#i love this ship it consumed my ass

[basu-shokikita]

i'm not even particularly fond of magnus or anything but the way a subset of the fandom behaves towards fans of him/his shippers is deeply tiresome to see

[biogarfield]

my brain sees swocket and is like oh I need to put them in absolutely awful terrible situations. someone will die

[chai-dye]

So so normal about what a character's music tastes says about them

[shapelytimber]

⭐ Besties on break ⭐

It's up as a print on my inprint ! :))

Kiki 4 bouba type ship

Loved imagining Uhura's space btw !!!! I had so much fun with the background ! Does it make sense ? Not really- but the vibes are here (I kept unconsciously adding tribbles kfkfk had to stop myself at six otherwise I would have just filled the scene with them)

[COMMISSION] - [PRINTS]

Process and rambling below vvv

The fact that quiji, back in 2022, showed me like 2 episodes before we watched the first movie.... And that I didn't hate it (still think the beginning is way too slow, especially for someone not really familiar with the characters, and the uniforms are *horrible*), should have been a sign that this fucking show would eventually consume my brain fklfof

Anyway this summer we watched more of the show and also watched up to the fourth movie ! And omfg the fourth one in particular rewrote my brain ckfkkf the Nimoy vision is incredible, the blorbos in silly situations after a pretty angsty movie, their flop era in a space clio 2, the whales- also thank god the marine biologist and old ass Kirk didn't have a romance (I'm choosing to interpret her as french, so that the little kiss on the cheek at the end is just a normal bise, the normal way to say goodbye to someone you now concider your friend <3 and not a hint of romantic interest toward this man who is 1) already married to Spock and 2) could be her dad)

I am now normal about this show I promise ! :)))))

[badgerbl00d]

captain's girl

☆ characters: akagami no shanks

☆ up next: tbd

☆ summary: shanks has always had a soft spot for you but as he spends more time around you that feeling intensifies- he's fallen, and hard.. how will he confess?

☆ a/n: i lost the ask that originally submitted this but i loved this prompt! so so cute and always lovely to write for my favorite captain.. shanks nation rise!

Shanks hadn’t slept in days. 

Shanks- an emperor, had been a pirate for decades and he knew well what it meant to be selfish. To be faced with all the treasure and beauty in the World and it not be enough until one had it all to himself. But he’d only ever seen it. In allies and enemies alike he had seen that corrupting burning want- no, need for something that drives one nearly mad. He’d seen fellow seamen be consumed by this bubbling and boiling desire that had always sickened him to think about.

And then there was you. Beautiful, strong-willed, and unafraid of pirates and men and danger and swords and, all of the sudden, he began feeling the symptoms of that dangerous selfishness. He’d watch you laugh with Benn, or cook with Lucky, or play cards with Yasopp and his chest would tighten. His nerves would begin to ebb and flow in uncertainty and the terrifyingly unfamiliar feeling of jealousy began to sprout within the captain of the Red Haired Pirates. He’d spend hours poring over a potential solution– something to make it go away. But everything he tried was useless. Any slight progress immediately crumbled the moment you walked by him. He’d found a nice girl on an island and flirted with her, buying her drinks, treating her special as the rest of the crew began to pour into the bar. It was working! She liked the same music as him and thought he was funny. But then you’d walked in with Beckman, your perfume immediately recognizable to him and he folded. You were entirely captivating to him, and bless him, he tried to listen to the girl in front of him and feign interest in what she was saying but all he could focus on was the sound of you laughing and thanking the men who were sending drinks your way. On a separate occasion, he’d taken a different approach. You were in a particularly cheeky mood and not the most prone to taking orders, so he got frustrated. He leant into that frustration, barking at you for not listening. But you just rolled your eyes and begrudgingly got up to do what he was asking. As you walked past him, you raked a fingernail across his chest and offered assistance if he needed “any help de-stressing.” And with a wink you were off. After that little incident, he could hardly sleep and was quite literally plagued by (very inappropriate) thoughts of you and decided it would be best if he didn’t do anything for a while. This had been going on for months now.  A one sided game of cat and mouse that Shanks did not want to be playing, after all, he wasn't used to playing the role of mouse. Shanks was a man who always got what he wanted.

But he was realizing there was no escape. Constantly you teased him, tempted him, lured him, all to act like nothing the next moment. His head was spinning. Just this morning, you ran into him at breakfast and asked if he wanted to go into town with you. He came up with some half assed excuse and tried his hardest to keep his composure when you pouted at his and said, “Pretty please?” He went up and moped in his office, going over all those moments when he felt that now familiar ache in his chest– that throbbing pain that felt like his swollen heart was being mushed up against his ribcage and had been making his daily life on the ship, oh, so inconvenient. 

Like a few months ago when, in your typical fashion, you’d put together a small band out of the rag-tag musicians on the crew. An upright bass player out of your intel gatherer, a drummer out of one of Hongo’s assistants, some brass players that you put through a very selective audition, and, of course, you as the singer. He remembers walking out after having a few drinks with those of his men that he was closest with and hearing the sound of your voice singing a soft jazz tune. ‘I wish you bluebirds, in the spring…..’ his heart picking up a bit, and him leaning over to look at the band playing, ‘To give your heart a song to sing, and then a kiss…’ Him rushing down the stairs and urging the crew to dance, asking Lucky to get behind the bar and start making cocktails and drinks, ‘But more than this, I wish you love’ anything so that he could sit and listen to you. He remembers the boyish surge of energy that coursed through him when you shot him a playful wink. A thank you for entertaining your antics and encouraging your little band of criminal musicians. 

Or last week, when you stopped by his office (he’d begun spending more and more time locked in there attempting to find reprieve from your presence which was quickly becoming all too much for him to be around) and knocked on his door in the way you always knocked on any door. Three rhythmic little taps, always quiet and polite. “Come in!” he’d said, forcing his voice to steady itself like his heart wasn’t crawling up into his throat. “Hey Shanks– I have something for you.” You made your way to his desk, dropping a little parcel on it before going to lay down on the couch in his office, a seat he always kept open for you. It was just an old leather chair, but he knew how much you liked it. He opened up the parcel, watching you pull out a cigarette and bring it to your lips, holding it droopily between them as you dug around in your jacket for a lighter. He finished unwrapping the gift, a compass falling out. Gold and the initials R.H.S. engraved in the back. The glass had been carved out so that it was angular and there was a detailed inking of the ocean in the back, and the north arrow was dark red. He turned it over in his palm, “R.H.S.?” he asked. “It’s funny, huh! Red-Hair-Shanks,” you laughed, “It made Benny crack up so I snatched it. They wanted $15,000 for it! Like hell was I gonna pay that…. Hey, do you have a lighter?” You walked back over to him, leaning on his desk, looking down at his face, batting your eyes at him all doe-like. He felt like he might faint. 'Benny' he felt a pang of jealousy but smiled to himself at the nickname. Beckman hated nicknames but you'd started calling him Benny and for the first time ever there was no protest from the man's lips. You'd wiggled your way into all their hearts like that- helping Lucky with groceries and keeping Yasopp company when he drank more than he could stand.

“Sure do, sweetheart,” he maintained his typical flirty cadence but failed to sound as confident as he usually does. You shot him a look. He sheepishly handed you the lighter but instead of taking it you leant over further, beckoning for him to light the cigarette for you. He swallowed and brought the lighter up to the cigarette, the two of you making eye contact as he lit it. You blew a playful puff of smoke at him before making your way back over to the sofa. You laid across it, kicking your shoes off and pulling a magazine from his shelf. “Playboy? Really?” He gave you an embarrassed grin and shrugged. You made a mental note that this magazine had been left open on a photo of a bikini-clad girl that looked an awful like you. Pervert, you thought. You put the magazine away and sunk further into the chair, taking long drags of the cigarette, filling up the room with smoke. Shanks was trying not to stare a hole through you and limited himself from looking over in your general direction. You were so at peace, your legs draped over the arm of the chair and your hands above your head.  An hour passed like this, the two of you sharing a silence that was only peaceful on your end. Shanks sat at his desk pretending to be deeply interested in a blank piece of paper and mulled over possible topics of conversation. He was trying not to beat himself up over his newfound shyness- he was like a teenage boy talking to a girl for the first time. When he finally got the courage to ask you about your most recent errand he was cut off before he could even start.

“Y/n!!! Help me with dinner, eh?!”

Lucky. You groaned sitting up, remembering that you’d promised to help him out with tonight’s dinner last week. “Sorry, Captain,” you said, putting your shoes back on, “I’d love to stay and fog up your office a bit more but duty calls.” 

He nodded and got up, nearly running into you. “Ah, sorry princess,” he said, guiding you gently out of the room with a hand on your back. 

“Try not to miss me,” you’d said, taking the cigarette out of your mouth and placing it in his. He furrowed his brows in equal amounts of confusion and sexual frustration. “Lucky won’t let me smoke in the kitchen,” you explained. You shot him a wink and were off. 

He took a short puff of the cigarette before taking it out and staring at it between his fingers. Your red lipstick stained the end of it. He took a very self indulgent inhale before setting it down on an ashtray in his office. It was the first time he’d smoked in a while.

He hadn’t remembered it feeling so good.

He was late to dinner that night and even Benn had indicated some degree of worry about his captain, asking if he was alright. 

Shanks knew this couldn’t last forever– that he would have to do something before he lost his ability to lead his ship entirely. But then, of course, there was what happened yesterday.

Some rookie pirates had convinced themselves it would be a good idea to try and loot your ship. You’d been out on the deck helping Beckman with some chores when the first group of them climbed overboard. Neither of you had particularly expressive reactions– after all, you could tell within a few seconds that they were neither strong nor experienced. Still, it was the general attitude of the Red Hair Pirates to avoid conflict as much as possible. So when they wrapped rope around your wrists and held knives to your throats you and Benn didn’t flinch. Some newer recruits had sounded the alarm which eventually led to the rest of the crew making their way lazily out onto the deck. Shanks emerged from his office, reading glasses still on and laughed at the sight.

“Yasopp– take a pic, will ya!?” he laughed, slapping him on the back, “Benny we’re gonna hang this up in the dining hall!”

Benn rolled his eyes and you smiled. It took another several moments before you realized that your body was feeling more and more weakened by the moment, but when you finally felt a dullness creeping up your legs you noticed that the man holding you was a devil fruit user. The Neru Neru no Mi you believed it was called, Sleep Sleep Fruit. Fatigue started to wash over you and you stumbled forward slightly. The laughter on the ship immediately ceased and Benn called your name. You tried responding but instead fell back, landing against your assailant's chest. Yasopp and Lucky both brought their hands to their pistols, and Benn had taken a more offensive stance though it was clear the effect was starting to weigh on him as well. 

“We’ll kill them both,” one of the looters had yelled. Yasopp shot Shanks a look, waiting for some kind of command. “Yasopp–” Shanks started, but he hesitated a moment. If his sniper made any kind of mistake it would be your life taken instead. Before he could react, your captor had drawn the knife down your arm, smirking at the cry of pain you let out as your arm was coated in red. “Shoot him,” he said, gaze turning black. You passed out, though whether it was from the pain or the effect of Shanks’ emperor’s haki on your weakened body was unclear. But the last thing you saw before blacking out was the haunting anger on Shanks’ face.

You woke up a bit later, your head throbbing and your arm bandaged. “Holy shit,” you muttered, “What happened?” Hongo and Beckman were sitting by your bed talking to each other and Lucky, Yasopp, and a few others were playing cards. 

"You passed out from the effects of the devil fruit," Benn explained, "And you got a nasty cut on your arm. But Hongo says you'll be healed up by the weekend."

You blushed, somewhat embarrassed that you were the only one to have been injured. "What happened to the other crew?"

Benn shot you a half-smile. An expressive mixture of pride and shame. "The Captain took care of it. Honestly all we could do was watch, we all know better than to get in his way when he gets like that. Never seen this ship so bloody, that's for sure."

You grimaced, "Suppose they won't be messing with us again?"

Benn laughed, "Definitely not."

“Hey, Y/n!” Lucky called out, “Want anything to eat?”

You sat up, pushing yourself to the edge of the bed and grabbing the glass of water Benn offered you, “Yeah, Luck. I’ll take anything, honestly. Where is Shanks?” Benn sighed and looked over at Yasopp who was giggling like a twelve-year old. You got the message. 

“Maybe we should tell him it’s obvious? And it’ll fix things?” 

Benn shook his head and leant back in his chair, “Nah, it would crush the guy. Maybe if you say something to him, though?” You thought about it for a minute. You'd talked with each other before about the captain's feelings. How he acted every time he was around you. Benn added that he'd never seen him like that before, "Buggy's given us stories about how he used to be around girls. He'd run the other way when a pretty lady talked to him. He's obviously gotten over it since then but it's sort of nice to see him like this."

"Can't blame him," Yasopp added, winking at you, "You're about the prettiest thing on the sea."

Yasopp was still laughing about it, over a game of cards with Lucky and Hongo. You appreciated their company while you rested.

“I don’t know guys. You know I love him just as much but will it be weird? I mean– no offense, but this ship isn’t really the ideal romantic setting. And what if he plays favorites?”

They all laughed at this, “He already is, sweetheart!”

“Just tell him!”

“We’ll have a big ol’ wedding!”

You rolled your eyes and asked to be dealt into the card game they were playing. Lucky came back with a bowl of soup for you. Laughter was filling up the small medical room and it echoed down the hall...  

Shanks’ crush on you was astoundingly obvious and what was more surprising was how he had been moping about it for the past four months. He was now in his room, shrouded in embarrassment. Half of it stemmed from the generally well known fact that Shanks and his crew were untouchable- or at least, should be. And the other, perhaps greater, half from the fact that you'd ended up hurt because he’d hesitated. It also didn't help that he had doubted Yasopp at all- he knew he never missed. He’d spent the evening drinking a bottle of whiskey to himself and replaying other embarrassing faux pas he’d committed in front of you. The bottle of empty whiskey sat in front of him on the desk and the sun had long set. He got up, feeling miserable, and decided to head to bed. He grabbed the empty bottle, pausing before he grabbed it. Your cigarette from a week ago sat in the mauve ceramic ashtray on his desk (also a gift from you– you’d said it reminded you of his “ugly pants”). He stared at the lipstick still staining the white paper on the end of the cigarette. His chest tightened and he looked out the window of his office. You were out on deck, your arm bandaged up, hauling some rope into a metal bin. He smiled to himself- an injury like that was no excuse for chores. You looked gorgeous. A white glow surrounded you from the beaming moonlight up above. Your hair was messy and flowed freely around your face shifting the shadows that fell on it. He knew, suddenly, that he had to talk to you. That in all his embarrassment and emotion and confusion about his feelings, he’d neglected to check up on you. He set the bottle down and grabbed the half-smoked cigarette, slipping it into his pocket. He paused at the door, momentarily enjoying the nerves that were coursing through his body. How long had it been since he last felt excitement like this? There were moments at sea where he realized that, thanks to his age and experience, he no longer felt those pangs and throes of youthful worry and excitement. But this? This was new and he was reeling like never before. He was submerged in uncharted waters and all of a sudden that spark of adventure that follows every pirate flared up inside him. Shanks closed the door to his office behind him, taking a deep breath. 

You wrapped up the rest of the rope and threw it into the container, before taking a seat on it. Closing your eyes and taking a moment to yourself. It was rare to have a night so quiet. You could hear the faint sound of laughter and talking coming from below the deck. The ship was slowly rocking back and forth.

“Mind if I sit next to you?”

You blinked your eyes open to see Shanks standing in front of you. It still surprised you how a man of his size and power could sneak up on you so easily. It was a nice reminder of how in control he actually was of everything around him. It put you at ease to know you were in such responsible hands and guidance. 

“You feel ok? It’s my fault I should’ve–”

You smiled at him, “What? This? I’m fine, Captain– I’ve dealt with much worse, that I can promise you.” He frowned at that, “That’s not a good thing, Y/n. I don’t like thinking about you getting hurt.” You shrugged and ruffled his hair, “I’m a pirate. A Red-Hair Pirate. It’s bound to happen. And you’re not perfect either. Believe it or not. What’s going on with you lately? So sappy.” You knew very well what was going on with him.

Shanks smiled and looked down at the floor. This was it. Now or never. 

“Y/n… You know that, well, women love me and- and that I love women,” he started. Your smile dropped. 

“M-hm.”

“Uh,” he rubbed his neck sheepishly, like a child getting scolded, “Well, I guess what I’m trying to say is that you’re not like other women.”

You looked at him, “Are you sure about that?” You looked unamused. He steeled himself– he was an emperor of the sea, goddamnit, you were just a woman! Just a girl on his crew.

He knew that was a lie.

You were his girl on his crew. And he was being eaten alive by your existence, completely consumed by the thought of you. He couldn’t live another day without relieving himself of his constant torture and the emotional suffering you put him through. He couldn’t wake up another morning without you next to him, begging him to sleep in a bit longer and asking him to hold you tighter. He couldn’t spend another night watching you laugh and smile and be the most beautiful, enchanting thing in the world and not call you his. You were his, not through ownership but through love. 

“Alright! Damn it, woman, you’re so intimidating.” Your smile returned. 

“I love you,” he sighed. It wasn’t as dramatic as either of you had pictured. He said it like he was simply reminding you.

“I love you, Y/n. And I have for months. Since I first saw you– since you first started giving me random antique shop gifts and coming into my office at the most inconvenient times and filling it up with smoke. I can’t look at the color red and not think of you. That’s my color, damn it! And yet– I see red and think of the brand of cigarettes you like and the lipstick you wear and the way your laughter sounds and the color of your nail polish. I can’t listen to music and not think of you. I mean- you’ve come on board and turned everything upside down. My men, my violent men, are playing jazz on Thursday nights! Lucky’s new favorite thing to drink is Cosmopolitans and Yasopp is taking daily showers and, christ, Benn’s new nickname is Benny and he likes it! Everything I have reminds me of you. This is basically your ship now. And I love it. I love how you're everywhere. And I- I need you. I want you but it's more than that- I need you.”

He took a deep breath and looked at you for the first time in weeks. You laughed- at him, and grabbed his hand. His cheeks turned bright red and he felt like a teenager again. You squeezed his hand, “F-i-n-a-l-l-y.” He took a moment to sound out your spelling, and smiled somewhat defeatedly. He laid his head down on your shoulder and mumbled into you, “Was it obvious?”

 You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned your head against his. It was refreshing to touch him without it being strange or feeling unnatural. To just hold one another and understand that that was all it was– a touch. That before either of you said anything and broke this mundane, normal silence everything was perfect. There was no room for mistake or anxiety or insecurity. There was just the mass of red hair on your shoulder ticking your neck and your arms wrapped around his. But you figured he’d suffered long enough. 

“Very,” you said, answering his question, “There’re a bunch of betting pools regarding when, and if, you’ll confess. Though you don’t make a great effort to hide it. Looks like Benny’s gonna make some cash tonight.”

He shot up, somewhat offended, “I do hide it! I’ve kept my distance from you and treated you like everyone else.”

You laughed and sat him down on the bin next to you, “No, you haven’t. I’m your favorite. And though you have been avoiding me, when you’re around me your face is pink and you lose all that playboy gusto you think the ladies like. Plus you have those magazines lying around. It flatters me how much I resemble some of those models.”

His mouth fell open at this, realizing he had left it wide out in the open. You smiled at this, but said nothing. It was quiet out again– everyone had gone to bed early, tired from the day’s commotion, an unexpected change of pace from the typical mundane life of a pirate at sea that normally consisted of chores upon chores upon chores. The sea was calm tonight, almost eerily so. You rested your head against Shank’s shoulder and closed your eyes, it was quiet again. You could tell he was itching for a response. You smiled, enjoying the effect you had on him.

“I love you, too.”

You felt Shanks tense and opened your eyes, turning to look at him. He had a stupidly large smile plastered on his face. He was so damn handsome. His hand slid up your back and came to rest on your neck. He gently pushed your face toward his, a smile creeping up your lips, and tested the waters. You closed the gap, closing your eyes as you kissed your captain, shifting forward and finding your way onto his lap. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck and you could feel him smiling against your lips. Shanks broke the kiss, pulling away after giving you a few more pecks. 

His arm sank down to wrap around your waist and pull you in even tighter. He rested his forehead against yours and looked down at your lips, plump from the kissing.

“You’re mine,” he said. 

“Yours.”

He sighed, relief flooding his body. You rubbed his neck, "Guess I wasn't as obvious as you, hm?" He laughed and squeezed your hand, "No. God, I was terrified. What an awful feeling."

You smiled. You were getting tired, and your arm was throbbing. "Wanna come with me to see Hongo? I think my arm should get re-wrapped." He nodded, standing up. You walked toward the infirmary, while Shanks stood back for a moment. Waiting awkwardly.

"Shanks?"

His name had never sounded so lovely. He was worried, "Should we tell people yet? The crew- I mean."

You laughed, and kept walking, "I think they'll figure out on their own. After all, I suspect that I'll be greeting them tomorrow morning with your shirt on."

He watched you walk on ahead a bit more before following after you, scooping you up in his arm and pressing kisses to your face. Shanks dropped you off outside of Hongo's door, letting you go in on your own. 'I want tonight to be just us,' you'd explained. Word does travel quickly on a ship. He waited outside the door, listening to you and Hongo talk while he rebandaged your arm. His chest felt warm and full, not with the previous tightness he'd experienced but full with satisfaction.

A familiar ebbing flow of egoism spread through his body. It was nice to be reminded of who he was. An emperor of the sea with one of the highest bounties of all time. A man feared and respected across the world. Wanted by the world government and untouchable to anyone. Almost anyone. Your voice bubbled up over the sound of his thoughts for a moment. His confidence had quickly reinstated itself.

After all, Shanks was a man who always got what he wanted.

[kokoroyamii]

c'mon pay attention here.

You guys that HATE jaymel and say don't like it cause it's a het ship, hate it because it is a het ship or because mel is too girlboss for your stupid asses?

I mean, excuse my language, but when THIS KIND of fanart appears;

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS THIS STUFF.....

I mean, you guys just like to see viktor as a girly girl baby girl and jayce as a strong ahh mf that will fuck this twink ass, don't yall? Goddamn stop consuming this weird shit girls, that's why you all compare too much. Trust me.

And don't get me wrong baby, I LOVE VIKTOR. I consume GOOD fanarts of him, and about all of the arcane characters as well, and you can do a jayvik fanart without making them a heterosexual couple ok?

Not to mention the racism in all this. Like... "the white girl at this are made for viktor cause he is smolllll and soooo tinyyyyy look at him... so petite🩷🩷🩷"

SHAME. ON. YOU!🫵😆🖕 and don't fucking call it 'artstyle' be for real bitch.

next here, fanarts that are WELL MADE with a GAY couple cause these MEN are damn cute together

credits to: shuploc (twitter), yauoiyi (twitter)

[bbapplegirlie]

Little Apple Shorts

A Love and Deepspace Caleb Fic

°˖✧~*♡*~✧˖°

NSFW! ADULTS ONLY!

°˖✧~*♡*~✧˖°

Author’s Note: Hello, this is my first time writing Caleb fic :3 He’s such an interesting and multifaceted character—I’m feeling compelled to explore all his different sides (especially him being a perverted freak). I want to start with some short little head canons and moments, and maybe progress towards a longer, story-driven fic someday. I don’t have any beta readers or writing buddies, this is 100% me and my unhinged obsession with this man!! This one takes place when Caleb and MC hare busy in college. It is very loosely inspired by this comic. If you saw me post and delete this a hundred times, no you didn’t, Tumblr formatting is confusing!! I won't do it again, I promise :,) I hope you enjoy!! xx

Content Tags: Smut, nonconsensual voyeurism, fantasies of punishing you, Caleb sneakily jerks off while watching you, Caleb comes in his pants like a virgin loser

Length & Status: Roughly 2.5k words, completed one-shot

Caleb’s Length & Status: 9 inches and hard as steel ;)

°˖✧~*♡*~✧˖°

Caleb regretted buying you those little apple shorts.

Well, perhaps regret wasn’t quite the right word. It certainly wasn’t regret making his cock throb so hard that it tented even the stiff canvas of his pilot uniform. And, fuck, did that friction of fabric on the swollen head of his cock feel good; he was nearly ready to rut against his own clothing to chase the pleasure.

Seriously, what had he been thinking, ordering those for you?

He thought he’d had pure intentions when he bought them.

When he saw the ad for them online, the embroidered apple halves and slices along the lettuce-hem trim were so cute and so you that he’d shipped them to your shared childhood home right away. He’d been away at the Aerospace Academy so damn much that he wanted to spoil you in any way he could.

He thought the shorts would be a sweet gesture to show that you were always on his mind, even when he was gone.

But now, Caleb had suspicions about his subconscious motivations.

Had he known just how… vulgar they would look on you? Was that why he’d really ordered them?

You were laying in your bed on your tummy, faced away from where Caleb hovered in the doorway. You were swinging your feet in the air, listening to music through your kitten-ear headphones (another present that he’d gotten for you some months ago), completely oblivious to Caleb and the perfectly tantalizing view you were giving him of your ass. No wonder you hadn’t raced to meet him at the front door when he came in; you hadn’t even heard him. He’d have to scold you later about how loudly you played that music. It wasn’t safe to be so unaware of your surroundings, and the hearing damage alone was enough to be concerned about.

But for now, he was content to take advantage of you being caught unaware by guiltily, shamefully drinking up the sight of you in those damn apple shorts.

The fabric looked soft but thin. Too thin, pulled so taut across the swell of your ass cheeks, he could make out the black lace trim of your panties underneath. Had he ordered them a size too small? Had he subconsciously done that on purpose, too?

Caleb audibly whimpered as you reached down and adjusted the waistband, pulling that too-thin fabric up into your ass cheeks, not leaving a single detail of the shape to his imagination (which he’d, admittedly, used quite liberally in the past whenever it involved you; now, he wouldn’t need to.)

Not only were the shorts thin, but that little adjustment made him all too aware of how short they were. They might as well have been underwear with how they conformed to your body; they were so short that the crease where your ass met your thighs was fully visible. Caleb became briefly consumed with the thought of running his tongue along that crease. He fought hard to hold back the moan that was rumbling to life in his chest. The music wouldn’t block out every sound if he didn’t contain himself.

There was no way in hell he would ever let you out of the house wearing those shorts. He debated taking a lap real quick around the house to make sure all the blinds were shut, just to make sure no one could see even an inch of your body.

No one but him.

He’d pictured a sweet, cheerful, hug-filled reunion when he returned home for summer break, but those plans were quickly evaporating. There was no way in hell he could hug you right now, not with his cock as hard as it was. Perhaps it was a blessing that you had your headphones on, after all. He needed to hurry down the hall undetected to his old bedroom and get a grip on himself before greeting you properly.

Get a grip on himself…

Just thinking those words had him fighting back another moan, because it made him picture literally getting a grip on himself, wrapping his slender fingers around his vein-laced cock and fucking into his own hand like the touch-starved animal he was.

The logical side of him argued that it was just an intrusive thought, that it wasn’t too late to turn to his room. It ordered him to take a cold shower to clear his head before he got caught ogling you like a pervert.

But the years of yearning, the years of picturing you while he laid alone in bed and bucked his hips up into his own fist, the bittersweet poison of being so close to you but never close enough…

He could only take so much.

He was only a young man himself, after all. He had needs, and jerking himself alone to the thought of you wasn’t cutting it anymore.

Jerking himself to the real life sight of you was definitely an improvement.

Before he knew it, and against his better judgment, he was leaning his luggage against the wall to free both of his hands. It was like a gravitational force with the might of a black hole had consumed him, forcing his palm towards that aching part of him. The first brush of his hand over the fabric strained by his already-weeping cock had his hips bucking forward sharply with an equally sharp intake of breath. He had to use his other hand to catch himself on your doorway for stability from just how quickly he was being overridden by desire. He winced when the floorboard creaked loudly below him with the shift of weight, but you still didn’t notice, happily humming along to one of your favorite songs.

The chorus came on, loudly enough that Caleb could hear it from where he stood. You swayed your hips along to the beat. The plump, curved flesh of your ass jiggled in tandem with the movement, and Caleb’s palm clenched over his constrained cock in response.

Rubbing himself over his clothes wasn’t enough.

Leaning harder against the doorframe, he oh-so-carefully undid the belt of his pilot uniform. He cursed at how loud each click and clank of the metal was, but you really were completely oblivious and lost in your own world. Caleb was both infuriated by it and grateful for it. Were you ever out in public like this, with your guard down completely, sitting like prey, waiting for any number of predators to swoop down and take advantage of you?

It didn’t escape him that he was that predator right now as he unzipped his fly and slipped his hand into his pants. His cock bobbed up and down in greeting, a heavy, hot drop of pre-cum emerging from his tip with the motion.

He didn’t waste time wrapping his fingers around his cock fully then, the skin-to-skin heat of his palm on his shaft making him thrust forward again… but this time, he didn’t stop the motion. He kept up the firm, unyielding rhythm, his hips and hand working in tandem in a well-practiced dance.

You kept dancing to your song, and Caleb marveled at how you swayed across your silky bedsheets. Every little movement rippled across the fabric as well as the flesh of your ass; it had Caleb fixated like a dog on a bone.

He wanted to get closer to you.

He wanted to kneel on those same bedsheets. To run his palm along your body, to grab the perfect indents of your waist, to hoist you up by the hips and line his cock up with the center of you… he wanted to see if he could get you so wet that it was visible through your panties and shorts. With the fabric as thin as it was, he was sure it wouldn’t be too hard.

He wanted to pull the shorts and panties to the side and press himself up against that hot, slick part of you that he’d dreamed about for years. He wanted to fuck you while you still wore them. He wanted to know your warmth, to worship it. Of course, he would also have to spank you for allowing yourself to get caught off-guard so easily; but he’d make sure it was worth enduring his punishments. He was just looking out for you, after all. Everything he did was because he loved you so deeply.

He wanted those shorts soaked in sweat, slick, cum, tears, and spit; yours and his. He wanted to take them back with him to Skyhaven so you couldn’t wear them again without his explicit permission. He’d let you wear them, sometimes, but only around him.

And when you two were apart, he would keep them under his pillow, the perfect keepsake to remember your scent while he was away.

Your sudden movement interrupted his reverie. No, you weren’t just dancing—you were getting up.

In a panic, Caleb ducked back around the corner, terrified you were about to turn around and find him out.

But you didn’t end up moving too much.

No, you were just trying to reach for something that you were laying on top of. With one eye peaking around the edge of the doorway, Caleb watched you try to grab your phone charger. You lifted your hips up, tilting backwards in such a way that your back arched beautifully, your butt aimed high. He could see every inch of you, and those shorts were doing absolutely nothing to cover your most intimate parts. Now, he could see the lace undies covering the sweet bud of your lips as they peaked out on either side of the tiny excuse of a gusset on the shorts. Whatever moment of terror Caleb had experienced was gone; no, he was entirely enchanted by you. The adrenaline of almost getting caught only fueled his pleasure, his cock pulsating with the rush. He resumed firmly stroking his cock, speeding up the pace along with his panting breath.

“Fuck, pips…” he uttered, completely hoarse, still unheard over your music. He could feel his gut tightening, his stomach muscles rippling, his cock throbbing and swelling painfully. Something like an omen of lightning sparked along his spine, threatening to strike at any moment. He’d cum quick to the thought of you too many times to count, but getting to see you right there in front of him, to smell your perfume and natural scent mingling in the small bedroom as he touched himself, oh, it was just too much, he was going to cum even faster this time—

The moment came hard and fast, overriding his every sense to the point of blindness. No, blindness wasn’t the right word… because he could still see you. It was the rest of the world that faded away with the ecstasy of his climax, and you were all that there was, all that he could see, all he could think about in that incoherent moment of bliss. His cock pulsed a heartbeat of its own. The cum plummeted from the head of his cock in unbelievably long torrents, hot and sticky and getting everywhere. All over his shaft, dripping down his balls, his legs, soaking into the fabric of his pants.

He wasn’t quiet about it, either. He was a whimpering, moaning, pathetic mess, and he had to pray that the music you were listening to continued to be loud enough to protect him at that moment. He quivered against the doorframe, humping his hips against the wood as if it could possibly replicate the warmth of your body.

Fuck, his orgasm just kept going on and on. They usually had faded by that point; he didn’t think he could have so damn much cum in his balls at once, now spilling all over himself. He rode the wave of pleasure, all control lost, picturing that it was you wrapped around him instead of his hand as he milked himself of every ounce of his seed.

His manic rutting into his hand didn’t come without a cost, though. The wood of the doorframe creaked, loudly, and it timed itself perfectly with the silence in between songs on your headphones.

You stopped your dancing and humming, finally alert to somebody else in the house. It all happened too quickly—you slipped your headphones off, sat up in bed, and spun to face the intruder, and all the while, Caleb was still cumming.

He hadn’t gathered enough mental capacity in his short-circuiting brain to even begin debating running down the hall by the time you had fully faced him with a beautiful smile on your face. His cock pulsed out the last few beats of his orgasm at that sight, a mix of love and adrenaline rendering his limbs shaky. He held on to the doorframe for dear life, fearful that he might just collapse into a heap at your feet.

“Caleb! You’re home!" you greeted, oblivious to his overpowering orgasm. You pushed yourself up from the bed, clearly just as eager to see him as he was to see you; perhaps he hadn’t been alone in daydreaming about this reunion.

But of course, he had to go and ruin it. He lifted one hand in a gesture to dismiss you, his other hand straining to keep his cock from popping out of his unzipped pants. “N-no, pipsqueak, you don’t need to get up for me! I need to get freshened up, and I, ah, uh, j-just give me a moment, okay, would ya?” He was rambling, he knew it, but he couldn’t manage to find composure. He was desperately trying to maintain his position that showed his face and not his dangling belt, unzipped fly, and cum-stained pants, pressed up against the wall and only half-way leaning into the doorway to greet you. “I need to get my bags p-put away and get settled in first. I’ll be back in just a m-minute.” He stuttered as a few aftershock pulses of pleasure from his climax hit him, even more cum somehow finding its way out of the head of his cock and into his lap.

“Oh!” You seemed a little confused by how out of breath he was, but thank god, you laid back down anyway. Good girl, Caleb thought, grateful that you had listened to him for once. “Okay, well, I’ll see you in a minute. Hey, thank you for getting me these shorts! They just arrived in the mail today, they’re so cute and comfy.”

“Oh, y-yeah pipsqueak, I didn’t notice, I’m glad you l-like them!” He called back, already hobbling away down the hall. The mess was sliding down his thighs and quaking knees. “But I heard it’ll be cold tonight, s-so make sure you put some real clothes on before you go anywhere.”

“But Caleb, it’s summer—”

But he didn’t hear. He had already scurried off to hide in his room where he could clean up the cum he’d spilled in your honor for the thousandth time.

°˖✧~*♡*~✧˖°

[w2soneshots]

Chris is on Raya, so maybe could you do a fic where he meets an actress and he tells his friends about it and it's kinda unbelievable, cause she is been in Marvel films or a really famous film

And maybe they breakup and everyone's like "Boy, you fumbled"

Almost fumbled -ChrisMD

words: 1.7k+

warnings: angst with a happy ending, intrusive paparazzi (when isn’t it), mentions of a break up, slightly suggestive, George is a great friend.

summary: after you and Chris match on Raya you go on a date, though the both of you have the pressure of your friends and the paparazzi so your relationship proves to be more difficult than you’d have thought.

notes: hello angel, thank you for your request, I’m obsessed with this idea!!🤭 I also love love love marvel so it was fun to incorporate a little bit of it into this. I hope you enjoy this extra long one!💝👏🏼

Liked by y/username, arthurtv and others

chrismd10: Some Machu Picchures

-comments-

georgeclarkeey: fun fun fun

youtube: swapping the pitch for peaks🫡

user: wait, why is nobody talking about the fact THE y/n y/l/n has liked this👀

-> user: omfg and she lives in London... I ship them tbh🤭💞

"Chris?!" George skirted into Chris' room. He turned to him from his desk. "Yeah?" He asked, slightly confused as George looked baffled. "y/n, from the marvel films, like your fucking instagram post!" He alerted his best mate.

Chris signed I relief, it wasn't something serious. "I know, I matched with her on Raya," he replied calmly. George's mouth dropped open. "You're kidding my ass. You matched with her?" Chris breathed out a laugh. "I was just as shocked to be honest, she lives here though."

"Please can I see her profile," George begged as he sat on Chris' bed with a thump. "I don't know-" "please..." he cut him off. "Alright."

George stared at Chris' phone. "This is insane. Don't fumble this." "I'm gonna try not to, she seems cool. Also... I'm going to dinner with her on Saturday." George almost combusted right then and there, falling back onto Chris' bed.

"Imagine you get with her and she comes round to the flat. What am I gonna say? Act like I've not watch half of her films?" George rambled. "You probably aren't going to have to think that far ahead mate, I'm guessing she'll take one look at me and run for the hills." "Don't be silly, you're a good bloke. She'll like you."

"I have absolutely no fucking clue what to wear!" You shoved another piece of clothing from your wardrobe onto your bed with a huff. "How casual is the dinner?" Your best friend, whom you live with, asked as she sat comfortably on your bed.

"I don't know- like not crazy fancy but kinda fancy... ugh, that makes no sense." "Leather, faux obviously but you know, that's a mix between the two?" She suggested. "Okay, yeah good idea."

You finally found a good outfit and you turned to your friend once you were finished. "Good?" You asked hopefully, since you definitely didn't want to try anything else on. "Absolutely drop dead gorgeous babes."

"So who is this guy anyway?" She asked as you popped all of the necessities into your little bag. You pulled your phone out and clicked on his profile. "Chris."

Her eyes widened after a moment. "Oh my gosh, that's ChrisMD!" "Huh?" "He's a youtuber! My brother used to watch his videos. He did football challenges and they were pretty fun to watch actually." She explained excitedly. "Oh right, cool. I had a quick glance at his insta but I didn't really look much into it, he did have a big following though."

"I wonder if he still does them? I'm checking." She scrolled around on her phone for a second before a video began playing. "Today we're in Munich where we will consume a beverage at each of nine pubs. Welcome back to football pub golf everyone!" The screen played as the both of you watched intensely.

"Jesus he's gotten fitter over the years," your bestie breathed out quietly. You chuckled in response as a slow motion video compilation played of the group posing. "Do you reckon any of his friends are single?" She asked with a smirk, causing you to playfully push her shoulder with yours, to which she just giggled. Though she was being completely serious, they were a group of hot dudes.

y/username posted a new story!

"God... she's beautiful," Chris thought as you followed the waiter through the restaurant and towards the table he'd booked and was already sat at.

"Hi," you smiled warmly when you reached him. He quickly stood from his chair to greet you with a side hug. "You look amazing," he complemented, you could tell he was a little nervous by the awkward way in which he said it but you thought it was cute.

The small talk commenced once you'd sat down. You spoke about where you grew up, how long you'd been in London and then the topic of your jobs came up.

"I already know what you do," you confessed with a cheeky smile. "Oh, you do?" Chris was shocked. "Mhm, my best friends brother used to watch you, you make youtube videos right?" "That's right, yeah. Please don't tell me you've seen any of them," he grimaced.

"Uhm..." "oh god." You chuckled at his embarrassment. "No it's cool. They actually seem quite entertaining and I'm pretty sure my friend has a crush on half of your friends," you said lightheartedly. Chris' demeanour changed and he loosened up a little after your reassurance.

"I know what you do too, but that's probably a given," Chris began, he knew George would be on the edge of his seat if he was listening to this conversation. "Right, brilliant," you replied sarcastically with a chuckle, you didn't mind talking about your work though sometimes it can turn into a conversation all about your costars.

Chris was really chill about the whole thing. He didn't pry or ask anything weird, he actually was more interested in how you got into the industry and the beginning of your career, which was a breath of fresh air.

Dinner seemed to fly by and without even realising it you'd been sat there eating and chatting for four hours. Eventually it was time to say your goodbyes and you were silently hoping that he'd had as good of a time as you since you didn't want this to be the extent of your relationship.

"So... you free anytime next week?" He eventually asked as you stood outside, about to part ways. You smiled happily and then the both of you organised a day.

The next day you woke up to see multiple pictures of you and Chris sat at your table in the restaurant. You signed deeply and then called your manager.

After having the situation minimised, you messaged Chris, "hey, I'm not sure if you've seen but some paparazzi took photos of us in the restaurant yesterday. My manager has had them taken down from the original website but as you can imagine people have screenshotted it. I'm sorry, I probably should've pre-warned you xx"

He replied pretty quickly, "I saw. Don't worry about it, it's not a problem. How are you? x" He didn't seem to be too bothered which really reassured you since you thought you'd finally found a good guy in a sea of dickheads.

You and Chris went on multiple dates, had been to each other's places, had sex an abundance of times and were constantly texting before he eventually asked you if you'd be his girlfriend. Obviously you said you would since you had undeniable chemistry and he'd been all green flags up until that point.

"Hello love," Chris greeted you at his apartments front door, seeming a little... distant. You shared a quick hug before you stepped through the threshold. "Hi y/n!" George, Chris' friend and roommate whom you've become familiar with, enthusiastically waved to you as he walked through the hallway. You waved back with a smile.

Everything was going great, you liked his friends and he liked yours, it was like you were in your own little bubble... then the bubble popped.

You sat on his bed and he sat at his desk, the chair facing towards you. "I feel like I'm constantly being watched," Chris said, completely out of the blue. "What?" "The fucking paparazzi, it's ridiculous. Every time we go anywhere we're in the press the next day. I understand it's because you're famous and all but-" he stopped himself.

He couldn't make eye contact with you properly. Your heart was slowly breaking as you listened to him. This had happened before in a previous relationship and that was the reason it ended, though you thought since Chris was already used to being in the public eye, he would understand.

"What're you saying?" "I don't know if I can do this. I like you, a lot, but the whole being followed thing... I've never experienced that before and I don't think I can hack it."

You were gone within twenty minutes. Tears in your eyes as you let yourself out. "Are you alright?" George's voice asked from behind you. You didn't -couldn't- turn around. "Mhm," you managed, though your voice cracked before you swiftly opened the door and left.

George, now confused and concerned, walked to Chris' room and knocked on the door. "Mate?" Chris didn't respond, he just opened the door.

Chris sighed. "I broke up with her," he muttered. "You- what- why the fuck did you do that?" It took him a minute to reply, "the paparazzi... it's just not for me George."

"You love her don't you?" Chris hesitated then nodded. "So, don't throw all that away over some stupid dicks taking photos. You're perfect for each other, plus you can't fumble a funny, kind, -don't punch me- gorgeous actor," George told his friend. "I'll think on it." "Okay, just- consider how she feels...?"

Within a week Chris had messaged you to ask how you were doing. It was a stupid question really, you were so upset and hadn't really left your apartment since the breakup. You didn't reply to him.

Then he turned up on your doorstep, at ten o'clock at night. You answered the door in your pyjamas, you were just about to get into bed. Your face dropped when you saw him stood there.

"I love you," was all he said, hope in his eyes. You bit the inside of your lip. "But you said-" "I don't care what I said. It doesn't matter because I love you and I was an idiot to ever have let anyone get between that y/n."

That night ended with the both of you -naked- cuddled up in your bed. After that Chris never complained about the paparazzi again because if he was with you nothing else mattered.

[thornsofthenightcourt]

What has this fandom come to?

So i usually never post on tumblr. i've always been a silent supporter for all my fandoms from the same blog i've had since middle school, mostly supernatural and it2017, etc.

But in the past few years, ACOTAR has utterly consumed me. It got me out of a 5 year reading slump and honestly brought back my fan girl self, someone who i havent seen in a LONG time.

I didnt want any spoilers for ANYTHING, so i stayed away from all online discourse surrounding these books. I was SO SO excited when I finally finished ACOSF to come on here and once again silently watch the fandom of a series I have grown to love so much.

Boy oh boy was I utterly confused. Not that i was expecting much, but as someone who stayed far away from any outsider theories or ships or anything, i truly expected everyone or the majority of people to be on the side of elriel??? Based on the CANON (yes, CANON) scenes between the two throughout all 5 books, and SJM making it very obvious that elain and luciens mating bond is the ONLY mating bond to ever be questioned, and Feyre herself creating the most romantic and iconic couple name for them, and nesta knowing why Az was the way he was on solstice night, i just kind of assumed that everyone picked up on the fact that elriel was next?????? The same way i could tell Nesta and Cassian were next since ACOWAR. I genuinely did not think there was any other conclusion to be made. Even my friends and family who aren't online agree that elriel will be next.

So imagine my pure shock and horror i had when the first fanart of az was with gwyn of all people? never, and i mean NEVER, during ACOSF did i picture them being together. As someone who purely only read the books and based my theories on what i was READING (cough cough ACTUAL CANON), it was always az and elain, just like it was always cassian and nesta even before ACOSF, just like it was always rhys and feyre even before ACOMAF (knew he was going to be the mmc when she described him as the most beautiful person she's ever seen). From the very moment the bat boys met the archeron sisters i picked up on the theme of three, the rulers, the warriors, and the spies. "Oh but its so boring and predictable" YOURE READING A FAERIE ROMANCE SERIES WHAT DO YOU EXPECT? It's almost like symmetry and patterns are IMPORTANT to story telling. It would be so unsatisfying if it was 2 sisters and 2 brothers, and then one sister and her unwanted mate who didnt stop her from being kidnapped and dragged into the cauldron, and then one brother and this random chick who was in the last book as a side character, only there to aid the plot line of a main character. It's almost like 3 sisters and 3 brothers is the perfect way to wrap up the stories of all 3 archeron sisters.

It's been months now of me just silently watching the ship wars go down (why is this even happening, why are we shipping someone with the very person who is making her visibly uncomfortable and cave into herself, like im literally going to crash out) and i quite literally have had enough. I cant be silent anymore. This fandom is the most toxic, anti against the literal series they are reading, compared to ANY other fandom i have been it. Dont even get me started on the whole rhys is evil and the IC sucks debate. I just genuinely have never seen a fandom deny canon text so much? How. HOW??

Anyways, my point is im sick of it. Elain clearly needs as much love as possible in this toxic ass household and I will no longer be a fly on the wall to witness her abuse. I LOVE YOU, ELAIN ARCHERON. You are fierce, beautiful, powerful, and have more kindness than all antis combined. To break you down into just a mate for someone just because people think he deserves it (spoiler: he doesnt) is utterly insane, and purely misogynistic and i will NOT stand for it. I am dedicating my entire blog to her from now on (and yes that includes az too, because CANONLY they have crushes on each other and want to kiss <3) because i am so sick of the misogynistic losers bringing my poor sweet girl down every chance they get. Elain you will always be famous.

(if you are against anything i said in this and comment, you will be blocked i dont even have the energy to argue)

[bunny--manders]

Hello can you explain the ladder comment i am an aspiring lunatic please and thanks

Hello, fellow lunatic! Here's a close-up of a ladder in the game so you can see the pegs.

Iron nails had to be hand-forged during this period (Henry even has some lines about what a pain in the ass it is to make them) and we're still centuries away from technology like galvanizing steel, so they wouldn't be that durable for something like a ladder you need to leave outside.

Instead of wasting expensive nails on constructing items like this, medieval woodworkers would be fitting bits of wood together by carving out slots and fastening them with wooden pegs. Here's an example of some fancy joinery techniques for something much nicer than a ladder:

And here's a roughly contemporaneous with the game picture of woodworkers constructing a building, so you can see how they're drilling holes and hammering in wooden pegs in places where modern builders would use nails. (Source here with more info from an experienced woodworker who can describe the technique better than me)

I am very much an amateur at carpentry and traditional techniques are not my specialty, but I'm assuming the lower pegs on the ladders in the game are some extra support for the rungs so they can take more weight, and the upper pegs are what's holding the rung in place in place instead of a nail. It's very cool to see how much thought and research has gone into these tiny details!

Modern furniture makers have pretty much the opposite problems as medieval builders. Hardwood is more expensive than steel, nails and screws are cheaply mass-produced, and the main goal in most furniture design is creating something lightweight that can be shipped in flat packs and assembled by a customer with no craftsmanship experience at home.

Modern consumers are also used to moving and buying new furniture many times during their lives; the idea that you might be repairing a solid wood chair that your great-grandkids will be using daily just isn't a thing anymore, so we just don't have a reason to build like this anymore unless it's insanely high end artisinal work or a hobby project not intended to turn a profit. We joke about what would blow the mind of a medieval peasant, and I think our casual complaints about cheap disposable furniture shipped around the world and thrown out after a few years of use would be up there on the list of brain-melting things about the modern world.

(Disclaimer that I am in no way an expert in woodworking or medieval furniture construction! It's a very neat field of study for academic historians. Living history sites often have someone hanging around on staff or as a volunteer who specializes in historic woodworking techniques, so if you have anything like that in your area you can find some guy who would LOVE to talk your ear off about this.)

[demonslayerunhinged]

Unhinged rant >:(

Demon Slayer fandom discourse

I want to start this by saying, I know that Demon Slayer isn't an explicitly queer manga/anime because Shōnen Jump, but I believe that Demon Slayer is for the queers and has lots of themes that we can identify with like love, acceptance, loss, guilt and strength.

Despite what these stupid, smelly, ignorant, power-scaling, non-ass-washing, Cheetos-dust-snorting, once-a-month-showering, dude-bros would have you believe, Demon Slayer isn't just another battle Shōnen anime/manga, it's a love story and about the perseverance of the human spirit and if that doesn't speak to the queer experience then I don't know what does.

Plus, I don't know how Gotogue-sensei is as a person, but I think the fact that she managed to make one of the kindest mcs in shōnen speaks volumes about her disposition. I don't think she would be one to reject queer fans identifying with her story so well.

In these recent times, it seems like everything is going to shit, the world is slowly regressing into the dark ages destroying decades of progress and trying to distract ourselves from all this by engaging with the fandoms we love is hard because everything seems to cater to cis, straight, white men.

To be honest, I created this blog mostly out of spite, but I also wanted to carve out a tiny space for myself where I can talk out of my ass and not have some decrepit reddit dude bro go all 'well, ackshually ☝🤓' on me, and I'm happy to have met so many like-minded people.

So, I've compiled a list of answers to the common types of nonsense drivel these fuckers post in response to shipping and queer discussions and theories about Demon Slayer. You can copy and paste whenever and wherever you encounter these black holes of ignorance and stupidity if you want.

In the Taisho era, there were no gay/queer people: This is one of the dumbest statements I've ever heard, and the fact that it's a really common response really shows how we've failed as a society. Queer people have existed for ages all over the world, Japan has an extensive queer history. Demon Slayer is based on samurai culture and samurai culture was really, really, really, really, really, really, really gay. Sure, it had rigid roles, but that doesn't make it any less queer. A quick Google search would go a long way to nourish that dried-out, shrivelled husk you call a brain. Go read a book you walking condom ad, your parents and education system have obviously failed you.

It's forcing sexuality into the story: We literally had a whole season dedicated to the mcs going to the 'entertainment district', we have a sexy man with three wives who talks about 'loving' them all equally, we have the abundant male fanservice, one of the mcs talks about women on the daily, we have a boy who eats demons and is horny shy around girls all the time, we have his brother who exposes his tits because he's proud of them, we have a demon who was essentially a sexual predator that targeted 16-year-old girls and ate them, the main villain shape-shifts into a woman to 'get' information as a Geisha, we have a girl who literally lusts after almost everyone she meets but yea no lets not force sexuality into it 🙄.

I don't care: Okay cool, but I value your opinion as much as I value the shit I took this morning.

It's who they are as a character that matters: Sexuality is a part of a person's character. Your sexuality defines your experiences, decisions, options and outlook on life. That's why you as a straight man can be so ignorant.

It's forced*(I really hate this one): Honestly, fuck you. Why is it that you only think something is forced when it doesn't revolve around you and your experiences? You guys are fine with tons of anime/manga that sexualize women and girls to an insane degree even when it doesn't make sense, but that doesn't stop you from consuming and glazing the hell out of the authors, but when we talk about including queer characters suddenly it's forced? Your existence is forced, and you can just eat shit.

I don't like it: Who the fuck do you think you are dictating how other people consume and interpret the media they consume? How about you go hump your smelly, cum-encrusted anime body pillow.

Men can be touchy/emotional with each other without it being gay, it's just our western standards: No it isn't the majority of shipping activities and works come from Japan, which wouldn't happen if it was just part of their culture. We're not stupid, we know men and boys can be friends without it being sexual, and we know when a friendship is just that, and then we know when two guys are straight up pining for one another.

It's not canon/the mangaka didn't explicitly state it: They can't because of Shōnen Jump, so a lot of them pass off information about a character through subtext, metaphors and allegories. They also don't have to, things don't have to outright stated or 'canon' for them to make sense and if you need them to be so for you to understand or enjoy the story then a moment of silence for your head since it's without a brain.

It's not common: Despite Shōnen Jump, there are lots of mainstream anime/manga that have queer characters: One Punch Man, Hunter x Hunter, Dr. Stone, Windbreaker, Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, Naruto, Gintama, Dragon Ball Z, My Hero Academia, Fairy Tail, One Piece, Attack on Titan, Tokyo Ghoul, Jujutsu Kaisen, Chainsaw Man, Blue Period and that's not to talk of the ones with queer subtext like I dunno ALL Sports anime/manga to ever exist!

Why do you look for LGBTQ in everything?: It might be hard for straights to understand but growing up queer and looking for a connection causes us to develop what we call a gaydar that helps us identify characteristics, mannerisms, features and vibes from a person that screams 'ONE OF US! ONE OF US!'. It's only natural, and our gaydar doesn't suddenly turn off when we're consuming media, especially when it's media that we love and hold dear to our hearts. It doesn't matter if the mangaka inserted these characteristics intentionally or not, that doesn't stop us from picking up on them, and why should it?

Shipping is stupid: So is power-scaling, but that doesn't stop you assholes from making thousands of posts, creating YouTube channels and sharing content about it and cramming it down our throats. It's even worse because it's from grown-ass men.

The characters have no chemistry/they hate each other: A lot of queer ships have more chemistry, history, interactions, personality and development than a lot of 'canon' straight couples. It's literally a trope in media that all a man and a woman need to be in a relationship is to be in close proximity to each other, then their relationship goes on to be drier than salted crackers in silicone packets scattered in the Sahara desert. Well, I guess you can't blame the creators, you write what you know after all.

I know this is a lot and I know how angry I sound right now, but I'm so sick and so tired of all these guys who are as useful to the human race as pieces of freshly shat out dog turds that have been thrown in the grass by the sidewalk in a hot summer afternoon, who can't see past their lice-infested neck beards trying to make something as colorful, interesting, joyful and queer as anime and the fandoms fit their own boring, stupid and misogynistic worldview.

In Conclusion, Demon Slayer is amazing, horny* and unbelievably queer.

*I'm talking about the male fanservice btw :)

[delirious-donna]

an: angst is not usually where my brain goes but this idea… it just consumed by brain (like he has). My first ever foray into Blue Lock so please be kind!! Plus, it’s just a short lil thing. 🥺

pairing: Shouei Barou x female reader

warnings: self ship coded, SFW, a little angst, a little fluff, Barou isn’t great with feelings

It had been months.

Months of consistently subtle interactions that had led to this. This… unfamiliar feeling in his chest.

It was uncomfortable, and it made him grumpy when he couldn’t identify the source. Barou didn’t like to be in the dark about anything, let alone why his body was misbehaving.

Rubbing a palm over the area didn’t help in the slightest, nor did ignoring its existence.

On those nights where he would lie awake and stare at the ceiling, often the nights before an important match, he would poke at the feeling. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Barou would close his eyes and try to figure out what weighed so heavily on his conscious that his skin prickled from the discomfort. It couldn’t be nerves for his upcoming game, he was the king and the king had no worry about his prowess out on the field.

It made him even more grouchy than normal; growling and snarling at his mediocre teammates when they tried to joke with him. He was a bear with a bad head, and everyone was sick of it—most of all, him.

The realisation dawned slowly one Saturday morning.

With the heaviness in his chest following him around like there was a boulder lodged where his heart should be, he made his way to his pre-match sports massage.

There you were.

Sunshine smiles and starry eyed. The complete antithesis of himself. He knew the moment the weight lifted that you were the reason, though he refused to acknowledge it.

The discomfort melted away like ice under a heat lamp, leaving behind a tingly sensation that spread out from his heart to the tips of his fingers and toes. All of it, he ignored.

You were gentle despite how you could bring a grown ass man to his knees with the right combination of pressure points. You were friendly and inquisitive without coming across as nosy. You were soft-spoken but no nonsense at the same time. You were everything he wasn’t, and…

Barou wanted you.

“Right on time, Barou! I do love a punctual man,” you teased with a bright smile that lit up your small office.

“Shouei…” He so desperately wanted to correct you, to hear his given name roll around your mouth and trip off your pretty pink tongue. Instead, he gave a grunt and lay on the table as he had done for the past six months.

If his silence bothered you, you didn’t show it. The determination and skilful expertise of your hands eased onto his body like an old friend. His heart fluttered and his fists clenched.

He would never not be impressed by your ability to remember his every little past twinge and injury. It wasn’t like you were his personal physio, far from it since the whole team graced your office on a regular basis. Barou secretly wondered if he might be special to you, but quickly dismissed that idea with an audible grimace.

“Tender here today? Hm, that’s not normal for you.”

You had taken his reaction as a sign of pain at your manipulation of the area directly behind his left knee. He could kick himself. He was a damn idiot.

Barou grunted, “Nah, my mind was elsewhere.”

With a subtle nod, you hummed and continued to work diligently across his hamstrings which were known to give him problems. They were problems of his own making, as you liked to remind him, since he had a tendency to expect maximum exertion for a full ninety minute game.

“You’re a man not a machine!” You’d scowl him time and again.

You weren’t buying his excuse. He couldn’t blame you. He was a shitty liar. The truth was what he preferred—the blunter the better.

“Turn over,” you asked with a tap at his ankle. “Wanna talk about it? Where your mind is, I mean. It might help.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Except, he didn’t say it out loud. He couldn’t. For all his bravado of never shying away from the truth, no matter how painful… he couldn’t face his own.

He looked into your sweet face, ruby eyes bouncing between yours and dared to dream that what he saw was more than professional curiosity. The words burned his throat and turned his mouth to ash. If only he could brave the final hurdle, score the winning goal…

“Don’t go worrying about me. Tell me about your week and let me forget my problems for a bit.”

Barou was no king, not when you were the one wearing the crown.

Placed there by his hand.

His crown.

[fullsunised]

𝑨𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑺 ━━ 𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒍𝒆𝒆

“𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗲, 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗜’𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲.”

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: high school au, social media au, drama, suggestive fluff.

𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓: haechan lee, ai nishimura (oc!)

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄: exes who can’t move on.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: ai and haechan were high school sweethearts from the same friendship group, the type everyone loved and shipped. And unforseen circumstances [mutual toxicity] resulted in a rather dramatic breakup. Moving on however, was never a choice. Especially when all they did was consume each other’s thoughts.

𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓: the rest of nct, txt, aespa, le serrafim, the boyz, and others as mentioned.

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐍𝐃

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: same sex relationships. A lot of hooking up, parties, basically American parties, with alcohol, weed and everything else. Suggestive. Heavily. I do not own the idols except the oc, and their characterisation is purely fictional. Swearing of course, usage of ass, dicks and all sorts of language. Smut? Maybe.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: okay, forgive me for heavenly. Lost a good story, but this, hopefully will stick about huh. Anyways, give love and support. I love you all, so so much. My beautiful little butterflies.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒;

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍!!

[mythica0]

Trickster

🎂:Epic the musical

🧁:Polites, Odysseus, Eurylochus

🍫: Hermes

Summary: Hermes plays a neat little trick on the big trio on the ship.

A/N: more epic!! I love ler Hermes so much🙏 also, writing three lee’s is HARD yall. Once again, the ending sucks ass, sorry. I never know how to end these things 😭

Trickster

It was a normal, monotonous day on the ship.

Or, at least, it was supposed to be.

Odysseus, the captain, Eurylochus, the second in command, and Polites, the best friend and also pretty high up in the ranks, were standing together, talking about random nothings as they leaned against the railing of the ship.

Meanwhile, Hermes decided that he wanted to live up to his domain as the trickster god, and flew down to the ship, hiding off to the side.

‘Ohoho this is gonna be good.’ He thought to himself as he hid, watching his victims friends from the shadows with a smug smile. And then he used his divine powers to make a slight, barely-noticeable tingling sensation on the sides of all three men.

Due to its lightness, it wasn’t abnormal at first, and they rubbed at it once or twice but nothing too crazy. But as Hermes made it slightly more noticeable and it wasn’t going away, Odysseus commented.

“Man, what is that?”

Eurylochus raised an eyebrow and responded. “What is what?”

“There’s like a weird tingling on my side.”

The other two seemed shocked and replied in unison. “You too?!”

At this declaration, they realized that something was going on. Why else would all three of them be feeling that at the same time?

Just then, Hermes revealed himself with a laugh.

“Hey there, friends!”

“Hermes?!” They all called in shock, and then the god replied.

“The one and only!”

“Are you responsible for this?” Odysseus questioned with an air of seriousness behind his voice, although for some reason he found that it lost all bite, as the tingling sensation made him have the urge to smile.

“You bet I am! Let’s take it up a notch, shall we~?” Hermes lilting voice replies, and with a wave of his hand all three men feel the tingling grow into a true tickle.

Polites instantly burst into giggles, but the more stoic two tried to hold back.

“Ehehahahaha hehehehermehehehes, whyhyhy!”

“I just wanted to, seemed like fun! It’s a neat little trick, ain’t it? Come on, Friends, why are you holding back? Laughing is fun, just let yourself go!” He directs the latter part of his statement to the two that were repressing their laughter, holding their hands over their mouths as their shoulders shook with the effort. Odysseus shook his head, not wanting to give in.

“Well then, I guess I’ll have to up the ante a bit~” Hermes drawls again, and then moves the sensation to Odysseus’ thighs and Eurylochus’ armpits, their respective worst spots. Although Polites was already giggling, he decided to move it for him as well, to his tummy, the buzzing sensation increasing his giggles.

“Eee hehehehermehehes thahahat tihihickles! Ahahahahaha!” He squeaks slightly, doubling over and hugging himself around the middle, as if to block the sensation, but it doesn’t do anything for it, the sensation being entirely magical, as if coming from inside.

“I know, isn’t it great~?”

Meanwhile, Eurylochus finally broke, deep, rumbling chuckles leaving him from the feeling. Odysseus, however, was still stubbornly hanging on.

“Ahahahaha hehehermehehehes, stohohop thihis!”

“No way, I think you could use a laugh! And you, Friend,” he addresses Odysseus, “are fighting far too hard. Let the laughter consume you, my friend!” He waves his hand again, causing the feeling to intensify for all three men, and Odysseus breaks.

“Ppffft- shihihiit! Ahahahahaha!”

“There we go! Now was that so hard~”

Now all three men were giggling and laughing, squirming around. Hermes watched with a wide smile, and they all had very different reactions to the feeling.

Polites was doubled over and hugging himself still, but was also clearly enjoying himself, never once saying ‘no!’ Or ‘stop!’. Eurylochus had his arms snapped to his sides, still laughing with deep rumbling chuckles, protesting loudly. Odysseus was super embarrassed, blushing as he laughed wildly in front of his crew.

“Hehehehehermehehes, STOHOHOP!”

“Aww, but why~ this is so much fun!” Hermes pouts dramatically, holding his face.

“Speheak fohor yohoursehelf aHahahahaha!”

“I dunno~ you all sure sound like you’re having fun.”

“Nohoho whehehe ahaharent! Cuhuhut ihit ohout!” Eurylochus protested through his laughter, struggling to get the words out.

Polites spoke up from his spot. “Ihi dohont knohow Guhuys, Ihi thihink thihis ihis kihinda fuhun! Ehahahaha!”

“I knew you would~” Hermes coos, causing Polites to blush, but he doesn’t deny anything or protest at all.

“Since you’re having fun, why don’t I make this a little bit more interesting, hmm?” The god drawls again, once again increasing the sensation for all three men.

They’re all consumed by unrelenting tickles on their worst spots, the entire area being overwhelmed with fluttery, electric tingles that make them hysterical with laughter.

Polites can feel his entire tummy being assaulted with the ticklish sensations, feeling like prodding fingers and raspberries on every inch of the surface. He doesn’t deny that he’s having fun, small joyful tears forming in his eyes as he giggles.

Eurylochus can feel his whole underarm area being tickled ruthlessly, a buzzing electric sensation consuming him. It tickles so bad! And he is much more reluctant to admit that he doesn’t totally hate this, not even admitting it to himself.

Odysseus is certainly the most embarrassed of the three. He is supposed to be the captain, strong and respectable! But here he was, unable to stop himself from laughing loudly from the feeling of his legs being squeezed and scratched ticklishly. He feels his knees buckle and he grabs into the railing for support. He also refuses to admit to himself that he’s enjoying the feeling, the enjoyment being far overshadowed by embarrassment.

The crew has gathered around to watch the scene, cooing and cheering.

“Haha, they needed to be taken down a notch!”

“Aww, look how much fun Polites is having!”

“I know, right? He’s smiling so wide!”

“Haha, yeah, and I think Eurylochus and the Cap are enjoying it too, even if they don’t wanna admit it.”

The three blush more at the words, especially Odysseus, feeling humiliated at being reduced to a laughing mess in front of his men. Hermes watches, hovering around in various relaxed or playful positions, not deactivating or lowering the relentless divine tickles in the slightest.

“Look how cute you are~ all giggly and happy~” the trickster coos, floating like a school girl would lay on their stomach. He’s having a blast watching and causing the chaos, and he knows that his targets are too, even if two of them won’t admit it.

“Hehehehermehehes, cuhuhut ihihit ohohohout!” Eurylochus continues to protest, feeling as though he has to do something, anything to stop the sensation.

“I don’t think so, darling~ in fact, I don’t think you should be telling a god what to do~”

Eurylochus sees what Hermes is implying and quickly backtracks with giggly apologies. “Wahahait, ihihim sohohorry nononohohoho!”

Hermes giggles and intensifies the sensation anyway. “Yes~ tickle tickle tickle! Doesn’t that feel nice~”

“NoHOhoHO IHIT dohoHOESNT! STohop, PlehehHEASE!” Eurylochus’ chuckles raise to belly laughs, the sensation driving him mad.

Polites, despite how much fun he’s having right now, almost feels a pang of.. jealousy? At Eurylochus’ pleading, feeling like he’s missing out on something more intense. Picking up on this, somehow, Hermes looks at Polites with a teasing yet fond smile, speaking with a teasing lilt that makes Polites blush grow.

“Aww, is someone feeling a little jealous~? Dont worry, friend, let me help you with that~” Hermes does so, increasing the sensation for Polites as well, even adding some ticklish sensation to his sides as well, sensing just how much the optimistic man is enjoying himself.

Polites’ Jealousy immediately vanishes, replaced by a giddy panic mixed with happiness, his squeaky giggles growing louder. He nearly cheers aloud, but decides against it, not wanting to embarrass himself more than he already has. “Eehehehhahahahaha ihihits sohoho tihihickly! Ahahahahaha!”

“Aww, I know it is~ it feels good, doesn’t it~?” Polites doesn’t respond directly, but he doesn’t deny it either, and his body language conveys how he’s really feeling, so he doesn’t really have to respond.

Odysseus is leaning on the railing for support, falling nearly entirely to the floor from the unending, debilitating ticklish shocks sending through his legs. He is so embarrassed, but despite that, he’s also, maybe..having.. just a bit of fun. (It’s a lot of fun, but he’s not even gonna think about that) His worst spot is being tickled absolutely ruthlessly, the electric sensation not letting up for a single moment. His laughter is loud and frantic, but it does carry a tone of genuine joy as well.

“AhaHAhaHAHAHAH! MahahaHAKe ihihit StohohoHOP-!”

“What’s wrong, too ticklish~?” Hermes’ teasing words make his already bright red face get even brighter, his embarrassment evident on his face that’s also adorned with a wide smile, just as his two friends who are squirming and laughing besides him.

“Plehehehehease, hehehehermehehes, ihi CAHAHANT Tahahake ihihit!” Eurylochus’ voice rumbles with his deep laughter, a low, loud sound.

“Sure you can~ all you gotta do is laugh, and you’re doing just fine at that~”

“Heheheehehahahahahahaha! Ihihit tihihickles sohoho muhuhuch! Hahahahahha!” Polites’ happy giggling continues to fill the air of the ship, earning coos from the watching audience.

Hermes decides that Odysseus needs to join his friends in the more intense feeling, increasing it for him as well, making his legs fully fail, him collapsing to the floor in loud fits of laughter, kicking in order to try and expel the sensation, or at the very least deal with it. “AHAHAH- NohoHO- ahahahahahaha!”

“Oop, man down! Looks like someone’s awful ticklish~”

“AHaHAHA NOHOT THEHERE, PLEHEASE!”

“Oh, but this spot is just so fun!”

Eurylochus continues to let out Belly laughs, his being the deepest of the three, filling the air with the booming sound. “Hahahahahahaha ehehenohohough, plehehehehease! Ahahahahaha!”

“Why should I~ you all seem to be having a good time~”

Polites is still giggling happily, holding his stomach with small tears of joy rolling down his face. He is having an absolute blast right now, and is the most open about it.

Odysseus, meanwhile, was stuck in absolute ticklish agony, laughing loudly as his thighs were assaulted with ruthless tickles, forcing endless laughter from his chest. He, too, had tears of laughter falling, the feeling be so unbelievably intense, and despite the fact that he doesn’t want to admit it, it feels so good. What made it worse is that he couldn’t even fight back! There were no hands to push at, no pin to struggle against, but yet no matter how much he kicked and squirmed it did nothing to help alleviate the maddening feeling.

Eurylochus was much in the same position, arms pinned to his sides but it doing nothing to block or protect him from the intense tingling tickles on his underarms, making his deep belly laughs ring throughout the ship.

Hermes could tell that they were reaching their limit, so decided for one last hurrah before ending the feeling.

“You guys ready for a grand finale~”

“NOHOHO!”

“Plehehehehease dohohont!”

Eurylochus and Odysseus protested loudly, whereas Polites just felt flutters of anticipation in his chest.

Hermes ignored the pleas, and for said ‘grand finale’, made the three have even more intense sensations all over their most ticklish spots, driving them mad with laughter.

It only lasted for a few seconds, the men’s hysterical laughter filling the ship like a joyful symphony, but to them it felt like an hour. It was so unbelievably intense, probably the strongest tickling any of them had ever experienced.

It was absolutely unbearable, and although it was a little enjoyable, they each knew that they couldn’t take it for more than a few seconds.

After the longest 5 seconds of their lives, Hermes snapped and the sensation disappeared, leaving just residual giggles.

After a minute or so that the men took to cool their breathing and stop giggling, Hermes spoke.

“Did you have fun~~” the blush that had started to fade immediately returned in full force.

“Yeah..” Polites spoke quietly, not bothering to deny it despite it being embarrassing to admit.

“Absolutely not!” Eurylochus and Odysseus chimed in at the same time, despite it being not fully true.

Odysseus continued. “Please, never do that again.”

Hermes did an exaggerated pout. “Booo, you’re no fun~”

Odysseus just sighed. “At the very least can you not do that while I’m in front of everyone?”

“I make no promises~”

With final goodbyes and well wishes, Hermes flew off to continue his job, leaving the three flustered from the experience.

“Agree to never talk about this again?”

Odysseus spoke and the other two nodded.

“Agreed.” Eurylochus continued. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

They dispersed to do various things and continue their jobs, but they couldn’t deny that they had a slight lightness in their chests after the experience, the boredom of the day having been lifted slightly.

It was a pretty cool trick.

———THE END————————————————

[thestrangestthlng]

Seeing the collective breakdown of some of these Buddies is honestly the highlight of today. Y'all shipbaited yourselves right into the sun and now you're upset and not watching the show anymore because "Buddie isn't happening". Babes, Buddie was never going to happen.

Or, if they haven't decided to jump ship, they are pushing the goal posts back to this season now being the season that he's going to have his queer realization and that Buddie is gonna be season 9.

All I know is that in 17 days, I'm going to be kicked back in my recliner, snackie snacks in one hand, my wine in the other happily consuming my happy show, because no matter what happens with Buck and Tommy, I win.

I watch the show because I enjoy it, because it makes me happy. I love all of the characters (even when I'm yelling at my screen). Buck is my favorite character to ever exist in media ever and as long as he's happy when the show goes dark, I don't care who that is with. (just put a ring on that man's finger and give him a damn baby.)

Ship and let ship, but for the love of gay baby jesus, please stop with the actual foolishness. Leave the actors out of your dumb ass ship wars and definitely leave their family out of everything. These are all actors who are getting paid to say the words put on a paper before them.

Sit back. Enjoy the show. And if you don't, you get what you get and you don't get upset.

[aratribow]

What would happen if yanqing died.

I need more angst about Yanqing and jing yuan pls

AHHHHH I ACTUALLY HAVE SO MANY YQ MCD WIPS? That my lazy ass never completed..

But I present you ONE polished thingy. (Don't mind me adding in a ship as well ^^)

An au where Kafka was a bit too late with the spirit whisper, where Jing Yuan was a bit too late to save Yanqing from the shard sword aimed for his chest.

Ps: Yanqing is a bio renjing child here, but Ren didn't know about his existence because he left to get milk and never came back. ^^

Warning: Yanqing MCD

The sun sets, the bird ceases its song, and the lion mourns: (title suggested by @itsredpaint )

He distantly watched as the window curtains flew with the breeze, a chill so familiar. Lying motionless in the assigned bed at the alchemy commission, Jing Yuan felt numb; if the scratchy material of the sheets felt mildly prickly – then he couldn't tell. His barely taken breaths, the only sign of his survival.

There's nothing left.

The momentary fragile trust that took everything, for just a fraction, was broken on a whim.

Another loved one lost to the winds, too young and tender for the graves, too young and tender to wonder if even the ashes will remain.

Jing Yuan was supposed to die there, die at the hands of the Lord Ravager, he had everything prepared beforehand, so why. He was not supposed to be stranded on the mortal world with nothing left of his own, he had already lost plenty, what more was there to lose anymore.

For the moment, he couldn't even recognize if the dull throbbing pain from his chest was entirely the work of Cloud Piercer or not. The lingering remains of Destruction still pulsing through his chi didn't help either.

In the quiet solitude of the night, Jing Yuan's harsh breaths kept him up, the ragged pathetic sound so bitterly familiar.

If he was just a little bit faster…just a little bit faster to save the only sun left in his life.

(The other sun had already been lost to the stars, with nothing left of her other than the telltale bravery of her ill fated luck sewed into the few remaining strands of her lilac hair.)

With a bated breath, he realised that he would never see his retainer again. He would never get to see his dust blonde hair, which, despite being deftly tied up in a high ponytail, always ended up covered in dirt from the spars. The way it gleamed with a gentle sheen of gold whenever Jing Yuan combed through the knotted strands of his freshly dried hair after a long day of work, the action soothing his nerves into a pleasant buzz of tranquillity with Yanqing nodding off on his shoulder. He would never get to see the vivid shade of molten gold in his eyes either, which would crinkle at the edges with a beaming smile at the mention of a favoured sword.

People around General Jing Yuan always remarked as to how his retainer's eyes completely resembled his own, he wondered why, for he always thought that if there was someone who could rival the Sun, it would be Yanqing. not anymore, though

Confined in the cage of his short-sighted immortality, the Divine Foresight mourned. Could he have saved his disciple, his lieutenant, his retainer, his son if only he hadn't undermined the play orchestrated by fate itself? If only he hadn't trusted his life with the phantom of a man once loved and cherished.

Seeing nothing but the blurry lines of the ceiling, he dared not to blink as he let the tears cascade down by themselves, framing his face in a warmth he could only ever dream of now.

Despite being consumed by the guilt of failing yet another, he did not fail to discern the presence that breached the privacy of the room. If not for the silent footfalls, then for the tenseness permeating from the body.

He blinked once, twice.

"He was your son, too." Jing Yuan said, voice barely audible, barely held together against the lump in his throat, threatening to choke him. If not for the dead of the night, void of any activity around, the words would have been lost, blown away by the chilled breeze coming in through the windows.

With eyes still focused on the ceiling, he noticed the body wince in his periphery.

Jing Yuan never thought that it would come to this, but now? Now he wanted this person to mourn alongside him, to share the pain that tore his barely beating heart out and reduced it to shreds. But perhaps it was even more foolish of him to think that Ren would care.

If he had, he wouldn't had left, not when Jing Yuan needed him the most, not when Jing Yuan missed him so bad it hurt, a tender wound damaged again and again with no respite, with no chance to heal, to the point where Jing Yuan felt the kindling fire die within him…and he let it.

The only time he dared to show face was to kill their son, to take away the only light left in Jng Yuan's dying world.

Because what would it matter to Ren when it was Jing Yuan who had to raise Yanqing all by himself. It would be Jing Yuan, who would ever know about Yanqing's child-like antics despite the act he proudly put up for his role as a lieutenant.

It would be Jing Yuan who would remember his pleading eyes at barely the end of the month, and despite the visible disapproval he would still fulfil the wishes, just to see a triumphant smile grace his son's face for winning a war that didn't exist in the first place.

It would be Jing Yuan who would cherish his joy at the agreement of eating outside at a favourite restaurant, relishing in the simplicity of it. It would be Jing Yuan who would know of his boundless determination, his passion, his courage to overcome obstacles at such an early age, his dream of becoming the sword champion...that would remain a dream in itself.

Perhaps…if he had kept him away from the ruthless reality, and if he had just provided the comfort of a father and not the sternness of a mentor, a General, then…perhaps-

Despite being surged by the bitter feelings, he could hardly feel it in himself to move, it seemed to further drown him within the sheets instead. Perhaps it was for the best because he couldn't tell what he wanted to do with his limbs or his body anymore. His grip on reality, failing him.

Before he could choke even further on his misery, he felt a rough bandaged hand coming to rest on his forehead – just then, he finally found his body moving as he violently recoiled against the hand. If it was the tender hand of a lover before, now, it was just the hand of a murderer that dripped with the blood of his child.

Something must have been written on his face besides the silent stream of tears, for he saw the body retreat back quicker than it came to be. He wondered if he would retreat back through the door, never to show face again, just like last time.

But Jing Yuan could care less. If Ren wished to stay for some sick godforsaken reason, just to haunt him in his last moments, then he probably should. Jing Yuan didn't have it in himself to stop him, he'd rather have that same blade plunge through his heart and seal the final deal for him.

He knew the mara wouldn't be long after this, he had lived enough already, and his son was the last straw.

"Baba.... it hurts.." Yanqing said as he had coughed out a string of viscous red that shouldn't be there, not at this age, not now.

Jing Yuan remembered the feeling of pure rage dissipating only to be replaced by unadulterated anguish instead as he collapsed to his knees beside his child. There was a gaping wound that shouldn't have been there-

No, it shouldn't have been there, and yet it was.

Yanqing had laid there, in his arms, seeping precious blood into the ruined tiles of the Dragonvista Hall. Jing Yuan recalled feeling helpless as he watched the blood gurgle from Yanqing's mouth, making it hard for him to breathe. The strength in his tender face long gone as he watched the colour receding rapidly, leaving nothing but pure fear in its wake. His son was scared, scared and he could do nothing to soothe the pain.

He used to pull his son close into his arms, secure him there and read him stories or recount tales from the past at nights Yanqing couldn't sleep. He wonders if he should have paid more attention to the beating heart against him, comforting in the constant rhythm of alive, alive, alive-

His grip on Yanqing faltered as slick blood sluggishly gushed out of the wound on his tiny body. How could someone this small lose this much blood?

Before he could’ve tried to bring his son a false sense of security, the least he could've done for his frightened child, he saw his breath even out and his eyelids flutter shut against the remaining tears streaming down his face. The tears that washed away the grime on his young face only to leave tracks of evident pain behind.

Jing Yuan couldn't do anything when yanqing slowly nudged his face into his neck, with his last remaining strength, to breathe out a final…apology.

"Baba, I'm sorry....I...failed you."

Before he could retort back to dispel the thought, (How had he failed to notice this brewing insecurity? What kind of father-) he felt the body completely slump into his arms, warmth dissipating from his body already.

Oh how he wished for the cold to be from Yanqing's frost, and not from his dying body.

He couldn't remember how long he sat there, but it must have been enough for Dan Heng to approach him and rest a (reassuring?) hand on his shoulder. He might've spoken something but Jingyuan could hear nothing over the blood boiling in his veins, over the unresponsive body in his arms, pulled close to his own to at least share a portion of his own body heat in desperate hopes of convincing himself that his son was still alive. He clutched him tightly enough to probably hurt, but hurting would have been good, it would've meant that he was still breathing.

The haze eventually cleared when he felt the dam finally break in its wake.

Jing Yuan swayed forward into his lap with his hands covering his face, hiding himself from the world, from himself, and from him. He heard a loud whimper before registering an inhumane cry of pure agony, not realising that the sound was torn out from himself.

He wanted to slam his fist into the mattress, feel the wooden frame of the bed break underneath his hands. He needed to let out the pain somehow, but he could find no purchase when he felt a pair of hands firmly, yet gently, remove his tightly clenched fingers clutching the bunched up sheets. He felt bitterly vulnerable as he struggled against the firm hold, pushing him back down onto the bed, the rough material of the bandage grating against his wrists. He cried out at the cruelty that denied him the simple notion of curling in on himself, the need in his body to clutch something, someone close against him growing stronger by the second. What more could Ren want from him?

"LEAVE!” He lashed out, sobbing with broken hiccups. He hated how exposed he felt, having nowhere to hide his face.

"Leave like you always did! Leave like you were always meant to, because leaving is the only thing you are good at-"

The words promptly got stuck in his throat though, as he distinctly felt a drop of tear hitting his face. The following whimper made Jingyuan finally turn back to gaze into Ren's contorted face, his lips pulled into a wobbling snarl with his brows tightly knit together. Ren hovered over him as gold met red and more tears struck his skin as they emerged from eyes barely kept open.

Despite a faint voice in his head urging him to wipe away tears if his past lover, Jing Yuan couldn't find it in himself to be merciful for this once. He has shown enough mercy in this lifetime, he wanted to be selfish for once.

"You killed our son, Ren. It was me who had raised him, and now it again has to be me....to see through his funeral." Jing Yuan weeped, still reeling from the onslaught of guilt. “How many more Ren? How many more?”

If Jing Yuan went overboard with his demands, then he did. The patience meticulously crafted over the years shattering in mere seconds.

He saw Ren violently wince, and it…shouldn't have been as satisfactory as it was, but he couldn't deny the cruel satisfaction of watching the murderer collapse under the realisation of his own crimes. Perhaps this is what Ren wanted to feel as well when he chased Dan Heng across the universe.

Ren finally left the hold around his wrists as he sank onto the ground to his knees, his face dejectedly pushed into the mattress, going completely still despite a hand still faintly holding onto Jing Yuan's own. If it was an apology, then Jing Yuan couldn't tell.