#it feels like he doesn't even realize it himself too

[multific]

Between Doubt and Secrets

Emperor Geta x Reader

Summary: When Geta and Caracalla left to attend to their duties as Emperors, you stayed behind due to sickness. Geta returns he notices just how distant you are, a week passed and he thinks he knows the reason behind your coldness. 

The sound of his boots on the stone floor echoes in the quiet of the palace, each step bringing him closer to you. 

After what feels like an eternity, Geta is done with his daily duties. 

Normally, that would be a relief, a reason to smile.

But tonight, the air between you feels different. It’s heavy with a secret you’ve carried alone for far too long.

You stay by the window, watching the fading light of the setting sun. You were nervous. 

The day is ending.

The news of your child you have known for over three weeks now. The doctor confirmed your suspicion and your heart sank. 

A child wasn’t part of your plan. At least not now.

In truth, it’s thrown everything into chaos. 

But now Geta is back, and the tension in the room is thick.

When he steps into the room, his presence fills the space. 

His eyes immediately find you, but there’s something different about his look tonight. 

It’s not the warmth you’ve grown to know, not the loving look he only gives to you. 

No, tonight his eyes are sharp, suspicious. His brow furrows just slightly as he approaches.

“Where have you been today?” he asks, his voice even, too calm for the question. He was angry.

In the morning he did ask to see you, but you failed to.

For a moment, you stop. 

You weren’t expecting interrogation, weren’t prepared for it. His eyes are searching, like he already knows something.

“I was... outside. Just needed some air.”

He doesn’t immediately respond, but you can see the suspicion in his eyes.

It doesn’t take much for him to read you, to notice when something’s off. To know when you lie.

And for the last week he has been home, something has been off.

“You’ve been distant,” he says after a long pause. “Too distant. I’ve been gone for weeks, and it feels like you’ve shut me out.”

His words cut deep, though you know he doesn’t mean to hurt you. 

He doesn’t understand. 

He hasn’t seen the turmoil you’ve been living with, the fear that’s kept you awake at night.

“I’m not... I’m not shutting you out,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just... a lot has happened while you were gone.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing. 

“What kind of ‘a lot,’ exactly? Have you been seeing someone else while I’ve been gone?”

The accusation hits you like cold water. 

It’s not anger that fills his voice but hurt. 

The kind of hurt that makes your stomach swirl. 

You want to tell him that it’s not like that, that there’s no one else. But the truth is so much more complicated. And far more frightening.

“Geta, no,” you say, your voice trembling. “There’s no one else. I’ve been alone while you were gone. It’s just... I’ve been trying to figure things out.”

He watches you for a long moment, and you see the doubt still in his eyes. 

You know he’s not convinced. 

But you don’t know how to explain the truth. 

How could you tell him that you’re carrying his child when you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself?

How could you tell him that you have been inside all day trying to figure out how to finally tell him?

Especially when he specifically told you he is not ready for a child. Only the senators demand such a thing. And he doesn't want to give into their needs.

He had enough to care for already, the Empires, his brother and now this.

For a long moment, the room is silent. You tried to collect your thoughts as you played with the hem of your dress.

You and Geta loved each other. Your love was known far and wide for its fire.

Then, finally, you collect yourself. You took a deep breath and realized, you needed to say it.

“Geta... there’s something I must tell you.”

His eyes shoot up to yours, but he doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t say a word. He just waits, watching you closely, as if bracing himself for whatever you’re about to say. He prepared for the worst, he is scared you are about to break his heart.

“I’m pregnant,” you finally say. The weight now lifting from your shoulders but it fills the room instead.

The silence that follows is thicker than the air.  Almost makes in impossible to breathe.

His expression shifts from one of anger to one of pure confusion. 

He was a smart man, he probably connected the events already.

“Pregnant?” he repeats, voice low. “But... how? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” you whisper, your hands trembling as you spoke. “I wasn’t sure what to think, and... I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” he shakes his head. “I... I don’t understand. I thought you were... I thought you were pulling away from me, that you found someone.”

“How can I find anyone Geta? I love you so much. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t expect this. I didn’t plan for it. And what you said about the senators... I was scared.”

He falls silent, staring at you for a long time, as if frozen in time. He realised it was all his fault. That day, he spoke out of anger, he didn't realise just how much pressure that put on you.

In reality, he always wanted a child with you, just on your own terms.

After a moment, he steps closer, his hands trembling as they reach out to you.

“Are you truly pregnant?”

You nod, and a single tear slips down your cheek. The weight that’s been crushing you lifts just a little.

Then, without warning, Geta pulls you into his arms. 

It’s a sudden and tight hug as if he’s afraid to let go of you. 

His embrace is tight, warm, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to believe that everything will be okay.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought... you didn’t want me anymore.”

You pull back slightly to look at him, searching his eyes, you offer him a warm smile. 

“I do want you. I just... I was scared. This wasn’t how I imagined it would happen.”

He brushes a hand over your stomach gently. 

“You’re carrying our child, the future of Rome.” he says softly, the disbelief still evident in his voice.

“I am,” you reply, your voice catching in your throat.

His hand rests on your stomach, his fingers warm and protective. "I'm not leaving your side again. And what I said about the senators... I don't care for them. I care for you, I love you. I will protect you and our child. I promise."

For the first time in weeks, you allow yourself to breathe. 

“We’ll be okay,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him, but he hears it.

Geta presses a soft kiss to your lips, pulling you close again. His voice and heart beat fill you with hope. 

“I promise.” he whispered again. 

And you knew Geta always kept his promise.

Suddenly, your baby felt like a blessing. The future of Rome and you.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief  

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @brevlada24

@mel-vaz @akamitrani @ange-olras @nicholaschavezslut69

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[kitab00m101]

Holy- HOW IS THIS SO TRAUMATIZING (OP I LOVE YOU FOR THIS)

Adding onto some of them with headcanons of my own (TW selfharm-death-mental illness-blood❗️)-

Scott's skin bubbling and shifting constantly since he hasn't learned to control it yet. Grabbing at his own neck, almost strangling himself as he tries to press the gills shut. He can't think clearly, because he's never getting enough oxygen, even if he ever were to see water, he's damaged his gills so severely that he'll never properly breathe again, like so many people take for granted.

Not many people know this, but Jimmy is covered in bruises. When invisible, he trips over himself, bumps into things, as well as other people bumping into him. He's got a handful of bruises here and there because of that, but that's not why every inch of his arms and legs are black and blue. The panic he felt the first time he turned never really went away. Sometimes he'll wake up invisible, and for moments will forget about his ability. Sometimes, when he's in a really bad state, he'll hurt himself. He'll grab his arms tightly for hours on end, just reassure that they are actually there. His friends just assume that the bad people are rougher with Jimmy because he's usually more "rambunctious".

Imagine Martyn being put in isolation, with sound proof barriers when he gets his ability because the facility doesn't want him hearing things he shouldn't. He goes mad in. There are chips in his ears from him clawing at them. He's missing tufts of his hair. He used to scream so much when he first got his power, to the point where now his voice is permanently broken and wheezy. He used to hope that if he was loud enough, desperate enough, his cries could overpower All. That. Noise.

Imagine Ren subconsciously shifting to have certain features from Martyn, creeping out all their other friends, but they never tell him that. They know that he's been broken ever since they took Martyn away from him. As the months go on, Ren starts to forget his own features- but it doesn't matter. All he has to do is remember Martyn. His hair, his eyes, his smile. Ren doesn't have a smile of his own anymore, because the last time he smiled was at Martyn. He smiled back.

Scar finding out his power, and jokingly shadow boxing, saying how he's gonna take down any guard who messes with him or his friends- Then someone comes up behind him, and mid-punch he turns around, his fist making contact with Mumbo's shoulder. Scar freezes, but it's too late. Mumbo flies meters away, thrown to the ground. His arm is barely even connected to his body, there's blood pouring out of his mouth. Scar rushes to his friend's side, and goes pale at the sight of the man's flattened ribcage.

Later on, Cleo shoving the mindless corpses of Skizz and Mumbo around, acting like she could bully them into being normal again. Through the hallways, you can sometimes hear her crying- "Look at me- look at me Skizz!" "NO, No, no, no- Mumbo, I can fix you- I promise, just please lift up your head" "you're gonna be okay- you can still be with us, you don't have to go..."

The first time BigB summons a creaking, he's being escorted by a guard through a hall. He hears the footsteps coming up to them, and meets the creature’s eyes. The guard opens fire, only causing bullets to ricochet off its bark, while BigB stands there, never pulling his eyes from the creaking monster. He blinks for a millisecond, turning to run, and that's when he heard the guard's final breath. BigB watched as the branch through the man's chest lowered him to the ground. The creaking just kept looking at BigB, and it took him ages too long to realize that it would hurt everyone around but him.

Imagine Gem looking over her shoulder, and seeing Mumbo and Skizz for the first time in... too long. Shutting her eyes and contuining to walk. Calling herself crazy as tears start to form, until she feels a hand on her shoulder. She looks back and sees her own body, crumbled to the ground. When she uses her powers, her eyes seem to disappear, almost like Grian's black, void like eyes. She spends hours of her day crying into Skizz's arms while Mumbo tries his very hardest to give her words of comfort.

Tango's heart is always beating too fast, to the point where it'll start to hurt. The running helps relieve the pain, but it doesn't go away. When trapped in his cell, the camera's frame rate can't keep up with him. The screens in the security camera room just show four orange figures that change every could seconds, all of them with expressions of rage or desperation.

Lizzie attempting to make her escape, but as she runs down the halls, the screams of panicked from her friends disorient her. The guards eventually find her banging on the steel door of Joel's cell, screaming that she's sorry.

Imagine seeing Pearl with raw finger tips, sometimes with her entire palm covered in her own blood, and having no clue as to why until you walk into her cell, and see the claw marks in the concrete ceiling. Engravings from every time she'd had a breakdown and tried so hard to get to the open sky.

Etho always keeping his hands behind his back or in his pockets so the very thought of using his ability never crosses his mind.

Imagine Grian trying out each of his friends powers, and having to go through each and every single one of these torturous moments.

I JUST HAD A REALLY COOL IDEA FOR AN AU BASED ON THE NEW WILD LIFE EPISODE. HEAVY(?) ANGST UP AHEAD AND ALSO SPOILERS TO SESSION 7 SO BE WARNED!

LIFE SERIES MEMBERS BUT THEY GOT THEIR POWERS FROM LAB EXPERIMENTATION!!!!!

Okay I'm switching to lowercase so I'm not just screaming at you guys haha

[EDIT] Guess who’s fully elaborating on this AU with Subject files and a fic? :3

Project X Master Post

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Imagine Martyn curled up in the corner of his cell, covering his ears bc he doesn't know how to block things out and everything is so loud.

Imagine Scott transforming from an aquatic creature back to his regular form, but he still has gills, and he panics when he can't breathe.

Imagine Jimmy turning in invisible for the first time and not knowing how to turn back, and he thinks he's stuck that way forever.

Imagine Ren transforming the first few times, but there's always something off about him. He looks eerie, like something from uncanny valley.

Imagine Scar not knowing his own strength and jokingly punching Mumbo, only to send him flying into the wall and causing his death.

Imagine Cleo trying so hard to get Mumbo and Skizz to act the way that they used to when she summons them, but it's never truly them. Something is always wrong.

Imagine BigB being terrified when he summons the creaking for the first time, not realizing they're on his side and thinking they'll attack him.

Imagine Gem astral projecting as an escapism, talking to Mumbo and Skizz and "leaving" the facility, but she can't truly leave.

Imagine Impulse and Tango nearly getting to escape with their powers, their friends cheering them on from inside their cells, and just when they're in the clear, Impulse gets tranquilized and falls unconscious. Tango can't bare to leave his buddy behind. They both get collars that block their abilities and heavy monitoring after that stunt.

Lizzie feels bad about her power. She's tried to escape as well, but when she realized the blindness affected her friends, it freaked her out so much that security was able to catch up to her and take her back to her cell.

Imagine Bdubs sleeping diligently through every night and dealing with nightmares of the hell they've all been put through so his friends don't.

Imagine Pearl wishing she could fly out in the open air, desperate for that kind of freedom that she knows she will never have.

Imagine Etho trying to bring down his mace to pretend to hit Bdubs, and when he move to the side to dodge, it actually puts him in the way of Etho's strike. The absolute terror that fills Etho is so bad that he never jokes like that again, even if it barely hurt him.

Imagine Joel looking around and analyzing the rooms, thinking of how he could scale the walls with his ability to escape through an air vent, but he can never bring himself to do it because he refuses to leave Lizzie.

Imagine Grian being physically and emotionally strained trying to learn everyone's powers and how to properly use them, wishing he just had one of his own instead.

Imagine Skizz and Mumbo both dying (Skizz due to the intense tests and Mumbo due to the effects the testing had on Scar) before they had a chance to gain powers of their own. Don't imagine those powers being just what the group needs to escape.

===============================

I think I might write each of these as a one shot. That would certainly be a LOT of fun :) lmk what you guys think please!

[bubblingbowie]

just read your little logan smut with flower mutant!reader. ugh!! it was literally so sweet !! all the little nicknames for her “his flustered girl?” “the sweetest thing.” UGH i’m clawing my hair out it’s so good.

it made me think like what happens if he were to like overstimulate her or something. or maybe she’s had a bad day, or logan had been out on a mission and she misses him. and so when he gets back and pounds her into the mattress, bc duh obviously he missed his girl, little vines of some climbing flower wrap around his arms where he holds her, and eventually up his biceps, around his waist where they can sprawl over his abs, all of her favorite places of logan. and obviously she doesn’t realize it bc she’s too lost in how logan makes her feel and how much she missed him.

oh and maybe when she realizes, they start to retract because she’s so embarrassed !! and logan’s all like “hey, now don’t pull away from me, pretty girl,” and just kisses every inch of her and holds her close. please i’m obsessed. logan and his pretty flower girl are all i need !!!

a/n: YALLLL she's back. i literally had a whole other fic i was writing but this ask shot me and i just had to so thank u anon :) i will post the other fic soon but for now! be kind to me work has been busy i love uuuu enjoy!

Logan Howlett x f!reader | 18+ i'll bop you between ya eyes | flower!mutant :)

you all but jump into Logan's arms. 19 hours away; of silence. it was necessary for his stupid mission but agony for his darling love back at their cabin in the woods. he couldn't even make it inside, you ran out so he wouldn't have to find you in the house. "hey, sweet-pea." he gruffs, your eyes just beaming. he sure doesn't miss the dandelions that you leave behind with each step.

"about time! you said you'd be home by ten! god i was worried sick, i-i didn't know if i should cook dinner or not so there's nothing to eat." you babble, worried and running up the wall with meaningless stress. he just watches with a keen eye.

his hand ushers to your head, petting so sweetly to calm you down. "hey. hey. 'm alright, dolly. don't even care about dinner." and then the softest kiss to your forehead. "just happy you're here." like you'd be gone when he came back.

you're relaxed in his palm, eyes glued up to him. it's like he never left you. "bought some whiskey for you though." oh he's dating an angel, he knows it. and your proud smile just sends him in a frenzy of wanting to sip and stay with you in the living room or carry you over his shoulder to your bed. he wants the latter so badly.

he chuckles lowly and wraps his big burly arms wrap around your waist, his nose nudging under your ear. "too kind to me, baby." he murmurs. your all too familiar scent envelopes him and the switch is flipped. he has you to himself again. and Logan is just sooo greedy for his girl.

greedy and impatient. he all but shoves his large backpack into the corner of your shared room before you're thrown on the gentle plushness of the comforter. and you even made the bed for him, his sweetest girl. he's panting, eyes blown while your sweater rises up on your skin. the most he can do while he's crawling towards you is press the softest pecks on your knees and the front of your calves.

"missed you so bad." you're heart flips in its place, the sight of big bad Wolverine slinking slowly up your legs worshipping every inch he saw just too much.

"it was only a day." you chuckle, a hazy grin on your lips. your hands trail down to his hair, running through it with a smile. its fuel to the fire.

there's a small nip onto your thigh from the comment. "you say that like i don't need you every fucking minute of the it." he's quick to peel off pesky clothing in the way of the grand prize. both your tops and your own shorts were laid lazily on the floor. Logan nearly ripped it all off, his teeth baring a few times with how wanton he seemed. it's just you in your cute cotton panties and he aches all over for you. "can i? christ- lemme have you dolly, please?" you gulp, cheeks red and knees weak.

"please. yes please, need you so bad" oh how you're eyes go wide when you're desperate. Logan's hand gliding up and up your abdomen, a soft gleam shown with how smooth you've stayed. fingers run over the breasts he's worshipped so many times. after all that's been done, you've stayed his sweetest girl. so sweet you'd let him fuck you silly so quickly!

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

"i know sweetie, so deep, ain't i? jus' feel good, petal" he cooed so sweetly with your legs on his shoulders, pressed so lean against the silk pillowcases (bought by you but loved the most by Logan).

"oh fuck! 's so good, god-!" your eyes were screwed shut. you couldn't keep up, it always happens. senses get clogged up with how his dick stretches you so nice. all you hear is the quickness of skin on skin, his movement so unforgiving. you see Logan with a slacked jaw from how sloppy he's gotten you even within the few moments he's had you back in his arms.

but what you feel? you feel heaven and light all at once. you feel loved and loving, your skin melting into his. wanting him closer. to stay. on Logan's end, he's relishing in your sweet noises. just working along to keep your legs shaking, keep those warm tears falling down your cheeks, keep those vines growing your skin onto his hands rested on your waist. Logan does a double take.

the vines. oh shit. gardening again! just like those weeks ago with the wisteria. he remembers how red you were when your eyes laid upon those flowers. poor thing, your first thought was you hurt him. sure, like your mind would ever let yourself harm him. he prays it's a normal occurrence now, maybe he's a good man after all if you're so willing. a beautiful creation he has laid out so beautifully and for him?

yeah, you're growing more for him. "thas' it dolly, just feel good. you like my cock so bad? hm?" in your head, he's just talking about how you've gone limb from how the head of his cock rams deep into what feels like your gut. makes you so dumb you nod eagerly. he grins. the vines grow and grow to where they keep his hands attached to curve of your lower back. he can't loose you in all this now, can he?

Logan's just happy you've had your eyes welted shut focused on the bliss he's giving you, moaning like it's second nature. you were a vision beyond anything he'd seen with your charming trailing plants making him keep fucking into you. even the most darling buds pop next to the leaves.

"some pretty flowers for me too, huh?" Logan curses himself for saying that when your eyes meekly open, the words unfamiliar from his lips when it came to being fucked into a mattress. and then they're quarters from there. wide and beady while watching the fruits of your labor spinning and twisting up your lovers arms while he fucks you so good.

"oh...L-Lo, ah! i'm sorry i'll stop- fuck!" you really wanted to be sorry and pitying, to cry more than you were but from sheer humiliation. not from blinding pleasure. but maybe the vines had the good idea. they're not constricting yet not too different from your clawing hands onto his back.

he simply shakes his head. "nah. nah, keep em. lemme see it all, petal, please." embarrassment subsides. it's your Logan! there's no need for it. your shoulders relax with your head lulling back into the pillow, too cock drunk to think of ever letting this stop. more vines blossom onto his broad shoulders now. he'd be covered by the end of the night at this rate. "good girl, there we go..." the vines were kind enough to let his arm bend down to your cheeks pressing haste kisses on your flushed skin, peppering and spoiling you for you compliance. always so eager to please. his filthy girl.

he's insatiable, eager for more. his hips buck into you with more intent. to push you over, to have you more intimately. or to put it plainly, to feel you cum hard on his cock. and with how you clench around him with your little noises of "ah! ah! ah!" his lips capture yours in a sloppy kiss. all teeth while he drinks in every muffled moan. you just taste like fucking candy everywhere he puts his mouth, you're magic incarnate. in all his blistering years barely alive he's never known a feeling like having you below him so desperate to have his cock.

he doesn't know it but his stroke are getting messy. he's getting close and you're right behind him, your back arching into the sheets. he has to move his hands. his knuckles feel raw where those three shiny blades seep out. Logan's all too familiar with it. though he didn't think moving your flora would be so easy when detaching his hands to avoid an accidental injury to his lady.

fingers wrap around the bed frame with another large palm cradling your head to face him. you face the foliage you've made on his shoulders, and now, his chest. what a sight. seeing the ivy leaves decorate him and his specially carved abs.

oh you were a weak woman. "fuck, 'm gonna cum! more, please gimme more-" you cry out, now pulling him in by those strong stems able to carry while buildings. no longer auto pilot. you're all too aware. he groans, eyes nearly rolling in the back of his head.

"doin' that on purpose now, bub" oh you were. you simply wanted his fat cock deeper for when he unloads inside your poor pussy. you smile with mischief. his brows furrow. his pace picks up once more, groans turning to growls while the bed shakes with the direction force from his hands. beastly man he was . "cum with me, baby. cum on this cock and i'll fill ya up. i'll get y'so full, whatever you want"

and that's was all you needed for you're poor hole to clench violently while you drip down his thighs with a broken cry out. the vines tighten then expand, crawling out onto the bed with a poof. even cuter, the flowers bloom. he relishes in seeing his girls pretty pussy make a mess on him he just needs to return the favor. feeling the subtle clenching from your orgasm, he's cumming with one last mean buck of the hips.

"fucking christ-!" his claws unsheathe into the wall, his other set of knuckles driving into the mattress next to you while he grinds slowly to dump every drop into you. his veins on his forehead nearly pop, his eyes only watching your glossy pupils zeroed on abs. so shameless you were. he pants out with his entire body breathing with him.

he settles slowly, his claws reeling back from exhaustion. your plants remain however. yet he's only settled on you. his hands begin their soothing, his thumbs caressing your cheeks while you catch your breathe. "easy now. you okay? did i hurt you at all?" your head shakes in his grasp, eyes lazily opening to meet his eyes. your poor guy, he thinks anytime those knives come out around you he'll dice you on accident.

"spooked me." you mumble, but half heartedly. the smile on your lips shows it's a joke. Logan only huffs.

"it's only hot when you loose control." you gasp, a hand playfully patting his arm clad with your leaves. he chuckles while pressing a kiss to your forehead.

his sweetest flower, back in his arms again.

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

dt: @nervous-person @clownprinzzzz

ask for a dt ! ! ! !

[forestshadow-wolf]

His leg buckled, and the ground met him hard at the knees, but he didn't feel it. Couldn't feel it. Couldn't feel anything but fucking agony.

Ghost was dying; he could feel it in his heart. Literally. He could feel the soulbond unraveling. Out and away and away and away. Like plucking a live chicken, except he was the bird not the butcher. It was an anguish all too familiar. Only last time was like ripping his flesh open with rose thorns over and over again to pain the petals red, and this time felt like stitching open a wound to leave it weeping blood and guts and fluids and infection. This time it felt like festering evil.

"WHERE IS HE!" He roared, snapping at the hands on him, grabbing at others to haul himself to his feet again. His knee went weak again, but he would not let his limbs fail him. Fail Ghost. "GET OFF ME!" He did not wipe out an entire enemy outpost, only to be stopped by his own allies, while the very thing keeping him alive dies.

Some barking command that he didn't hear from outside his tunnel of vision had the burning touches release him. He obeyed a command that he didn't discern out of forced submission. The rabid thing rearing it's ugly face recognizing authority in the face of anger.

He wasn't sane as he stalked through the halls, following a faceless form he knew but didn't recognize. It's didn't matter. Nothing much but the decade old pain twisting where his heart should be mattered. None of it mattered because Ghost was dying.

He was dying while he loved.

Because some unlucky tosser touched what was his, and now Ghost was dying with fire as blood, as he unraveled Soap's heart. And Soap could feel every bit of it. The pain and agony of losing a soulbond. Again.

He knew the fire burning Ghost alive. I made the vial in his possession feel that much heavier. He carried the world in his pocket. It was smaller than his littlest finger, and it fit in his hand like he was meant to crush it. And it would save his life.

It would save Ghost's life.

He doesn't remember the walk to bring him to Ghost. Only flashes of anger where he snapped at too many hands.

But then he's there. Surrounded by white walls, and a white cot. Staring at a bloodied man in a dirty kit and black mask. Untouched on the command of an even less sane, more rabid him, only 27 hours ago.

He doesn't know who came and who left. Only remembers him, and his body, and the little glass vial, and Ghost. He remembers the chilled, damp skin when he pulled fabric back to reveal too pale skin underneath. He remembers how the needle went in easily. He doesn't move after that. Someone takes the needle from him. He felt it. Didn't see it. Saw only Ghost.

He just. Stood there. Watching. But not looking. Not seeing. He couldn't think. Couldn't move. Didn't dare hope. Couldn't pray. Couldn't beg. Pure catatonia. Nobody moved him. Nobody touched him. He heard people talking. Maybe to him. Maybe not. He doesn't know.

He doesn't remember how long it was. Maybe that night. Maybe that day too. But he remembers what brought him back.

He remembers the chest rhythm change. Something not just a natural sigh. Something deeper. Rousing. And the way Ghost's eyes flicked behind his eyelids for what felt like hours before they opened. Ghost was awake. He was alive.

And it's only then that he realizes that the agony had drained from his veins. The thread around his heart rewound. And it's then that exertion takes him. He falls to his knees hard. Ghost is quick on the call button with panic. But Soap doesn't make it 'til a nurse rushes in before black invades the rest of his vision like a shot to the skull

It couldn't have been more than half a minute before he comes too. It's bright, and there are hands touching him and voices speaking over his head and it's all too much.

"Where is he?" He swats at the abrasive touches, "Ghost. He's awake." Everything hurts. His muscles, his bones, even his teeth. But it's of small importance.

"Easy, Sunshine." A gruff voice pulls everything back into perspective. Price. Crouched at his thigh with a worried look on his face. Soap presses himself up despite protests from the nurses. "He's fine, lad." Price cups the back of his neck, "you made it in time. You saved him." He says it like a prayer. Like he knows it's the only thing that'll keep the rabid thing leashed. And he might be right.

[caldella]

I think one of my favorite things about Blitzø is how feral cat-coded he is.

He was dumped on his own at too young an age without resources. He's an outcast with a rough past, used to relying on his own wit and tenacity to survive. He's energetic and determined. He bends/breaks rules as he deems necessary. His circus past gives him good balance/coordination (except for his goofy faceplants).

His tail swishes. He bites. He purrs.

Like a feral cat, he perceives most of the world as ready to hurt him and lashes out, often afraid of introspection. And he refuses to acknowledge when he's dangerously out of his level in a conflict.

It also takes a lot for him to realize when someone is, in fact, genuine. The world wants to hurt people, and he's constantly waiting for it to try again.

But when he does understand someone, or when he sees enough of himself in them, he doesn't need the claws anymore. He is all about nuzzles and cuddles and purrs and an absurd level of undying faith and protectiveness. Like a cat, his loyalty and affection are things he has to decide on himself. But once they're there, they're as upfront and outright as his self-defenses.

IDK I don't have anywhere special to go with this. As someone who's had a lot of experience with feral/found stray cats, I really came to appreciate his character so much the further I got into the show. Perhaps this is just a response to those people who feel his supportive nature with Stolas at the end of S2 'came out of nowhere.' Maybe they haven't had the same experience I have? Blitzø is that beaten up street cat who hisses and claws when you try to help or be kind to him, even though he badly needs help and kindness. But underneath all that is the Blitzø that wants to follow you home, swat at the other cats to protect you, and be your biggest cheerleader. Just, very stray cat coded. And I love it.

EDIT: OH you know what barn animals tend to befriend horses (Blitzø's animal obsession), to the extent of sleeping on their backs sometimes?

Yeah, cats.

[asagewitch05]

(you inspire me sm)

Dick isn't sure why, but the scene in front of him hurts. There's nothing wrong with it; in fact, it's so wholesomely domestic that it should make his heart all fuzzy and warm- like how he gets when he gets to spend some time with his siblings, or when Damian sleeps over.

But it doesn't. It makes his heart twist painfully, like someone is trying to tug it out of his chest. It doesn't make sense, and that hurts too. Why does this bother him so much?

Bruce is sitting, chatting with Tim about some science article, with Jason sarcastically adding in every once in a while when he looks up from his Jane Austen- Pride and Prejudice, again. Steph and Duke are gossiping about some celebrity, while Barbara scrolls through her phone, trying to find the cat picture she had saved to show Damian, with Cass peering over her shoulder. Alfred is watching them all with a small uptick of his lips, a slight crinkle to his eye that shows how happy he is.

Dick doesn't fit in this scene. He knows he can, if he sits on the free couch, or on Jason's couch where he was splayed because he'd- begrudgingly- make space for him. Damian would likely sit beside him with ease, managing to finally tell him about an art assignment he has to do.

But he doesn't just slide into it like the rest of them. He can distantly realize he's been standing in the shadow of the doorway for a while, but no one has noticed. Even him.

He's pretty sure the issue is Bruce. He'd had a rapport with Bruce, he'd had a dynamic and he still does, but it isn't like his siblings and Bruce. Bruce doesn't have that same smoothness of chatting about his life anymore. That same ease.

He remembers the Titans being utterly horrified that Dick had trained so hard under Bruce, been so mistreated and neglected (although he still found that hard to swallow as a concept because Bruce was just Bruce. That was how he acted. Except not with Jason. Or Tim. Or Steph or Cass or Duke or Barbara. It's just him and Damian. And he'd finally understood why the Titans were so upset and angry at Bruce when Dick saw how Damian was being pushed to the side because he didn't deserve that.) He remembers even more so how angry they were that Bruce only treated Dick that way.

And Dick has shrugged it off and smiled because the performer, the supporter he is wouldn't just let himself admit that it was wrong.

He is glad, though, that no one else got that cold shoulder. The pure exhaustion of training until you passed out and then getting up and doing it all again. He did have to admit that it kept him alive and safer when he was with Slade, but still. He guesses that's why he watches them closely, when they train or spar with Bruce. Because Bruce never knew Dicks limits as a kid, why would he know theirs?

He feels guilty, and horrible for that wretched twist of jealousy in his gut, at both his siblings and his teammates. Their mentors knew limits. Knew when to stop. They knew that passing out or vomiting up bile was more than enough reason to just stop training for a bit.

'Why couldn't he have had that Bruce?' is what he always asks himself. But then he remembers that they would have gotten that Bruce too if Dick hadn't charted out some of the path for Bruce. Smoothed out his ragged edges.

So he shoved down that writhing feelings monster in his gut and puts on his best smile and walks in, sitting down at the free couch.

After all, he is but a performer.

Me after making this:

I hurt myself so bad man. Not even joking this was painful to write (totally not projecting *at all*)😭😭😭

Ok, but a canon-divergent AU where Bruce is a terrible father figure to Dick, but he doesn't know it.

Of course, in canon Bruce is far from being a perfect father (even a good one in many cases), but at least he cares about Dick, even if he has a peculiar way of showing it (I'm talking to you, Bruce, who decides if saving the world is worth it only if Dick will be okay).

But imagine an AU where everything happened the same, or almost, except that neither Alfred nor Bruce cared to show, not even kindness, but that much empathy for Dick. However, in this AU Dick's father was not very affectionate either, so Dick does not associate male figures as affectionate.

It's not until Dick is with his team that he learns... That's not normal.

Dick: So... You guys didn't train until you pass out? Weren't you taught that the only way to get better is to push your own limits?

Roy: *wanting to kill Bruce* No, Dick. The first thing they teach you is how to stay safe, you know, avoid getting to the point where you pass out from the effort.

Dick: Oh.

Donna: Dick, you should rest, you're hurt. You literally have a broken ankle.

Dick, who is at the gym, doing arm exercises and twists that are not at all safe for an injured person: I'm fine, Donna. I'm just warming up. I've been on patrol in worse conditions.

Donna: Wdym by that? Worse???

Dick: Yes...? Villains don't take a break just because you're hurt, you know that.

Donna: That's why there are other heroes to help!

Dick: Don't you guys have a rule about not taking help from anyone? That shows weakness and...

Donna: No, Dick, no.

Dick, confused: Oh.

Wally: Please tell me you're not doing that thing again.

Dick: What thing?

Wally: Not sleeping or eating to be on guard.

Dick: Well, it's my job, so...

Wally: You. Are. A. Human. YOU NEED REST AND FOOD.

Dick: I'm fine, it's not like...

Wally: Don't you dare say that Batman made you stay in those conditions for more days. That's NOT normal, Dick.

Dick: ... It's not?

Dick: So... you guys aren't on guard all the time waiting for your mentors to surprise attack you to test your reflexes?

Roy: I swear to God I gonna kill him.

Donna: I'll help.

Wally: On it.

Dick: *panics*

It's even worse for his friends when they discorver that his siblings are being treated much better, as after he leaves, Bruce and Alfred finally begin to notice how to treat children.

Dick was literally trial and error.

[salty-an-disco]

What chapters would you say are your favourite characterisations for each of the voices? I ask because a lot of the way they act is very much based on what chapter they’re in :3c

Ooooohhh, that's a good one…… I take all the different ways they're portrayed in these chapters in consideration to inform different facets of them, but if I were to choose a favorite, let's see–

Contrarian: As much as I like seeing their more spiteful side in Fury and Apotheosis, and their line readings in Razor is fucking top-notch, nothing can beat the character arc they go through in Stranger for me. It's just. so good. Love this clown who's full of resentment and guilt <3

Cheated: Torn between Cage and Wraith…… Wraith, because seeing her bond with Cold over their mutual hatred for the narrator is just so fun, and how she goes about suggesting throwing Wraith in the pit ("Fuck those two. Let's flip the table!" how Contrarian of you Cheated) is just incredible to me. But I also really like how Cage shows that as sympathetic as Cheated can be, she can still fall into doing cruel things just to assert control over her circumstances, even to her own detriment. That's some good stuff.

Skeptic: EotN Skeptic, my beloved…… I feel like after pris-cut, people started focusing too much on Cage for Skeptic's characterization. Which doesn't feel fair, when that's him at his most stressed and desperate to cling to any semblance of control. It's still a very interesting look into his character, but people seem to be taking that as his default, and not him in dire circumstances. In Eye of the Needle, though, Skeptic is much calmer and even friendly, trying to gas Stubborn up to get him to help. He has a theory and a very simple set of circumstances to test, and even seems a bit excited to test it. Also shout out to Den Skeptic, the moment when he realizes the Princess is more than just a moment is everything to me. He's got low empathy, but he tries to be fair to others <3

Smitten: Sighs, really wish we got to see more of him, really feels like out of anyone, his character is really underexplored, which is a shame. Character-wise, though, gotta give it to Burned Grey. He's just…… so fucking devastated, lashing out at everyone around him, and the way he quickly switches up the moment we see the princess aikskkdmdk This chapter is what really shows where Smitten's priorities are to me. Her safety. Her happiness. At the expense of anyone and anything, even himself. And if he has to hurt, to burn alive, to get to it, he will.

Stubborn: Listen…… the way he managed to have such good chemistry with Adversary despite never speaking to her directly is just sijsjddjjdjdjf SO GOOD SIKSKDKJDKFJ. And I love, LOOOOOVE how he isn't the cliché 'ew, emotions' kinda tough guy. No, he feels, and he feels STRONGLY, you can even get him and Ada to sob in this route I'm just simskjdmdjjdjfj THEM!!!

Broken: Call me a contrarian (heh), but I love seeing Broken getting worse and doubling down on his devotion lol. It's more engaging, OK? And how spiteful and even mean he gets in Tower-Fury is just so good akmskkdmmdjdjd

Hunted: Den with Skeptic…… Just. Seeing this lil guy who was so so afraid of Beast finally get to understand her, to connect to her, and be the one urging you to reach out to her is SO GOOD. Also, the ending where you end up trapped under the rocks with her, when Hunted realizes there's no escape, and it just says it'll lay down and rest for a moment…… OUGH.

Opportunist: Gotta go with Wraith for him too aikskdjdjdjdis Not only is him hilarious there, but also surprisingly competent??? He actually manages to successfully suck up to the princess here???? The surprise factor of it matched with just how funny he is really bumped him up for me when I first saw this version of the route lol

Cold: Another one where their own route just can't be beaten to me akmskddmxmdm. I just love how even after murdering her in cold blood and suggesting we try to kill her again, Cold still gets along with the Princess so well. I also just really like his insights in this route when you decide to free her, about where does a world ends and another begins. It just goes to show how detached he is from reality. (Also, him casually insulting the Narrator every other sentence is just too good lol).

Paranoid: Apotheosis……… What I think is interesting though, is that while on the outside, it looks like Paranoid is 'winning' here, I think she's never been losing it more. She just confirmed that there are no fucking rules. This world is whatever they think it can be. And for someone with a lot of intrusive thoughts (no, it isn't Cold who's 'intrusive thoughts personified', stop calling him that, it's medically inaccurate and honestly insulting to people who actually suffer from intrusive thoughts), the mere idea of it is TERRIFYING. And I think she reaizes that just as they go to that epic fight, which is why she laughs like that, and why the fall is so hard on her and immediately makes her back down and feel like everything's doomed again. For a person full of delusions and intrusive thoughts, the construct is a fucking nightmare world (pun intended).

Hero: Now, for him, I just can't choose one route for his characterization. Out of all the voices, I think he's the most important one to really take into account how he can act in each route when characterizing him. I love his complexities and different facets so much, I made them into a plural system wkmsdmdkdmd he's just. sighs. Hero, my beloved <3

[skibasyndrome]

Hi Simon!

How about "Hate me" for the short but impactful phrases?👀 Feel free to make this as angsty or not angsty as you want!!💜

Thank you so much for the ask, Annika! 💜

Simon knows it's a bad idea, Wille has always been a bad idea, maybe one of the worst ideas Simon has ever had. But Simon now is no smarter man than the boy he used to be. It's too easy to follow Wille out onto the balcony, to flee from all the party noise and pounding music. The implications tie Simon's insides into knots. He doesn't know what he was expecting, if he was expecting anything at all. But he's still surprised to find Wille perched over the railing, body heaving and a lit cigarette clutched between his cramped fingers. The panicking isn't new, the smoking is. But it's not like Simon has been following the tabloid coverage of the crown prince to find out. Some smart part of him feels an immediate pull, an urge to make it better, to do what he's always been good at doing, but Simon stops himself halfway towards Wille. This isn't the boy he used to know, this is a stranger. Simon is a goddamn idiot. But it's too late, Wille has heard him, is whipping his head around with a panicked expression on his face that cuts right to Simon's core. Wille coughs once, then sniffles, quickly straightens up again. His cordial nod is unsteady and Simon takes a sick sort of enjoyment in that. It's good to know that he's not the only one barely keeping it together. "Hi," he says, not fully trusting his voice quite yet, but needing something to cut through their tense silence. He's relieved when Wille averts his eyes from Simon. Simon has never stood a chance against those. Wille nods again, looking out into the darkness now, takes a drag of the cigarette he seems to only remember now. Something about the whole picture makes Simon unreasonably angry. Entirely way too fucking angry for someone who promised himself that he was long over the pain and the grief and the what-if's. It's the silence, the fucking silence. The one thing Wille's always been great at, keeping everything to himself. It's the anger that pushes Simon forward, that loosens his tongue. "You never even-," he's immediately interrupted. "Hate me," Wille says, like it's the simplest thing in the universe. Simon is stunned by the nonchalance, the self-evidence, the fucking calmness. "You're right to," Wille continues, not looking up at Simon as he stubs out the last of his cigarette on the metal railing. "I know you do, and you're fucking right to." Simon feels sick to his core at the way the corners of Wille's lips curl upwards as he stares unseeingly ahead. He wanted anger, he wanted to scream at Wille, to make him see, to make him feel, he didn't want whatever this is. Simon isn't prepared for Wille to turn to him again. His hair is longer again these days, hanging into his face in strands that feel too familiar to Simon. He isn't prepared for any of this, he realizes. But it's too late. "You do, don't you?" Wille asks, and Simon is almost relieved to find his voice wavering, his lip trembling. Even with everything inside of him screaming to turn around and leave, Simon stays. Stays and nods. Wille closes his eyes and mirrors the movement, smiling almost wistfully. And for the sliver of a second, a tiny moment, barely long enough for Simon to believe it's real, there's something youthful to his face, something that chases away the angry wrinkles in his forehead, the dark rings under his eyes. "That's okay." Wille's voice sounds too small for his body. "I do, too," he continues and Simon thinks he's going to be sick. He doesn't want to be having this conversation, he doesn't want to know this, he doesn't want to care, he doesn't want to feel like he needs to reach out and make it better. "I fucked up the one good thing I had in life." Simon doesn't want to hear it, he doesn't want to care so goddamn much, still, after all this fucking time. He balls his fists, digs his nails into his palms to make himself wake up from this trance, to get his body to move. "I hurt the one person I've ever really loved." Simon now is no smarter man than the boy he used to be.

idk why I'm in such an angsty mood dskghdjkfgh but you said this was okay. rip tho.

Send me one of these prompts for a short lil story 💜

[great-septimus]

I want to add to this. I reblogged it before I actually thought of what I wanted to say, but it finally connected in my head. I agree with all of this, but it was mainly the realization that what the fandom calls his sudden "traumadumping", as funny as it is, is literally just him attempting to make Ren feel close to him without any real vulnerability.

He talks about his mom with Ren unprompted, and says he hasn't told anyone this before, and that's true- because he hates feeling pitied. He doesn't want to feel weak, but he does want to be cared for. He wants to be supported, by anyone, but most people would react to his hardship with sympathy that he doesn't need or believe he deserves or earns. So he instead opens up to Ren because he sees them on equal footing. They're on the same page, and he wants Ren to feel a connection to him even if it's entirely fabricated and calculated. It's partially due to habit because, y'know, Detective Prince mask requires him to do this already in general, but also because so much of his real hardship is locked up so seeking a real connection requires the melodrama.

For me, I had this realization remembering when he walked into Leblanc the first time. He sees Futaba and he says "You must be Wakaba Isshiki's daughter" and then after he gets chewed out by Sojiro, he starts talking about how he doesn't feel wanted anywhere. Then seemingly unrelated, he talks about his mom. It feels to me like he's trying to say "if you can care about Futaba, then you should care about me."

He hasn't had a support system, so the need for just someone, anyone to care, even though they don't know him and what he's done, is so strong. He hates being pitied because he doesn't see himself as weak, and he doesn't think he deserves sympathy, so why would he share anything more than necessary? The third semester is the inverse of this. Everyone knows too much, so now the care he craved for so long feels way too exposed. It's too vulnerable, and he never thought he would have earned it if he shared this much, even from Ren. So ultimately the trust he earned has the opposite effect, and now his prior "see me and love me" mask has been replaced by a "leave me alone and hate me" mask.

Just said something about this on twitter but out of everything in 3rd semester that’s meant to show the contrast between akechis behavior pre-engineroom and post-engineroom I honestly think this specific change in sprite expression does it best

The first one looks directly at you because he makes this face when he’s trying to gain sympathy points / connect with whoever he’s talking to. Okay yeah he uses it when he was talking about his mother at leblanc and the bathhouse which definitely drew from a place real sadness but it was still a calculated part of his attempts to endear himself. And the second one is the exact opposite. It barely shows up and when it does it’s only for 1-2 (?) dialogue boxes a piece. It’s the expression he makes when he can’t immediately hide his emotions. The quick turning away / avoidance of eye contact is so you Don’t connect with the little hints of genuineness that manage to slip out for the two seconds that they last. Maybe so he doesn’t have to see your face if you do? Anyway. TDLR I just think it’s nice to focus less on his crazy talk and meangirlisms and acknowledge that they’re 100% also being used to rein in the fact that he’s progressively losing his grip on masking “the real akechi” from sight 100% of the time. At every point in the game he only wants his real self to be seen in tiny, entirely controlled sneak peeks, and only when he thinks it benefits him. agh

[eemamminy-art]

I was talking with some friends about it just now and I wanted to share my headcanons for the bachelor/ettes ages in stardew valley! These are just my own personal interpretations of them and of course you can disagree if you feel differently, but I wanted to share anyway! I actually put a lot of thought into picking them and have reasons for each of them being the ages they are, which I summarized a little bit below :3

Alex - 20 He seems like he's still in this mindset of someone who just graduated high school and is about to move on to bigger things, but he's spinning his wheels talking about all the things he's gonna do and never taking meaningful steps toward achieving those things (until meeting the farmer, that is)

Elliott - 32 He seems like someone who maybe had a privileged background and lots of opportunities, spent a few years in a career and just realized he yearned for something more romantic and wistful out of life. He has these lines that seem kind of out of touch and idealistic, which makes me think he hasn't had to struggle too much in life but wants to experience that in order to live out his dreams as a writer (thus, living in the conditions he does and trying to live a very simple life in the valley)

Harvey - 35 He has to skew older just due to him being a doctor with his own clinic, but Harvey seems like someone who doesn't have too much practical experience in life and relationships, and also isn't really good at taking care of himself. So mid-30's fits perfect: still at that stage where he hasn't quite found himself or had a lot of experiences but has a very extensive education and on the surface seems very put-together.

Shane - 30 There's all sorts of reasons why Shane went off the rails (general listlessness in life, Jas' parents passing away, maybe unfulfilled dreams?) but I picked 30 for him as like, he had been struggling with all those aforementioned things and then hitting that milestone birthday kind of was a wakeup call that compounded his mental health struggles. I think he could even be older than that, honestly, but I like the idea of him still being somewhat young but just hitting that sort of "now what?" feeling in his late 20's and never pulling out of it.

Sebastian - 28 To me, Sebastian is similar to Shane in the sense of not having a direction in life and just getting by with the bare minimum while being unhappy overall. He has less life experience than Shane seems to so I put him in his 20's, but I like to think of him as someone going through a quarter life crisis who is maybe a bit more immature than people his own age but has no idea how to course correct and opts to just sleep his problems away as a means of coping with his depression.

Sam - 25 I like to lean into Sam's relationship with his little brother and the role he plays as the man of the house while his father is overseas, so I see him as someone who has ambitions in life but he is very caring and sentimental toward his family so he has been stalling his own life in order to care for Vincent, since he feels like he's the only one who can.

~~~

Maru - 21 Given the way her dad talks about her "bright future" I imagine her being in college still. I liked the idea of her and Sebastian having a decently large age gap too, to better highlight how dysfunctional their relationship is and how she looks up to him while he is unable to connect with her in any positive way. On that note, I think her being so much younger and finding more success than Sebastian also could contribute to their sibling issues.

Penny - 23 I think with Penny I put the least thought into with picking her age-- she's someone who is relatively naive and inexperienced in the world but she has an air of maturity to her as a result of her parentification. She could easily skew older or younger than this, but putting her at this age just felt right!

Leah - 26 I see Leah as being someone who is well into adulthood but still quite young, but old enough to have experience living on her own in a way that makes her so self-sufficient as she is. I can imagine her leaving home at a young age and really struggling to make ends meet for several years while creating her art. Also her creeping toward 30 could be a reason for her ex to become so pushy about her settling down to have kids and a stable, boring life, as that's the expectation for a lot of women as they get older (or at least, after 30+).

Emily - 29 She just has big sister vibes to me. I wanted her to be older than a lot of the other characters who are from Pelican Town, as this idea that like, she's always been looking out for them like they're her siblings. :3 Plus she just has wine aunt energy, I wanted her to be older than the rest.

Abigail - 23 I think I make her older than a lot of people do, though I still keep her quite young at 23. She's in college still so I wanted her to be around that age, but maybe just going through it slower than her peers. The kind of person that had to retake classes because she didn't plan out her studying or homework appropriately, or she got overwhelmed and dropped classes, or she took a semester or two off, you know! That sort of thing!

Haley - 19 Out of all of these characters, Haley seems the most immature to me so I wanted her to be very close to high school age. She has these desires to shop and to travel and to just enjoy herself, she's not really thinking about the future because she is so young she doesn't really have to. She doesn't really think much about other people initially either, because she has this worldview that doesn't extend much farther beyond herself.

[cinnablu3]

RECKLESS - ALL I WANTED WAS YOU

Masterlist

Ch 18, i lied about 20 chapters we might have 21.

After Utahime leaves, you find yourself alone, your heart racing. The time for Choso's arrival is drawing near. "I have to be honest with him, no matter the consequences," you remind yourself. Just then, there's a knock on the door.

Immediately opened the door and pulled Choso inside. "Easy, I know I said I couldn’t be spotted, but you were quick with it, doll," he teased.

"Cho." He immediately embraces you, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing you. He presses his lips against your forehead.

"Glad to know you miss me."

"I'm sorry about--" "Don't even finish that sentence. It wasn't your fault." He said, hiding his face inside your neck. "Give me a minute, I miss you, Doll."

It was a peaceful silence as he pulled away slowly. "I'm sorry. I wasn't even in jail for that long, but even then." He laughed. "I did miss you."

You couldn't hold back your smile, feeling the ache in your heart, knowing he wouldn't have the same feelings for what you were going to tell him.

"Choso take a seat please I need to get something off my ch--" "That you agreed to the kiss?" He interrupts, you can feel your heart drop. "He told me." He gives you a bitter smile.

"I'm not angry, I shouldn't be upset since we aren't even together," he says as he takes a seat on your couch. "Though, you wouldn't believe how frustrated I was when we had to share a cop car and a cell." He crosses his arms.

"He complains a lot, it really did makes me wonder what you saw in him."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his statement.

"I'm serious, I can't find anything attractive that could have caught your attention."

"That's a little harsh even for you."

"I told him, got in a fight in the cell." He grins, "I was supposed to get out much earlier but someone got offended and took another beating."

"I'm trying my best to be serious with you, I can't with you telling me all this information." You sighs holding back a smile.

He pushes back a strand of hair behind your ear. "Just know I forgive you, even though I was hurt about it, I just want to know." He turns serious. "Did you feel sparks?"

"I didn't, that's when I realized he wasn't someone I wanted my name to be attached to."

"Good, because being attached to mine is way better. Sounds better as well."

"I want to be with you, Choso. I do," You paused. "I want to talk to Satoru, can I? Just to clear everything and end things completely."

"That's a terrible idea, Name. He doesn't need an explanation. You don't have to acknowledge him anymore."

"Choso.."

"I'm serious. Write a letter if you have to.. that sounds terrible I'm sorry.." He puts his hands on his face embarrassed of his words. "I just don't want to feel like my feelings are being played with."

"You're valid for how you feel, I'll write a letter and that's it no more." Giving him a serious look.

"Promise?"

"Promise Cho."

"That's a promise. Just don't give me false hope that's all I ask." He intertwines his pinkies with yours.

"Since you kissed him, it's only fair that I finally do." He leans in and gently cuffs your face before pressing his lips against yours.

You couldn't hold back a smile.

"Glad to know you're out of jail, in good piece" Shoko teases pointing at Satoru eye as he sticks his tongue out.

"Don't remind me. That emo said I whine too much."

"He's not wrong."

"Shoko, don't you think it's rude to bully a friend?" Suguru speaks up.

"Thank you Sugu-"

"Especially when he has two ugly blackeyes by his nemesis." He smirks.

"My manager is going to kill me." He throws himself on the couch pouting. "Maybe don't respond so quickly especially when you can't fight Satoru," Shoko replied.

"I can fight, I was just drunk." He groans, "Speaking of drunk does Name know you're here?" Shoko looks off to the side and is silent.

"Utahime and her are currently not speaking to her after the whole party." Suguru chimed in putting a hand on her shoulder.

"That sounds like Utahime doing, not Name. She is not someone that often cuts people off."

"Look, can we not talk about this guys? I cannot have another reason why I need a cigarette again." She rubs her head.

"Why don't you storm for Utahime and ask to take you back?" Satoru looks up at her while she raises a brow.

"What?"

"For once, I'm desperate. I want my friends back, tell me. You guys can't be my only friends."

"So.. I was thinking.."

Taglist is now closed and full 💞 @miiiturix @superdonkeypatroleggs @inthedarkshadows000 @kumori-suwan @chilichopsticks @prized-jules 1ndee @lov3vivian @yuuuumii @chiiinglebells @sakurayashiro @ghostlyfanenemy @cisseadven @totallygyomeiswife bemebiu @chckn-pi @for-hearthand-home @sh0ot1ngst4r @muthic @lukaerith-morningstar meowforluv @uniquenicefangirl @4rmins @corvid007 @beautifulwitchcandy @iluv-ace @tartartagliaboo @genxnarumi lafrone @coffee-addicted-demigod @cupidsblonde depressedemosantaclaus @drownedbytears @s777athv @linaaeatsfamilies @lun4rchive @moonlitwitchdaisy @kooksbunnnn @shoma-nom @reagan707 @kaged-kitty b0nez9 btsinthesoop @shokosbunny @sleepykittyenergy @sad-darksoul @ghostswhoretbh @raquel12 @missthatgirl @explosivelywuisa @bunviixo @rifran @therealanxiety @harryzcherry

[majimaisms]

on majima's relationship to power, dignity and freedom

a friend of mine was recently talking about a character from a movie, and whether or not an emotional response (specifically, anxiety and obligation over a loved one needing help) was something that character could "effectively discipline and draw from" or "something that will always threaten to overflow rational boundaries" and posed the question as: "does he make use of it, or does it make use of him?"

this, i believe, is how majima approaches quite literally everything in his life, up to and including, if not especially, his own emotions.

i think it's an anxiety over their agency and freedom that compels a person to ask this question about everything. because they're terrified of being used against their will, without their knowledge, of waking up one day and realizing they've been a slave to something because they refused to examine their relationship to it. and i think it takes 1. someone who is naturally very emotional, as in, inclined to make decisions based on emotions rather than rationalizations, and can't afford to be this way for whatever reason and 2. someone who has been robbed of their agency and freedom in the past, to develop this anxiety. majima more than fits the bill on both counts.

it's born out of a need to maintain power over this fear. it's literally pathological. his need to make tools out of everything. it's a disease. either hes wielding it, or being wielded as a tool by it, whatever "it" may be. its a binary, black and white choice, and it's not really a choice at all, because he absolutely refuses to risk the latter happening against his will. he needs to have control over himself, his life, his decisions, all the time or he feels like hes stuck, cornered, he panics and cant keep a cool head (all of y0, '85 flashbacks from y4). he freaks out. and he cant risk that, he cant stand it either.

but it's not even about that. it's about dignity. majima tries to navigate the entirety of those situations, where he's robbed of freedom, where he's cornered, with dignity. because it's all he has. and when even that is stripped from him (the hole, y0), he seeks out the most dignified way to deal with losing your dignity -- willingly letting go of it (the lord of the night).

we see him put to impossible choices in other games (y5 comes to mind) and he handles that just fine without freaking out even when he's cornered. the difference is that in y5 he had a dignified way of resolving that situation. what actually makes him "freak out" and lose his cool is being robbed of a dignified solution. the dignity in following his principles, not betraying himself, is something he goes ballistic at the thought of losing.

it's not just that he can't "risk" not being able to keep a cool head, or that he can't "stand" freaking out, its that he can't stand the humiliation of it. of not being perfectly composed and in control of himself all the time. he's too proud. and this is why mad dog is so therapeutic for him, because its a character who doesn't give a single fuck about how hes perceived, wielded by a guy who cares excessively about how hes perceived. he learns so much from mad dog over the course of the series, i genuinely think mad dog saved his life. because i was thinking about all of this going, my god. youre in the YAKUZA???? and youre living like THAT?? no fucking wonder he had to invent a persona to larp as just to not shoot himself.

but thinking more about it, it's like. of COURSE he is. of COURSE hes yakuza. because!! as a civilian, you're just slave to the same system everyone else is a slave to. you have to bow to it, and you don't even get a choice. so... what does he do. he makes his own choice. if hes going to be a slave in a system, it's going to be a system of his own choosing that he can respect, however flawed. yes, he's not "free" in the yakuza, and that is something he struggles with, but it's more about freedom of choice for him.

like. what a fucking thing to say. you cant attach a price to my life. you cant make USE of my life. you cannot USE my death as a TOOL to further your own ends. because that's what ibuchi is saying, that he'll kill majima and his death will start a war which he will benefit from. and he refuses to BE that for anyone.

...other than, of course, shimano and the men he respects, of which there are SO few in the tojo. (hello kiryu. hello saejima. this guy is in desperate need of people he respects and he will follow them around like a dog because he really wants to surrender power and "bow his head" because he's so exhausted from having to maintain it against himself and the world 24/7.)

look at his face in this scene. he's completely distraught. over having been used in some scheme without his knowledge. robbed of his autonomy. i have never seen him look like this at any other point in the series.

true resignation. utter defeat. this is partly what birthed mad dog, nihilism incarnate. sure, it takes being faced with the possibility that makoto will never wake up to finally "awaken" mad dog, but this is where majima is drawing his strength from -- this ability to tap into a state of complete indifference. this void. death.

even sera is surprised. but this is the moment he understands exactly what kind of person majima is. because yes, of course he would. majima, and people like majima, will jump at any chance to make their deaths count, because they're constantly living with the guilt of all the terrible shit they've done up to that point. having the opportunity to die for a good cause, knowing it won't redeem them but get them at least a little closer to it, is a blessing. they don't have to think twice about it. this is the death drive he's tapping into.

above all, majima wants to be useful. i think this need characterizes his relationship with kiryu, who is someone he respects. he's basically begging to let kiryu help him throughout y3. he agrees to go back to the clan because kiryu asks, twice. he's willing to die so haruka can live, because his death can accomplish something good. it's no choice at all.

but i'm far more interested in how this manifests in his relationship with shimano. this excerpt from an rggo story comes to mind.

i think shimano was, in a lot of ways, a tether for majima. the "leash" imagery is very accurate, but it suggests an entirely negative reading of their dynamic. the truth is majima likes being leashed. not only that, he needs it. he's just very discerning about who he will let leash him. he needs purpose in his life, needs to know hes useful, and for that he needs to devote himself to someone. and it needs to be a person, because he's too cynical to believe in a cause.

what that excerpt tells me is that he lost his respect for shimano. and when he died, majima became untethered. from the world. in the absence of saejima, or anyone else who could be that for him, he's adrift and aimless. lost.

it's not a coincidence he leaves the clan immediately after shimano dies. it's because of this, because of terada (he won't bow to someone he doesn't respect), and because he has, on some level, completed a large part of his duty to saejima by establishing his own family. he is without purpose. and i think it's maintaining this state of existence for years that turns him into the depressed, defeated man we see in y5.

he got burnt out, because it's exhausting being in this kind of active conflict with yourself all the time in the name of maintaining a sense of personal power and agency. over even your own emotions. he's truly relentless. but sooner or later, it was going to catch up to him.

[firstelevens]

#8, things you said when you were crying for the fic meme!

8. things you said when you were crying

this might more accurately be termed 'things you didn't say when you were crying' but that doesn't roll off the tongue as well

When Bucky wakes up, there's a weight on his chest and a sob caught in his throat. His heart is starting to race in his chest and he does his best to slow down his breathing, reaching out to feel around him in the dark like he might find something there to anchor himself.

The first thing that his fingers brush is a woven rug, the tassels at the end worn down to almost nothing. It’s old, clearly, but well taken care of, no pilling or loose stitches. Just beyond it, he feels polished wood, and when he curves his fingers around it, he can feel a short, square post, like the leg of a table. His pillow is cool and wet by his ears, and it takes him far too long to realize that it's from tears that have been tracking their way down his face long enough to leave a trail.

There’s a wooden floor underneath him, cushioned with a plush sleeping bag, and when he pulls his hand back towards him, it brushes against a soft, knitted blanket.

Bucky can sense one of those ugly, choked gasps rising up in his chest, his attempts at even breathing too late to help it, so he tries to tuck his head under the blanket to muffle it as best he can. The tears don't stop, but as he takes shaky breaths with his face pressed against the blanket, his nose is filled with the smell of sandalwood and citrus, something that would be intimately familiar even if he hadn't ended up using that particular soap in the shower for the past few days.

It's Sam's soap, pipes a little voice somewhere in the back of his head. It's Sam's soap and Sam's blanket and Sam's bedroom, he remembers with another shuddering breath. He's in Sam's bedroom, and Sam is asleep just a few feet away, and Bucky is safe here.

Bucky slumps back against the pillow, presses the heel of his hand against his eyes like that'll do anything, but the tears don't stop. The thing in his chest feels more than hollow; it feels like some kind of vacuum, and he doesn't know how to stop it from swallowing him whole.

By now, Bucky's had plenty of practice waking up from nightmares of his time as the soldier, or even before that, back when he and Steve were on the front lines. He's dreamed of Azzano, of Zola, of so many of the people he'd been made to hurt. It's grim, but that's been a part of his life long enough that Bucky has a system for dealing with it.

This hadn't been a nightmare, though, or at least not that kind of nightmare. This time, he'd seen his family, warm and cozy and boisterous in a brightly light apartment. There was Becca stringing popcorn garlands with Evie and Ma putting oranges in Christmas stockings, all of them safe and whole and surrounded by the crackle of the radio. He'd been there, too, right in the doorway, but he hadn't been able to make his feet move closer, and he hadn't been able to touch any of them. Instead he'd watched them with a growing ache in his chest, just out of reach and unhearing, even when he'd tried to scream for their attention.

Bucky blinks rapidly, pushing himself up to sit in the hopes that it'll help him breathe better, but there's no difference. He has a hand pressed to the center of his chest like maybe it’ll stop the pounding, and he almost doesn’t hear the quiet creak of bed springs and the rustling of sheets as Sam rolls over. Bucky's eyes have finally adjusted to the sliver of moonlight coming from between the curtains, and in it he can see Sam silhouetted against the window, pushed up on one elbow.

"Buck?" he whispers. "What happened?"

But Bucky can't make words happen, can't do anything except breathe those shaky breaths. He doesn't know what he'd say even if he could speak.

He must have been quiet for longer than he thought, because he hears Sam mumble a soft curse before the bed springs creak again and the silhouette resolves into someone sitting up at the edge of a bed. "I'm gonna turn on the light, okay?" he asks softly, and then leans over and waits with his hand over the switch like he's giving Bucky a chance to stop him.

When Bucky manages an mhmm, there's a click as the bedside lamp comes on, throwing a soft orange glow around the room. It's just enough light for Bucky to see the pained expression on Sam's face as he looks down at Bucky.

Sam's eyebrows knit together for a minute, and he starts to reach out a hand before hurriedly drawing it back. "Can I touch you, Bucky? Is that okay?"

Bucky nods mutely, and Sam pushes up off the bed and comes to kneel beside him instead. With gentle fingers, he moves Bucky's hair away from where it sticks to his forehead, seemingly unfazed by the cold sweat there. Then, with a knuckle, he brushes away the stray tears on Bucky's cheeks. It's only when he swipes a thumb under Bucky's eye that he seems to realize he's cradling Bucky's face in his hands, and he goes to pull away.

"Sorry," he murmurs. "I didn't realize I..."

But whatever the thought is, Bucky doesn't let him finish. Sam's hands are warm and familiar, the touch of them doing more to steady Bucky’s breathing than anything else has. He's not quite ready to lose that and return to a world where this would never happen. He reaches up with his right hand--his prosthesis set aside when they called it a night a few hours ago--and holds Sam's hand where it is, shaking his head a little.

Sam relaxes, but it's just for a second before he finds something new to be concerned about. "Shit," says Sam, his voice soft. "You're freezing. How come you didn't say you were cold?"

The truth is that Bucky hadn't really realized, but he feels pathetic enough without bringing up the fact that his frame of reference for temperature is wildly skewed thanks to all of Hydra's freezing and defrosting over the years. He just shrugs and hopes that’s enough of an answer.

Generally, Sam is nosier about this stuff, but he lets it slide. “I can try to dig around the closets, maybe the attic,” he says. “See if the kids managed to leave us any blankets after they made their fort downstairs.”

Bucky feels his eyes go wide, his heart kicking up like Sam is proposing walking into a den of lions and not down the hallway of the house he grew up in. Though he schools his face into something else a moment later, it’s long enough for Sam to notice.

He watches Sam’s gaze drop down to where Bucky’s hand holds his in place, and Bucky doesn’t know whether it’s absent or intentional when he sweeps his thumb up and down Bucky’s cheekbone like he knows Bucky’s been matching the rhythm of his breaths to it.

“I mean, we could also–” Sam starts to say, then falters. It’s weird, Sam not knowing what to say. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, and maybe you want space, so I could go sleep in AJ’s room, because I know he’s downstairs with the others, so you wouldn’t have to–”

“Sam,” Bucky manages to croak, and startles him into silence.

But Sam’s eyebrows just knit together, his eyes locked on Bucky’s like he’s trying to read something there. It feels like watching Sam just before he takes to the skies on a mission, like he’s spinning some tactical diagram around in his head and mapping out all the ways something could go wrong, and Bucky realizes suddenly that Sam is nervous.

It should be uncomfortable or tense or something, given how awful Bucky felt just minutes ago, but instead he’s finally got his breathing back under control, the hammering of his heart finally slowed down to something vaguely normal. With the adrenaline rush of the nightmare ebbing away, exhaustion and the late hour are settling over his shoulders, and Bucky doesn’t have it in him to puzzle out what’s happening.

“Sam,” he says again, his voice still hoarse. Once Sam’s gaze has snapped to his again, Bucky turns his head just enough to brush a kiss against the heel of Sam’s hand, soft but deliberate enough to make Sam’s eyes go wide. “What is it?”

The careful way that Sam’s been holding himself relaxes just a fraction as he lets out a long, slow breath. “The bed,” he says softly. “I could- we could share the bed, if you wanted. So you could be warmer.”

Bucky breathes a soft oh of realization, and though there’s already an answer on the tip of his tongue, he takes a moment to really look at Sam. There’s determination in the set of his jaw and tenderness in the way he holds Bucky. His eyes are watchful, scanning Bucky’s expression for something, and he’s got pillow marks running up to his left cheekbone. Bucky wonders if that means they would sleep facing each other. He wouldn’t mind that, he thinks.

The longer that Bucky stays quiet, the warier Sam’s eyes get, but there’ll be time for conversations later. Bucky is just so tired, and Sam’s warmth draws him in even on days when he isn’t chilled to the bone, and the idea of getting to bask in it—in being seen and held and heard, even when he isn’t saying anything—is too tempting to refuse.

He turns and presses another kiss to Sam’s hand, firmer this time, and hears Sam’s breath catch in his throat.

“Okay?” asks Sam, and his eyes are wide and curious like he really doesn’t know how hard Bucky has to work to keep his distance.

Bucky smiles a little, reaching out to hold Sam’s face the way that he’s holding Bucky’s, sweeping his thumb along the cheekbone and abruptly wanting to kiss him there, too.

“Okay,” says Bucky, soft, and feels the bright grin on Sam’s face even sooner than he sees it.

[concretejunglefm]

i need part 3 of thot girl hours where folio or noah makes the first move pleaseeee 🫠

Well call this part 3 to thot girl hours because this idea has been in my head ever since you asked for this anon and it's only fair I share it for our Noah and Folio girlies.

Part 1 & Part 2

Smut below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

It's an off day on tour and while everyone else has gone out to do their own thing, you've chosen to remain on the tour bus for some much needed alone time, something you've been needing after the last few shows have sent your stress levels through the roof. Between Matt giving you more responsibility and the guys just overall being a little weird around you, you've needed some time alone. Time alone you had planned to use to indulge in your favorite snack of choice, which just happens to have been tucked up on the highest shelf in the little kitchenette area. A trick played by Noah no doubt.

With a stretch against the small countertop you strain in your attempt to reach the box before a voice from the back of the bus startles you.

"Need a hand there?"

It's Noah and the sudden racing of your heart in your chest comes to a halt before a wave of embarrassment creeps through through you at the realization that you're still wearing your signature Winnie the Pooh pajamas.

"I didn't realize that anyone else was here." You turn and lean your back against the counter as you look across to him walking out from the back where the bunks were all tucked away.

"I didn't feel like going out. Figure I'd hide away in my bunk and catch up on some anime."

"Funny, that was my plan until I found I couldn't reach my favorite snack." There's a playful bite in your tone and a small grin tugs at the corner of your lips as he nears you.

You cross your arms over your chest as you feel his eyes on you, almost as if they're taking in the full sight of you in your pj's.

Instead of moving around you or allowing you to move out the way, Noah steps in front of you, crowding your space and blocking you against the counter. Usually any closeness between you wouldn't phase you, but you find yourself losing your breath as his body comes within less than an inch of your own and you catch the way his t-shirt rides up enough to expose his tattooed stomach.

You shift your hand and find your fingers unintentionally grazing against the exposed skin just with his movement close to you. He doesn't acknowledge it and you don't say anything as your fingers come increasingly close to the waistband of his shorts.

Suddenly you're overcome with the idea of pulling them down and seeing just how far that tattoo of his leads down, or forgetting that entirely and sinking your hand down into his shorts purely to wrap it around his shaft. You'd witnessed pictures of his bulge on numerous occasions during your late night thot hours, where sexting between you all became a little adventurous, with the guys never exposing more than what clothes covered when it came to the waist down.

It takes you a moment to come back from your own perverse thoughts, looking up at Noah with an almost distant gaze. "Huh?" You ask him to repeat himself and he just chuckles, setting down the box he'd pulled down for you on the counter beside you.

"I said they're cute." He extends his long tattooed fingers towards your top, his fingers hooking onto the neck of it with a gentle tug away from your chest.

"Aren't they just?" Folio's voice rings out towards the front of the bus and when you look in that direction, you see him climbing up the stairs as he enters.

A heat spreads across your cheeks and you drop your head, moving to slip past Noah before coming to find yourself bumping straight into Folio.

When you look up to meet his gaze, there's a hunger in his eyes which makes your thighs press together as a sudden ache forms in your core.

It's not as if you hadn't fantasized about them all on multiple occasions, even having more than one during said fantasies, but suddenly it felt all too real, especially when Noah comes closer behind you and you can feel his fingers in your hair, brushing through the strands before dipping forward and meeting the back of your neck with a ghost of a kiss.

The sensation sends a shiver throughout you, the only sound to slip past your lips being a whimper as Folio moves closer, his own hands now bracing your hips to steady you, as though aware the touch of Noah's lips on the back of your neck has sent your knees weak.

"I've been telling the guys that I've dying to fuck you in your little college-girl pajamas since you first showed them to us." Folio confesses and you don't even find yourself protesting the idea, instead your eyes flutter open and you look at him once more before reaching a hand up and around onto the back of his neck, pulling him down and into a heated kiss.

At that same moment Noah's mouth is firmly on the back of your neck, kissing, sucking and even biting as if determined to mark you. The idea sends a thrill straight between your thighs, knowing he's already marking you as his, as theirs and your mouth opens with a moan, feeding into Folio's who follows your lead, his tongue quickly snaking out and into your open mouth.

When you break away from the kiss it's because you feel another hand on you, one you can easily deduce as being Noah's and sinking down the front of your pajama shorts. A soft whine leaves you as your thighs spread open and you feel the soft stroke of Noah's fingers against your pussy, dipping between your folds with a deep throaty growl against the shell of your ear when he's met with your wetness.

"Fuck, Folio you should feel how fucking wet she is for us."

Noah boasts as your head falls back against his shoulder and you let out another soft whine, feeling your knees almost buckle the minute he begins circling your clit.

"Is this all for us, sweetheart?" He whispers to you, pressing soft kisses along your jawline and you're thankful that Folio has a grip on your hips because you don't think that you'd be able to support yourself, especially not when you feel Noah's finger slide down and press deeply into your cunt.

As he curls it you let out a deep needy moan, your walls tightening around even just his finger, needing more as he angles to stroke the spot behind your clit. "Is this what you were thinking about when you were touching yourself in that video? Were you thinking about all of us?"

You don't even go to question about the video or how they know about it when you were sure you'd deleted it in time. Your head is so hazy, your body already overwhelmed with pleasure that you just moan and nod. "Yes! Yes Noah. This is exactly what I thought about."

You can feel the smirk on his face as his lips ghost along your neck and soon the feeling of his fingers slips away as your shorts are tugged down, exposing you completely to Folio who's lowered himself to his knees in front of you.

"And no panties? It's almost like you were begging to be fucked in these." Maybe Folio is right because there is a part of you which has thought about it after you’d purposely sent them a photo of you wearing them.

With Noah's one arm snaked around your waist to hold you firmly against his chest, Folio raises one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing him easier access between your thighs as he brings his mouth up against your glistening cunt. You don't miss the distinct sound he makes, a throaty groan of satisfaction when met with the taste of you, his tongue stroking against your clit with a fervent before turning softer and more attentive under Noah's command.

"Open your eyes and look down, sweetheart." Noah instructs you and when you do, you see his tattooed fingers curled into Folio's hair, keeping his bandmate's mouth firmly pressed against your cunt. You whimper as another moan follows and with Noah's other hand splayed against your stomach he begins to gently encourage you to grind against the movement of Folio's tongue and his overall mouth. "Go on, sweetheart. This is just for you."

"Please...please..." You start to beg as you buck your hips, pushing down against Folio's face and mouth while his tongue circles your clit, his mouth eagerly working to bring forth the climax you feel forming with the knot in your stomach.

You don't know what you're begging for but you keep doing so as Noah continues his stream of dirty talk against your ear, his voice only edging you further along until you feel yourself coming undone, trembling against him with the first wave, then another, of your climax.

Even then Folio doesn't stop and Noah doesn't pull him away, he holds him there as he peers down over your shoulder, instructing him. "Don't miss a single drop of cum from her pretty pussy now. You've practically been begging for this."

You don't know which sends you dizzy first, his words or the way Folio's tongue swirls and dips into you, a man possessed with only one thought on his mind; to taste you. It sends another shiver through you and when you tremble again, Noah's grip tightens as he whispers against your ear. "I've got you sweetheart, shh, I've got you."

And he does, right up until Folio is finished and satisfied with his clean up. Right until the tables turn and lead you using your fuzzy pajama shorts on them in return, wrapping them around your fist and taking turns to fuck their aching cocks into them until they're both shooting thick ropes of cum all over Winnie the Pooh.

[avelera]

I expanded on this a bit on Twitter but I kinda wanted to talk about it here where people actually read my meta lol

I want to clarify that I think (Arcane) Jayce would eventually rise to the occasion. He always does.

I just think that Jayce has the most uniquely vulnerable situation if he theoretically went to Noxus, even when compared to every single other Arcane character. Yes, I'm including Heimerdinger and Cait. And here's why:

We've already seen Jayce get manipulated by not one but two Noxians, Mel and Ambessa. And Mel was nice about it! Jayce does eventually figure out Mel's manipulation of him but that's only after months of soul searching with literally nothing else to do (and then he APOLOGIZES to her, after eventually realizing too that Mel wasn't entirely to blame, just to be clear, but he ended the relationship over it IMO).

But Jayce is a unique example of the one character we've seen fall for Noxian manipulation more than once, with different Noxians. And, I would argue, there's nothing else in his arc to indicate he's gotten smarter about it, even at the end, other than figuring out Mel and only in relation to Hextech.

I don't think he's necessarily any better armed against Noxian manipulation after his arc, or manipulation in general. Another Noxian using slightly different tactics to get what they want from him would probably still work.

Jayce also has a unique combination of:

1) A relatively privileged background that makes him more trusting of others (unlike the Zaunite characters) and just being a nice guy in general, which lends to this.

2) An amount of self-confidence that he doesn't necessarily see manipulation coming because he generally tends to see himself as the primary mover of events in his own life which makes him a prime target for a master manipulator (like Ambessa when she masterfully pushed him into a sense of helplessness and rage that ended in his raid on the Shimmer factory). Not saying Jayce never feels helpless, he just has a background and personality that tends to see himself as able to regain control if he loses it and to see himself as a primary mover of his own destiny even when he's being puppetted

3) but most important: he has something Noxians would want and have wanted and would continue to want since we saw Swain's raven go for the gem in his hammer: Hextech. If Jayce went to Noxus, he'd be a target of EVERYONE THERE because of Hextech, either for weapons or for Hexgates. Or, if not Hextech, then the mind that created Hextech is still a worthy prize for anyone trying to get ahead there.

And funny enough, I think every other character in Arcane has more defenses than Jayce, even Cait, even Heimerdinger.

Heimerdinger may be naive but he's also 300+ years old and he's been around the block. I think Heimer's first response to being a target of manipulation in Noxus would be to get the fuck out of Noxus, I mean I can't imagine a country less suited to his whole deal, but he'd know to get out of there and he'd know to be on guard.

Cait post-S2 would be well equipped to recognize Ambessa's tactics in others, but even pre-S2, she's a detective used to reading people. Her instincts are stunted by the grief over her mother's death but she's clearly putting together that she can't trust Ambessa from the start. Cait despite also having a privileged upbringing like Jayce from the start has more tools at her disposal when it comes to understanding and analyzing people to have at least some prayer in Noxus, unlike Jayce the Engineer.

Then when you get to literally any Zaunite character, I think you get a healthy dose of suspicion towards outsiders to make them better able to defend themselves against Noxian manipulation or use.

Not saying it still couldn't happen, but a Viktor or a Vi would definitely be skeptical from the outset towards anyone trying flattery on them and would be immediately resistant to anyone using them for weapons or as fighters.

Jinx is too chaotic and slippery to be used, I'd argue, but she also in general just doesn't work well with others outside of long, long term relationships of trust (and even then). Really, anyone on the list of Zaunite character (Silco, Sevika, Ekko, etc.) just has that healthy dose of skepticism that I think at least puts them in a good position to be aware that everyone in Noxus is potentially looking for a way to use them.

But not Jayce. Oh, I don't think he's stupid, I definitely do not think he's stupid. But I think he could fall for, say, a two-man con, good cop/bad cop, once more obvious manipulator and a second person pretending to protect him from that person thus winning his trust, even in S2.

Now, I do want to add that one caveat to this, as I said, I think Jayce would rise to the occasion. He'd eventually figure out that he's being used and if it's for Hextech weapons, or weapons of any kind, he'd probably catch on sooner.

I think Jayce would probably, in an action story, turn around and drop-kick anyone trying to use him by countering them with his own flashy weapons and skills before long (say hello to this neat trebuchet he just built out of garbage and say goodnight, motherfucker).

I also think that his general demeanor would lull a manipulator into a false sense of security, until he boldly outplays them with him classic "Moving in very direct straight lines and fuck anyone who gets in the way" manner of dealing with intractable problems.

I actually think a "Jayce in Noxus" arc would be delicious, since we've already seen him played on his home turf, I'd like to see his incremental progress forward in figuring out how to be a more savvy player in the belly of the beast.

Alas, I can't imagine we'll be seeing him in an actual Noxus show but if you also are dying for "Jayce in Noxus" now, I'd highly recommend the "Break, repair" series by Lapsi, where the second installment involves just that.

My first impression of Noxus in Fortiche's style:

Oh, this country would have eaten Jayce Talis alive, huh?

[raayllum]

set after 7x02. doesn't necessarily fit the prompts for today (but maybe right/wrong) for sorpeli week!

Soren is the one who tells her exactly what transpired at sunset in front of the Banther Lodge. Opeli had caught glimpses from the windows during the event—not much, but enough to be horrified—and rushed out when she realized the young queen's arrow was pointed at the crown prince, and—

High Mage Ca—Prince Callum is already gone by the time she reaches the porch, Ezran's expression as icy as the spikes still entrapping his guards' legs. She doesn't dare ask the king what's happened, his expression more dark and brooding than she's ever seen it, exchanging a mildly worried look with Corvus over his head, the crownguard staying as Ezran stalks over to his throne for the evening, quiet and shaking and angry.

Soren pulls her aside before she can go to their king.

They stand in the fading light of one of the upstair windows, his brow furrowed and her lips pursed and growing more tightly pressed together with every word that falls from Soren's mouth. Somehow, she manages to let him reach the end of his tale before she bursts, her mind spinning—brothers, betrayal, treason, the kingslayer, and the notch of Queen Aanya's arrow, and Callum's resignation—

"I cannot believe it," she hisses, not quite sure exactly what it means even to herself.

Soren gestures simply with one hand and an unimpressed raise of his eyebrow. "Can't you?"

They share a flat look, Opeli's anger deflating and withering away into something sharper. She'd never liked the girl all that much—how could she, after a two week dalliance at the castle and being an assassin and then breaking Prince Callum's heart?—and now... It means I trust her. Unconditionally.

A foolish boy blinded by love, apparently.

"This is exactly why I didn't want him to be with an elf! It divides his loyalties. It's driven him mad—"

"Whoa, wait," Soren takes her by the arm with one large hand, gentle yet firmly, the other arm folded over his chest. "She's not 'the elf'."

Opeli tsks. "Not you too. She's the reason Prince Callum—"

"She might be the motivation," Soren says. "But however I feel about Callum's choices, they're his choices. She looked as surprised to see him as anyone... Maybe Callum saw, or knows, something we don't."

"But..."

"I'm not saying King Ezran is wrong to want to imprison the assassin," Soren says, hedging his weight from foot to foot. "But he nearly had Callum shot over it. You gotta admit that Ezran isn't quite... himself, right now."

Opeli steps away, eyes downturned. "No," she agrees at least, as much as it feels counterintuitive to every instinct she has. "He's not. But he's our king, Soren. That means—"

"—we're sworn to him, I know." He studies her, eyes blue and softly scrutinizing. "How are you doing? With the king and the prince... do your loyalties feel divided?"

He phrases like he wonders if they ever could be—if there could ever be anything she'd put above her duty to the crown—and besides her faith, perhaps, she doesn't believe so.

"I am fine," she answers truthfully. The brothers will make amends. Ezran will see through this night, and Callum will return. Eventually. She's always been good at having faith.

Soren lets out a tiny snort, his lips twitching. "Of course you are." He gives her arm a little squeeze and then lets go. "Come on. We should eat something. It's going to be a long couple of days."

But, at the very least Opeli supposes, they can face it together.