while he turns to shake his head to warn Sol, who is ready to lunge forward again.

“Think about it, Sol. Why are you still trying to save her? She’s the reason you’re in this mess. Without her, you all might still be alive.”

The Sith Lord speaks with chilling indifference, completely unfazed by your whimpers as he presses his boot lightly against your broken leg, deliberately toying with your suffering. "But this one... she exposed me. So, now I have to kill every single last one of you."

You flinch, a cold shiver running down your spine. His voice—there’s something disturbingly strange about it, twisted and eerie, nothing like the Qimir you once knew.

Time is running out. Your heightened awareness warns you: he will kill Sol first, then possibly you.

You bite down hard on your lip, tasting blood. If there were any other way, you wouldn’t resort to this, but it’s the only option you know will work. And right now, there’s no other choice.

Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to speak, your voice as loud as you can manage.

"Please... don’t kill me. I’m pregnant!”

Silence falls instantly. Even the soft whisper of the wind seems unnaturally loud in the sudden stillness.

No one can see the expression behind his helmet, but you know without a doubt—he is shocked, utterly stunned by what he’s just heard.

And Sol notices it too—the brief moment when the Sith Lord’s guard drops, his grip on the lightsaber loosening without him realizing. It’s a tiny flaw, difficult to spot unless one is well-trained.

As if time stands still, Sol suddenly meets your glance, recognizing the purposeful look in your eyes. 

In that heartbeat, he knows exactly what to do.

Everything takes place within seconds: the Jedi ignites his lightsaber, lunging forward with all his strength and slashing into Qimir’s arm—the arm holding the lightsaber—sending both blood and the weapon crashing to the ground. The Sith Lord’s yell echoes through the forest.

Seizing the moment, you slip from Qimir’s grasp effortlessly. Sol pulls you toward safety, shoving you in another direction and shouting, “Get to the ship, quickly! I’ll catch up!”

He will never catch up to me, you think, glancing back at Sol one last time before turning away. Both of you know it—fate is already sealed. Sol will not leave this place tonight, and neither will you.

You force your battered body to keep moving, relying on the one leg that still functions, though each step is agonizing, nearly unbearable. Finally, you give up, sighing in resignation. With your current condition, reaching the ship is impossible. Fate has blocked every path—unchangeable and irreversible.

The only option left is to face the consequences of the choices you have made.

Weary, you sit down on a large stone not far from where you were. Jedi corpses still litter the area. A deep sorrow weighs on your chest as your gaze falls upon the faces of the fallen, remembering that just hours ago, they were all still alive.

Human life is so fragile, you think. No matter how many times you witness death, you can never grow used to it.

The sky visibly darkens as clouds turn a dull gray. The scent of moisture in the air gradually mutes the smell of blood. Rain will come soon, but you make no move to seek shelter. You place a hand on your slightly swollen belly, feeling the tiny life forming inside—the fruit of an instinctual mistake—now becoming another life reaching for the future amidst an approaching catastrophe.

At four months, it’s hard for most to see, but your Bene Gesserit training allows you to know everything about the growing flesh within you. Events unfold exactly as you’ve foreseen, and when this child is born, the future is certain—the beginning of the Skywalker and the path of a new Kwisatz Haderach.

You don’t want this child to be born, but it’s beyond your control now. The intricate weave of fate and bloodlines over the millennia has led everything to this point. Regardless of how much you try to avoid or change it, the Kwisatz Haderach will come into existence. It happened with Jessica thousands of years ago, and now it’s happening to you.

“The Bene Gesserit believe they can control everything, but the one thing they can never control is fate.”

Paul Atreides’ words resonate in your consciousness. You recall him saying this when you first discovered the truth about what will transpire in the next century through the realm of Alam al-Mithal.

“Every action in the present is a gamble for a precarious future. You cannot dictate the outcome to be what you want, and you’ll never know what will happen next until you’ve already made your choice,” Paul had said.

You tremble, feeling both isolated and terrified. It’s a profound fear—so deep that you don’t know how to express it. You know the path ahead has already changed. The universe has deviated from its course because of your actions, yet you have no idea whether things will get better or worse.

You close your eyes, forcing your mind into rapid meditation, trying to regain control over your thoughts. You push yourself into an awareness of the countless probabilities of the future, alongside everything that has occurred in the past. Those paths stretch out in every direction, twisting and overlapping in a bewildering tangle like gazing at the rippling surface of water that constantly morphs.

In that haze of uncertainty, you witness Paul Atreides wielding a crysknife, locked in a life-or-death duel with Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, as per the ancient tradition. He uses that knife to kill Feyd, claiming the title of Emperor on that very day.

This marks the first turning point of the universe.

Next, you find yourself pulling the trigger of a stun blaster, firing at Yord from behind to shield him from confronting Qimir, thus altering the fate that could have led him to his death today.

This is the second turning point.

The change doesn’t only affect Yord’s fate. The ripple effect expands, enveloping everything within the universe. Multiple branching paths start to converge, merging into a singular path.

Finally... you glimpse the true outcome of the path you've chosen, which will reveal itself in over a century.

This is the gamble you've already placed your bet on, for this purpose and for this moment.

"Qimir"

His name sounds strange when you utter it, as if it's not a name you're familiar with, and the man before you is not the man you know.

You understand why you feel this way: he is no longer your Qimir but The Stranger—the Sith Lord responsible for the slaughter of the Jedi.

He stands before you, unmasked, his dark eyes cold as ice, staring at you impassively. There’s no longer a need for him to hide. Every aspect of him, every dark secret, has been laid bare—just as everything about you has.

The man chuckles softly and moves even closer, cutting off any chance for you to escape. You swallow hard, trying to turn your face away from his intense gaze. But he doesn't let you. His fingers, wet with others' blood, dig into both of your cheeks, pressing hard enough to hurt, forcing you to look only at him.

"Surprised?" He leans in closer, his hot breath on your face, and whispers softly in your ear, "I told you, you can't run away from me."

His words are not merely a threat to you; they are the truth. 

Because you both are bound by fate—an unbreakable karmic bond. No matter how much you try to run away from him, you will always be drawn back together. The only way to truly be free of him is death.

"I know, but a little effort wouldn't hurt, right?"

You respond, your tone almost playful, a smile still lingering on your pale face. It's as if everything is normal and under control, displaying no fear despite being at a complete disadvantage.

Your demeanor causes Qimir to furrow his brow, sensing something suspicious beneath your seemingly ordinary smile.

He doesn't quite understand, not until you slip your hand under your clothes.

Your body instinctively moves; muscle memory from years of training kicks in. In a flash, the knife hidden in your clothes flips into your palm, its sharp tip poised just inches from Qimir’s face.

You still remember every technique Qimir taught you—especially how to fight with a knife. You know you have numerous opportunities to thrust the knife into his vital points—his throat, neck, heart, or lungs.

But instead, you turn the knife on yourself. Without hesitation, without a second thought, you plunge it toward your own heart.

Before the knife pierces your flesh, Qimir's hand shoots out, gripping your wrist just in time. His dark eyes widen in shock, almost seeming terrified. Then, quickly, his expression twists into anger.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" he snaps.

"I thought you wanted me dead," you reply calmly, indifferent to his anger.

Qimir falls silent, appearing speechless for a moment. "I don't want you dead," he finally says, though he doesn’t seem certain of his own words.

It's changed again,  you think, but this time, you feel an unusual sense of relief.

You're well aware that he could kill you at any moment. You’ve seen all the possibilities of how Qimir might end your life, and what just happened was one of those scenarios.

Even though you’re skilled at fighting, you know you could never match Qimir. Had you chosen to stab him moments ago, you would have failed, and he would have killed you without hesitation. You’d have met a miserable end right here, just like in the visions you’ve seen so many times before.

However, by choosing to turn the knife on yourself, you altered the course of events. Qimir was caught off guard, never expecting you would actually dare to do it.

You’ve made him angry, of course, but you’ve also ignited the fear he tries so hard to conceal. It reminds him of the time you drank the Water of Life and slipped into a near-death coma for weeks. During that time, Qimir had been frantic and panicked, not knowing how to save you and fearing that you might die.

Qimir may not realize it yet—or perhaps he’s unwilling to admit it. However, witnessing this moment again will eventually compel him to confront the truth: he doesn’t truly want you dead.

This is all part of your plan. Your reckless actions sow a seed of fear in Qimir’s heart, and from now on, the thought of killing you will never cross his mind again.

Since escaping from Qimir is impossible, you must ensure your safety while trapped by his side.

“But you broke my leg!” You pretend to remain defiant, pointing to your leg and matching his anger with your own. “And you held your lightsaber to my head. Now you’re telling me you don’t want me dead? How am I supposed to believe that?”

Qimir clenches his jaw, appearing as if he wants to grab and shake you until the frustration fades.

Instead of doing that, he lets go of you, stepping back slightly before letting out a long sigh, as if unsure how to deal with you.

“That’s because you betrayed me. The rest? I was just threatening that Jedi.” He speaks through gritted teeth, glancing at your leg before shrugging. “And I’m pretty sure a broken leg won’t kill anyone, will it?”

For a split second, you feel the urge to laugh at his sarcasm, even though there’s nothing remotely funny about this situation.

Both of you look worse for wear—blood-soaked and gravely injured. He’s just killed someone, almost killing you as well.

Who would’ve thought that the two of you would end up sitting across from each other, arguing back and forth like a foolish couple trying to figure out who’s right or wrong?

It feels strange how the tension between you both suddenly eases; for a brief moment, Qimir resembles the man you once knew.

You notice this subtle shift and realize this is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for. You quickly organize your thoughts and steady your emotions. Because there’s something important you need to discuss with Qimir—and this is the perfect moment to do so. There won’t be another chance.

“Qimir, I’ll help you,” you say firmly this time. “I don’t care how many Jedi you kill, but I have one condition.”

Qimir narrows his eyes, his sharp gaze scrutinizing your face as if searching for deception. He doesn’t trust you, especially after you betrayed him once and fled with the Jedi.

Yet, you don’t need to prove anything to him because Qimir needs you. Your power is what he desires, and across the galaxy, you’re the only one who possesses this unique ability.

Your assumption is correct. He finally nods. "What’s your condition?"

"The one person you cannot kill is Yord Fandar."

“Why?”

"Because I’ve seen a vision. He’s the only one who can kill you. You must avoid him," you say, though this isn’t the whole truth. Qimir has an equal chance of killing Yord himself, but it’s better to let him believe otherwise, to keep him away from Yord in the future. "But don’t worry. He won’t be a Jedi anymore after this."

You’re certain of this, as it’s what you’ve seen in your vision—a part of the altered path extending ahead.

The tragedy today will leave a permanent mark on Yord’s soul. Losing all his companions while he alone survives will haunt him like an unforgiveable sin. The guilt will gnaw at him, wearing him down until he can no longer bear the burden of being a Jedi.

Eventually, Yord will choose to leave the Order, turning his back on the Jedi way forever.

In many ways, Yord’s fate mirrors Qimir’s past. But there is one crucial difference: Yord never succumbs to the dark side. He has too much light within him to be overtaken by darkness. He becomes neither Sith nor Jedi, but a Wayseeker,[1] traveling the galaxy in search of the true meaning of life and the Force.

Yord’s life will take another turn when he reaches the planet Naboo, where he is destined to rescue the daughter of a noble family held for ransom by space pirates. This event leads to their falling in love, and Yord will eventually marry her, settling down to build a family and live out his days in peace.

His bloodline will continue, becoming a crucial variable in the future—a girl named Padmé Amidala.

In the future, she will be the love of Anakin Skywalker’s life and the primary reason for his fall to the Dark Side as a Sith Lord, plunging the galaxy into darkness. Yet, at the same time, Padmé’s existence will spark a new hope.

Luke and Leia Skywalker, the twins of Anakin and Padmé, will grow up to stop their father's devastation and restore balance to the Force.

Among the many paths branching through the stream of time, this is the only path where the Kwisatz Haderach faces total defeat.

"Promise me." You insist, eyes locked onto Qimir's with unwavering determination, barely blinking. "Promise me you will believe and do everything as I say."

"You ask for my trust after betraying me, my love?" He retorts sharply.

"You must trust me; you have no other choice." Your voice is calm, cold, and confident, as if you hold all the cards. "And neither do I, my love." The last line deliberately echoes his words.

You watch Qimir carefully, using the Bene Gesserit’s observation techniques. You notice the slight twitch at the corner of his lips—amusement mixed with satisfaction.

“You should have thought like this before betraying me," he murmurs, raising his hand. You have to force yourself not to flinch as his bloodstained fingers touch your cheek. "I have my own conditions, too."

You freeze, suddenly aware of the shifting dynamics. The familiar pressure returns, creeping in slowly and making the atmosphere heavy and uncomfortable. You immediately realize how serious Qimir is about his conditions.

This is a delicate moment for your fate, and you know you cannot afford to make a mistake.

You lower your gaze slightly, your voice dry and uncertain as you ask, "What do you want?"

"You," Qimir says with a teasing smile, though his tone betrays a far darker intent. "You belong to me. That means your life—whether you live or die—depends entirely on me. And don’t ever think about running away from me again."

His fingers trail up to your neck, brushing slowly over your shoulder. Each touch is tender, leaving you frozen as tension seeps through every muscle in your body.

"And I need to ensure this never happens again, even if it means breaking your other leg. But you won't force me to do that, will you?"

He means it, you realize. This is his way of letting you know he’ll forgive you this time, but there won't be a second act of mercy.

As you blink, fragments of the future flash before your eyes, disjointed glimpses of what’s to come—a warning, urging you to brace yourself. 

You see countless more deaths on the horizon—deaths you'll help Qimir plan through your visions. You'll have to endure this torment, bitter and broken, haunted by the overwhelming guilt of what you’ve done for the rest of your life.

And you see yourself forever trapped, with Qimir watching your every move. You won't go anywhere without him or his permission. You will never be free again, like a bird with clipped wings.

This is the worst fate possible for you, yet you understand that this is the only path that holds a chance, the last hope to save the universe. You have no choice but to do whatever it takes to protect it, even if it means living as Qimir’s prisoner and forced to commit terrible atrocities for him, without question.

But it will be worth it. It has to be worth it. You reassure yourself silently as you nod slowly in response to Qimir.

He smiles faintly before leaning in to claim your lips in an intense kiss—a kiss that serves as both promise and a vow. His kiss is cold, reminiscent of a winter stripped of warmth, tinged with a metallic hint of blood. You don’t like it, but you don't push him away. You're too exhausted to resist, surrendering to fate and to Qimir.

There's nothing left for you to do but hope—hope that the path you've chosen is the right one.

Even though you will not live to witness the final outcome.

Footnotes:

[1] A Wayseeker is actually a position within the Jedi Order, referring to Jedi who want to carry out their duties independently of the Jedi Council's directives. However, in this fanfic, I don't consider Wayseekers to be Jedi like in canon; instead, I’m writing Wayseekers as independent Force users, completely separate from both Jedi and Sith.

[awkwardtickleetoo]

im thinking george likes rougher tickles - light ones still work but he likes it being so much he has no choice but to try his hardest to escape.

sapnap likes light tickles - they make him feel floaty and rough ones are so embarrassing (i get the feeling hed get too warm during them)

dream can (and does) deal with both - he just wants to be good for his ler and has made himself see the good in each type of tickle so he can put up with them. what ever means hes a good boy. also, hes difficult to pin so has to work extra hard on staying still when only one person is destroying him, no matter how intense :3

ugh YES this is literally exactly what we think too!!!! (we being me and mushie lmao i just realized that’s probably not as obvious as i thought)

i got carried away so continued under the cut LMAO

he would legit die before admitting it but george would LOVEEEEE rough tickles, for exactly why you said. he likes being able to fully lose himself in the tickles, to have a reason to fight back even tho he doesn’t want it to stop, bc he could never ever just sit back and take it unless he physically has no other choice. he’s just too embarrassed about how ticklish he is and how much he enjoys it (even if he KNOWS there’s nothing to be embarrassed about), and even if he was completely shameless, it’s like. physically impossible for him not to squirm. it’s just coded into his brain. he’s a little squirmy worm he can’t help it.

so he likes when a ler is rough with him, throws him around a little bit and holds him down and makes him regret ever meeting them, with some gentle stuff mixed in so he still feels loved and safe and taken care of. it’s easiest for him to enjoy it that way– even if it took dream and sapnap a few times to get used to him sounding like he was being tortured and still continuing through it. those were some awkward conversations.

on the other hand, sapnap much, much prefers his tickles a little bit lighter. don’t get him wrong, the rough ones are definitely fun every so often, especially if the mood is still playful and he able to still let loose all the same, but he really just doesn’t have the stamina or energy that george has when it comes to stuff like that. the rough tickles take him out FAST, and he much prefers to enjoy the softer tickles for a longer amount of time then feel like he’s dying after like 2 minutes of tickling. and you’re absolutely right about him getting too warm, he’d get overstimulated from it, he doesn’t like when he feels too hot or overwhelmed and the rough tickles would definitely do that if they went on for too long :((

not only that, he also loves when a ler makes him not want/need to fight back. bc he’s so hot headed and strong willed, it’s always his first instinct to curse and argue and deny deny deny, so a ler being extra soft with him and taking extra time to make his head all fuzzy and floaty, specifically to make him giggly and pliant, just. reeeeally gets to him. especially if they call him sweet names and whisper pretty words to him, he just eats that shit up. it makes him feel so sweet and warm (in a good way) and tiny and he loves it

dream is definitely a little bit of both, like 1000%. even tho some days he might need/want just one and not really be in the mood for the other, he’s fully content with either form of tickling like 9 times out of 10. he tends to like a mix of both, the combination of the two always keeping him on his toes and wondering what comes next, and he’s always been awful with anticipation (he loves it).

and you are absolutely right– the most important thing to him is being a good boy, a well behaved angel, more than anything else. as long as he’s still enjoying himself, and he knows his ler is proud of him, and they’re having as good of a time as he is, that’s all that matters to him.

and you’re especially right about him being hard to pin– sometimes it frustrates him, because sometimes he really does want someone to just pin him down and tickle him silly, but most times he’s content to experiment with his ler and find new ways to make him equally as helpless as he would be if he was as easy to pin as george or sapnap. there are ways around it, and he is always happy to find them; and, hey, no one ever said he can’t have multiple lers to take him down, right? right <3

[johnslittlespoon]

Question because I loveeeee talking about how sex and sexy scenes can sometimes just not work because hello, this is real life!

“but gale gets good at rephrasing it in a way that they're both comfortable with, after some trial and error.”

Re. said trial and error: do u think they’ve ever been in a situation where Gale translates Bucky’s desire to be put in his place as him wanting Gale to be mean to him/ put him down. Because I’m just like. Imagine if this did happen in a situation where Bucky was being punished/ is over Gale’s knee. And at the start Bucky is obviously into it so Gale kind of thinks of that as maybe he should amp it up a little and he starts being a little cruel with his words. And maybeeee Bucky whimpers in response but it’s too similar to his other noises for Gale to realize he isn’t liking this and he’s getting in his head. AND then. Because Bucky is a decent way through his punishment, his desire to be good for Gale has really peaked so he doesn’t wanna say anything and he just tries to take the words and really be good but the harsh words in combination with the fact that Gale is a strong man and he’s been spanking for a while now and it’s starting to be a little uncomfy and just. Too much for Bucky. I can see him being able to take a bit of uncomfortable squirmy type pain IF Gale is sweetly talking him through it. But the harsh words and the pain is way too much for him. And eventually Gale notices and they just stop the scene and Gale just comforts and loves on him <3

referenced post | hellooo yes i can elaborate! i also love talking about how sex can not work out; i feel like it adds so much to a pairing’s dynamic when everything’s not cookie–cutter perfect, and like you said, in real life it’s not always sunshine and rainbows. 1.5k words of nsfw drabble below the cut (ik. so much for short replies sigh) <3

i can for sure see things getting lost in translation, or just miscommunications happening, or trying things they think they might like but then finding out they don’t like it, etc. but i think with ‘canonic’ characterization, in the context of gale actually being mean/putting john down, this probably isn’t something that would happen, because i think even if john genuinely did want that, it’s something gale wouldn’t be comfortable with. i feel like he’d maybe be fine with being mean in a teasing way, ie: light degrading, light humiliation, that sort of thing, but anything actually ‘unkind’ even if it’s all part of a scene, i’m not sure it would fly with him, or at least the way i view/write his character!

but for the sake of fun brainrot? absoluuutely lol. >:) and as an aside in this scenario, i could even see john himself thinking he’s wanting gale to be mean to him, not understanding that the actual desire is him wanting to be put in his place and roughed up, and not realizing his miscalculation until it’s (in his mind) too late. + the outcome of all this is likely some level of subdrop, but they’re two dudes in the 40s, they wouldn’t have that vocabulary lol, so it really does all circle back to trial and error and figuring out what the other really needs. :-)

i can see this starting out with john spending a day really acting up to ensure he gets under gale’s skin good, because as outwardly confident and content to run his mouth as he is, sometimes he doesn’t feel like asking for what he needs, maybe even feels a little bit embarrassed having to say it out loud. that, and there’s more of a thrill when gale just does it on his own, because it gives john the genuine feeling of having control taken from him. 

by the end of the day, gale’s at the end of his rope. he gets john alone finally and tangles a hand in his hair and gives it a harsh tug as he asks “what the hell’s gotten into you today?” and he can tell exactly what type of mood john’s in just by the way his jaw goes slack and how he looks a little winded at the show of force. so gale pushes him down to his knees, grabs his jaw with a firm hand, says “y’want me to be mean?” and john’s already a bit flushed, nods dazedly, and gale tightens his grip and goes “really, now?” and john nods again, whines a little, and well, alright. who’s he to deny him?

and maybe john even pushes a tiny bit more so gale has a reason to let himself be a little more cruel; maybe gale sits on the couch and tells john “over my knee.” and john just stays kneeling with droopy eyes and a lopsided smile, knowing damn well he’s playing with fire, and gale has to stand back up and drag him over by the back of his neck and drape him over his lap himself. john’s thrilled, obviously, already dizzy at being manhandled like that, but gale’s even more ticked off.

so john gets bent over gale’s lap and is made to count each hit as gale gives him a generally disapproving verbal lashing, y’know classic “i thought you like being good for me john, what happened? you think you were good today?” to make john squirm, to get him flustered a little having to focus on counting and answering questions. gale can feel that john’s hard and leaking against his thigh, and he’s making the prettiest, desperate little noises in between the words he manages to choke out, and right about now’s where he probably strays out of character.

they’re both so caught up in the scene, and john sounds so worked up that gale knows he’s giving him what he needs, so he lets his tongue get a little more sharp. maybe morphs into the territory of “can’t use your head right, huh? just can’t learn to listen for once?”, “don’t know why i keep trying to teach you to be good when you seem to enjoy disappointing me,” “shouldn’t even be touching you right now, you don’t deserve the attention.”

and all the while, john’s hips are wriggling, and he’s gasping out small noises, but he’s long since stopped counting and his head’s feeling fuzzy in a not–good way, and whereas gentle words between teasing would usually ease the sting on his ass, there’s no reassurance to cushion the ache of each hit this time. but he’s still all worked up and floaty and all his brain can comprehend is that gale’s unhappy with him, disappointed, fed up, and none of it in a fun way, so he wants to fix that, and the most obvious way to him with the state he’s in is to make gale proud by sitting through his punishment.

john tries to continue being responsive, to attempt to answer gale’s questions, to apologize at the right times, to just push on through because he’s sure gale’s close to done and then they’ll both get to make each other feel good. but he feels stupid and bad and he kinda just wants to curl in on himself, and a small part of him is telling him gale doesn’t actually believe what he’s saying, but the rest of him is taking the words to heart. his eyes are stinging and suddenly he’s blinking away tears and whimpering out a string of “sorrysorrysorryi’msorry” and then gravity’s shifting as gale abruptly pulls him up and into his lap, warm hands cupping his face.

soft, frantic murmurs of “hey, heyheyhey, what’s wrong, baby?” as wide eyes search john’s flushed face, thumbs gently stroking over tear streaked cheeks, but john’s in no state to speak or explain where his head’s gone. it’s alright though; it doesn’t take more than a few seconds for gale to clue in, and then he feels awful, but he’s immediately focused on calming john down. pulls him in close and tucks john’s face against his neck, murmurs “oh, sweet thing, i’m sorry, that was too much, wasn’t it?” as he rubs john’s back, kissing the top of his head. assures him over and over that he’s not actually mad, that he is so good for him, a good listener, could never disappoint him, etc.

just keeps quietly talking and petting his hair and squeezing him tight until he can feel the tension slowly leave john’s body as he relaxes into his lap. and john feels stupid as he calms down, feels like he’s made a big deal out of nothing, like it shouldn’t have affected him so much, and then he gets in his head about that, but gale can hear the hamster wheel in his head going and murmurs all fondly, “i can hear you thinking, john. you stop that right now.” and it gets a wet laugh out of john, a sniff.

gale asks if it’s alright to move to their bed, and john nods, so they get cozy there instead, and john feels ashamed for (in his mind) ruining their evening, and gale feels terrible for making john feel bad about himself for even a second, kicking himself for not realizing things were off sooner. so there ends up being a bit of a joint need for reassurance, gale making absolutely certain john understands he doesn’t actually think any of the things he’d said, and john making sure gale knows he has no reason to feel bad, and that he forgives him (though john doesn’t like that gale's apologizing at all). 

it turns into an evening of aftercare via cuddles and words of affirmation and gentle touches, maybe leads into sweet and soft kisses and lazy grinding and feeling each other up until they get off like that, limbs all tangled up, lovesick pet names and praise from both of them. i think this specific incident would shake gale up so much that– if there wasn’t one already that john had just been reluctant to use during the scene, in which case a serious conversation would need to be had between them– he’d ensure they establish a safe word, and on top of that probably stick to softer things for a bit, both of them emotionally tender.

and in terms of trial and error, they’d learn gale’s comfort limit with being harsher, because even if john had enjoyed all of it, gale thinks that he might’ve still felt a bit guilty afterwards, finding more enjoyment in putting john in his place with light scolding or teasing to accompany whatever the physical punishment is. and they’d learn john’s comfort limit with being verbally punished, because while he most definitely gets off on gale being mean/rough, he gets in his head about things really easily, especially if the words touch on sore spots (that he may or may not even be aware of). 

but they never shy away from trying new things together; it’s all part of the process and even if it’s sucky sometimes to deal with things not turning out the way they anticipate, it teaches them better communication and brings them closer and they always bounce back in the end. <3

[gomacave]

I have some questions for you about advent children which are

1-What do you think of Loz, Yazoo and Kadaj?

and

2- How gay is it, what do you think about sfkr in that film?

YESSS OKKKK this is gonna get sooo fucking long buckle up

I FUCKING LOVEEEEE THEMMMMMMMM THEYRE SOOO 🫶🫶🫶im like omg the sillies...! one second and then the next second im like.

LITERALLY. KADAJ MAKES ME SO FUCKING. SAD. doomed from the beginning. pulls all my hair out and vomits. seph was propped up as a false messiah and kadaj was propped up as seph its like. both of them are denied legacies and identities because of how trapped they are by the circumstances of their birth. like their births determine the trajectory of their lives AND ITS ESP TRAGIC CUZ THE TRIO R LITERALLY LIKE THREE DAYS OLDDDD.... seph was a grown ass adult and could have chosen to resist at any time but kadaj is a three year old teenager. kills msyelf. what do you fucking do hes the smudged charcoal on the other side of a drawing thats already an imitation of something from life. NOT TO FUCKING MENTION BRO NOT TO MENTION. THE WAY HE DIED. CLOUD HOLDING HIM UP PIETA STYLE WHAT IF I KILLED MYSELFFF GRRAHHH. offered mercy by ur executioner after being used as a vessel for a battle much larger than you that swallowed you up. the biblical allegory goes crazy bc the same way jesus was born to die i believe kadaj was born to die. the narrative requires him to die for cloud to have his rematch and to become a vessel for cloud's metaphorical demons (sephiroth)

i also rly like the idea that kadaj is more human/childlike than seph and post ac au when seph returns she returns with memories of having been kadaj. with all the insecurity and teenagedness and rawness of being removed from a godly existence. (in a similar way to where some ppl believe jesus/god in christian belief incarnated as a human to know what it was like) And also with the memory of being held by cloud in that way 🤠👍

Also @dykesferatu has a big brain beautiful interpretation where kadaj contains elements of cloud (the insecurity, desire for (motherly) validation, desire to prove himself etc) and is proof that seph contains elements of cloud the same way cloud contains elements of seph (s cells and stuff) I LOVE IT A LOT... THEYRE MIXED UP..... They're forever leaving scars and parts of themselves inside each other... Guh....

Loz and yazoo r so cute and cunty also.... I wish we had more of them :oT id ego and superego if they slayed....

2) ok time to go crazymode. ITS GAY!!!! ITS GAY!!!! ITS GAY!!!!!! ITS GAY AS FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My godddd. The geostigma thing is so fuckinh gay acting like its a hickeyyy 😭😭😭😭😭 "you got rid of it 😈?" GIRL. ITS A DISEASE NOT A HICKEYYYY THEYRE SO WEIRDDDDD sephs obsession w leaving her mark on cloud is insane (she is the mark) also casually confessing that she wanted to sail the universe with a barren earth w cloud specifically is so 🤮🤮🤮 GAY SEX WOULD BE LESS GAY. God. The way she sounds turned on by cloud getting stronger 😨😨😨 like howd u get so strong <333 and clouds like stfu none of ur biz LIKE HELLO??????

God also ac idea that seph can only come back through cloud is so. 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 Guhhhhhhh... GUGHGGGHHH... LIKE WHEN SHE STARTED GOING OFF AB THE GEOSTIGMA I WAS LIKE BITCH STFUUUU WE ALL KNOW WHY UR GAY ASS IS BACK. Thematically ac works well for me too. Not in a way where i think it directly is connected to the og game but its a good addition. I believe that seph will always come back (in some form) because shes a metaphorical wound on cloud. And wounds may heal but they still generally scar and ache and never really go away fully. So cloud has to learn to live with her. So im a sephiroth always comes back truther. Until they reach a truce or equilibrium of some sort. (Preferably this equilibrium involves them kissing) I love divorced vibes they give off too where this godlike angel of death comes back bringing destruction and this guy's like "🙄🙄🙄 ughhh fucking you again. GO AWAY" DIVORCEDDDDDD!!!!!