#its perfect actually I will never throw this thing away. anyways

[endofthelinegang]

falling together

authors note: if you're new here welcome, if not you know what's going to happen, spoilers sort of for the bolts of thunder. comfort fic, and just know that if you ever need to talk to anyone about anything even if its just to nerd out and make a friend please know my messages are always open and that i see all of you and i love all of you unconditionally. anyway, proceed with the bob fic.

If you heard one more bit of bickering, you were going to snap.

Between the phone calls between Sam and Bucky arguing with each other under the table away from their legal guidance, the girls and Walker fighting over stupid little comments he just had to make for no discernable reason, and Alexei walking around screaming instead of just talking about everything, you were practically picking at your skin to get out of the general living spaces.

It wasn't even that they were at each other's head that the tension was too much, it was actually more the noise of it all. Most annoying was the way that everyone thought they could talk to you about all of their issues all day every day and of course you cared and of course you wanted to listen. But my god it was practically useless, any and all advice you gave was just thrown away in an instant. Once that gratification of having a solution was there, it was like the issue never existed to them at all.

So there you sat on your comforter, bed still perfectly made with earbuds in as loud as you could get them with the noise cancellation on and the Do Not Disturb function on—even if no one texted you, your phone would be certain to tell you your volume was absurdly loud and ruining your ears.

You would have rather had the TV on as some mindless noise and to play on the phone, but then there was a chance one of them would happen to hear you sitting there and invade your space some more. Worse, they might try to watch TV with you and then that would lead to everyone eventually being in your room and possibly bickering.

With your phone thrown to the foot of your bed, you laid your head on your pillow. It felt odd to lay there without a blanket or source of warmth, in fact the thought gave you cold chills despite the perfect temperature being in the room. Not usually choosing to lay on your back for comfort, your arms and hands were unsure of what to do. So they laid gently in your lap and all you could hear was music, and all you could feel eventually turned into basically nothing.

Peace was overwhelming, so much so that it made you succumb to one of the most simple things peace could grant you. A fucking nap.

Headphones laid silently in your ears, your phone was somewhere not bugging you, until all of a sudden your body was made aware that it existed again. Unsure quite yet, you remained in a sleepy haze, until your body connected all of the dots: you were being very gently shaken.

Ordinarily, the correct response would be to sit up and see what was needed, maybe even smile and stretch out while listening. Instead, grabbing the hand and pushing backwards was the choice made without your eyelids even opening to see who or what was going on.

"I-I'm sorry, I just... I thought."

Fuck.

You could hear the voice past the noise cancellation, though it was muffled it made you sit up and rip the earbuds out, throwing them haphazardly around the bed and look to the space nearest your bed that was now entirely void of anyone.

Making your hands into fists, you shook them as you got out of bed and rushed down the hall to catch up.

"Wait, wait, wait," you were whispering-yelling, seeing that the day had come to be dark and you knew that the older folk did in fact prefer their sleep to start around then.

Chasing him made you think: when was the last time you saw him? You had been noticing everything else and focusing on everything at once, but when was the last time you had seen Robert?

You tried to count back the days, but it blurred together. Had it been two? Three? More?

That realization hit like a gut punch. You had been so wrapped up in managing everyone else’s meltdowns that you hadn��t noticed your own world—the one person who mattered most—slipping into the background.

Your bare feet padded against the cool floor as you turned the corner. “Robert!” you hissed, still trying not to shout.

He was already at the far end of the hallway, just about to turn the corner. His shoulders hunched like he was trying to make himself smaller, like disappearing would be easier than confronting… you.

You hated that. You hated that he thought he needed to hide from you.

“Hey,” you said, softer this time, voice catching up to your feet as you got closer. “Baby. Stop.”

And he did.

He didn’t turn around right away, but he stopped, head tilted like he was deciding if facing you would make everything worse. You reached out, your hand brushing his arm gently, and only then did he finally look at you.

His eyes were red. Not glowing with power, not burning with rage. Just… tired. So very tired.

“Oh, Rob…” you whispered, stepping in closer and wrapping your arms around his waist before he could say anything else.

He stood stiffly for a second, frozen in place like a man not used to comfort—but then he melted into you, arms coming up around your shoulders like he needed you to hold him together.

You buried your face against his chest and just held him. Not as Sentry. Not as some all-powerful being barely containing a force of destruction inside him. Just Robert. Your Robert.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he mumbled into your hair. “You looked so peaceful. I just—I didn’t wanna be alone anymore.”

Your heart shattered in slow motion. You leaned back just enough to see his face, cupping it in your hands.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve seen it. I should’ve felt it.”

He shook his head. “You’ve been dealing with so much. I didn’t wanna add to it.”

“You don’t add to anything, Rob,” you said fiercely. “You’re not a burden. You’re not too much. You’re mine. And I want to be here for you the way you are for me.”

The silence between you was heavy but tender, like neither of you needed to speak to be understood. You guided him gently back toward the bedroom, fingers entwined with his, thumb brushing against his knuckles with each step.

Once there, you sat him down and climbed onto the bed beside him, pulling a blanket off the top of the bed frame over both of you. Your hands never left him—one stroking up and down his arm, the other resting on his chest where you could feel the steady, if somewhat erratic, beat of his heart.

He laid his head in your lap without asking. You threaded your fingers through his hair, soothing in slow, rhythmic movements.

He didn’t say anything after that. Not for a while.

You could feel him trying to breathe slowly—trying to make it look effortless, like nothing was wrong. But you knew him. You knew the way his body carried pain. You could feel it beneath your fingertips in the tension of his shoulders, in the way he held his jaw like it might fall apart if he let it go slack.

He wasn’t okay. And he hadn’t been for a while.

You let your fingers trail gently over his scalp, his hair soft and curling around your knuckles as you combed through it again and again. That kind of touch didn’t fix things. But it reminded him—hopefully—that he was here. That someone saw him. That he mattered.

The room was dark except for the soft golden spill of a bedside lamp, and the music had long since stopped. But it was quiet now. Finally, quiet. And for the first time in days, maybe weeks, you weren’t dreading the silence. It was giving him room to breathe.

You felt his voice before you heard it—a small tremble in his chest.

“I don’t know who I am sometimes,” he whispered. “I wake up and there’s this fog, and I try to remember what it felt like to be… human. But it’s like the edges are gone. I keep reaching for myself and finding nothing.”

Your hand stilled for a moment. You let his words settle before you spoke.

“I see you,” you said softly. “Even when you can’t. I see Robert. I don’t love you because you’re strong. Or because you’re the Sentry. I love you because… when you talk to plants, you whisper. Because you always wait for people to catch up, even though you could fly ahead. Because you care, so much, it hurts you. And I know that doesn’t feel like enough to you right now. But it’s still you.”

His fingers curled in your blanket, gripping tight. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” you admitted. “It’s not easy to hold on when you’re falling apart. But you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. Even when it’s dark. Especially when it’s dark.”

He blinked up at you slowly, eyes glassy and red-rimmed. There wasn’t drama in his crying—no shaking sobs or heaving breaths. Just quiet tears that he didn’t bother to wipe away.

Maybe that was worse. He was always so quiet when he was slipping.

You reached down and brushed one away with your thumb, as gently as you could. Like you were afraid you’d break him by accident.

“I’m scared of being loved,” he confessed. “Because if you really knew how broken I am, you wouldn’t love me anymore. And then I’d lose the only thing keeping the Void from swallowing me.”

Your chest ached in that deep, marrow-level way only grief and love and helplessness can cause.

“I have seen it,” you said. “I’ve seen the cracks. I’ve seen the days you can’t talk. I’ve seen you stare at walls like they’re screaming at you. And I still love you. Not because I’m delusional. Because I chose to love all of you. Even the parts that hurt.”

He closed his eyes, and you felt the air go out of him in a slow, trembling exhale.

“Okay,” he said.

It was a small word. Quiet. Shaky.

But it meant he believed you. Maybe not all the way. Maybe not forever. But right now.

He believed you.

You hesitated for a moment, then gently tugged the sleeve of your hoodie down past your wrist. Quietly, without saying anything, you wrapped it around his hand—his left wrist, the one he always rubbed raw when he was struggling but trying not to show it. The fabric hung a little loose, warm from your skin. You placed your hand over his, like sealing a promise.

“Hold onto this,” you whispered. “If you ever forget, just look at it. Or touch it. Or... just know I gave it to you because I love you. Not the powerful part. Not the superhero. Just you.”

His breath hitched again, but this time it wasn’t panic. It was something closer to relief. He didn’t say anything. He just curled his fingers around the cuff and nodded like he’d just been handed a lifeline.

So you stayed like that. One hand in his hair, the other wrapped around him. Guarding him not from the world, but from that part of himself he kept caged and silent and hurting.

You didn’t need to save him. He wasn’t a problem to solve.

He just needed you to stay.

And you would. For as long as he needed.

[b4kuch1n]

siren

[s0fter-sin]

i’d love to know how much of early day's spn subtext was deliberate or just a happy accident bc the subplot of 1x08 bugs is sam and dean butting heads about how they were raised and sam hating it while dean tells him he should accept it as they protect a family; predominantly a father and son

the father and son argue bc the son is different and not who the father wants him to be while the son feels ignored and shunned (aka sam). sam spends the episode empathising with him and telling him he can look forward to going to college to get away from him just like he did while dean cuts in to say he should stick with his family

the entire episode, dean defends john and the way he raised them ("maybe he needed to raise his voice but sometimes you were out of line"), it even starts with him and sam arguing over their illegal ways of making money and how they were brought up in the life; dean adapting to and enjoying it and sam wanting to be honest and straight

they talk about sam being sure john is and always has been disappointed in him just for dean to say john used to go to stanford whenever he could to check on him and something about his expression is so bitter; like he knows john would never express that care for him

but at the climax when they're trying to get matt to convince his dad to leave, sam is the one telling him to tell the truth and make his dad listen whereas dean tells him to lie; implying he wouldn't trust his son enough to believe him

he outright scoffs at sam and asks him what he was thinking for trying to get matt to tell the truth

the entire episode, dean is advocating for the kid to work it out (almost to just take it) and stay with his family but when push comes to shove, he tells him to lie

sam who spent years resenting john and his family for how they were raised, fell back on "making him listen"; echoing all the arguments he had with john, trying to force him to understand who he is while john's too blinded by vengeance to even begin to try. the same way sam refuses to see how they were raised and why they were raised that way from john’s point of view, hinting at how similar people they are (which still isn’t an excuse but also not the point rn)

dean winchester, the king of repression and masking (and fawning), dean who at this point is still staunchly defending john, tells a shunned kid with a harsh father to pretend in order for his father to care enough to listen to him and believe him

dean knows reasoning won't work bc he's watched it happen over and over again with sam and john

even the way matt tries to say, “but he’s my… (father)” feels like he’s coming over to dean’s point of view; that matt as a son respects his father to enough to tell the truth and no matter how much they’ve fought, that should trump everything. but dean still insists he lies. and matt tells the truth. and his father doesn’t listen

there's no way they intentionally made dean subconsciously know that a man raising his son in a mimicry of how john raised them wouldn't respect or trust his son enough to believe him about something potentially life threatening after half a season of john ignoring them about something potentially life threatening

right?

[kilkreath418]

yk… ykkk… yk what would like… be like.. cool… yk like… oh yk…

******SLY COOPER FUCKING FIVE….*******

[luna-azzurra]

Crafting Breakup Scenes That Actually Hurt

(because “we can still be friends” is a war crime)

Listen, if your characters are splitting up and the vibe is “mutual and mature” and “no tears at all”, congratulations, you’ve written a politely boring obituary for a relationship. Breakups are messy. Even the amicable ones. Especially the amicable ones. Because it's not just losing a person, it's losing the version of yourself that existed next to them.

❥ The “We’re Still Halfway in Love” Break Most people don't walk away clean. They still love each other a little. Or a lot. It's not a neat amputation—it’s tearing Velcro off skin. Show that ache. The lingering looks. The fingers almost reaching out and then clenching into fists instead. The “if one of us said ‘stay’ right now, this wouldn’t end” tension. Make your readers beg for one of them to crack and then don't let them.

One character leaves their favorite sweater behind. Not on purpose. Not exactly. They just... forget it. Or maybe they want to give themselves an excuse to come back for it later.

❥ The "Wrong Words at the Worst Time" Implosion Nobody says the perfect thing during a real breakup. They stammer. They say too much, or nothing at all. They lash out in clumsy, cruel ways because "I’m hurting" doesn’t sound heroic, but "you never loved me right anyway" comes out real easy. Write the fights that should have gone differently. Let your characters regret what they said before the echo even fades.

“I guess you never needed me after all.” Silence. The other person blinking like they’ve been shot. Because that wasn’t true. But now it’s hanging in the air, poisonous and permanent.

❥ The “Silent Break” Because Sometimes Words Are Useless Not every heartbreak needs a monologue. Sometimes it's sitting in a car together, staring out the windshield, saying nothing. Sometimes it’s standing at a door, one hand on the handle, too many words trapped in your throat. Let silence be heavy. Let it say, “I love you but I can’t anymore” without making anyone say a damn word.

The engine's ticking as it cools. Neither of them moves. One finally gets out of the car. They don't look back.

❥ The “Stupid Mundane Detail That Breaks You” Moment Big speeches are forgettable. But a breakup feels real when it’s tied to something stupid and tiny. Like they’re arguing and suddenly one of them notices how the other always folds the pizza box before throwing it out. Or how their coffee mug is still sitting on the table. Ordinary things take on the weight of the extraordinary loss.

She’s screaming, he’s begging, and somehow he notices her chipped nail polish and thinks, God, I’m losing her, and I still know what shade that is.

❥ The “One Last Selfish Touch” Goodbye Before they walk away, before its final, one of them touches the other’s face. Or smooths their hair. Or pulls them into a hug that lasts way too long. Selfish, tender, desperate. Knowing it’s the last time and doing it anyway because they physically cannot help themselves.

“Don’t go.” “Then tell me to stay.” Silence. Shaking heads. They kiss. It doesn’t fix a damn thing. It just hurts better.

Remember: The breakup isn’t the death of love. It’s the death of hope. That's what you need to break. Not just the hearts. The possibility of a different ending. That’s when it wrecks your reader in the best way.

[sicksorrows]

my nanami hcs (nsfw & sfw)

idk if these are hcs or smth bc he'd look like he'd do most of these but anyway enjoy my rant on my man

sfw

he would allow you to do ANYTHING to him and I mean anything, or vice versa because he'd also do anything for you. if you ask him to do the laundry or dishes, he'd do it without asking any questions.

if you ask him for help on something he'd literally help you without making you feel dumb.

he would give you a good morning kiss every morning.

he would make breakfast for you every morning and if you didn't feel like eating it he'd persuade you anyway (I would still eat it even if I have the urge to throw up)

he would ask you to put his tie on for him before work, just so he could spend a little more time with you before he heads out--he would also give you a peck before leaving.

if he comes home from a mission and got severely injured he would run up to you right away to get his wounds treated.

he's a big spoon.

he is 100 precent devoted to you, he would remember every single thing about you, ranging from your birthday to your favourite food, to your siblings/parents name, anything.

if hes willing to do anything for you, then that means learning stuff you like just so he could connect with you better. for example you really love drawing, he would practice drawing everyday and show you it just to get the smallest reaction from you.

he is SO good at communication. say you both are having a heated argument, he would try to keep you, and himself calm, to help the situation better. and just basically be respectful throughout the way

he would never abuse you for his own entertainment, I just can't see him do that.

he gets jealous but doesn't show it, which leads me to that hes really good at hiding things or keeping things secret.

he is a soft spoken person.

brag about you to anyone he meets, or he would definitely bring you up in most conversations if it reminds him of you.

nsfw

he would so fuck you in his clothes, and it would always be the shirts because he loves the way you wear him.

he is such a switch.

he would enjoy pegging

he whines and begs, he is also a grunter.

praises you during and after sex, telling you how good you were and just basically makes you feel better about yourself.

he is slow and gentle but also pushes your limits the slightest, just to get a reaction out of you.

loves hand jobs ...

if you're sucking his dick he wouldn't make you take his full length unless you're ready for it.

oh my god he always asks for reassurance

angry sex..imagine him coming home angry from work or a mission and he just needs something to calm down, which is you. so he fucks you whilst still being angry, so you're basically his energy recharge

pulls your hair. especially during oral

into slight bdsm, (blindfolds, handcuffs ect.)

knows how to use his hands/fingers.

body worshipper.

teases or edges you.

if you're receiving backshots from him, he would be slow with you and hold onto you carefully.

if were talking about foreplay he is SLOW. he wants to savour his time with you and taste every part of you at his own pace, he isn't one to rush with it.

loves hearing you being loud, if you were quiet he'd force you to become loud somehow

he whimpers.

makes sex tapes on certain occasions..and jerks off to them later

if its a special occasion like your birthday, he would so give you birthday sex.

hes kind of the type to do semi public sex, for example; a changing room, the beach, movies, elevators

roleplays..

lastly, he is the aftercare king. after you guys are done whatever you were doing he would pamper you like a princess with seven servants. he would clean you up before himself, and make sure you feel satisfied when he finishes. when you both are clean he would cuddle you and stroke your hair as you fall asleep in his arms.

ughhh I love this man so much its actually making me go insane every single second of the day, my life is getting so fucked up because of this man. nanami is literally perfect in so many different ways, I literally have so much more scenarios or hcs for this man but I can't say it on here cuz I dont wanna get flamed...I need this man so badly I literally only told two of my friends about nanami because im worried my other friends would judge me for this. but either way i love him so so so so much oh my god the way I wish he was real, because id actually treat him like a king and not like some person who just wants him for sex...anyway...if he was real id actually give him the biggest hug ever and literally ask him out, I would not care if he rejected me, in fact id be happy that he even interacted with me because this man is so hot and beautiful and all of the above I know im out of his league, or not even his type. I need his dick inside me so badly and I know I say that a lot but genuinely I dont think his dick is enough for me, theres something about him that makes me want to have him by my side forever, I wish our souls combined and we are spiritually together. I wish that we could mold into each other and stay like that, forever. my love for this man can not compare to the love I have for anyone else. if I were to choose over nanami and my old hyper fixation from like 5 years ago, id choose nanami. and there may be some days where I just dont fuck with jjk but that may not change my love for him. I have never talked about a character this much esp it being an anime character but that doesn't stop me.

I want to give him the most malevolent, jaw dropping, hip thrusting best fucking head in the whole world. I dont care if it doesn't fit in my mouth id let my jaw lock if it had to be sucking him off. I wish jjk was an underground unknown show so I could just thirst over nanami so no one else could have him, but im glad it got popular because this is literally how I found my man. especially when I was a jjk hater and I never knew about him, but when I gave it a try im SO glad I did. im also SO grateful gege even made nanami a character, just a little ungrateful he killed him off but that okay! at least nanami existed through out two seasons. but if gege went with his other plan which was making nanami into a villain I would still hit cause oh my god the thought turns me on and im going insane about it. I literally wish I could write well, or draw well, so I could complete my desires which is drawing nanami in any way I could, or writing good scenarios with him but god gave me that ability to not draw (or write) because He knew id be unstoppable if I did, anyway, I need backshots from nanami until my voice practically runs out and the last words im left saying is: I love you, nanami.

[yandere-sins]

the whole feral scary naga thing is good👀 but do you know of a legend when a white snake was about to be killed but someone saved them, in return they became the snake’s bride? the delusional naga not only making things worst for the reader by forcing them to be their mate, but now the village has no choice but to sacrifice y/n if they dont want to starve to death (nagas in some cultures are higly respected and are important for livelihood and crops)

Oh my gosh... This is perfect... (I have heard of the legend but haven't researched it but even so it's perfect >:3)

You pet dogs and pspsps at cats when you see them, smile at the cows, and oink alongside pigs. All that and more, but you're not necessarily involved with animals as much as other people in your village. You like animals, and you tolerate them around you, but the thing that actually gets you excited is plants. No wonder you became the town's doctor as one of the few people who can differentiate between poisonous berries and digestible flowers. You are an integral part of the community. Nothing could threaten your position as a respected member and being needed by everyone.

Nothing but the damn naga you stumbled upon one day.

There were stories of these creatures, as with every belief, there are countless creatures to know of in your culture. You heard them, acknowledged them, but didn't actually believe in them. Most stories are scars for children anyway, and half-human, half-snake? Sounds impossible for you as a doctor.

For years you roamed the forests for plants for your medicine and studies. Years of never meeting anything scarier than a wild cat or a completely normal but still somewhat scary big snake. Years of walking in and out of the forest unscathed and unharmed. But you are immediately alerted when a human voice calls out to you from a pitfall. You don't recognize the voice from your village, but as a doctor, it's your duty to help.

You do everything you can, from telling them that you're there for them and will get them out of the trap and patch them up once they're out, to cutting vines to make a rope and throw it down into the dark. The possibilities of what could be down there don't unsettle you. All you see is your mission to help. When you tell them to try climbing your makeshift rope, you still expect a human to appear from the very deep, very large pitfall. Oh, how wrong you are.

Because while at first, you see the right things like hands, shoulders, a head, and hair, nothing from the waist down is normal about the suspected human clawing its way out of the trap. But it's too late now to cut the vines as its tail slowly drags itself out of the hole, the proportions becoming uncanny on a body much too big for a human and the tail much too white and standing out to be of a snake.

The real horror, though, is when you meet the creature's eyes, slits for pupils that fixate on you, dilating and narrowing as it musters its savior, its nose sniffing the air while you feel like you're going to throw up as you notice the claws, scales, fangs. The unnaturalness of this monster in front of you.

You made a mistake. A big one. The pitfall was not a dangerous creation for a human by a human. It was a last effort to save humans and keep a monster locked away in a prison it couldn't escape. You released it—enthusiastically even. The desperation you feel, knowing you might have doomed your village, is immeasurable. You can already hear their screams echoing in your ears as they are torn limb from limb by this monster, all while you'll probably die first, unable to help them as they call for you to heal them.

Both of you are staring at each other for what feels like a breathless eternity until the creature slithers—slithers!—towards you, its claws reaching out while you close your eyes, unable to watch it go for the kill. Its arms wrap around your body, and you gasp as it buries its face in the space between your neck and shoulder, your heartbeat racing as you listen to it sniff loudly, deeply inhaling and exhaling through its mouth. A mix of a purr and growl reaches your ears, vibrating in its chest and making you shiver in its grasp as the creature declares you as "Mate" before picking you up, feet dangling so far from the ground you might break a leg if you fall.

Luckily, that's not the creature's intention, and it seems delighted by you clawing at its shoulders, trying to hold on to it out of fear as it begins to carry you away. It's then that you realize that no way can you let it take you somewhere deeper into the forest. You are needed in your village! You are important! Too good to be eaten somewhere even your bones cannot be found anymore! It's a little scary, but as the creature has to lower itself to slip under tree branches and the like, you take the risk, kicking its stomach when it least expects it to create enough distance between arm and body to slip out.

You never ran as fast and breathless in your life as you did with the naga right behind you, crashing into tree trunks and hissing and growling, its claws always dangerously close to your body. You knew the forest well, but the only thing this monster seemed to care about was getting to you. It was foolish to lead it back to your village, but maybe... maybe! The warriors were skilled! The elders might know where to hit its weak spots! There was at least some hope that you could escape it!

The naga only caught up to you when you stumbled into the open clearing where your village was settled. Gasps and screams echoed around you while your face slammed into the ground involuntarily as you two collided, your body collapsing from the run. You heard the calls for the warriors, the terrified screams of the women and children, but all of a sudden, everything becomes very nauseatingly quiet.

Even with the hand of the naga pressing you down into the ground, keeping you from running from it anymore, you somehow manage to look up. What you see is almost more terrifying than all the possible scenarios you could have imagined. Everyone—the warriors, women, children, elders—knelt on the ground before you, bowing their heads, foreheads touching the dirty ground while you heard the unsettling sounds of the creature behind you, hissing and thumping its tail.

"My mate!" it declares loudly, possessively, and the people shudder in reverent fear. Finally, the oldest member of the tribe lifts their head, nodding before answering, "All yours. We will not interfere."

Their eyes fall on you, their lips silently mouthing, "I'm sorry."

You are once again picked up, settled tightly against the naga's chest, enveloped like an inconsolable child in its arms before it turns. You have to watch the villagers slowly rise to their feet as the creature spares their life with your sacrifice. The eldest shakes their head, turning to a warrior before asking how the naga could possibly escape. "I don't know," sighs the warrior. "But that's one more doctor lost to these creatures. And we tried so hard to keep this one."

"Better them than us," the eldest comforts him, patting the warrior's shoulder. "We knew the trap wouldn't be able to keep the naga from what they want forever."

Tears brimming your eyes, you meet the disappointed gazes of the village you thought you were so important to. People who gave you away in a heartbeat to appease some monster, and the bitterness overwhelms you as you realize they knew it was coming. Coming for you of all people, never telling you to leave the village and run for your life. Instead, they used you for as long as they could.

Until you rescued your own death sentence.

[miustrz]

SALESWOMAN

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

PLOT: there was once a saleswoman. she had to go.

WORD COUNT: 3K

WARNINGS: a gun.

Wake up, suit, and briefcase. That’s what it was like everyday. The fake smile I had to put on for the money hungry scumbags of the city. They smelt disgusting. I was a “saleswoman.” Doesn’t sound right, huh? But it felt great slapping those idiots.

The things they would do for money. Even throwing away their dignity for some quick cash. I’ve been doing this for 5 almost 6 years. I guess you could say I was a pro at it.

Everyday, I have to walk to that musty, loud train station to go spit in homeless people’s faces. Not literally. I’ve thought about it though. Anyways, this routine had it out for me. I hate the way they smile when they win a child’s game. Wack ass hoes.

Today, I felt like it would be different. Someone would actually beat me every round.

“Would you like to play a game with me? You seem to be unfortunate. Having a bad day?”

I asked this man. He seemed do be in his 30s.

The man looked at me, his tired eyes reflecting the weight of a thousand lifetimes of bad decisions. I could see it in his posture too—like he was carrying something heavy, invisible to most people but not to me.

I could smell it too—doubt, defeat, and desperation, a pungent mix that hung around him like a thick fog. But I had my job to do. I had to keep up the act.

"Bad day?" I asked, tilting my head slightly. I forced a smile. "Don't worry, we all have them." I reached out and lightly touched his shoulder, an almost motherly gesture, though there was no warmth in it.

Just pity.

He looked at me, frowning, but nodded slightly. "Yeah. I guess."

"Well, maybe I can help," I said, still in that soft, reassuring tone. "How about a game? It’s a simple one, and maybe it’ll help take your mind off things."

I reached into my bag and pulled out a folded square of paper and a small stone. Ddakji. The game was as old as time in this city, and I was its undisputed champion. I flicked the paper into the air, a perfect fold each time. It was an art I’d mastered, just like everything else in my life.

His eyes were wary, but curiosity won out. "Sure," he said, shrugging. "Why not?"

We sat down, the noise of the train station buzzing around us. I flipped my piece with practiced precision. It landed perfectly. "You go first," I said, handing him the other piece. He hesitated, but I could see he was too tired to turn down the distraction.

We played. The first round, I let him win. It was a small gesture, just enough to make him feel like he had a shot. But that’s the thing with people like him: they never see it coming. By the third round, I could see the little glint of hope in his eyes. The first crack in his armor. He smiled a bit. I hated that smile. It felt like a victory he didn’t deserve.

By the fifth round, I was starting to feel a little... annoyed. I had let him win a couple to boost his morale, but he had beaten me every single time since. Each loss felt like a little slice of my own dignity being chipped away.

"What the hell?" I muttered, flicking my piece to the side. "How are you so damn good at this?"

He didn’t say anything at first. He just smiled a small, almost embarrassed smile. "I guess I’ve got nothing but time," he said quietly, looking down at his hands, and for a second I could see it—this man was living the kind of life I had avoided. He had no choice but to become good at this. No other option.

I clenched my jaw, staring at the game pieces in front of me. "Alright, fine," I said, standing up suddenly. "Maybe you’re good at this game, but you wouldn’t last in a real challenge."

He looked up at me, confused. "What do you mean?"

I felt that familiar sharp edge in my voice. The one I reserved for moments like this—when the act wasn’t enough. When I had to push, to provoke.

"How about we make this interesting? Ever heard of Russian Roulette?" I asked, my smile just barely hiding the venom in it.

He frowned, clearly not understanding. "Russian Roulette?"

I nodded, pulling out a small black card from my coat pocket. "Yeah. One bullet. One chance. You pick a card, and you might walk away alive, or not. Your choice."

He looked at the card, then back at me. Something shifted in his eyes, but he didn’t flinch. "That’s… that’s insane," he muttered. But there was a flicker of curiosity there, like he wanted to know. Maybe he wanted to test himself.

I slid the card across the table, my smile unwavering. "You don’t get to decide how life treats you," I said softly, almost pityingly. "But you do get to decide how you respond to it."

For a moment, I thought he might just walk away, but then he picked up the card. He glanced at it and looked up at me, still unsure, but determined.

"I’ll take my chances," he said, his voice steady now. There was no fear, just a grim acceptance.

I nodded, satisfied. "Good. Hold onto that card. If you want to know what happens next, just follow the instructions."

With that, I stood up, adjusted my jacket, and gave him one last glance. My fake smile returned, the one I had perfected over the years. The same one I wore every damn day.

"Take care," I said, my voice as smooth as ever, and I turned, making my way out of the train station.

The noise, the crowd, the rush of the city—it all swallowed me up, just another face in the crowd. But as I left, I couldn’t help but wonder: would he follow through? Would he even make it out alive?

I didn’t care. Not really.

I just liked the idea of someone being desperate enough to play the game.

-

Two weeks had passed since that encounter at the train station. The man had done exactly what I thought he would: he followed the instructions on the card. Curiosity, desperation, or maybe something darker—he didn’t waste any time. I received a call that night, a hoarse voice on the other end asking to meet.

I knew he would call. They always do, eventually.

I agreed, of course, the same smile plastered on my face as I hung up the phone. This was how it always went, a dance of twisted fate. They never learn. They always think they can win.

We met in an old, abandoned hotel at the edge of the city. The building was crumbling, its walls sagging, but it served its purpose.

The atmosphere was perfect for what was about to unfold. I had set up a small, isolated room, dimly lit by a single bulb swinging from the ceiling. Dust hung in the air, thick and oppressive. The only sounds were the creaks of the dilapidated floorboards beneath our feet.

When he entered the room, he was almost unrecognizable. There was a strange stillness to him now, a kind of hollow resolve. His eyes, though—those tired eyes that had once reflected defeat—now had a fire behind them. But there was something else, too. Something fragile.

"You came," I said, my voice as smooth and controlled as always, though the darkness behind my words was now more palpable, more dangerous. I didn’t need to ask him why he was there. I already knew.

"Yeah," he said, his voice steady, but with an edge. "You said you had a game for me."

I nodded and motioned for him to sit at the small table where I had already prepared the setup. "The rules haven’t changed. You pick a card. There’s one bullet, one chance. If you make it through, you win. If not… well, you lose. It's as simple as that."

I didn’t smile this time. My face was hard, colder than it had ever been, and my eyes were sharp. The air in the room seemed to tighten around us, thick with the weight of what was about to happen.

He sat across from me, his eyes locked onto the cards on the table, the same worn, beaten deck that had made so many people like him test their limits.

"Now," I said, my tone shifting, becoming sharper, "You remember the stakes. This time… it’s real. And no one walks away without paying the price."

He nodded, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the cards. I watched him closely. He was playing the game, but I could see the hopelessness still clinging to him. It was in the way his jaw clenched, the way his gaze darted to the door, wondering if there was any chance of escape.

But he wasn’t escaping. Not this time. Not with me.

As he selected his card, I felt the excitement stirring inside me, that thrill of control. I kept my face carefully neutral, though my pulse quickened. There was nothing like watching someone teeter on the edge of their own mortality, all for a game. I wasn’t about to let him off easy, though.

I leaned forward, letting the silence stretch. Then, my voice, cold and calculating, broke it.

"Why do you want to die?" I asked, staring him down, my eyes narrowing. My smile was gone, replaced by something more sinister. "What’s so bad about living that you’re willing to risk everything on a stupid game?"

He paused, his fingers still clutching the card. He looked up at me, his eyes dead, hollow in the way that only someone who had seen too much could manage.

"I don’t want to die," he said, his voice low, filled with a bitterness I hadn’t expected. "I want to beat you."

My eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "Beat me?"

"Yeah," he continued, his words sharp. "Your smile. It disgusts me."

I blinked, taken aback for a second. It was the last thing I had expected to hear. Most people either begged for mercy, or acted like they wanted to escape, but this man—this man wanted to beat me. Wanted to strip away that part of me, that fake smile I wore so well.

It was almost laughable. Almost.

I let out a small, cruel chuckle. "I see," I said, my tone cold and venomous. "You want to destroy what I’ve worked so hard to create. How cute."

I watched as he drew the card and placed it face down on the table. His hands were steady now. He was no longer shaking with fear. There was a different kind of determination in his eyes. I could see it—he wanted to win. But he wouldn’t.

I picked up my own card, feeling the familiar weight in my fingers. The bullet was in place. I knew the rules. I had played this game countless times, and this time, it would be no different.

The first round passed. We both pulled the trigger. Click. Empty. He didn’t flinch. Neither did I. The tension in the air thickened, like a storm was brewing.

The second round. Again, no bullet.

The third. The fourth. The fifth. We kept playing, each time the tension building, the clicks echoing in the silence.

And then, it was my turn.

I smiled—a real smile, twisted, sharp, full of malice. There was a part of me that was enjoying this far too much. There was something deeply satisfying in watching him squirm, knowing he couldn’t stop it. That he would fail, just like all the others before him.

I placed my card on the table, my hand steady. I stared at him, daring him to look away.

He didn’t.

I held his gaze as I lifted the gun, clicking it against the side of my head, the barrel cold and metallic. There was no fear in my eyes, only a cold thrill, a feeling of power that pulsed through me.

"You know," I said, almost tenderly, "It’s always the ones who think they have control who end up losing it all. You should have known that from the start."

I squeezed the trigger.

Click.

Nothing.

I let out a small laugh, more out of exhilaration than anything else. "See? I’m still here. Just like I always will be."

His expression hadn’t changed. He was staring at me, eyes emotionless. His hand was still on the card, waiting. His pulse was steady. It was as if nothing in the world could move him now. He had been so focused on defeating me, but in the end, it was clear—he had already lost.

I looked at him one last time before standing up, smoothing my coat. "It’s over now. You know the truth. This game… it never really had a winner."

I walked to the door, the faintest smile returning to my lips as I opened it.

As I left the room, I didn’t look back. But I could feel his presence, still there, waiting in that dark, dusty room, trapped by his own disgust and desperation.

Bang.

Some people never learn.

if the roles were reversed…

Round after round. We both went through the motions like we’d done a thousand times before. But the more we played, the more I felt the walls closing in.

My confidence, my carefully constructed demeanor, was starting to crumble. Something was slipping through my fingers, and I couldn’t figure out what it was.

I didn’t expect it to happen this way. I didn’t expect him to be the one to win.

The fifth round came. He pulled the card and placed it on the table. This time, the gun was in his hand. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, calculating, cold. No emotion, just a kind of quiet certainty. He had stopped trying to win.

Now, he just wanted to watch me lose.

He lifted the gun, and for the first time, I couldn’t look him in the eye. My breath caught in my throat, and a cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck.

"I told you I didn’t want to die," he said softly, his voice calm but sharp with conviction. "I just wanted to beat you. Because your smile… it disgusts me."

I wanted to speak, to shout, to remind him that I was the one who controlled the game. But I couldn’t. The words were stuck in my throat. I didn’t even see him pull the trigger.

The shot rang out.

Pain exploded in my chest, and for the first time in years, I felt something real—a rush of panic, a heat flooding through me. I collapsed to the ground, my vision blurring as I gasped for air.

He stood over me, his face still unreadable, but there was something in his eyes now. A kind of satisfaction. But it wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t a celebration. It was... quiet.

"I said I wanted to beat you," he repeated, stepping back as I struggled to breathe. The blood was hot on my skin, spreading across my shirt, staining everything. "And I did. Your smile isn’t so damn important anymore."

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even move. My body was heavy, the weight of defeat sinking into me, thick and suffocating.

And then everything went black.

-

A year passed.

The city hadn’t changed. The skyline still towered over the streets, the same cold, metallic heart that kept the gears turning. The people were still just as greedy, just as hungry for whatever scraps they could get. And somewhere in the midst of all that noise, he had risen.

He wasn’t the man I had once met, the defeated soul who’d been desperate enough to take a chance with a game of Russian Roulette. No, now he was a shadow of the woman I had been. He had taken over my place, the reins of the game. He was the salesman now.

He moved through the streets like a phantom, dressed in the same cold, efficient attire I had worn, his briefcase clicking sharply against the pavement. His smile—the same twisted, controlled smile—was already perfected, a mask he wore so effortlessly that nobody could tell it was fake. But underneath it, there was something else—something darker.

He had learned all the rules. He understood the game better than I ever did, and in the end, he had done exactly what I couldn’t: he had beaten me at my own game. And now, he was taking my place.

A year later, when he walked into a new train station—his first stop as the new salesman—he caught the eyes of every passerby with that same twisted grin. His hands were steady as he approached a stranger, someone who would be his next victim.

"Would you like to play a game?" he asked, his voice smooth, his smile sharp. "You seem unfortunate. Having a bad day?"

And in the back of his mind, there was a quiet satisfaction. Because he wasn’t just offering a game anymore. He was offering the same thing he had taken from me—a chance, a risk, a taste of something more.

But he knew the truth.

The game never had a winner. Not really.

[olderthannetfic]

Yeah, no, this recurring "if you posted it to the archive you OWE ITS PRESENCE TO US FOREVER" take people keep regurgitating is some absolutely entitled bullshit no matter how you dress it up as ~*respect for art and the artist.*~

Ok, I never wanted to wade into this never ending wank about deleting fics because I didn’t think I had anything to add, but this comment in the comment section of one of the most recent asks on this topic sparked something for me. Probably it’s not even an original thought, but here I go.

Is it ok if an author doesn’t like their book any more, so they just start going into libraries and destroying copies of it?

That’s a bad analogy because the library paid for those copies and the author was presumably paid for their work? And also it wouldn’t even be legal for the author to do that? I hear you. I still think it holds some merit in terms of helping us think about this in terms of libraries being a place of preservation for the community, which is how people who are complaining about fics disappearing view fic archives (thus, “archive”), but I do see the flaws in the analogy.

What if a friend crafted you something as a gift, and you absolutely love it and treasure it, and you tell them so at every opportunity. Is it cool for them to take it back and throw it away because they don’t like it any more?

That analogy makes it too personal and doesn’t really work because “people should just download copies of every fic in anticipation that the author might delete it, and authors aren’t breaking into people’s houses to steal back copies of fics they have saved”? Ok. That’s fair. But I think that analogy at least conveys how personal the disappointment of a fic disappearing feels for many fans. Especially if they voiced their support to the author, it’s a big bummer when the author receives that support and then turns around and says “well I don’t think it’s good enough any more, and I’m taking it down so no one can enjoy it.” But I agree, that’s not a perfect analogy either.

How about an analogy I think I have heard before, one in which an artist created a piece of art and donated it to be displayed in a public space for the community to enjoy, then subsequently decided they wanted to remove it from view and destroy it. I think even if they were legally within their rights to do it, most people would still look at it as a pretty lame thing to do. This analogy doesn’t fully satisfy me, because public art on display doesn’t feel fully analogous to fic in an archive for me, and depending on the piece and the setting there may not be the same expectation that it’s going to be preserved there.

I think all of these analogies taken in combination kind of start to convey why this is a big deal to people. And as many have said, it’s not that we don’t acknowledge it’s the fic writer’s prerogative to delete, or that we feel entitled to the work, or that we don’t realise we can and probably should download our most favourite fics. None of that changes the fact that to take down a fic is taking back a gift and removing something from a community archive dedicated to preserving that media. Anyway. This is my beer-fuelled rant complete with three separate analogies that really contribute nothing to this very done-to-death discussion. I’ll go be quiet now.

--

Eh. I don't think people are confused in quite this way.

Some of them are upset because a few "Never delete!" people actually say aggressive or aggressively stupid things.

A lot of them want to never feel judged, and that includes by hearing that other people are upset.

But a poisonous and idiotic breed of them don't value fic and are mightily offended that other people do.

I get these clowns on here all the time. I haven't blocked all of them, but they're all dumbasses and they all sound the same. "Ooh, it's just casual!" "Ooh, I'm so mature for not having feelings and it totally isn't a mental illness symptom, how dare you?!"

Listen, dudes, wanting to destroy your hobby stuff is not a moral failing. But treating your hobby as "just a hobby" and "It doesn't matter" means you're a boring person. Come cry in the notes, but it won't be any less true.

Art is something to be passionate about. Preservation is something to be passionate about. Life in general is something to be passionate about.

Destroying art is sometimes part of art. Thinking it's pretentious to care deeply, however, makes you a loser.

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

I Still Love You.

Okay, hi, yes, I am real, I do exist haha, anyway, I'm suffering in college but I miss writing for my cowboy so I'm gonna try to do some magic with this prompt from the lovely @photo1030 about our cowboy and us getting into a fight, the first fight, after they start dating.

SO

Let us start!

Warnings: Arguing obviously, swearing, Arthur feeling bad, you feeling bad, female reader, possibly 18+ themes. Modern Arthur AU

Definitely maybe projecting a little bit of myself into Y/N here but we aren't gonna mention that.

Also don't you dare make fun of me I haven't wrote much recently so my noggin doesn't work, all I know is homework

You scoffed, continuing to wash the dishes in your sink as you listen to Arthur rambling on, trying to make you 'see reason' as he put it.

Usually you couldn't find a single thing wrong with Arthur. For the most part he was the perfect man. Of course, he had his flaws, as all humans do, but you guys had NEVER had a fight before, but lately...you couldn't help but fume at him.

He was just....You loved him, and you loved being around him and typically nothing about him bothered you but....

You couldn't help it.

He was just so damn...Stubborn! All the time!

No matter what, he always had to be right. Doesn't matter exactly what it's about, but he has to be right, even if it's something that YOU know more about.

"Jus' listen to me Darlin', it'll be so much easier for us to do this if we jus'-"

"I told you Arthur, that's not it, that's not gonna work!"

You sigh and turn around, leaning on the lip of the sink, your arms crossed as you look at him.

"You know, JUST as much as I do, that if we want to move in together at some point that we should invest in a place for BOTH of us, not just me moving in with you or you moving in with me."

"It'll save us money if you jus' move in with me-"

"And it'll save our relationship if I don't feel like I'm a visitor in a place that I didn't purchase. That's YOUR apartment, with YOUR decorations, YOUR pots and pans, YOUR shower curtains, EVERYTHING is yours, and even if I brought some of my stuff in, it's not MY place or OUR place-"

"So now our relationship needs savin'?"

He snorts and copies your body language, crossing his own arms as he stares down at you.

"You livin' with me, regardless as to if it's at your house or my apartment is the same as us buyin' a place together, and our relationship is just fine, it don't NEED savin'. At least I didn't think it did until ya said that."

"Oh my god, you are such a stubborn jackass."

You grind your teeth, standing up straight.

"It doesn't need saving, not YET. Arthur, a place of our own, together, would be better for the both of us, and you KNOW that."

"We would save much more money if we just moved in to one of the places we ALREADY own-"

"That wouldn't be OURS-"

"We would MAKE it OURS darlin'-"

"Arthur, why can't you understand-"

"Why can't YOU understand, I'm tryin' to save us money in the long run, money we can use to save up and buy a house later down the line, when we need one."

"Jesus, Arthur! How am I supposed to even move in with you in the first place when all you can do is try to prove you're right about everything all the damn time!"

You throw your hands up in defeat.

"You just have to always, always, always be right, don't you? You can't just understand or accept that someone else MIGHT be right!"

"You know damn well that ain't true!"

Arthur stands straight himself, putting his hands on his hips.

"I ain't tryin' to prove shit!,"

He pokes you in the chest, right under your collarbone

"I'm TRYIN' to make things easier on us! I'm tryin' to do somethin' good for the woman I love, but clearly you ain't very appreciative about it!"

"I would be, if you didn't always have to be so damn pushy, always 'oh well actually we should do this its smarter' shut UP Arthur, shut UP. It's not always your way or the highway!"

You smack his hand away, scowling at him as he shakes his hand and puts it back on his hip.

"You know how awful, how fucking stupid you make me feel, all the time!? Even when I'm RIGHT, you make me feel stupid because there's always some other way that we can do things that you always deem 'better'. What is it? You just don't like the fact that I can do things? That SOMETIMES, I have good ideas?"

"What? What the hell are you talkin' about?"

"You know what I'm talking about-"

"I don't!"

He groans in frustration and moves to your fridge, opening it to get a beer out.

"Oh, and you're gonna help yourself to my drinks too, right? That I paid for?"

"This ain't even yours! I bought these, I brought 'em over for me when I visit! You don't even like this brand, hell you drink them fuckin' fruity drinks, the what....the Smirnoff or whatever the fuck it is."

He pops the bottle cap off.

"'Sides, what's the matter? You ain't never been upset about sharin' with me before."

"It's not the point!"

You groan and move past him into the living room.

"The point is Arthur, you always have to be right. Always. You make me feel like an idiot. Even if I know something more than you. Hell you'd tell me I was wrong if I was talking about what I majored in, in college."

"Oh I would not-"

He states, following you into the living room.

"You just did it again! Just there!"

"I ain't doin' shit!"

"AND AGAIN!"

Arthur gives a huff and puts his drink down on the coffee table, pinching the bridge of his nose with his other hand.

"Look, Darlin', all I'm sayin' is, if we make a budget and live together at my place, or at yours, we can save up money, and EVENTUALLY get a place together. a NICE place. A GOOD place, that's big enough for us, and what I HOPE is eventually our family."

"Why can't we buy a place that's already a good place?"

"You have to have MONEY Y/N!"

Arthur closes his eyes briefly, and crosses his arms again.

"Christ, Y/N do you ever fucking listen?"

"Oh like you're any better-"

"I am!"

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck you!"

The two of you stare at one another, fuming, both of you clenching your jaws.

"Get out."

You murmur softly.

"Get out and go home."

"Really? You're gonna kick me out?"

"Yes, go!"

Arthur stares at you for a moment, and then moves around the couch and takes a seat, kicking his feet up on the coffee table after grabbing his beer.

"No. Not until we talk this through. I ain't lettin' either one of us walk away angry."

You angrily groan and turn away from him, going to your bedroom. You slam the door shut behind you and lock it.

You take the time to breathe, putting your hands through your hair, trying to keep yourself from being too angry.

You move to your bed and take a seat, letting yourself think.

Granted, yes, neither of you had been extremely awful to one another, but you had said some pretty mean things, and after sitting there for about twenty minutes you started to spiral.

That was a dick move of you. A dick move of him too but...what if....

You shouldn't have said anything like that to him, calling him a stubborn jackass, telling him to fuck off, you shouldn't have said those things.

You think it over more and more, and the longer you think about it, the guiltier you feel.

Accusing him of taking your food, when you always share your stuff with him anyway, intentionally starting a fight basically.

Its another ten minutes of thinking about how you'd yelled at him, and then you can't take it.

You unlock your door and come out to find Arthur still on the couch, his arms crossed as he looks up at you.

"You done throwin' a temper tantrum, Y/N?"

You go to speak and surprisingly you find yourself choked up.

"I'm...I...I'm sorry, Arthur I..."

You can feel yourself beginning to tear up and you try to wipe your eyes without it being too obvious, but Arthur was able to see it clearly.

"Woah, hey-"

He's quick to get up and move to you, taking your face in his hands.

"Whatchu cryin' for Darlin'? It ain't that big a deal, it's jus' a spat, that's all..."

He keeps his voice hushed, doing his best to try and soothe you.

You just can't help but feel...absurdly guilty, and all the sudden, worried.

"You aren't gonna run away from me, are you?"

You question, looking up at him.

"You aren't gonna leave me?"

"What? What on earth, no!"

He pulls you closer, bringing your head to his chest, wrapping an arm around your head.

"Jesus, Sweetheart no, I'm not leavin' you, it ain't that big a deal, it ain't that bad...it was just a little spat, an argument, couples have 'em all the time...."

He murmurs, and quietly kisses the top of your head.

"I shouldn't have called you a jackass, and I shouldn't have told you to fuck off, and I'm sorry-"

You ramble on, hugging yourself tightly to him.

"I'm really happy you want me to move in with you, I want to move in with you, I love you, I don't mean anything, I don't want you to back out of it, I don't wanna push you away-"

"Darlin', Y/N, please, calm down, okay, sit with me."

He gently guides you to the couch and sits with you, still holding you close to him.

"Sweetheart, I'm not breaking up with you, you haven't pushed me away, and you certainly aren't gonna cause me to back out."

He chuckles quietly and kisses your head again.

"It's just a little argument. That's all it is, that's it. It's nothin' to break us up over. Couples have fights all the time, it's alright."

"I know..."

You breathe out quietly, his voice was certainly soothing you.

Pulling away from him, you look up at him.

"I am sorry though, I am. I shouldn't have said those things....We should talk, seriously talk, take a minute, and CALMLY talk about the whole housing thing we want to do, I don't wanna argue about it anymore..."

"Sweetheart, it's okay, really it is."

He smiles and takes your hand.

"We can sit and talk, that's okay, but you don't have to apologize, I do. Alright? You're right, I tend to try and prove I'm right, and that ain't fair....So we'll talk, okay?"

He smiles at you, and he brushes some of your hair away from your face, looking you in the eyes as he does. That little smile of his is always enough to make your heart melt, and in this case it does plenty to soothe those worries that had so easily snuck up on you.

"Honey, it's alright...really, I mean that."

You nod and breathe quietly.

"I am still sorry Arthur."

"So am I, but I promise...nothing bad is gonna happen between us, okay, nothing."

He smiles.

"Well, good things will." He adds, and chuckles quietly. "We'll sit down and talk, and for tonight-"

He moves, and puts his finger under your chin, making you look up at him.

"I'm gonna take care of you, alright? I'm gonna make sure, you have a good time tonight, we'll have a movie night, and I will make dinner, you're favorite even."

You can't help but chuckle and lean in, kissing him softly.

"Thank you, thank you Arthur, I love you so much and I'm so...so sorry again."

"Stop sayin' sorry, okay? We're both idiots."

That makes you chuckle, and you lean your head against his shoulder, scooting closer.

It was a good feeling, knowing that if you had further arguments, which, you would, as couples do, you could work things out....that he wasn't going to abandon you.

He's a good man, and you...are good too.

[khywren]

❛ pairing: Astarion/f!Tav; Astarion/f!OC (Ysera) ❛ word count: 1.7k ┊ ❛ rating: 18+ MDNI ❛ tags/cw: rough oral sex, blowjobs, handjobs, deepthroating, hair pulling

‣ preview: “But if you think I'm lying, you're more than welcome to test the theory.”

“Am I, now? How generous of you, darling.”

Astarion has no reason to doubt her. They both know it. No, this is an invitation, her way of telling him what she wants without the embarrassment of actually having to say the words out loud.

If it were anyone else, he'd find this little habit of hers quite insufferable. Instead, he finds it endearing. Cute, even, though he’d never admit it. They've only spent a handful of nights together, but already Astarion knows one thing about Ysera: no matter how shy she may seem, all she needs is someone to take the lead, to help her fulfill those wicked little desires of hers.

AO3 ┊ series masterlist

“Run that by me again?” Astarion asks. He raises a skeptical brow and looks down at Ysera, naked in the grass before him. “You're saying that you…”

He tries to find the words, to make the thing seem less crass, but she finishes the thought for him anyway. “Don't have a gag reflex? Yeah. More or less.”

She shrugs nonchalantly, as if the information she's given him is completely unremarkable. And it is, he supposes, except that she currently has his cock in her hand, and now it's all he can think about. He still doesn't understand her, but there's an innocence to her that he almost finds refreshing.

She hasn't intended to throw him off, and yet almost everything she does perplexes him. He's good at reading people, but Ysera is a language all her own, and one he has yet to decipher.

Her fingers guide him to her lips, her soft pink tongue gathering the precome on his slit. She's impatient to taste him, as usual. His pleasure seems to delight her, for reasons he has yet to grasp. He'd brought her here to fuck her, to further reinforce his personal value to her. And yet she had insisted on prioritizing him instead.

Well, it's no matter. She must like him well enough if she's willing to forego her own needs – and if she likes him, she will protect him from Cazador. The end result will be the same either way.

Astarion is torn violently from his thoughts when Ysera presses the flat of her tongue along the underside of his length and busies herself with tracing the vein that snakes its way along his shaft. He shudders at the contact and huffs a humorless laugh.

“Do I even want to know how you figured that out?”

“About how you'd expect,” comes her answer. “The first time I was with a man, I was a little…” Ysera grins sheepishly, her tail swishing back and forth through the whispering grass. Her face heats, cheeks dusted a rosy pink.

“Ah… overeager, you could say. Not that he seemed to mind,” she adds with a coy wink.

Astarion's jaw tightens. He doesn't like the thought of her being with anyone else, though he can't quite determine why it makes him as angry as it does. He must be frowning, because even Ysera notices something isn't quite right when she looks at him.

“Don't tell me you're jealous, Astarion! If it helps, I don't even remember his name.” She throws a simpering smile his way, delighted by the possibility that he might be smitten with her already. She's certainly smitten with him.

“Of course not,” Astarion says, scoffing. He smooths his face back into a perfect mask of complacency. “I'm simply curious why you kept such a salacious little detail all to yourself for so long, my sweet.”

Ysera tips her head to the side and bats her lashes at him. She's having more fun than she had expected, exchanging easy banter with him like this. And to think she'd almost turned down his invitation to join him after everyone else had gone to bed.

“Well, I can't give away all my secrets at once, now can I?” she says. “I assumed you would understand that better than anyone.”

Her face is serious for only the blink of an eye before it's gone, her large golden eyes meeting his as she wets her lips and positions herself politely between his legs. Her breath is teasingly warm as it ghosts across Astarion's cock.

“But if you think I'm lying, you're more than welcome to test the theory.”

“Am I, now? How generous of you, darling.”

Astarion has no reason to doubt her. They both know it. No, this is an invitation, her way of telling him what she wants without the embarrassment of actually having to say the words out loud.

If it were anyone else, he'd find this little habit of hers quite insufferable. Instead, he finds it endearing. Cute, even, though he’d never admit it. They've only spent a handful of nights together, but already Astarion knows one thing about Ysera: no matter how shy she may seem, all she needs is someone to take the lead, to help her fulfill those wicked little desires of hers.

Astarion is more than amenable, of course. He likes the control she gives him, the way it anchors him to the present moment. When he's with her, he doesn't feel the need to retreat within himself. Doesn't want to.

He can worry about whatever that means for him later. Later, when his cock isn't in her hand and weeping, achingly hard for the velvet heat of her mouth. 

Ysera presses her nose against his groin and kisses him. Heat blooms beneath her lips as she traces her mouth across his thigh, nipping softly at the tender skin there. Her fingers dip to caress the seam of his balls, cupping them gently. Her movements are still clumsy but eager, and it's almost embarrassing how quickly Astarion feels the tension coiling low in his belly. 

His voice is a shaky, needy thing. “I think I may just take you up on that offer.”

Astarion groans softly when Ysera uses her other hand to tug the foreskin down the flushed head of his cock and opens her mouth, taking him in just enough to swirl her tongue beneath the mushroom tip. She alternates the pressure between her lips and the hand wrapped around him, remembering exactly what he liked best the last time they did this. Her tongue stays busy with tracing idle shapes around his shaft. She hollows her cheeks as she sucks and licks him, humming pleasantly.

Pleasure arcs across his spine as Astarion steadies himself with a hand in her hair, fingers twisting in the soft pink strands at the base of one of her horns. Her lashes flutter as she looks up sweetly at him, seeking his approval. The fierce look in his eyes is more than enough confirmation that he's enjoying himself.

“Sweet girl,” Astarion says, and the low, husky timber of his voice is enough to make her groan around him. “Open your mouth a little more for me, won't you?” Her hands fall neatly into her lap as she complies, tongue lolling out over her bottom lip. 

The fingers in her hair tighten. Astarion's other hand reaches for the ridged column of the horn on the other side of her head, gripping her as if his life depended on it. He thrusts himself experimentally inside her mouth, pleased by the way she keeps her lips wrapped tightly around him. True to her word, she barely reacts when his cockhead brushes against the back of her throat, except to exhale softly.

Ysera's voice echoes in his mind, connected to him via their tadpoles.

Go ahead, Astarion. You can be as rough as you like with me.

Astarion's cock throbs against her tongue. He lets out a shaky breath, pulls his hips back, and thrusts. He can feel her magic as it thrums inside her veins, watches the way a shiver works its way down her spine and makes her tail arch upwards. Her whole body seems to resonate with the Weave.

So he does it again. And again.

The glide against her tongue is delicious, her golden eyes half-lidded as he hits the back of her throat with each snap of his hips. Ysera's fingers weave through the grass and ball into tight fists; she remembers that Astarion does not like to be touched, but gods, if she doesn't hold onto something she feels as though she might drift away.

Precome spills over her tongue; he tastes of sweat and linens, the scent of his perfume cloying in her mind. When Astarion stops to let her breathe, Ysera inhales deeply, exhaling a moan as she leans forward to greedily swallow him back down to the hilt.

As he fucks roughly into her mouth, Astarion lets his eyes rove over her body. Her breasts bounce with every thrust, the force of his body sending little tremors of pleasure through her. Saliva coats her lips and her chin. Between her legs, which have parted slightly, he can see the arousal dripping down her thighs. He grits his teeth, the groan that rumbles in his throat tapering into a possessive growl.

He's barely touched her all evening. And still she's absolutely soaking for him, turned on merely by the act of letting him use her mouth to pleasure himself.

Gods above. He nearly comes undone right then and there, his hips faltering slightly before he regains his momentum.

Their eyes meet when Astarion tips her head back slightly, and he swears he sees sparks flashing in her shimmering amber irises. Her eyes have begun to water, tears gathering on her lashes. He stops immediately, his voice full of concern as if flits into her mind.

Ysera, are you all right?

He doesn't expect to her her laughing when she responds. Oh, yes. Very. Please, Astarion, don't stop. It feels good for you, doesn't it? She rubs at her eyes and smiles around his cock, encouraging him to continue. The hand in her hair loosens, his blunt nails making her shiver as he drags them across her scalp. Then he fists her hair again and pulls hard enough to make her whimper.

Ysera moans so sweetly for him as Astarion resumes his thrusts, hips undulating as he drives himself deep. All the while, she watches him, transfixed on the sculpted muscles of his chest and the way his mouth hangs open to give her a peek of his fangs. Before long, he can feel the threads of his control beginning to unravel, signaling his imminent orgasm, and he knows he won't last much longer. 

“Where do you want me?” he grunts. In answer, Ysera presses her breasts together, forming a shallow well between them beneath her collarbones. 

Here , she says. Then Astarion feels her pulling his attention to her face. And here. Let me taste you.

No sooner has she made her request than does Astarion slip his cock from her mouth, barely managing to wrap his hand around the shaft before he's painting her face with hot white ropes of his come. With a languid moan, he nestles his cock between her breasts and empties himself completely, heaving a series of ragged breaths.

Ysera's tongue sweeps out to lick her lips, a soft sigh escaping her.

“I’d ask how that was for you, but…” she smirks proudly, popping two fingers into her mouth and tasting him there as well.

“Pleased with yourself, are you?” Astarion huffs, thoroughly aware of the mess he's made of her. She laughs and nods in approval, swaying slightly as she gets to her feet and takes the hand he extends to her.

“Come now, darling,” he says, leading her towards the river, “let's get you cleaned up.” 

[cheesycatz]

THE ENTIRETY OF THE WORMTON FIC IS DRAFTED! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! Sooooo, what does that mean? I'm currently revising every chapter, leaving notes for things I want to change, move, or add, and deleting what I'm no longer happy with. I'm hoping to finish by the end of the month. After that, I have to, y'know, actually write the thing. I plan to release chapter 1 and the prologue together. I have no idea how long each chapter will take, but considering the length of each chapter and how long these updates take me, a month between chapters is likely realistic. We'll just have to wait and see.

In fact, June 5th could be a reasonable release date for the first chapter! I’m sure you don’t have any other plans that day… /j I guess

As far as actual content goes, I was having fun with the last two chapters. Most of the fic is from Spamton’s and Blue’s perspectives, but I thought it would be sweet to have one chapter from each of the addisons for the finale, each telling him that they love him in different ways, and for Spamton to take the last chapter and finally say “I love you” back. The word “love” and the weight associated with it is brought up many times throughout the story, and I’d thought it would be a good way to end it. Spamton’s life and mental health isn’t perfect by the last chapter, but the realization that he is unconditionally loved promises a bright future for him. YIPPEE found-family!!! There’s still some angst, but it’s mostly fluff now.

Because of Spamton's love of nature in this fic, I thought it would be nice if he learned to care for his own plant. As one does, I looked up flower language to find a suitable plant for him, focusing specifically on resilience, as I'd argue that's Spamton's most defining strength (this guy has been homeless for 20 years, somehow horrifically transformed into a puppet, lost everything he had, everyone hates or doesn't remember him, and was promised by the universe that he would never amount to anything but a broken toy to be discarded, and still gets out of bed everyday to pursue his goal. This man is DETERMINED). Anyways, I saw dandelions on the list as a sign of resilience, renewal, and new life, and it's the perfect flower for him. A flower that can spread at such a fast rate it's seen as a useless weed more than anything else. Yet, year after year, they persist. A field completely filled with dandelions is still a flower field, and just as beautiful if you'd give it the chance. Why the hell would someone be selling dandelions in a flower shop? Uh…they don't grow naturally in Cyber World, so maybe they'd be sold there, and the store owner didn't want to throw them away after moving to Castle Town or something… JUST LET ME HAVE THIS

Revisions are fun! Most of the changes involve Spamton's character, as I've gotten a better grasp on him over the years. Despite his drastically different biology and backstory, Wormton is meant to be as close to homeless-era Spamton as possible personality wise, and I hope I can do him justice. Overall, I've revised him to be a lot more mysterious and antagonistic. He hates addisons, and only stuck with Blue because they were easy to use. He's never been treated like a person before, and it takes him a while to come to terms with the fact that the addisons like him and he likes them back. He tries to express it too late, and it's no wonder they ran the moment they discovered the Worm In The Apple™.

One thing I’ve pondered for a while is whether Spamton will remain the only BIGSHOT malworm in existence. I’ve left it ambiguous in the fic, but I’d love for him to raise some hatchlings. His life with the addisons is infinitely better than his old life, but they’re not malworms. They can’t speak his native language, can’t hunt and eat prey together, can’t accommodate for a malworm’s near constant need for the presence of others. I think it would be the happiest ending, but that could be an entire fic on its own, especially since Queen was barely convinced to let even one malworm stay alive. I'd like to at least get something out before the heat death of the universe, so you'll just have to picture Wormton with a dozen identical clones of himself crawling after him.

I WANNA RELEASE SOMETHING SO BAAAAAAD

You know who’s excited for the fic to release? Me! I wanna read comments! I want to inspire people! I want you to cry over a bunch of advertisements and a piece of 90’s spyware! I want the thing I’ve spent 2.5 years on to finally see the light of day! I want the Spamton-shaped worms eating my brain to shut up!

[haveihitanerve]

Jingle Boys Pt2: i am alive and back :)

Letters(7:38):

“What are they asking for, what is their Christmas wish?” Aj glances across the stage at Luke and Sam and grins, idk why but hes so cute

Aj and Sam??? Luke??? Gesturing around as to who is going to write the letter- because Aj already flinched, ready to jump up and write, this is what I got from the gesturing I could be completely wrong but this is what Im assuming aj’s finger pointing meant: “We do it? Yeah we two. Because you- tom and you did the, go out.” and then he stands :) again, could be totally off but thats what i got anyway..

Aj moving so that his and Luke's foot are touching specifically😭

(thats a thing i've noticed actually that seems to be common- during letter usually the guys have about an inch of space or so between them, but anytime they’re doing letter with aj, they are on top of each other, arms touching, feet, legs, anything that can be in contact is in contact and its tooooo cute)

“Dear. Santa. Claus.” Luke accidentally moved and AJ taking a tiny shuffle step closer🫠

Also the way Luke is swaying back and forth to gently knock against Aj every so often…

“Whos too small to run.” the waver in his voice help- XD

“Please!” Aj seizes his chance and squeezes close again… cutieeeee

“I. need. My. mummy.” idk why this broke Sam but it also made Aj laugh so yay

“I. will. Kill.” woah! Sharp turn alright

Sam glancing over at Tom because its not unexpected lol

“👹again.👺” luke thats terrifying- Aj breaking and having to look down and tom just watching with a smile

The way sam is watching them🫠

“Bob. is. A. little. Prick…he. Deserves. To. die.” ok woah so now its no longer a plea for family members its just a ransom note…XD

“Sorry.” AJ helppp

Tom has changed poses also fyi and is looking cunty-er than ever

“Sometimes. I. get. … rage.” ooooh that had to hurt Tom’s english degrees lol

“Do. you. Know. what. Rage. is?” Aj’s lil head tilt and the shift in his voice is scaring me

Luke and Aj shuffling to the side to look at Sam and Tom, Aj unsure of what to do with his hands and then just mirrors Luke with in front and then behind the back(subtle copying of movements that killllllll me)

“Wow.” Aj and Luke leaning against each other lightly while they laugh

“Ho.-ly. Shit.” not what tom was going for but beautiful XD

“I. am. A. son. To. every…. Father?” Tom’s glance of concern at Sam is beautiful like ‘is this what we’re doing? It is…ok…’

“No! Presents. *yes and* no! Cuddles! And *Tom: oh thank fuck* one!” glorious

“Mr. *Sam: revealing what the thought process was of every son and father thing* father. *Tom: ooohhh ok i get it* Christmas!” AND SCENE!

Ok! So that was Letters, uh im gonna do one more :) 

Flurry: Intro/”Did you get lost over there?” 

Tom and AJ being cute on the side again, the camera cuts away but I’m certain they were about to be even cuter

Sam and AJ disappearing behind the curtain together… and Tom’s lil appreciative chuckle of support for Luke while they're gone🫠😭

“Did you get lost over there?” luke takes it as a personal offence “no i know where i am thank you!” Tom’s deeper chuckle at his joke😭

Tom already preplanning and making eye contact with Sam in the wings before moving to get his prop

Luke’s lil stance in the darkness of the wings and his tiny laugh is both terrifying and so cute

“Im learning!” I would throw myself in front of a bus for this unnamed child. I am not joking. In front of a M25

“How old are ya?” “im sevENteen.” the voice waver of a laugh kills me XD

“Whats your name?” “david.” “dAVid.” Sam did not expect him to be male lmaooo

“Why are you laughing at my name?” They never let anyone live any little slip up down and I love it

“I didn't think you were a boy.” 🤷‍♂️Idk why but something about how Sam delivers the line and the audiences like wave of louder laughter and Tom’s glance of contemplation just makes this perfect 

“My voice has broken! This is- this is the lower register!” I gotta say- firstly peak humour, but also Tom can hit an impressively high register and its beautiful

“The dogs love me!” Sam’s small pause of like a - y'know when smth catches you off guard and you do like a quick exhale of a laugh? Like really quick and short? Yeah he does that. Like a spit take but without liquid. Anyway its cute

The camera shaking with AJ’s run is perfect comedy and him just tossing a chicken on stage XD

“Don't touch this”

“Don't touch this-” “eh!” Sam immediately just touching aj because ‘fuck what you were tryna do bro!’ XD i love them

“Remember we used to bully you for being bri’ish!” Aj trying so hard to make his accent as american as possible lol, Tom just :D 

“Thats jiu-jitsu!” Tom’s shift in the background with his classic pose ughh

“I never really grew up.” “i can tell.” damn. “We’re both 35.” oh ok bring reality into it ig- but also hes not but y'know im gonna shh now

“My parents left they ran into the night.” Tom’s slow face change as he remembers the callback before laughing 🫠

“How can I make it up to you?” Dude AJ cannot ever be a villain- he always tries to be the good person and get the audience on his side in any and every scenario and its so cute but also be a dick sometimes aj pleaseeee

“But my mom who ran away into the night gave me this jacket…” awww Aj stoppp how is he making the bully be the sympathetic character now😭see this is what i meannn

(hes so good at it too- i bet you didn't even remember that he’s supposed to be the bad guy and sams the “good” guy)

“You're holding onto the past.” says the guy who literally learned jiu-jitsu and found his old bully just to come and steal his jacket- y'know what its wtv

“Let it go. 🎶let it go🎶” all of them laughing XD

The silence while sam slips on the jacket lol

“Oh my god bro this is amazing.” the accent change help---

“My son!” Luke: *waits for his awesome idea to sink in bc fuck yeah thats hella smart and hilarious*

Sam: *slow turn to look at aj* AJ: *computing* wait-no! No! Sam: *haha!* Fuck you! *runs at Luke and scoops him into his arms like a small child🫠😭*

Tom leaping to his feet to end the smile :) as AJ runs after Sam and Luke “NO! Mommy!” 

“Mummy I’m pregnant.” 

“Mum you're pregnant? ANnnny more offers?” the silence

“I’m pregnant!” “oh i’m pregnant! Did i add mum into that?” No tom baby you didn't the audience is just shy lol

“I've got some problems…” Thats a sentence but Tom is like so glowing from this angle… anyway sidetracked

“Ok one more time whats the line?” *crickets* XD

“Don't-” Tom’s head shake of disdain lmaoooo. Don't do this to him guys😭

(its reminding me of AJ’s “no don't fuck with me like that” during Priscillas final petal lol. karmaaaa)

“Don't you toy with me!” Tom never change

“Mummy im pregnant-” “thank you!” the sass XD

“So it was with- Goddamn you!” LMAOOO POOR TOM

(this is probably my absolute favorite and best scene of all time so just be prepared)

“Mom…” Tom hovering in the back unsure of what to do and who to be and where to go as Luke is confident and AJ almost breaks. “Theres been something on my mind…” (not the opening line but shhh)

“I've been hiding it for- from you.” *giggles* 😭this scene is tooo cute

“Oh dad fuck you’re here as well!” AJ needs to play more of these… teenage american girls??? Idk but he fucking rocks this voice and I need more

Tom also had not planned to enter the scene quite yet but welp hes in it now lol

Toms hand on Luke’s shoulder😭

“I don't know… if you’ve noticed anything…” aj im in love

“I don't know maybe i've been acting a little strange lately…” *actively like four months pregnant*

Luke: *glances lovingly at Tom*

“You don’t have to- to speak.” im gonna cry-

Aj grinning proudly at the audience and Tom hiding his smile with the pipe🫠 theyre so cute i canttt

Tom shuffling closer to wrap his arm fully around Luke’s shoulders and Luke leaning back a lil(the height difference is killing me)

“I can just keep monologuing for the whole scene,” yes you can aj and yes please

Tom fighting his smile tooth and nail around his pipe is the cutest thing ever and even Luke cant stop his tiny chuckle turned smirk😭(*screams incoherently into the void*)

“I mean i dunno…” Tom: *uses the break to exhale all the smoke hes been puffing while trying not to smile* Them and their fucking stagecraft istg…

Tom and Luke’s expectant little head tilts and eyebrows raises 😭

Luke: *gazes lovingly at Tom again* Tom: *actually reciprocates this time* Aj: *contemplating how well he can use his pregnant belly to bash their heads in*

“Brace yourselves-” Tom’s shoulder jump because he did not expect the comedic timing and almost laughed aloud and Luke’s chin jerk XD *slams fist into teeth*

Aj: *huffs, tries to figure out how to place his hands on his hips… no against his stomach… no dangle-* Im pregnant! Tom: *eyebrow raise and slight nod* *wow i had noooo idea* Luke: *unfazed, glances at Tom again* Tom: *puffs his pipe, slowly looks at Luke who has looked away again drat*

AJ: *maybe if i move closer they’ll feel intimidated and/or bad and speak* Sorry i- don't think you heard me: Im pregnant! Tom: *fighting laughter with every ounce in his body* Luke: *still unfazed, looks at Tom again* Tom: *offers his pipe because he doesn't want to hold the prop anymore lol* Luke: *accepts* Aj: *losing it*

“I thought i was ready.” sweety. You are a few months too late to be saying this now XD

“We didn't wear….👀” *the look is insane*

“Its only been a month but-” excuse me.. Did-did you say- ok… ok… wow… ok

Sam finally decides to put Aj out of his misery XD

Luke finally breaks and folds with laughter, delightful, and Tom even has to applaud lightly because of how good it was - and him offering to take the pipe from luke but ultimately getting ignored but he offered ok

Them exchanging second glance and going “yeah one more.” 🫠

“Little monologue for you guys there :)” proud-j lol

“Milky”

Tom looking flawless btw

Sam glancing at him, ‘ok.. Ok.’ and looks away again lol… looks… nope away again

“I don't know if you recognize me.” Sam trying not to laugh as Aj just explodes off stage lol

Tom’s strut- ok divaaa

“I wished to be a woman.” *the hand* “instead of… the cow i was born as.” right Tom thank you for clarifying so everyone is on the same page, i was a little confused there

Aj’s laughter is always a delight<33

Luke making eye contact with Aj across the stage and giggling together

“You're saying you didn't feel anything everytime you…” *trails off meaningfully*

Also luke leaning back further behind the wings of the stage while making eye contact with aj and grinning is tooooo cute

“How fill have i- wweuhal-” me too Tom.. me too

The others just losing it is peakkkkk

“Don't worry about it human speech will come later-” the casual diss is insane Tom: *distress cow noises*

What is this walking tom???😭

Tom cow moaning?? And Sam’s look of genuine concern😭

“Where is my experiment?” Tom: *munching on nothing*

“Well… *tom trying to think of a way to make this plot hole make sense* i am a cow.. So…. im easily confused” Aj’s appreciative laughter in the backkk

“Thats my cow!” Luke: *doesn't have a good comeback* fuck youu!!!

Tom: *preparing his big spiel for help* Don't let him take me! Don't let him take me. I can do things for you- Sam: *we interrupt this program for hugee fucking katanna* ok!

Tom: *i wasn't done yet sam* i've learned realll good how to use the udder.. (tom… never stop but also really?) Sam: *contemplating how to deal with this* Tom: *you're too slow* im talking about your penis

Aj:  AND SCENE we’ll end that there!! *nervous chuckle* Luke: *disappointment for not getting to use his sword* Sam: *laugh at Luke’s dispair*

Aj: *ready to introduce the next game* Tom: *stops him with barely a hand raised*

“Sorry just before they get to the next game- we are filming this, so i just wanna capture how good i look right now.” [cheers for the fashion show] as they should!!👏👏👏

Whoever mooed in the audience- marry me

“Ill see you after the show!” aj’s chuckle

AND SCENE!!! Ok so that was pt2 of Jingle Boys! Sorry its taking a while but hope you enjoyed nonetheless! 

@thelunarbar @snek-of-eden @dawn-speckled @bewilderednobody @scattered-stardust

[everestica]

How some of my favorite characters celebrate your birthday in honor of my birthday today! 

 

Furina

So Excited, she loves decorating for it and trying to find a really good gift for you. Luckily for her being the past Archon has its perks and she can basically go anywhere and get anything, though it might be hard avoiding you the whole day so she will say she's sick and then throw a huge party for you and by huge I mean just the two of you! Even so she always somehow knows what you like and what one of the best gifts to get you is.

Dazai Osamu

 Loves when it’s your birthday, and loves the birthday pranks he can pull at you when you're at the agency. But no worries he will always have a surprise towards the end of the day, you always end up having 2 kinda parties, one at the agency, and one when you get home with Dazai. He’s a smart man and he can basically read your mind sometimes and always knows the perfect gift to get you, even if you never mention it to him. 

Tachihara Michizou

He’s normally pretty busy on your birthday but as soon as he gets home he would love to just have some one on one time so that he can really celebrate you, probably has things that he got for you over the year tucked away in his closet, and always ends up having a bunch of stuff that he thinks you’ll like! At least tries to remember what you like to do/what you like to eat for desserts and stuff on your birthday so it will be more of a surprise for you when you see it sitting on the table.

Blade 

Says he hates birthdays and any sort of celebration when it comes to anybody else but will celebrate it behind closed doors. All those times that Kafka and Silverwolf go shopping in different places, he is too, but he’s just getting small things that will end up being for some sort of holiday, but by the time it is christmas or your birthday he always has quite a few little things so he tries to separate them evenly between the holidays, especially if your birthday is close to the holidays! If Kafka and Silverwolf ever find out he’ll never hear the end of it. (And he always says he never has a favorite, we all know that’s a lie) 

Firefly (Penacony Spoilers!!) 

THIS GIRL!<33333 I love her so much if you can’t tell. Anyway, She doesn't come from a lot and doesn’t have a lot, so instead she celebrates your birthday by taking you around Penacony and taking you to her special spot where you guys just talk for hours. She prefers more quality time when it comes to showing her love anyway, so it’s a win win. Though she will have a small dessert and some small gifts for your birthday, She gets things that mean a lot to you or you have mentioned, though most of your gifts are also symbols of dates, or when you met. 

Lilia (In honor of him saying happy birthday to me this year) 

Lilia has celebrated a lot of birthdays in his life, but yours is always a little different. Of course he has to start the day by scaring you in some way, he wouldn’t be Lilia if he didn’t! Diasomnia by this point has already all said Happy Birthday by this point. Another person who has collected things throughout the year and likes to give them to you, some you might not know what they are and when you do figure it out it may or may not be like 200 years older than you, it is fun to see what you end up getting for your birthday though! 

Ruggie 

It’s more or less really just a gift from Leona with him, but this is also the only time he will share his food with you! He also has experience in the kitchen so he is able to basically make anything that you would want to eat for your birthday, so don’t be surprised if when you get back to your dorm there's a little cake or something sitting on your table and him sitting next to it, covered in flour. His gifts though, again will be smaller things that he probably collected, only a couple things will actually be money bought and it’s leona’s money, but it’s the thought that counts with him.

Luke Pearce 

Another one who loves your birthday, and also, Like Firefly, likes more quality time when celebrating. So instead, he loves traveling and will let you pick the place you go and you’ll have a whole trip planned for your birthday or a couple days later! When it comes to actual gifts he will find things on the trip that he thinks that you’ll really like from past conversations. You once mentioned that you liked snowglobes like 7 months ago? Somehow he remembers that and now you have a cute little snowglobe from wherever you traveled too! 

♫ - Please if you are going to repost any of my works anywhere else, ask permission first! There will be almost a 100% chance that I will say yes as long as you just ask and give credit! Thank you for your understanding!

[brahmsthirdracket]

inspired by ekky and his snoopy: a little baby sharks fic 🦥

The Sharks media team have let them loose with half-a-dozen rolls of quarters and a camera guy trailing them round.

As media goes, it’s not too bad - they both love any kind of game, no matter how dumb, and they’re so competitive they end up getting way too into everything, which apparently is what the fans love. If Mack can’t be playing hockey, then beating Will at the coconut shie by the pier is a pretty good consolation. At least no one’s asking him questions.

It’s nice to see Will so relaxed too, throwing his head back to laugh at Mack’s terrible rifle shot, his perfect teeth bright in the fairground lights. It’s busy, and after a while they manage to accidentally-on-purpose lose their social media handlers in the crowd. They wander, aimless and contented, through the stalls, passing a churro back and forth now there’s no one to confiscate any contraband.

“Oh hey,” says Mack, stopping in front of a stall garlanded with stuffed sloths. He reaches out, strokes a gentle finger over one of their weird little faces. “I used to have one just like that when I was a kid. He was like, my favourite thing.”

“Yeah?” says Will, taking advantage of Mack’s distraction to swallow the last of the churro.

“Yeah, Slothy, I think he was called. My dad tossed him out after I got benched in some Midget game.” He grins and turns to Will, expecting some chirp about naming a sloth Slothy. But Will’s staring at him.

“What? He, like, threw it away?”

“Well, yeah,” says Mack, “But I was probably like, seven? So not like it wasn’t time anyway.” He bumps Will’s shoulder companionably to try and smooth out that unhappy furrow between his eyes that Mack hates. It doesn’t work.

“Jesus fuck, Mack.”

Mack’s frowning now, starting to feel actually upset, which is dumb. “It’s not a big deal, dude.” Will opens his mouth, as if to argue but Mack spies the Sharks camera guy craning his neck through the crowd and elbows him. “C’mon.”

Will doesn’t look convinced but lets Mack steer them over to the hoops stand anyway. He’s quiet, doesn’t even demand a rematch when Mack smokes him at tiny basketball and barely acknowledges a dachshund dressed like a hot dog. Mack glances at him all the way back to the car park, trying to catch his eye long enough to pull stupid faces but Will barely notices.

“Hey, sorry, think I forgot something,” Will says, when they’re almost at the car. “Here.” He fishes his keys out of his sweatshirt pocket and tosses them at Mack.

“Dude, what?” Mack starts, but Will’s already heading back towards the fair.

“I’ll be quick!” he shouts over his shoulder, breaking into a jog. Will never jogs. Mack stares after him, trying to shake the feeling that he’s missed something here but not quite managing it. He sighs and clambers into the car, resigned to actually answering that email from his agent and texting his dad back, earlier happiness vanishing like bubbles.

***

When Mack steps out of the bathroom, damp from his shower, Will’s exactly where Mack left him: slumped in bed on his phone. But he’s not alone. There’s a stuffed sloth sitting upright in the opposite bed, it’s long furry arms holding Mack’s sleep shorts and t-shirt.

Mack stares at it, then at Will scrolling TikTok. He picks it up. It’s very soft, softer than Slothy was at the end, because he went everywhere, but the button eyes and little sloth-hands are just the same. Its smell is different though, like Will’s detergent - like the Marleau’s detergent, Mack mentally corrects, because Will doesn’t know how to work a washing machine - like maybe it travelled in his suitcase, folded between his clothes. He strokes a hand over its belly, along its arms.

“Will, I-” he breaks off around the sudden lump in his throat, and stares down at his sloth in his hands, unsure what to say.

“It’s not a big deal, dude.” Will parrots Mack’s own words back at him, but he’s clicking off his phone, and rolling over towards Mack, smiling at him, warm and teasing. “Ekky’s already ruined our street cred. You can have a little buddy too.”

Mack nods, risking a watery glance in Will’s direction. “Thanks man.”

He doesn’t put the sloth down when he pulls on his pajamas; has to swap hands so he can tug his t-shirt over his head. When he shuffles over Will takes it gently out of his hands and makes it pat the bed next to him.

“Did you win it for me? At the fair?” Mack whispers, sliding in under the thick comforter and pulling a pillow under his cheek.

“I tried.” Will grins and tucks the sloth in against Mack’s chest. Mack’s arms immediately come up around it, holding on tight. “I was worried that you’d come find me, kept flubbing the game - you had to knock all these little bananas down. And then I ran out of quarters.”

“That‘s ‘cause your hand-eye coordination goes to shit under pressure,” whispers Mack, shifting closer. There’s a warmth rising up from his toes, slowly filling his whole body. Will reaches over and tucks the blankets right up to his ears, then gives him a flick on the nose for good measure.

“So I offered him twenty bucks, which was all I had, but he said no, they can’t do that, so I told him that it’s for a guy I really like who lost one a long time ago.” He grins ruefully at Mack. “I think I’ve been watching too many romcoms.”

“Oh,” breathes Mack. He inches closer, emboldened, until they’re touching: foreheads, hands and knees. He wonders if Will can feel his heart thumping through the sloth. “Did it work?”

Will winds an arm around Mack and rolls them until Mack’s on top and the sloth is flattened between them. “Yeah,” he whispers, catching Mack’s smile with his own. “It did.”

[salmondays]

personally i think mirabelle and loop could have a little fake dating situation at some point. mirabelle's the savior AND shes pretty AND shes nice. everyone loves her. but it makes her really really uncomfortable to be flirted with, ESPECIALLY by strangers. but on the other hand we've got loop, who's Always going to be sticking out like a sore thumb.

they'll never fit in to the party like they once did. isabeau's already taken (not that they'd want to make it official, anyway- it feels almost like a betrayal of their isa, yknow?) (though he would absolutely be all "woah! two cakes!" if loop actually wanted to join him and sif's little thing), they don't fit into the established siffrin-places in the routines. they look like- as i've seen someone else put it- an "abstract fetish object." they're inhuman. they're Something Else Now.

so, post-canon but Before mirabelle's had her aro realization, she's venting about getting bothered by creepy strangers, and she offhandedly mentions a scene from one of her books- a fake relationship with a monster, who protected the protagonist from rival monsters (...thinly veiled omegaverse or werewolf romance fake dating dating trope that i've seen quite a lot). loop has a lightbulb moment where the tiny siffrin (quite a large siffrin, actually- not that they'd want to admit that) in their brain is like. 'wait oh my stars could i actually??? help?? here?? i'm in the perfect situation to help the housemaiden??? like for realsies?? i can be useful?? finally, one good thing my monstrous and sickening inhumanity can do!' and theyre like. "well, housemaiden, perhaps i can help! one inhuman being, at your service!" and offers to fake date her at events to scare people away.

and mirabelles like. look. if this were anybody else id be like ew. but you are: 1.) my friend. my bestie 2.) SO fucking cool 3.) probably better at dealing with this than anyone else would be 4.) abrasive enough 5.) possessing a certain "scary dog privilege", akin to blorbeaux from my books

so they give it a try at an event and working together to turn it from "EW IM BEING HIT ON EW EW EW EW" to "oh lets get Funny with it". mutual benefit. they both get enrichment AND mirabelle gets to be left alone. loop gets to feel like they have a reason to be present (rather than just a horrific shadow in the corner of the room). yes, they're still a monster, they scare people away, but it's Useful and theyre Helping and theyre having fun fucking with people in a more genuine way rather than just in a lashing-out way. they're having fun! loop gets to see mirabelle having fun at a party instead of constantly wincing away from strangers flirting with her!

but. after a while of doing this, mirabelle Thinks About It. and is like. well, in the books, when they do this, it eventually leads to Real Romance. shes like well. thats how the trope goes. maybe itll be good for me. maybe ill come out of this a Better Person when we inevitably slip into (throws up in mouth) Real Fake Dating.

and. she doesnt know shes aro yet. so shes going into this gritting her teeth like "its just like blorbeaux from my books its just like blorbeaux from my books. theyre a monster (SORRY LOOP), so its cool! its awesome even! they don't even have genitals! they're alien enough that i'd never have to... do That with them, right? so everything's alright! i should be fine! i shouldn't mind too much!" and then shes like dreading the inevitable plottwist of "ohhh i loved you all along lets be together for realsies".

every aspect of it being real is like. she should want this. she... will want this, eventually, someday, right? and time goes on and her feelings dont change and she just gets more and more scared that she's dug herself in too deep and is going to hurt or lose her friend.

eventually, she breaks down about it. and loop grabs her by the shoulder and is like. housemaiden. its okay. we can stop our fake dating if you want. i came into this knowing that you didnt want a real romance. youre my.... (throws up in not-mouth at the thought of being genuine) friend. i just wanted to help you, but if it's stressing you out, we can- and then mirabelles like OH THANK CHANGE. CAN WE AGREE TO NEVER EVER EVER MAKE THIS A REAL ACTUAL THING. NO OFFENSE.

and then they both have a full conversation about All Of That. and mirabelle realizes some things about herself and yaayyyy yippee :) everything is fine again yay :)