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

[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?

[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.” 

[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!

[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 :)

[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.”

[snowseasonmademe]

A Beloved Reunion

word count: 8,275

warning ‼️: smut !

paring: levi x black female reader

summary: levi come home after being away for what feels like an eternity and you both properly welcome him home.

note: hi everyone! here’s my first levi fic. i know it’s long yall but it’s real good (😏). thanks to the anon who asked me to wrote this. it actually took a lot longer than i thought it would but i like writing anyway so it’s okay. as i said in my last post im gonna go for a bit because the people on this app are insane. one of my moots had to leave completely and im really upset about it. nobody should ever be doxxed over a football debate. anyway y’all, enjoy this super sweet lover boy levi. and ofc tell me what you think !

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the front door opening was soft, almost hesitant, but it yanked you out of your restless sleep. For a moment, you thought you were imagining things, but then the creak of the floorboards—that familiar creak—sent a jolt through you. Your heart raced as realization sank in: Levi was home.

You threw the duvet off, feet barely brushing the floor as you padded quickly toward the living room. Outside, rain pattered against the windows, its rhythmic drumming a perfect backdrop to the storm of emotions brewing inside you. Twelve days. Twelve long days without him. The ache of his absence had been a constant companion, and now, finally, it was over.

When you saw him standing there, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his dark curls slightly mussed, you froze. He looked… different. His shoulders, already broad, seemed even wider, stretching the fabric of his hoodie. His chest looked fuller, tapering down to a trim waist that hinted at hours in the gym. Even his arms—strong before—seemed impossibly bigger now, the sleeves of his hoodie hugging them snugly. You stared, unblinking, as your gaze trailed down the sharp cut of his jaw, now more defined, the slight scruff on his face only adding to his rugged appeal.

"Hi my love" he said, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

You didn't respond immediately, your brain still catching up with your heart. He looked… good. Better than good. He looked like every fantasy you'd conjured in his absence, but somehow even better. He wasn't just Levi; he was Levi 2.0, impossibly more attractive, and the sight of him left your mouth dry.

When you finally moved, it was instinctive. You closed the distance between you in a few quick strides, throwing your arms around his waist and pressing yourself against him. His bag hit the floor with a heavy thud, and his arms were around you just as quickly, holding you tightly. His body was firm, solid in a way that made you feel safe and something more… something hotter.

He buried his face into your neck, his warm breath brushing your skin as he inhaled deeply. "God I missed you" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"Twelve days" you whispered, your voice trembling as your hands roamed over his back, the muscles there impossibly hard beneath his hoodie. "It felt like a year."

"Never again" he promised, his lips brushing your skin. "I mean it babe. I'm not going that long without you. I barely slept."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands framing your face. His thumbs stroked your cheeks as if to memorize your touch all over again. His brown eyes, soft and glassy with emotion, searched yours. "God I missed you" he said again, his voice raw. "I missed everything about you."

You let your fingers trace the curve of his jawline, noting how much sharper it felt, and how his cheekbones stood out just a bit more. "Missed you too baby" you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Then, unable to help yourself, you added, "But you've been busy lifting semi-trucks, haven't you? Look at you—what are they feeding you on during training?"

His grin was sheepish, but his eyes sparkled with warmth. "You like it?" he teased, stepping back slightly to flex his arm. The movement was playful, and sexy. The way his bicep strained against the fabric of his hoodie made your breath hitch.

"Like it?" you repeated, the heat in your tone unmistakable as your gaze shamelessly roamed his frame. "I love it."

His grin widened, and he closed the space between you again, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. "I was hoping you'd notice" he said softly, his voice laced with amusement.

"Notice?" You gave him a teasing smirk, though your pulse was racing. "Baby it's hard not to notice."

The way you said it—low and full of heat—made him chuckle, though a faint blush crept up his neck. "Alright, alright" he said, shaking his head but clearly pleased. "Let me shower first. I smell like plane air."

You tilted your head, giving him an exaggerated sniff. "Yeah, you do" you teased, though the playful glint in your eyes softened with longing. "Go on then. Twenty minutes tops."

"I’ll make it eighteen" he promised, already heading toward the bathroom. But before disappearing through the doorway, he turned back, catching you staring at him with a look that made his smirk return. And as he disappeared, you found yourself biting your lip, heart pounding. If Levi thought you'd missed him before, he had no idea just how much you missed all of him now.

When he returned, the sight of him stole your breath. His skin was still damp from the shower, a few rogue droplets clinging to the sharp lines of his collarbone and trailing down his chest, disappearing beneath the crisp white T-shirt that clung to him like a second skin. His hair was darker now, wet and curling at the edges, framing his sharp temples in a way that made your stomach flutter. He looked like a dream—one so vivid it felt impossible to look away.

The shirt, stretched over his impossibly broad shoulders and snug against the defined ridges of his chest, left little to the imagination. It was unfair, really, how good he looked—bigger, stronger, and somehow even more magnetic than before. Your gaze shamelessly roamed his frame, lingering on the way his forearms flexed as he wiped his hand over his face, brushing away the lingering wetness from his shower. Even the slight scruff along his jaw, dark and rugged, only added to the devastating effect he had on you.

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you drank him in, your pulse quickening with each second you spent staring. It was almost ridiculous how turned on you were, how seeing him like this—freshly showered, built like a work of art, and effortlessly beautiful—sent a wave of longing crashing over you. Your fingers tightened around the duvet as you tried to keep your composure, but it was useless. He was yours, and right now, all you wanted was to feel him, to have him.

Without hesitation, Levi crawled into bed beside you, pulling you close as though you were the only thing tethering him to the earth. The warmth of his freshly showered skin seeped into you, and the clean, masculine scent of his soap made your head spin. Your cheek rested against his chest, the firm muscle beneath rising and falling steadily, but the feeling of his body—newly bulked and impossibly solid—was making it hard to focus on anything else.

"You're not allowed to leave me again" he murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head as his arm curled possessively around you. "I don't care if the Queen herself calls you. You're staying right here."

His voice was low, rough with fatigue, but there was an unmistakable edge of need in it. You let out a soft laugh, your fingers trailing over the planes of his chest. The shirt was no barrier to the heat of him, nor the way the muscles shifted beneath your touch. "And here I thought you were the busy one" you teased, though your voice betrayed how distracted you were by the sheer physicality of him.

"Don't care" he muttered, his grip tightening as he pressed a kiss into your hair. "We'll figure it out. I'm not sleeping without you again babe. It was torture."

You tilted your head to look up at him, your hand sliding up to cup his cheek. His jawline, more defined than ever, felt sharp beneath your fingers, and the slight scruff there added a ruggedness that made your heart race. "You're so clingy" you teased softly, though your pulse was hammering.

"Just making up for lost time" he countered with a smirk, his brown eyes glinting as he leaned down to press his lips to yours. The kiss started slow, his lips warm and soft against yours. He kissed you like he was rediscovering every inch of you, savoring the way you fit against him, the way your lips moved together. You pulled back, admiring how sexy he was, even when he was exhausted.

"What are you looking at?" he asked sarcastically. "I'm looking at you Levi, you look so good right now….It's a problem. How am I supposed to focus when you look this good?". His laughter was soft, rumbling in his chest as he tightened his hold on you. "Good thing you don't need to focus right now" he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. "Just relax love. I'm not going anywhere."

But relaxing was easier said than done with him this close, his freshly showered skin warm against yours, and the scent of his soap—clean and masculine—making your head spin. Your fingers couldn't stop exploring, tracing over every ridge and curve as if memorizing him all over again. It was impossible not to notice how much bigger he felt, how every part of him seemed stronger, harder.

"You're dangerous, you know that?" you whispered, tilting your head to look up at him.

"Dangerous?" he repeated, his brow arching playfully.

"For my sanity" you clarified, though your voice trembled with the depth of your desire.

His gaze softened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. "You're the one driving me mad" he murmured against your mouth, his voice rough with emotion. "You have no idea how much I missed you."

And just like that, the teasing gave way to something deeper, more urgent. His kisses deepened, the slow burn of longing igniting between you, and every touch, every whispered word, reminded you that he was yours—stronger, more beautiful, and impossibly more irresistible than ever.

When you pulled back, slightly breathless, he whispered, "I love you. So much. It actually hurts being away from you."

His voice cracked slightly on the last word, and it made your chest ache. "I love you too" you murmured, your fingers tangling in his curls. They were softer than you expected, and you couldn't resist tugging lightly, just to feel the way he melted into your touch. "More than anything."

His kisses deepened, the feeling of yearning changed into something more urgent. His hands roamed your body with a reverence that made your heart ache, as if he were memorizing every curve, every dip. The feel of his larger, stronger hands on your waist sent a wave of heat through you, and you couldn't stop yourself from pressing closer.

"I need you" he breathed against your skin, his voice thick with raw emotion. "I need you, baby. Right now. Please."

There was something almost desperate in his tone, a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. "I'm yours" you whispered, your voice barely audible as your lips brushed his. "I'm right here"

His response was a low, guttural sound as he kissed you again, this time with a hunger that left you trembling. His hands explored you with a tenderness that belied the strength behind them, mapping every inch of your body like he was relearning you after too long apart. His lips pressed soft, heated kisses along your neck, his whispered words of love and longing sending shivers down your spine.

"Every damn night, I missed this. Missed you. Missed your touch, your smell, the way you feel…"

"I thought about this every night" he confessed between kisses, his voice rough. His words trailed off as his lips found yours again, his hands cradling your face as though you were the most precious thing in the world. He kissed you with an intensity that left no doubt of how much he'd missed you, his body pressing against yours in a way that made you ache for him. The heat between you grew with every press of his lips, every sweep of his tongue against yours. It wasn't rushed—if anything, it felt intentional, as though he wanted to savor every second of this moment after being apart for so long.

The rain outside created a soft, rhythmic melody, its steady patter a comforting contrast to the rising tension in the room. Levi shifted slightly, leaning over you, his hand slipping to your waist as he deepened the kiss. His thumb brushed the bare skin just above your hip, sending shivers through you. The weight of his body pressing against yours was grounding, his strength and warmth a stark reminder of just how much you'd missed him.

When he finally pulled back, both of you slightly breathless, he rested his forehead against yours. His warm, brown eyes searched yours, filled with something raw and unfiltered. "I love you" he whispered, his voice low and full of yearning. "I don't think I even realized how much I need you until I didn't have you."

His words made your chest tighten, and you reached up to cup his face, your thumbs brushing the sharp line of his jaw. "You have me now" you whispered back, your voice trembling with emotion. "I love you too Levi"

Levi exhaled slowly as if grounding himself in your words. He kissed you again, this time even slower, even gentler, his lips exploring yours with a reverence that made you drip. His hands moved to cradle the sides of your neck, his thumbs brushing over your pulse points. It felt as though he wanted to feel every part of you, as though he couldn't get close enough.

The warmth of his freshly showered skin seeped into yours as he shifted again, his body settling more fully against you. One of his hands slid down your side, his palm wide and firm as it mapped the curve of your waist. When his fingers skimmed the bare skin beneath the hem of your oversized T-shirt, you felt a jolt of heat spark through you.

"You're unreal" he murmured, his voice rough, his gaze locked onto yours. The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world—made you feel both cherished and desired in a way that left you breathless.

His lips returned to yours, trailing kisses down your jaw and neck, taking his time as he lingered over the sensitive spots that made you shiver. You could feel his body tensing against you, the strength in his arms caging you in without ever making you feel trapped. His kisses grew hungrier, the gentle pressure of his lips giving way to something deeper, more demanding.

His strong hands pushed the hem of your—his—oversized T-shirt up, revealing the soft skin of your bare torso. The room's cool air contrasted deliciously with his touch's heat, making you shiver. His fingers brushed along your sides, pausing just below your ribs, before sliding down to the waistband of your panties. He hooked a finger under the fabric and pushed them down with extreme leisure, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you feel utterly exposed and completely worshipped all at once.

He stilled for a moment, his calloused fingertips tracing lazy patterns on your inner thighs, sending shivers coursing through your body. His touch was featherlight, as if savoring the feel of your skin beneath his hands, but the intensity in his eyes told a different story. His gaze flicked downward, lingering where his hands rested just shy of where you wanted him most. When his eyes finally met yours again, they were darker than you'd ever seen them, filled with an unmistakable hunger that sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

You felt utterly exposed under his gaze, his presence overwhelming in the most intoxicating way. The sound of the rain against the window faded into the background, leaving only the rhythm of your breaths and the electric tension between you. His thumb shifted slightly, brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and your breath hitched. You felt like a tightly coiled spring, every nerve ending attuned to him, waiting, aching for his next move.

Levi's chest rose and fell heavily as he stared at you, his lips slightly parted. The air between you crackled with anticipation, and you could see the subtle clench of his jaw as if he was holding himself back. "You're perfect" he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "I don't think you understand what you do to me."

His words sent a flush of heat through you, and your thighs instinctively pressed together, desperate for some kind of relief. But Levi's hands immediately slid to your knees, gently prying them apart as his gaze pinned you in place. "No" he said softly but firmly, his voice thick with desire. "Don't hide from me. Let me see you."

The vulnerability in the moment made your pulse race, but the intensity of his gaze—filled with reverence and raw need—gave you the courage to relax under his touch. His hands slid back up your thighs, this time with more purpose, the pads of his fingers pressing into your skin in a way that left you trembling. He leaned down, his broad shoulders framing your view, his curls brushing against your bare thighs as he moved closer.

The first brush of his lips against the inside of your thigh made you gasp, the warmth of his mouth contrasting with the cool air of the room. He took his time, placing wet kisses along your skin, his scruff adding an edge of roughness that sent sparks shooting through you. Each kiss brought him closer to where you needed him, but he never rushed, savoring every inch of you as though you were the most precious thing he'd ever touched.

"Levi" you whispered, your voice barely audible, but he heard you. He glanced up, his eyes locking with yours, and the corner of his mouth lifted in the faintest smirk.

"Be patient with me baby" he said, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver through you. "I've waited twelve days for this. I'm gonna take my time."

His words hung in the air, thick with promise, as his hands moved to your hips, grounding you beneath his touch. He exhaled, his warm breath ghosting over your most sensitive spot, and your body reacted instantly, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

"Fuck I missed this pretty pussy baby" he rasped, his voice vibrating against your skin as he finally leaned in. His warm breath fanned over your pussy, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. His hands, now firm and steady, rested on your stomach, holding you in place as he finally gave in to his need for you.

His first lick was soft, almost teasing—just a gentle swipe over your sensitive bundle of nerves, as if testing the waters. Your body shuddered in response, a throaty moan spilling from your lips before you could stop it. He smiled against your clit, the curve of his lips wicked and full of intent.

"You taste even better than I remembered" he murmured, his voice low and husky, the vibrations of his words sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

Your breath hitched, your fingers gripping the sheets as he pressed his tongue flat against you, dragging it slowly from your entrance to your clit. The pace was maddening, his every movement calculated to unravel you. He delved deeper, parting your folds with his tongue to taste every inch of you, like a man savoring the thing he craved most in the world.

He groaned against your skin, his hands gripping your thighs firmly to hold you in place.

"Mmmm” You whimpered, your body trembling as he took his time exploring you. Each swipe of his tongue was precise, teasing and torturous in equal measure. His hands slid upward, fingers splaying over your hips before making their way to your breasts. He cupped them gently, his thumbs circling your nipples in time with the strokes of his tongue, doubling the pleasure coursing through your body.

"Oh Please" you gasped, your hands flying to his hair, desperate to anchor yourself as your hips bucked against his mouth. "I need more- I need you inside. Please. I missed you. I just want to feel you baby"

His groan was guttural, the weight of your words spurring him on. He curled his fingers under your thighs, pulling your legs further over his shoulders to open you up completely. "Fuck, I love hearing you say that" he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. His lips returned to your clit, this time sucking gently before releasing it with a wet pop that had you crying out. His tongue worked in small circles, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from you while his hands gripped your thighs with enough force to leave marks.

"You're so beautiful like this" he said between licks, his voice laced with awe. "Open up a little bit more for me". You did. You spread your legs wider than before, letting him taste even more of you.

You could barely form words, your body arching against him as the tension in your core built to an almost unbearable peak. "Please, don't stop. Don't tease me… I'm so close." you stammered, your voice breaking with need.

He slowed his pace , his lips ghosting over your clit instead of diving back in. "Not yet" he murmured with a smirk, his eyes dark with a mix of love and hunger as he looked up at you. "I want to take my time"

His tongue flicked over you again, this time paired with the scrape of his teeth—a sensation so unexpected and electrifying that it left you gasping. "Say it" he demanded softly, his fingers digging into your thighs as he pressed closer. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours" you choked out, your voice trembling with desperation. "I've always been yours. I'll always be yours. Just—please—don't make me wait any longer."

His groan vibrated against you, the sound dripping with triumph and desire. "That's my girl" he whispered before his mouth returned to you with renewed purpose, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to drive you over the edge. This time, he didn't stop—didn't back off—giving you everything you needed, everything you'd been yearning for.

And when you shattered beneath him, your cries filling the room, he held you tighter, drinking in every sound, every tremor, as though he needed it just as much as you. You tried pushing his head away, to stop you from being overstimulated but, he didnt move.

"Wait, Im not done yet baby" he murmured against your core, his voice a low rumble that sent vibrations straight through you. His warm breath fanned over your most sensitive place, making your thighs tremble. "I'm not done tasting you yet. I need more" His lips pressed a lingering kiss against your clit, soft and reverent, before he dipped back down, his tongue thrusting deep inside you.

The movement was steady at first, his tongue curling up to press against that spot that made your hips buck uncontrollably. A low groan escaped him as he felt your body respond, his hands tightening on your thighs to hold you in place. "Taste so good" he whispered, the words barely audible over the wet sounds of his mouth working against you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently, desperate for more. "Please" you gasped, your voice trembling. "Don't stop… please don't stop."

He glanced up at you, his eyes dark with hunger but soft with affection. One of his hands slid upward, his fingers pinching your nipple softly, sending shocks of pleasure through you. The other hand trailed down to your entrance, teasing you with just the tip of his finger, slipping inside briefly before pulling back again. He chuckled low in his throat at the way your hips sought him out, your need for him evident. His mouth resumed its heavenly rhythm, alternating between gentle sucking and firm pressure with his tongue. The sensations overwhelmed you, every nerve ending alight with pleasure as his skilled mouth worked you closer and closer to the edge.

"I really need you" you whimpered, your voice breathless as your hips arched toward him. "I've missed this so much. I've missed you. Please—" His pace quickened in response, his mouth firm against you now, his tongue moving in tandem with the finger he finally pushed inside you. He curled it just right, coaxing cries of pleasure from your lips, before adding a second finger, stretching you in the most delicious way.

"Oh my god yes" you cried out, your voice trembling with desperation. "Oh Im gonna cum, Im gonna cum". The raw need in your voice pushed him further. He moved one hand to press firmly against your lower belly, angling you perfectly to feel every flick of his tongue and stroke of his fingers. "That's it" he urged, his voice thick with satisfaction as he buried his face between your thighs. “Give it to me."

His nose pressed against your clit as he lapped furiously, his fingers pumping in and out with a rhythm so precise it left you helpless against the onslaught of pleasure. Your body began to tremble uncontrollably, your thighs quivering against his shoulders as your orgasm built impossibly high.

And then it hit you, the wave of pleasure crashing over you so intensely that it left you crying out his name, your back arching completely off the bed. Your entire body convulsed, wave after wave of ecstasy wracking you as your vision blurred and whitened. His name was the only word you could manage as your pussy clenched around his fingers, dripping against his mouth as he continued to devour you, drawing out every last spasm of pleasure.

When you finally stilled, trembling and spent, he kissed your inner thigh softly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your hips. "Fucking delicious" he murmured, his voice filled with pride and love. You couldn't speak, your chest heaving as you reached for him, needing his warmth, his touch, his everything. And he was there, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close as you basked in the aftershocks of his love and devotion.

As the final tremors of your orgasm subsided, he licked his lips, savoring your taste like the finest dessert. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, dark and filled with a mix of pride and unrestrained desire as if your pleasure alone had completely unraveled him. With loving care, he lowered your legs from his shoulders, his large hands steadying you as though you were something fragile and sacred. He pressed tender kisses along your inner thighs, his lips lingering against your heated skin as he murmured something soft and inaudible, more to himself than to you

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your body still trembling from the intensity of what he'd just done to you. Levi leaned back slightly, his hands never leaving your body as his fingertips traced lazy, soothing patterns over your thighs and hips. The contrast between his earlier hunger and the gentle reverence in his touch now left you breathless all over again. His gaze roamed over you, taking in every inch of your flushed skin, your tousled hair, and the way your chest rose and fell with each shallow breath.

"You're so sexy" he said, his voice low and hoarse. The raw honesty in his tone made your heart swell, and your cheeks flushed under his unwavering attention. He reached up, brushing a damp curl from your forehead before leaning down to kiss you—soft and unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world to show you how much he adored you. He layed on top of you, kissing your lips, making you taste yourself. In that moment your heart swelled. You couldnt ask for anything more, or better.

When he pulled back, his lips hovered just above yours, and his hand slid down to your thigh, his fingers pressing into your skin as though grounding himself in the reality of you. "Lift your legs" he said softly, the rough edge to his voice making your breath hitch.

The command, quiet but laced with authority, sent a spark of heat racing through you. You listened without hesitation, lifting your legs to the sides of his hips and letting him guide you. You were so wrapped up in the feeling of his lips on yours and the taste of yourself in your mouth that you didn't feel him slightly slide down his boxers and take his rock-hard dick out. His hands steadied you as he shifted, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light as he positioned himself. He was unrushed in his movements, taking a moment to truly appreciate the sight of you. His gaze swept over your half-naked form, his eyes dark with desire as they lingered on the curves of your body, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the way your lips parted in anticipation. He took himself in hand, the head of his dick brushing against your sensitive entrance, and the sensation made your breath hitch.

He paused for just a moment, his gaze locking onto yours. "You okay baby?" he asked, his tone soft but tinged with urgency, as though he needed your reassurance before taking the next step.

You nodded, your voice trembling as you whispered, "Yes, Levi. Please."

That was all he needed. He would usually be a bit faster but this time he slowly pushed into you, his movements controlled, stretching and filling you in a way that felt different.

Did his dick get bigger too? It feels like our first time again. you thought to yourself

Levi groaned low in his throat, his hands gripping your thighs in the overwhelming sensation of being joined with you again.

Once he was fully inside you, he paused, letting you both adjust. His eyes never left yours, and the sheer intensity in his gaze made you feel utterly consumed. He exhaled, his breath brushing against your skin as he leaned down, shifting to be on top and settling his weight against you. His chest pressed against yours, warm and solid, as his arms wrapped around you, holding you close.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the sound of the rain outside mingling with the quiet gasps of shared breaths. It was intimate, vulnerable, and overwhelming in the best possible way—two souls finding their way back to one another after far too long apart.

The heat radiating from his body enveloped you, pulling you into the kind of warmth that made your toes curl and your heart race. His weight pressed you into the mattress in the most delicious way, his broad frame covering you completely as he settled between your legs. The soft fabric of his boxers brushed against your bare skin, the teasing friction against your ass making you gasp.

He began to move agonizingly slowly. Each movement sent delicious friction coursing through your body, his hardness sliding perfectly against your slickness, his teasing making your walls clench in anticipation. The pace was calm, building a steady burn that left you craving him with every passing second. Your hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him even closer to you, your nails digging into his warm skin as you tried to pull him closer, but Levi held his ground, maintaining his torturous rhythm.

His lips found the curve of your neck, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin before his mouth pressed soft, lingering kisses there. Each kiss sent waves of heat through you, his lips exploring the sensitive spots he knew so well. He moved lower, his teeth grazing the delicate skin just above your collarbone before he sucked gently, the sharp contrast of pleasure and pain making you moan.

"Levi" you gasped, your voice shaky, as your fingers tangled in his curls.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration adding to the overload of sensations. "Hmm, you like that?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing, the deep timbre making your stomach flutter.

Before you could respond, he kissed the spot again, sucking harder this time, marking you in a way that left no doubt you were his. His hand slid up your side, his fingertips brushing along your ribs before settling just under your breast, his thumb tracing circles that sent sparks shooting through your body.

"You're so soft" he whispered, his lips moving against your skin as his hips rocked against you again, this time with a little more pressure. "Every damn night, I missed this." The combination of his words, his movements, and the heat of his body drove you wild. Your body arched against him, desperate for more, for all of him, but he continued his torturous pace, his control unshakable. The teasing friction, the possessive marks he left on your skin, and the low, reverent tone of his voice had you trembling beneath him, completely at his mercy.

Levi gently took your hands, his grip firm but tender, and guided them above your head, pressing them into the pillow. The dominance in the gesture sent a shiver down your spine, but the way his fingers intertwined with yours and held them gently grounded you in the warmth of his touch. His dark eyes bore into yours, his expression softening despite the commanding hold. He leaned in, so close that his breath mingled with yours, his forehead brushing against yours as he murmured, "Keep your hands here, okay?"

The tenderness in his voice made your chest tighten, his tone dripping with both care and desire. He rubbed soothing circles on your knuckles with his thumb, as if to remind you that he had you, that you were safe in his hands. "I need you to stay like this" he whispered, his voice dropping an octave, laced with yearning. His forehead pressed more firmly against yours, his lips grazing your nose in the most delicate of touches.

His words, spoken so softly yet so full of need, sent heat rushing through you. You nodded, your breath hitching, but before you could say anything, Levi kissed you. It wasn't rushed or desperate—it was consuming, the kind of kiss that made you forget the rest of the world existed.

Then he began to move again. His thrusts were slow but deep, each one filling you completely, making your back arch and your breath catch. The contrast between the commanding way he held your hands and the loving, almost worshipful way he gazed at you had your head spinning. He released one of his hands only usinf one to hold bothof yours. His free hand moved to your cheek, the calloused pad of his thumb brushing away a stray lock of hair as though he couldn't bear for anything to obscure his view of you.

"Look at me" he murmured, his tone both pleading and reverent. You quickly unrolled your eyes from the back of your head and locked eyes with him. His hips pressed into yours again, this time, the depth of each movement making you gasp. "Let me see you baby."

His eyes never left yours, their intensity making your heart race. "You're so beautiful," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion, as though the words weren't enough to convey how he felt. His gaze softened even further as he took you in, his body moving in perfect rhythm with yours, his love for you shining through every touch, every whispered word.

"I missed you so much" he confessed once again, his voice cracking slightly as he leaned in to kiss the corner of your mouth. "Twelve days without this, without you… was hell."

His hand moved from your cheek, trailing down to your jawline and then your neck, his fingers grazing your pulse point where your heart raced for him. "I love you" he whispered, his voice shaking with vulnerability. "More than anything."

The way he spoke, his words saturated with need and adoration, made you feel cherished in a way that went beyond the physical. You tightened your hands instinctively beneath his hold, wanting to pull him closer, but he chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Uh uh" he murmured, his tone teasing but firm. "Hands stay right there love. Let me take care of you."

And he did—each movement, each whispered declaration, each soft press of his lips against your skin, all of it reminded you of the depth of his love. Levi wasn't just making love to you; he was pouring his soul into every moment, making sure you felt exactly how much he'd missed you, how much he adored you, and how deeply he was yours.

Levi's grip on your hands remained firm but tender, his long fingers intertwined with yours as if anchoring you to him. The contrast between his soft touch and the powerful way he moved within you sent shivers down your spine. He held you steady, his body pressed tightly against yours, every roll of his hips passionate and claiming. His forehead dropped to yours, his warm breath mingling with yours, and the raw emotion in his eyes nearly brought tears to your own.

"Uuuhh, I missed you so fucking much Levi" you whispered, you voice hoarse and trembling with a need so intense it made his chest tighten. His lips brushed against yours, the kiss soft, almost reverent, as if he couldn't believe you were finally here with him. His thrusts sped up, his body pressing into yours with an unrelenting sweetness that made your toes curl and your mind blank.

Your breath hitched as he filled you completely, his hard length hitting the deepest, most sensitive parts of you. The pleasure was overwhelming, spreading through your body in waves that left you gasping for air. A soft whimper escaped your lips, your body arching to meet his, and Levi wasted no time capturing the sound with his mouth.

Your lips molded against his in a kiss that was velvety and consuming, your tongue brushing against his as he swallowed every little sound of pleasure you made. You kissed him like it was the only way to express the depths of your love, pouring everything you couldn't say into the way his lips moved against yours.

"You feel so good inside me baby" you murmured against his lips, your voice cracking slightly as if you were unable to put into words how intense your feelings were. Each thrust was faster and deeper, his body moving in unison with yours in an almost hypnotic rhythm. His eyes locked onto yours with a desperation that made your heart palpitate as he pressed his forehead against yours again. His gaze filled with nothing but adoration and yearning left you speechless. He tightened his hold on your hands, his tone possessive but full of love. squeezing them gently as if grounding himself in your presence

Every word, every kiss, every movement of his body felt like a promise—a reminder of how deeply he loved and needed you. The intensity of his emotions, combined with the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you, left you trembling beneath him, completely and irrevocably his.

He suddenly picked up his pace, his throbbing dick slamming into your pussy with passion. All you could do was lay there and take it. But this is exactly what you've been craving. The love of your life giving you impossible amounts of pleasure. The sounds coming from both of you were borderline otherworldly. The sounds of the rain on the windows. The extremely dim room. Your sweat mixed with his. Your arousal fluids are all over his lower body. It was something straight out of a movie.

He dipped his head, capturing your lips in a kiss so achingly slow it felt like time itself stopped. Each movement of his mouth against yours spoke of longing, devotion, and the kind of love that seared itself into your soul.

"Oh God Levi, why are you fucking me like this?" you cry out in desperation. "Mmm because I love you, so much….fuck" he moans right against your ear, whispering a curse at the end.

His hips continued grinding inside and out. Long hard strokes to your inner walls. The tension between you built with every breath, every whispered word.

The intensity of your feelings washed over you, leaving you breathless and completely undone. His rhythm quickened slightly, and your hands clung to him, nails digging into his back as if afraid he might disappear. Tears slipped from the corners of your eyes as his words and actions intertwined, leaving no part of you untouched by his devotion. You felt completely loved, and completely his in this moment. Every breath you took seemed to draw him deeper into your soul, binding you to him in ways words could never capture.

"Its okay baby, dont cry" His voice was soft but laced with unshakable certainty, like a vow that reached into the very fabric of your being. He kissed the tears from your cheeks, each touch as tender as it was consuming, his lips trailing down to your jaw, then back to your mouth.

The kiss he gave you then was slower, filled with a yearning so potent it stole the air from your lungs. You gasped against him, the sound swallowed by his lips as his body pressed into yours with renewed urgency. His hand slid down your side, possessive yet gentle, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

Sensing your trembling, he paused, his lips brushing against your temple as he murmured, "I can feel you" he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours as he gazed into your eyes. He let go of your hands and immediatly moved his hands to hook under your shoulders.

Your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. "Uuh yes just like that, so so good" you cried out, rolling your eyes back, your voice catching as his hips rocked into you. Something shifted in him then, his need for you sharpening like a blade. He groaned low in his throat, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that left you trembling. His fingers slid over your clit, the sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you, pulling a moan from deep within your chest.

"Cum for me Y/n" he whispered, his voice rough yet sweet as honey, his words spilling directly into your heart. The heat in his gaze was matched only by the tenderness in his touch. His movements grew more urgent, his hips driving into you with deep, purposeful thrusts that left no doubt of his devotion.

His fingers worked in perfect sync with his body, unrelenting, every motion designed to push you closer to the edge. "I want to feel it" he rasped, his lips grazing your neck, his teeth teasing just enough to make you shiver.

Your heart thundered in your chest as his words wrapped around you, their intensity only matched by the sensations he was pulling from you. Your body arched into him, surrendering completely as your breaths grew ragged, your world narrowing to the man above you.

Your breath became ragged, each exhale blending with his as his fingers worked magic on your sensitive bundle of nerves, teasing and circling with precision. His movements were skilled, practiced, but driven by pure need, his every action a worship of your body. Meanwhile, his dick hit just the right spot inside you with each steady thrust, igniting sparks that spread through every inch of your being.

With a final thrust, you felt him swell inside you, his body tensing as his release overtook him. His hot release spilled deep within, the sensation overwhelming, and then his lips captured yours in a searing, desperate kiss that left no space between you. The intensity of it all—the sound of his breathless groans, the way his body trembled against yours, the sheer devotion in the way he held you—pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm hit like a earthquake, your body convulsing with pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. You cried out into his mouth, your voice muffled as his tongue danced with yours, swallowing every sound you made. The world around you blurred, leaving nothing but the feeling of him—of his hands, his lips, his body completely intertwined with yours.

As the tremors of your release subsided, you collapsed into him, your heart still racing, your breaths uneven. He stayed inside you, unwilling to break the connection, his body heavy but comforting against yours. Slowly, he nuzzled your neck, his lips brushing the spot where your pulse pounded, planting soft kisses there that made your heart flutter all over again.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice hoarse but laced with tenderness as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His fingers gently brushed stray strands of hair from your damp forehead, his gaze filled with love so deep it made your chest ache.

You nodded, your arms finally free to wrap around his neck. "Yeah, Im happy" you whispered, your voice still shaky, but filled with sincerity. "You make me feel so good"

He smiled against your skin, his lips lingering on your collarbone. "I cant believe I went two weeks without that" he murmured, his voice breaking slightly as if overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. "I love making love with you"

He held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you as if afraid to let go. His warmth surrounded you, grounding you as the aftershocks of your shared passion rippled through your body. He kissed your shoulder, then your jaw, before resting his forehead against yours.

"I love you" he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words carried infinite depth. "You'll never understand how much."

Tears pricked at your eyes again, but this time they were tears of gratitude, of love so profound it couldn't be contained. "I love you too" you replied, pressing your lips softly to his. He smiled against your mouth, his kiss deepening once more, sweetly, as though savoring every second of the moment you shared.

His hands roamed over your back, broad palms leaving trails of warmth as they moved with quiet reverence. He loved holding you like this, keeping you close, feeling the way you fit so perfectly against him, as if your bodies were made for each other. You sighed softly, nuzzling against the crook of his neck, your fingers curling against his chest. He stayed there, still buried deep inside you, as though reluctant to let go of this perfect union.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours, the sound of his soft breathing brushing your ear, and the soothing way his hands caressed your back all worked to lull you into a state of blissful peace. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, cradled in his love, completely safe, completely his. Minutes stretched into what felt like eternity before he moved. With infinite care, he carefullly pulled out, his lips grazing yours in a lingering kiss, as if reluctant to part from you in even the smallest way.

Rolling onto his back, he brought you with him, his strong arms wrapping around you and anchoring you securely against his side. Nestled against him, you rested your head on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a calming balm to your still-racing thoughts. zzling closer, realizing that moments like these were more than just physical; they were a testament to the vulnerability and trust you both shared.

It was in the gentle way he held you and the unspoken promises exchanged through touch that you found true intimacy. This closeness, this openness, was the foundation of the deep bond you had built together, a haven where both your hearts found solace. You traced lazy patterns on his skin with your fingertips, your touch light and aimless, marveling at the contrast between the passionate man who had undone you completely and the tender lover who now held you as if you were the most precious thing in his world.

"Goodnight Levi"

He nuzzled the top of your head, inhaling your familiar scent that always calmed him. "Goodnight baby" he replied, his voice soft and full of longing. His hand moved in soothing circles along your back until your body finally surrendered to sleep, completely relaxed against him. He stayed awake for a little while longer, watching you, memorizing the way your features softened in the quiet vulnerability of sleep. When sleep finally claimed him, his dreams were filled with you—your laughter, your touch, your love—each moment a reminder of how blessed he was to have you.

As morning light crept through the curtains, he stirred, the soft golden glow spilling across the room. Blinking sleep from his eyes, he turned his head, his lips curling into a smile at the sight of you still curled against him, your face serene and bathed in the gentle morning light. Careful not to wake you, he brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, marveling at the sheer beauty of you, so peaceful and vulnerable in his arms. He leaned down to press a featherlight kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment, his heart swelling with love. In these quiet moments, he didn't need words or grand gestures. Holding you was enough—simply being with you, sharing the same air, the same love, the same life.

[misqnon]

What’s your opinion on redemption arc/Autobot Megatron? (MTMTE/Lost Light or Earthspark or both)

oooooh that's a Good one

now see. the thing is. i can't really give an Informed answer.

i'm not very far into earthspark, but he does begin that series as an "autobot" so its not like i missed any buildup. i like his attitude in that series (unrelated but also his scottish accent...i adore his voice and it fits him really well actually) it's nice that (from what i've seen) he still disagrees with optimus quite a lot but they're more willing to talk things out, which is the perfect situation of a redeemed megs imo. like when he stands up for imprisoned decepticons now that the war is over and optimus is like "hmmm i suppose you have a point." im glad switching sides didn't make him automatically throw away all his previous ideals.

now mtmte/LL megs? here's the thing. i Love mtmte/ll megs. probably my favorite incarnation of him so far. i'm a sucker for villains and an even bigger sucker for villains with redemption arcs, so no surprise there. but. i read mtmte/ll without reading any of the prior idw comics except last stand of the wreckers. so i cant really say if his character in mtmte does his redemption Well Enough to make up for whatever he did in the rest of the idw continuity bc i havent seen it! i dont know how bad the bad gets! it's entirely possible (and in fact i'm getting the idea that this is the case) that idw megs feels like a completely different character (i.e. far more ruthless and mindlessly violent) than the thoughtful, if not stern, co captain we see in mtmte megs. and in that case, maybe it spoils mtmte megs a little bit bc it wont feel realistic.

that being said...even if that's true...i probably won't care lmao. i haven't read a comic series in a WHILE (not since i was into xmen in like 2017 and even then i wasn't very into the comics themselves) but i know that comics get handed off to various writers through their run that makes them often retcon or not follow well between one another. i've quickly learned that everyone pretty much hails james roberts as king while the rest of the writers are more hit or miss (and i think i agree) so even if idw megs was totally irredeemable and james roberts did it anyway i would not care. because in his story? in mtmte? it Works. it works really well.

from mtmte i went in still having knowledge overall of what megatron is like (i'd seen the 86 movie, clips of g1, tfone, and all of transformers prime at that point) so i still had a guage of what redeeming megatron meant. and it still hit really well for me. particularly the fact that he was still Kind Of feeling out being good or not after his trial, along with how he visibly had to grow into being good. it took a WHILE for him to get to a point where i was like "okay NOW he's actually finally redeemed." by the time they ended up in the functionist universe and i believed with 100% certainty megs would never betray them or try to run. but earlier on? like when the getaway/tailgate thing happened? i was a bit worried lol. but that scene was handled well too! he did lash out, but he also apologized and didnt intend such harm. growth

and i think this scene alone. this arc. just really made mtmte/ll megs Work.

(ouch)

[adamnablelittledevil]

Hello,Can you rank your Armand favorite relationshipw and why ? (I just love reading opinions , nothing serious)

Hi!

Fistly, thank you for the question! I get sometimes sending messages can be uncomfortable and you may not receive the nicest answers, but you don't need to explain yourself. Whether is a fun or serious question, asking my opinion or sharing your own: I LOVE talking about this universe and always welcome it.

Anyway, now to ranking!

P.S. This is long and contain spoilers. These opinions are based on the sequence from The Vampire Lestat to The Vampire Armand and aren't necessarily permanent.

Lesmand / Armandstat

Favorite relationship on the books as a whole for basically three reasons: it's always interesting (even on its smallest moments), they are deeply mirrored so it provides a compelling dynamic and is often intense. They are two sides of the same coin and parallel one another so much in terms of personalities and experiences. From their first interaction, it already seemed that they knew each other their whole lives because they could read one another like an open book. There is this mix of unconscious, but immediate recognition, understanding, curiosity, care, attraction, insecurity, fear, anger and frustration because they're the only ones that fully get each other. It's one thing to know someone for what they share or you observe, but you only fully comprehend somebody when you have a lot in common like they do. Still, that's terrifying because you're completely bare, vulnerable and forced to confront stuff you want to run away from. They have a lot of sharp dialogue and arguments where they throw the hardest truths on the other's face and they know how to push each other's buttons from day one. Yet, the fascination, affection and protection are still there and they always stay somewhat close. And that results in a lot of first class tension: what brings both together also pulls them apart and they're often fighting so many conflicting emotions (as a duo and individuals) because they keep going back and forth. Obviously, they're far from perfect and have both tremendously hurt one another verbally, physically and with Claudia's death (which Armand's is responsible for). But even then, they were never enemies or rivals. I get why people would use such words, but I think they would need to hate or wish bad things for each other to be classified as such and that's never happened. Even if they did something to give that impression, it wasn't genuine and they made themselves suffer in the process too. There was definitely hate for words said and things done, but for the person it was always love. Through the good, the bad, the ugly and the complicated. This dynamic defies definitions and there aren't enough words in any language I know to fully and precisely categorize or desxribe even it. For better or worse, they're on a league of their own and I've never seen anything like it on books, movies or TV shows.

2. Armand x Bianca

I love Bianca. She's been such a great addition and it's a breath of fresh air whenever she appears. It was so satisfying to see them being friends, connecting and Armand having something that was entirely his own without Marius being involved (though considering the pattern of this book, it will probably change). I also enjoy the fact they met and bonded as humans, you know? There's something lovely and unique about it since most pairings had one or both parties already being a vampire on their first encounter. And another sweet thing is that even centuries later Armand still emphasizes how he'll never forget her. They have become really special to me.

3. Armand & Riccardo

Usually relationships where one is a small or Marius is somewhat involved don't work for me, but that's an exception. Riccardo isn't as developed as Armand and part of this (creepy) palazzo where Marius keeps several teenagers/children in, but you do know enough to grow attached to him. Actually, given the situation these boys are in, I ended up caring about the ones who don't even have a name. And despite the proximity Marius has to them, the kids have friendships of their own. Obviously, this isn't the healthiest environment and they all deserved better, but I'm so glad they had each other and a sense of family (specially because some of them don't even remember their own relatives well anymore). That brings me some kind of comfort. There are these moments when Armand gets emotional thinking about how much he loves them all and would die for them and when he almost does and they're all (with Bianca) crying and Armand is surprised by their reactions because they loved him so much... It really moved me So, I adore them.

4. Armandiel

The Devil's Minion chapter is one of my top favorite pieces of The Queen of the Damned. Its best aspect is seeing Armand on his self-discovery journey and how Daniel was just patient and supportive. And that's so important, because a big part of Armand's characterization is how he has no sense of identity. He's gone through so much trauma since early and formative years and always adapted to please others or even make out alive. This made him lose key parts of his memory and every sense of self and he definitely needed that. So, to see Daniel not tell him what to do, but instead let him try new stuff, see what he loved or not, on his own terms and pace and Daniel just going along with him... It was wonderful. The only downsides is that I believe Daniel deserved more individual development and it was rushed. Twelve years deserved more chapters, probably books plural. That said, I bet the show will take its strong points and only elevate their story. And I can't wait because I've already lost my mind with them on season 2 (they have my favorite scene on the show, by the way).

Honorable mentions:

Armand & Benji + Sybelle

Haven't seen a lot of them, but Armand opened his book saying he was full of love and excitedly talking about these children he took in. There's also this moment he asked David if he liked his kids and he just sounded like a proud dad. It was adorable. I'm definitely looking forward to seeing more of them.

Armand & his family

There's been very little of them and I doubt there will be more, so I can't talk about their relationship per se, but the chapter they say goodbye is devastating and beautiful. Those recent posts of me losing my mind were because of it. I've never cried so much with art and rarely cried like that even in real life. It was an experience I'd never had before and an emotion I didn't know was humanly possible. I was mentally, emotionally and spiritually touched to the point of exhaustion. It's been the best part of The Vampire Armand, if not of the whole chronicles. And it will stick with me forever.

[angelwishess]

Something More.

Your smile has begun to cut into your cheeks and your skin is starting to feel more like plastic than flesh. Tell me, Kyra; Are You Alive?

Your skin is beginning to crack, cover it up with paint. Don’t disappoint, they’re all waiting.

This is actually unfinished and i totally gave up on it but uuuhhh im gonna post it anyways because Kyra lore !!!!!! Yippeee !!!!!!!

Written from Kyra’s point of view, kind of like an inner monologue ig?? Idk lols teehee

WARNINGS: Dehumanizing & Self-depricating thoughts, mention of men being creeps but its pretty brief and not detailed

‘To be something more’ indicates you must be ‘something’ before being ‘more’.

If thats the case, then I can never be anything more than what I am. Because I am nothing.

I have no desire. No will of my own. I have no wants or dreams. I do not speak for myself. And I do not live for myself. I am something that is to be used for the sake of my family and my people.

Something like me, can never be more. That simply isn’t what I was meant for. That life was never to be mine.

I was made to sit still, and let the stares of others burn holes into my flesh. Heavy eyes clouded with intentions that are impure lingering on my skin. To not react whenever they reach to get a touch of me. To not pull away my hand when they lean down to kiss it, despite knowing they never had any innocent intentions to begin with.

I was made to exalt my country, to be a figurehead, a display of beauty and perfection. To never show any fault nor flaw— to be inhuman, in the eyes of everyone else.

Am I human? Am I even alive?

…That is something I no longer know.

To be human… What does it mean to be human?

To breathe? Is it to feel? What seperates us from the beasts of the wilds? Is it our skin?

There must be something more. But whatever it is eludes me. Maybe, it’s because I must not be human.

Why else would they treat me this way? They look at me as if I am not alive. Am I something to be desired? After all, I myself cannot desire. How selfish of me would that be… Can you imagine?

For me to… Dream. To want.

…I still want more.

Maybe I am human. Or maybe theres something wrong with me. Even now, I still want. I want adventure, I want to feel the wind on my skin, I want to travel to far off places and dip my feet into the sea.

I want to meet people, I want to try new things… I want to leave this place—

…Ahh.. How terribly selfish of me…

I’m sorry, father. I know you only want whats best for me… You do, right? Thats why you tell me to do all this? Thats why you keep me here. You’re just… Protecting me.

I promise to throw away all these disgusting thoughts. This is my duty, after all. My only purpose. The only thing that gives me purpose… I don’t have much other than this. I am what everyone else says that I am, and that is all that matters.

[alrightbuckaroo]

Happy Friday, my loves! It's been a minute since I've seen this tag game go around and it's been even longer since I participated. Seems like the perfect time to change that. As always, please feel free to use this as a jumping off point for all the wonderful words that have been written. Don't stop with just this list!

Take my hand, take my whole life, too by @heartstringsduet

With each wrinkle, each scar, each crease, each spot, their rings, their hands tell the stories of their lives together.

throw me on a hurricane (i'll ride it to the coast) by ArsenicInYourPudding

This is, in fact, TK's first rodeo. Carlos is lucky that he's there anyway.

Protect me by Karaxuno

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?” TK asks, struggling for a second to find the words for what he wants to say, “Space to grow?” “With you, I’d take a closet.” Carlos teases, his fingers dancing away from his shirt sleeve and instead tracing up and down the line of TK’s jaw. “Been there, done that, let’s find a house.” TK grins, unable to stop the little laugh that bubbles in his chest. Or, post-S2-fire TK and Carlos look for a place together, and house shopping has its ups and downs.

Among my stillness was a pounding heart by @tailoredshirt

TK took a deep breath. “I think we need to talk about what happened last fall. With the loft.” Carlos’s brain was skipping around from one feeling to the next like a pinball. “With…when we broke up?” “Yeah.” “You…want to talk about the breakup,” Carlos said slowly. “While I’m proposing to you.” TK squeezed his hands. “Yes. Please.”

I hold onto the night you looked me in the eye and told me you loved me by @irispurpurea

"I have lost everything!" TK roars, and it feels so good. "Isn't that the whole point?" Or: It's the beginning of Season 4, and TK and Carlos are broken up again.

The Light of Our Life by @carlos-in-glasses

After an awkward conversation, Carlos buys TK a bearded dragon and fears it may be a parting gift (Coda for 4x12)

See Me (All of Me) by @bonheur-cafe

A fractured heart and a plea to be seen. Otherwise known as: the apology from his mom that Carlos never got, but deserves.

Make Me Laugh 'till I Die, I Stand Beside You With Pride by @lemonlyman-dotcom

A coda to the ending scene of 4x06. TK has a moment of insecurity; Carlos reassures him and, in the quiet safety of their bed, confesses an insecurity of his own.

tried and true blue by @reyesstrand

"She knows," Owen says, his eyes almost too sincere for TK to handle. He clamps his molars together and just stares at his father, because if he lets himself think too hard about all the ways his mom is still here, somehow, he'll probably burst into tears. Owen gives him a sad smile. "She does, TK. She used to talk about when you'd get married all the time." There's a pause, and TK curls his fingers tighter around his mug, letting everything simmer between them. "When I got married," TK quietly repeats. "Not if?"

and because there's a new chapter on the way, I'm going to recommend my shameless collection of smut, something to give each other (things are about to get so casual)

No pressure tagging everyone above and:

@captain-gillian, @carlos-tk, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @basilsunrise, @butchreyes

@nancys-braids, @never-blooms, @mikibwrites, @lightningboltreader, @herefortarlos

@honeybee-taskforce, @guardian-angle22, @freneticfloetry, @fifthrideroftheapocalypse, @strandnreyes

@sheholdsthemoon, @actual-sleeping-beauty, @whatsintheboxmh, @welcomehometk, @reasonandfaithinharmony

@welcometololaland, @eclectic-sassycoweyes, @rmd-writes, @thisbuildinghasfeelings, @theghostofashton

@orchidscript, @paperstorm, @emsprovisions, and of course here's an open tag for anyone who just wants to share!!