#not every post i write needs to be written

[moonlight-prose]

smoke and ash

a/n: this is based entirely on a post made by the amazing @cavillscurls and i was given permission to write it for her cause the idea actually made my brain go numb. plus just the thought of this man having an oral fixation paired with someone who also has an oral fixation?? beautiful. filthy. spectacular. it's quickly written cause i had the inspo at the time and really didn't want to lose it. so enjoy!

summary: cigar smoke trailed after him with every step, his mouth always desperate for something to wet, something to bite down on. and you with the match between your teeth indulged him every which way.

word count: 1.4k+

pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, oral fixation, spit kink, choking, dry humping, desperate!logan, overstimulation, cigars, they're fucking messy, dirty talk.

A dark stain of saliva coated the base of a match as you sat sprawled on his leather couch. Your teeth dug into it, creating an indent that would last until you decided it was time to strike the phosphorus and let it burn down. Sometimes they snapped. Other times you tossed them in the trash. Tonight you were intent on lighting it up—solely for the cigar currently stuffed in between his own lips.

He sucked at the end thoughtfully most nights. Glasses perched on the edge of his nose, a book he'd read a hundred times over propped in one hand—whiskey in his other. Half of it was already burnt through. Used within the span of a few days before stubbed out and saved.

“Interesting story?”

The soft hum was all he offered, his eyes flicking back and forth between the lines even though he could recite the words from memory. The pages were worn from use, spine cracked every which way, and you often considered buying him a new copy. If just to give the story a chance to breathe in his mind. Sink beneath the depths of memories that still floated along the surface—seeking to ruminate in the cracks of chaos.

“Logan.”

“Bub?”

“What does it taste like?”

At last he looked up, eyebrows lifted and fingers moving to drag the sticky wet cigar out of his mouth. “This?”

You nodded. “Good or bad or…”

“Better than those fuckin’ matches,” he scoffed, pointedly glaring at the splintered wood between your teeth—a nervous habit you had yet to kick. “C’mere and find out.”

Scrambling off the couch a bit too quickly, you found yourself perched in his lap, legs straddling his hips with a smile painted across your lips. He removed the match, flicking it into the discarded ashtray with contempt—happy to have your mouth empty and waiting. Only to place the soaked butt against your tongue, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip at the sight. You always imagined what the flavor resembled. Until it finally dawned on you.

This is how it tasted to kiss him. The bitter tang of the cigar muted by the flavor of the whiskey he drank and the mints he chewed in his spare time. You sucked on the remnants of his saliva, your mind lighting up at the feel of it. Of having something stuck between your lips, a thing you could fixate on.

“Taste’s like me don’t it?”

You nodded, shifting against his body as the first spark of heat began to slowly meld with the rest of your senses.

“Good girl,” he mumbled, the book forgotten to the side in favor of his hand sliding along your throat, thumb catching just beneath your chin. “Suck on it harder yeah? Want it to taste like ya when I smoke it again.”

A whine cracked in the back of your throat, your hips catching on the zipper of his jeans. “What about you?”

The mumbled words caused spit to drool down to your chin, his eyes tracking the slide of it with a heavy gaze. He wanted to lick it up. Swallow down what you offered. But the sight kept him transfixed—your tongue sliding along the end of the cigar as if it were his cock. Soaking it in your taste enough to drive him a bit closer to the edge, his other hand suddenly a harsh grip on your ass.

“I got what I need,” he replied with ease. “Yeah?”

You nodded, catching the glaze of desire in his dilated pupils. He wanted more than an empty mouth. The cigars appeased a side of him no one saw, a man who ached for something to bite down on, someone to taste even in the most mundane of ways. He was your guard dog looking to chew, to gnaw, even if spit flew out of his mouth with a feral edge of desperation. And with a grin, you stuffed three fingers into his mouth right down to the knuckle.

He took them with a moan, tongue laving over the length of them as his hips bucked up into yours. The hot cavern of his mouth and wet slide of his tongue drew out a sound you never knew you could make. A biting grunt that made spit fly everywhere, splattering against his cheek to mix with his own.

Ripping the cigar from your mouth, you hastily licked around his full mouth. “Suck harder for me baby.”

They met the back of his throat, choking him enough to force his head back. His eyes rolled, nostrils flared, and for a moment you felt the power dynamic shift. You were in charge. Telling him what to do to appease the ache of pleasure growing in the pit of your stomach. And it might have lasted. He very well could have given you complete submission if it weren’t for the lack of the cigar in your mouth.

A growl rumbled up from his chest, eyes flashing dark enough to send a thrill down your spine, and before you could fix your mistake he rectified it for you. Three fingers—to match your own—were pushed harshly against your tongue, hooking behind your teeth to drag your face closer to his. You didn’t need to hear him to know what he wanted.

The intent blazed in his hazel eyes well enough: suck.

Through the haze of wanton lust you felt his hand begin to guide your hips along his crotch. The bulge of his cock straining against denim, pushing the metal zipper up for your clit to catch on each time. Clad in his flannel and cotton panties, you found yourself plummeting towards the burning ache that built faster than you could comprehend.

You ripped your hand from his mouth, burying the spit soaked fingers into his hair to grip him close. But it never remained enough. He wanted to delve beneath your skin. Seek the warmth that seeped from your body where his fingers kneaded and pushed to drag you to a fro. His teeth latched onto your shoulder, the sweater pulled to the side while his fingers met the back of your throat, choking you with their size.

A cry slipped past his knuckles as you humped his clothed cock—dragging yourself inch by inch towards the release you could practically taste. It clung to the tip of your tongue—the saccharine flavor intertwined with the tobacco musk of his fingers. You swallowed around them, drool spilling down your throat and pooling at the top of your breasts.

“That’s it,” he gasped, a line of bites trailing right to the juncture of your neck, his spit smeared across your skin. “Gonna cum for me?”

You whined harshly, body going taut as your clit pulsed rapidly with the impending wave of bliss that tugged sharply on your spine. The pain of his teeth puncturing hard enough to draw blood dragged a knife through the thin strand  of resistance. And you came with his name at the back of your throat and white bursting behind tightly shut eyelids.

“Yes. Fuck–” His growl ran down the length of your spine, body trembling in his tight grasp. “That’s my girl.”

Unconsciously your nails punctured the skin at the back of his neck and with a jolt, he groaned long and ragged against your throat. A dark wet patch formed beneath his jeans as you soaked him with a spit filled cry. The pleasure wrung your body dry, pulling the final dregs of your energy straight from the source. Your chest heaved, mouth a gentle suckle at the very base of his fingers, and Logan could feel you begin to collapse forward into his chest.

“You really like when your mouth is filled,” he mused, lips curling into a smile.

Nodding, your voice was a content hum—his fingers dragging at the back of your teeth, tracing their shape. A kiss was pressed to your head, body slumping further into the chair with you atop him.

“Gonna get you some more matches in the mornin’,” he mumbled lazily. “My pretty girl needs a treat for being so good.”

Your heart fluttered, eyes glistening with the devotion you’d never dare to hide. The love that burned with the power of an eternal flame. Settling into his body, you felt his hand drag along the expanse of your thigh. Calming the storm in his mind—a catastrophe you longed to weather with him.

You were the balm to his weathered soul.

A permanent fixation of smoke and ash that surrounded his charred and splintered heart that burned for you.

[youzicha]

Thinking about that that "slop accelerationism" post, and also Scott's AI art Turing test.

I also hope AI text- and image-generation will help shake us loose from cheap bad art. For example, the fact that you can now generate perfectly rendered anime girls at the click of button kindof suggests that there was never much content in those drawings. Though maybe we didn't really need AI for that insight? It feels very similar to that shift in fashion that rejected Bouguereau-style laboriously-rendered pretty girls in favor of more sketchy brush work.

But will we really be so lucky that only things that we already suspected was slop will prove valueless?

As usual with AI, Douglas Hofstadter already thought about this a long time ago, in an essay from 2001. Back in 1979 he had written

Will a computer program ever write beautiful music? Speculation: Yes, but not soon. Music is a language of emotions, and until programs have emotions as complex as ours, there is no way a program will write anything beautiful. There can be "forgeries"—shallow imitations of the syntax of earlier music—but despite what one might think at first, there is much more to musical expression than can be captured in syntactical rules. There will be no new kinds of beauty turned up for a long time by computer music-composing programs. Let me carry this thought a little further. To think—and I have heard this suggested—that we might soon be able to command a preprogrammed mass-produced mail-order twenty-dollar desk-model "music box" to bring forth from its sterile [sic!] circuitry pieces which Chopin or Bach might have written had they lived longer is a grotesque and shameful misestimation of the depth of the human spirit. A "program" which could produce music as they did would have to wander around the world on its own, fighting its way through the maze of life and feeling every moment of it. It would have to understand the joy and loneliness of a chilly night wind, the longing for a cherished hand, the inaccessibility of a distant town, the heartbreak and regeneration after a human death. It would have to have known resignation and world-weariness, grief and despair, determination and victory, piety and awe. In it would have had to commingle such opposites as hope and fear, anguish and jubilation, serenity and suspense. Part and parcel of it would have to be a sense of grace, humor, rhythm, a sense of the unexpected and of course an exquisite awareness of the magic of fresh creation. Therein, and therein only, lie the sources of meaning in music.

I think this is helpful in pinning down what we would have liked to be true. Because in 1995, somebody wrote a program that generates music by applying simple syntactic rules to combine patterns from existing pieces, and it sounded really good! (In fact, it passed a kind of AI art turing test.) Oops!

The worry, then, is that we just found out that the computer has as complex emotions as us, and they aren't complex at all. It would be like adversarial examples for humans: the noise-like pattern added to the panda doesn't "represent" a gibbon, it's an artifact of the particular weights and topology of the image recognizer, and the resulting classification doesn't "mean" anything. Similarly, Arnulf Rainer wrote that when he reworked Wine-Crucifix, "the quality and truth of the picture only grew as it became darker and darker"—doesn't this sound a bit like gradient descent? Did he stumble on a pattern that triggers our "truth" detector, even though the pattern is merely a shallow stimulus made of copies of religious iconography that we imprinted on as kids?

One attempt to recover is to say Chopin really did write music based on the experience of fighting through the maze of life, and it's just that philistine consumers can't tell the difference between the real and the counterfeit. But this is not very helpful, it means that we were fooling ourselves, and the meaning that we imagined never existed.

More promising, maybe the program is a "plagiarism machine", which just copies the hard-won grief, despair, world-weariness &c that Chopin recorded? On its own it's not impressive that a program can output an image indistinguishable from Gauguin's, I can write such a program in a single line:

print("https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Gauguin,Paul-Still_Life_with_Profile_of_Laval-_Google_Art_Project.jpg")

I think this is the conclusion that Hofstadter leans towards: the value of Chopin and the other composers was to discover the "template" that can then be instantiated to make many beautiful music pieces. Kind of ironically, this seems to push us back to some very turn-of-the-20th-century notion of avant-garde art. Each particular painting that (say) Monet executed is of low value, and the actual valuable thing is the novel art style...

That view isn't falsified yet, but it feels precarious. You could have said that AlphaGo was merely a plagiarism machine that selected good moves from historical human games, except then AlphaGo Zero proved that the humans were superfluous after all. Surely a couple of years from now somebody might train an image model on a set of photographs and movies excluding paintings, and it might reinvent impressionism from first principles, and then where will we be? Better start prepare a fallback-philosophy now.

[saiintvalentiine]

hello............ loyalty duo werewolf au..................... im gonna start posting bits and bobs here and there of things ive written that dont really have anywhere else to go. no promises on if this will be continued, but i. i do love me some werewolves........................ divider

Warnings for vague descriptions of injuries and implied torture. The writing and editing is kinda rough, sorry for any major errors :')

Wordcount: 1,087

“Werewolves don't exist,” is what the voice says. “What the fuck, werewolves do not exist!”

The muzzle hurts. It's too tight for his face. But he doesn't move from where he's laid, a bloodied heap slowly healing from his wounds. Every full moon he's dragged into this bedrock room after his fights, and every full moon he tries to escape while adrenaline is still flowing through him, and every full moon he suffers the consequences of thinking they can’t possibly stop him this time. He's too tired to fight this new voice, their scent uniquely cat-like and hovering above him. His eyes are too swollen. He's cried quite a bit. It's hard to stop when he's like this.

“Shit, I guess werewolves exist. Fuck. This isn't what I thought was gonna happen when they said there was dog fighting.”

The voice hovers closer, and he tries to shy away. Something is— broken, probably, in his leg, and his claws are cut through the quick, but he tries anyway to press against the wall.

“Hey, hey hey hey, no, I'm not gonna hurt you,” the voice pitches down, softens, and the part of his mind that can't bear another moment of cruelty forces a whimper out of his mouth. “Oh that's— I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm here to get you out, yeah? We're gonna leave. We're gonna leave riiiiight now, right now, I scared everyone else out, it's just you and me now.”

He's not sure he believes the voice, but beyond the walls, there is a terrifying, blessed silence. Whatever this voice did to everyone else, it could probably do to him. He's in no shape to fight it off.

“Hey,” the voice is even quieter now. “It said outside the door that your name is Wifies. Is that you? Wifies?”

He recognizes the name as the one they call him when he's not like this. He can't make any meaningful noise with his muzzle on, but he tries for. . . a purr, something in his chest that isn't a growl.

“Okay. Wifies. Okay Wifies, I'm Ken. You look too big for me to carry, so we need to work together to get you out of here, yeah?” there's some rustling, and Ken curses. He can't help the way he curls up further. “I brought all my escape kits but not a single healing pot. I'm an idiot.”

Getting up from his curled up spot sounds impossible, but his nails are already growing back in as jagged spikes, so he knows he can do it. He struggles to get his arms beneath him, hoisting himself up after a few false starts. Using his good leg, he twists around to sit and lean against the wall. That little bit of effort has him panting, or panting as much as he can within the metal restraints of his muzzle. He peels his eyes open, ignoring the sting.

“Hoooooooly shit,” Ken mutters, staring up at him. He's a head taller than Ken like this. “I definitely can't carry you, my God.”

Ken is dressed in all black, a brown strap across his chest and a bag hanging off his back. He's a cat hybrid, which explains the smell. His ears and eyes and whip-thin tail are split between a candied green and a golden orange. As soon as his blood stops rushing through his ears, he can hear Ken's heart beating, fast and skipping.

He can't make himself any smaller if he's meant to walk. He lowers his head and puts his ears back.

“Nooo, no no no, it's— you make yourself very small very well. Um, okay, let's— how am I gonna get you out of here?”

His bad leg still hurts, but if he can leave. . . He digs his palms into the bedrock behind him and pushes himself to stand. His weight, as paltry as it is for a wolf his size, causes his bad knee to buckle. Ken yelps. He withstands the shaking, burning pain of it to stand up properly.

“They don't chain you up anywhere?” Ken asks, eyes darting around the room. “I've got a netherite axe. I could definitely split any chain.”

Chains were no good. Once his nails grow back, they're easy to shred. He stares down at Ken.

“Jeez, you're huge, good fucking grief.”

He lumbers forwards towards Ken, and the darkened double doors of his cell. Ken takes a step back, then another, then turns around to push the doors open to their absolute maximum. He hunches over to squeeze through.

The hallway is just as dark as the cell, uninterrupted bedrock as far as he can see.

“It's a bit of a labyrinth. Just follow me.”

Ken hesitates for a moment before weaving his way through the halls. He follows, a loud, thudding, limping pace that should have alerted every single creature around to his presence. But it's just Ken’s feather-light footfalls and him. Whatever Ken did to clear the place out was absurdly successful. 

As they turn another indistinct corner, he sees— moonlight. It pools onto the floors, sweet and cool and calling to him. There's a hole blown through the bedrock, the sparkling smell of redstone surrounding it, and he scrabbles around Ken to squeeze through it. Tumbling onto soft, dewey grass (grass, real grass, when had he ever felt such a thing?) he loses all strength and lays on his back, staring up at the full moon.

She's so huge. He's never seen Her before, had just known when She was full or new in his core. But here She is. She is huge and beautiful and he feels, for the first time ever, at peace.

Ken hops out of the hole and steps closer, crouching next to him.

“Hey buddy,” Ken says. “Do you think I can take the muzzle off?”

He shakes his head, then growls for good measure— a soft growl, low and short to not intimidate Ken too much. He can't explain that the muzzle was put on when he was smaller, that it can’t be removed when he’s like this. Or, it can, but it’ll hurt so much he might cry again. Better to let Ken believe that it’s impossible, just in case.

“That's a no. Okay. Well, we should probably leave soon before anyone realizes anything,” Ken looks up at the sky before swinging back and sitting down in the grass, sighing. “But I don't think sitting here for a little longer can hurt.”

Wifies purrs and basks in the moonlight.

[kpopsexstories]

Quick Fix Gay Season 1

Okay, I didn't actually announce it as such (I think? 🤔), but the Quick Fix Gay series is starting for real tomorrow and we can actually call the up-coming stories Season 1 of this series.

In fact, I now know what all but two of the stories are. Six of the eight stories that will make up this "season" have been written and daaaamn are you in for some hot stuff 🥵

The first story was actually already published two months ago: NCT Jeno x male reader. The next three have now been scheduled too. You can look forward to a new one every Saturday three weeks in a row, with the first one coming tomorrow (November 23, 2024).

So in this post, allow me to surprise you with the Quick Fix Gay Season 1 stories:

1. NCT Jeno – September 14, 2024

Muscle hunk Jeno fucks you missionary style. (Requested)

2. NCT Doyoung & Jisung – November 23, 2024

Big dick duo Doyoung and Jisung compare dick sizes and blow each other.

3. NCT Jaemin – November 30, 2024

You ride Jaemin’s cock while greatly appreciating his muscles. (Requested)

4. NCT Chenle – December 7, 2024

Exhausted after work the boys of NCT Dream relax in a van. Chenle gets horny and decides to secretly do something about it.

5. TXT Yeonjun & Soobin – December 14, 2024

Following a sexy performance Yeonjun and Soobin need a way to get the adrenaline rush out of their system.

6. NCT Jeno & Jaemin – TBD

Dominant tops Jeno and Jaemin fuck you hard from behind. (Requested)

7. Unknown

8. Unknown

Please look forward to these stories which should scratch your gay itch 😋 And while I have ideas for the remaining two stories, feel free to send in requests if you have anything specific you want me to write.

[justalittleguest]

Why is the spiciest, vilest, sinisterest take on Horror him being a cannibal. Girl that’s NOT his toxic trait. He’s so much worse.

[griem]

ijbol idk man releasing screenshots of very polarizing things said in a private discord server between friends in a public "callout" post is #the most #tumblrific thing ive ever seen LOL.

#opinion 😱 in tags

[nemesyaaa]

🔝🔝🔝 you know it's a real footage of me at this point because i'm still highly sick but damn, I dont have words for much good and fabulous it was ! but can't you hear my applause through the screen ? was insane and perfect, shani ! 💞 i'm so glad you posted it. and i'm so much in love everytime you post about stepbro!rafe. the twisted stepcest relationship did some things inside me i couldn't lie, and your writings too ✨

when rafe left for college, he responded to you when he could, just like he said he would. talking to him nearly every day almost made it feel like he wasn’t hours away from home. however, a month passed, and you started to hear less from him until your calls and texts were unanswered. at first, you assumed you weren’t hearing from him because of how busy he may have been with classes, and it wasn’t until you came across instagram posts from him and his fraternity brothers that he was too busy partying to get back to you. — this is just so well-written 😊

“missed you, princess," his hands slid up your waist, walking you back until your lower back pressed against his dresser, "if you had answered when i called, you would’ve known i was coming home for the holidays.”. — already sarcastic huh ???

"what happened to being my good girl? guess your poor, needy little pussy couldn't handle being empty for a few months, hm?" rafe snickered, "and now you wanna push me away all 'cause i've been too busy?". — make me giggling so badly

rafe bent down, grabbing your panties before standing back up. his hand reached around, cupping your jaw, your lips parting when his fingers dug into your skin as he squeezed your cheeks. rafe shoved the silk material into your mouth and his lips brush against the shell of your ear, "you want an apology? fine, here's your apology.". — I NEED THIS man, it's an urge. PLEASE take him back in my bed :((

rafe removes your panties from your mouth, your chest heaving, small pants filling the room. your breath hitches in your throat when his hips slowly rolled into yours, “how’s that for an apology? or you still need some convincing?”. — LXZDKOZODOEODODOEIEIE PLEASE.

kissing u for giving me this idea cause I love frat daddy as stepbro!rafe! what if reader is 18 but in her last year of high school (I know even with age of majority that’s still kinda icky but it’s the only way this scenario would work🫣) so when rafe’s away for his first year at college before the events of s1, she knows it’s wrong but she’s always worried and jealous of what he could be doing there or what other girls he could be seeing, especially when she sees his and his frat brothers’ instagram pictures. he doesn’t always get back to her texts or calls, and even though she has needs too, she feels guilty for hooking up with any of her friends or trying to date to distract herself. so when he comes home for the holidays, she’s all mad at him and pushes him away and they get all angsty and he apologizes because you were always willing to wait for him and his approval and with him being as nasty as he is he has to remind you that you come first because “you’re my sister”🫠✨

— stepbro!rafe is away for his first year at college

warnings: stepcest, reader is 18 + rafe is 19, indent is a flashback, jealous!reader, mention of hooking up w jj, choking, hair pulling, spanking, mirror sex, degrading, praise, gagging, piv, unprotected sex, creampie, 18+ mdni !

a/n: i hope it's ok that i tweaked a few things such as rafe apologizing & reader graduated high school but doesn’t go to college cause she isn't sure what she wants to do!

“gonna miss you,” you frown into your stepbrother’s chest, hugging him tightly. he rested his chin on the top of your head, “i’ll miss you too, but hey, i’ll be home for the holidays, and i’m only a phone call away. you could call me or text me anytime, i’ll make sure to get back to you when i can, alright?”.

when rafe left for college, he responded to you when he could, just like he said he would. talking to him nearly every day almost made it feel like he wasn’t hours away from home. however, a month passed, and you started to hear less from him until your calls and texts were unanswered. at first, you assumed you weren’t hearing from him because of how busy he may have been with classes, and it wasn’t until you came across instagram posts from him and his fraternity brothers that he was too busy partying to get back to you.

it was his first year at college, and you knew you shouldn’t be upset; you had no right to be. especially when it was the only time he had freedom away from home, specifically from ward. it didn't stop you from missing rafe; you couldn’t help but think about what else he could be doing, and no matter how much you tried, knowing it was wrong, your mind started to wander over who he could be with.

when two more months had passed and still no communication from rafe, you sought out a distraction through jj maybank, who was unknowingly helping you take your mind off your stepbrother. the more time you had spent with jj, the less you thought about rafe and the promise of not running to anyone that wasn't him.

the promise you made was pushed into the back of your mind until one night, as you were about to sneak out of the house to see the blonde pogue, you received an incoming call from rafe. you could feel the guilt consuming you the longer you stared at his name, itching to answer. but your bitterness got the best of you, your finger tapping 'decline' before quietly leaving your house, not knowing rafe was calling to tell you he'd be home for the holiday.

a week later and yet another late night with jj, you tip-toed up the stairs, ensuring not to wake anyone up. just as you were about to reach your bedroom, you froze in your spot, looking like a deer in headlights, when the door to the room across from yours swung open. "sneaking back in?", his hand encircled your wrist, pulling you into his room and shutting the door behind you. “rafe, what are you doing here?” your brows furrow, more than confused as to why he was home.

“missed you, princess," his hands slid up your waist, walking you back until your lower back pressed against his dresser, "if you had answered when i called, you would’ve known i was coming home for the holidays.”.

your palms pressed at his firm chest, pushing him away when he started peppering kisses along your jaw. "what? what's wrong?" rafe asks, "don’t tell me you’re upset cause i made you promise not to go to anyone else while i was away on campus.”.

“i can't be upset over that when i’ve been seeing jj,” the words rolled off your tongue with ease, “i don't know why it matters anyway when you've been ignoring me for the past few months, probably too busy sleeping around with sorority girls every weekend”.

rafe’s nostrils flared the second jj's name slipped from your mouth, “what did you just say?” he gritted his teeth, removing his hand from your waist to grab your throat. “what?” you bat your eyes innocently, “don't act all innocent, you've been fucking around with maybank, huh?”.

"what happened to being my good girl? guess your poor, needy little pussy couldn't handle being empty for a few months, hm?" rafe snickered, "and now you wanna push me away all 'cause i've been too busy?".

your mouth gaped open to speak, only for him to cut you off, "is that why you're pushing me away, acting like you didn't miss me and your panties aren't soaking wet right now? ".

rafe spun you around to face the mirror of his dresser, bending you over. his large, warm hands slip under your skirt, pushing the article of clothing around your waist. his fingers hooked into the elastic of your panties, pulling them down to pool around your ankles. "step out of them," he ordered, delivering a sharp smack to the fat of your ass; when you didn't oblige, "don't make me tell you twice.".

rafe bent down, grabbing your panties before standing back up. his hand reached around, cupping your jaw, your lips parting when his fingers dug into your skin as he squeezed your cheeks. rafe shoved the silk material into your mouth and his lips brush against the shell of your ear, "you want an apology? fine, here's your apology.".

his free hand dipped between your legs, chuckling as he ran his fingers through your slick folds. “i’m sorry, princess…” he cooed, extending his thumb to rub circles to your clit, pulling a soft moan from you.

a desperate whine bubbled in your throat at the loss of friction on your puffy clit, your heart racing in anticipation at the sound of fabric rustling behind you. rafe nudged your thighs further apart with his knee, slotting himself between your legs. his palm rested on the small of your back as you squirmed under him, feeling the thick head of his cock sliding up and down your folds.

he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back to make you look at him in the reflection, watching your eyes roll back as his thick cock stretches you deliciously, “sorry that my poor girl was so fuckin’ needy to the point she had to run to a pogue of all people.”.

“shit…missed being buried deep in this sweet cunt,” rafe groaned, "guess i gotta ruin this tight little hole; make sure you don't go runnin' back to jj, huh?" he taunted, slowly pulling back, leaving just the tip of his cock inside you.

"don't worry, by the time i'm done with you, all that pretty little head and pussy is gonna think about is how much she missed and ached for my dick," rafe sucked his teeth, your body jolting forward, biting down on the pair of panties stuffed in your mouth as he slammed himself back into your willing cunt.

your hands grip the top of his dresser, eyes barely staying open. a loud, muffled yelp forces its way through the flimsy silk fabric stuffed in your mouth when rafe harshly tugged at the roots of your hair, "did i say you could close your eyes? keep 'em open, want you to watch me fuck you like the needy little cockwhore you are.".

rafe removed his hand from your hair, snaking it around your throat to hold your head upright. he buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave bruises on your flesh. he leaned forward, putting all his weight onto you and pressing his chest to your back, "this s'all you wanted, yeah? just wanted to be stuffed full of my cock again?".

drool soaked through the silk as his cock pounded into you relentlessly. you grabbed onto his arm, struggling to keep your eyes open, and your nails bite into his skin as the tip of his cock repeatedly hits your cervix. rafe’s eyes flicker to look at the two of you in the mirror, “look at how pretty you look takin’ my dick,” he praises.

“came way too many fuckin’ times to the thought of you…been craving feeling your pussy around my cock again since the day i left,” rafe rasped. “especially feeling you cum all over my cock,” he groaned as he felt your walls flutter around him.

“c’mon, princess, cream all over my cock and make a mess like you used to,” he nipped your ear, holding you steady as your legs trembled. your pussy convulses around him, his hand clamping around your mouth to further muffle your cry of pleasure as you cum all over his thick cock.

your orgasm triggers rafe’s, his hips slowly pumping into yours as they become sloppy. he gives you one more harsh thrust, his hips stilling, pushing his cock deep inside you, and letting out a moan as thick ropes of cum spill into you, painting your walls white.

rafe removes your panties from your mouth, your chest heaving, small pants filling the room. your breath hitches in your throat when his hips slowly rolled into yours, “how’s that for an apology? or you still need some convincing?”.

taglist: @oceandriveab @babygorewhore @cameronsprincess @starkeysbabygirl @bloodibambiidoll @fallbhind @sematarygirls @nemesyaaa @ilovefiction4lmen @zyafics @sturnioloshacker @heartsforvin @cxrrodedcoffin @rafeyscurtainbangs @rafesthroatbaby @jjslaybank @kisses4angels @littlelamy @rafesangelita @starkeygirlposts @drewsarms @hallecarey1 @fallrafwe @sturnskiss @blckbrrybasket @wearemadeofstardust0 @honeybunniesoobin @starkeysbebe @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @starkeysheart @rafeinterlude @starkeyisthelastname @flvredcas @emilysuperswag @proxy-princess @hyperfixationgirl @ijustwanttoreadlols @slumnit @cl4uus @coco-cinnamon @stoned-writer

[captainkirkk]

When I started writing 'lessons in tea making', I set out to make it a longfic that following ATLA Book 2 and 3 in its entirety but now its been almost 5 years and I'm realising that I'm probably never going to get around to finishing this monster of a wip

HOWEVER, I do have around 15k of chapter 2 collecting dust in my google drive so.... what's everyone's opinion on authors uploading (signposted) unfinished chapters....

[johnslittlespoon]

all the actor/celebrity au posts lately combined with troye bringing ross on stage last night for one of your girls has got me thinking...

a musician x musician au where gale is a troye sivan–esque ultra–famous queer pop star, and john's the singer of a well known indie rock band, and he gets asked by gale's team to star in a music video similar to one of your girls...

to everyone who doesn't know him personally, gale feels like this untouchable pop star. he's been in the industry for years, one of those classic 'i used to make music in my bedroom in my small town' stories, working his ass off before finally a song of his blows up and gets traction and then it's such a fast rise to stardom that he doesn't have time to wrap his head around it.

he never gets used to it, but he doesn't get an ego from it; he still hangs out with the same group of friends he's had since high school, and his team does most of his social media posting for him, because it freaks him out having all that attention, as grateful as he is. he's not shy by any means, not like he was when he started out, but he's not the biggest fan of all the fanfare and interviews and being put on a pedestal and all that. he keeps himself pretty distant online, and that coupled with the diva/superstar energy in his music/projects gives him this air of being on another level– a rare type of star all around.

john has a similar story, the whole growing up on the internet thing, making music in his basement in high school with the friends he's now in a pretty popular indie rock band with, working tirelessly to make a name for him and his friends. but that's kinda where their similarities end.

because john is known for being an absolute shit–poster, a little fiend online, a running joke in his fandom that 'john doesn't know that he's famous', 'should someone remind him this isn't a finsta?' type of vibe. he feels so accessible and down to earth, and while he's just as level headed and humble about his celebrity status as gale is, he displays it by being more present and trying to show the human side of it all, vs gale trying to create distance between gale cleven and the gale persona the world knows.

the band is first and foremost john's thing, but as he's grown in popularity, he's of course gotten offers for other avenues here and there, and at the insistence of his manager he decides to agree to try out a modelling shoot one day. he's not naive; he's more than aware of all the comments going on about his looks, stumbles across more tiktok thirst trap edits of him sweaty and shirtless on stage than he can count, isn't all too sfw in some of his band's songs, either.

he finds it all funny, but he also is someone who will always jump on new opportunities/experiences, and he ends up having a good time modelling, and picks up more gigs as time goes on. this is how gale becomes aware of him, somewhat because gale does occasional modelling too, but mostly because he's worked with a lot of big fashion names for tours and videos, so his and john's circles occasionally crossover, though they never actually meet in person.

so then comes this music video shoot, one that gale's been agonizing over for months, planning every little detail and making sure everything is perfect. it's something that drives his manager (marge? <3 gotta include the angel in every au obvs) insane because gale's got so much on his plate as is, but he likes to be so hands on with his projects, and she knows by now there's no talking him out of that. and everything is going great, until the person who's meant to be starring opposite gale has to pull out last minute due to a scheduling conflict or personal emergency or something.

and the usually very collected and put together gale is freaking out. it's the day before the shoot, everyone involved has already travelled to be on location, choreography is set in stone– this is his nightmare scenario, never doing well in situations where he has a lack of control. it's half of what scares him so much about being as famous as he is, is that he doesn't have a lot of autonomy or control over his own image or how he's perceived in the public eye (and digging deeper into backstory, probably stems from wanting to take back control after a childhood filled with being controlled by family.)

but it's situations like these where he's reminded why marge is his manager and he isn't, because she leaps into action the moment they find out about the cancellation, calming gale down so they can put their heads together to find a replacement. they reach out to a few of the names they have connections to, but it's too short notice for all of them, so maybe marge even just resorts to going through the people gale follows on instagram, and stumbles across john's page. he's got a good rep in industry and has worked on less 'conventional' projects before, so marge shuts down gale's fretting over "would he be comfortable with something like this?" by telling him there's only one way to find out, and contacting john's manager.

john agrees before he even hears the full pitch, and he's just as keen afterwards (albeit a bit nervous because by no means is he a professional dancer), knowing it'll be good publicity, and curious to explore a more artsy/out there gig, but also curious about the illusive gale, who he'd been surprised to receive a follow from a few weeks back.

john is flown out that night to the city of the shoot location, barely having a few minutes to change and head to the rehearsal space, where he meets a very frazzled but very thankful gale for the first time.

maybe they both have some preconceived notions about each other, despite having mutual respect and no actual interactions; john probably expects gale to be a bit stand–offish or conceited given his high celebrity status, but finds gale's actually bashful and quiet and easygoing when the cameras are off (when they're on, it's like he flips a switch, slipping into this persona, exuding confidence and sexuality and it honestly blows john's mind to witness in person).

gale probably expects to john to be loud and abrasive based off his well known social media posts, maybe even a little uncomfortable around gale, who is openly queer, whereas john isn't– maybe john hasn't ever stated his sexuality, has never given much thought to it, it doesn't matter much to him. instead he finds john's actually a little shy, much less bravado than he'd anticipated, but very enthusiastic and eager to learn and get the choreo and everything else right, assuring gale repeatedly that he's down to do whatever is needed.

so the two of them rehearse till the early hours of the morning, john taking it as seriously as though it's his own project he's invested months into, and gale gains such admiration for his commitment and willingness to stick his neck out for a borderline stranger (even though he's obviously aware this is a big boost for john's career). john gains a newfound appreciation for gale's work ethic and how much effort goes into every little thing for a huge artist like him.

and inevitably... there is sexual tension during the rehearsals. they're both overtired and sweaty and it's such a strange situation to meet for like five minutes and then jump right into dancing together so intimately, having to shed any inhibitions and self consciousness, but it's a blessing in the sense that they have to get comfortable around each other so quickly. there's no room for modesty or shyness, and john is genuinely speechless at how gale puts business first, and after double checking that john isn't uncomfortable, how he has no qualms about physically directing john, moving him how he wants him.

it's hot to john, the way gale knows exactly what he wants and is so passionate about his vision, and he'd be lying if he said the combination of being starstruck and being lowkey manhandled isn't getting to his head a bit. which is a whole other thing to unpack, because aside from vague acknowledgement of some men being attractive/beautiful, he's never actually found himself flustered by one like this, and it catches him off guard. he stays professional, but he still can't help but let his naturally flirtatious/joking personality slip out as the night drags on; he's like that with everyone he works with or hangs out with, and he thinks it would be weirder if he wasn't like that with gale, like everyone else would somehow notice.

meanwhile gale is fighting his own demons because he's got a very sought–after, very hot, very straight man dropping everything for him and letting him puppeteer him, on top of being so stubborn that even though gale can tell he's exhausted, john's refusing to call it a night until gale does, and THEN as if all that's not enough, john's effortlessly witty and complimentary and flirty. and gale's not one to mix business and pleasure, so he's not even entertaining these emotions, but he can't help but feel flattered by it all, while also reminding himself that john probably doesn't swing that way.

basically they both are discovering they have competence kinks lmao, like objectively they both find the other attractive, but it's not like they aren't constantly surrounded by beautiful humans in their lines of work, so it's more so the emotional side/work ethic that gets them both flustered, coupled with the inherent sexuality of dancing with very little clothing, hands on sweaty skin and toned muscles. but neither of them act on it, too tired by the time they call it a night even if they'd wanted to, and then it's back to their respective hotels to get a few hours of sleep before the shoot.

john isn't called to be on location until mid afternoon, and when he wakes up to his phone ringing and glances at the time, he freaks out, thinking he's slept through the shoot or something because he'd expected to be called early in the morning. he's told that he didn't sleep through it, but he's disoriented until he shows up, when he's told that gale had moved things around, filming as many scenes as he could without him before john was needed for his part, so that john could get more rest. (john swoons. just a little.)

he gets swept up in the capable hands of hair and makeup and wardrobe in his own trailer, and he doesn't see gale until it's time to film, and when he does, he almost doesn't believe it's gale. the glam makeup, the long blonde wig, the form–fitting sheer black dress and heels– gale's pretty as is, but with his features accentuated like that, john doesn't even know what to do with himself, feels like he's going through a midlife crisis at the ripe age of 25. he'd known gale would be in some sort of getup for their choreo, but nothing could've prepared him for this.

it makes it even more endearing that gale seems so awkward about it when he greets john, clearly out of his comfort zone in the ensemble, but john knows there's no way gale doesn't know how stunning he is, it's not a lack of confidence that's making him awkward. john keeps it together, reminds himself to be professional. tells gale it was really sweet that he let him sleep in, that he didn't have to do that, to which gale waves him off like it's no big deal. and he compliments gale too as they walk onto set, tells him, "you look great, wow," tame as he can be, and gale tells him "could say the same for you," and john snorts, gesturing to his simple jeans and boots and lack of shirt, says "feeling a bit underdressed, actually," and it gets a laugh out of gale.

when the cameras are rolling, any of that visible discomfort or awkwardness in gale disappears like someone's snapped their fingers and rid him of it, movements fluid like water, not an ounce of anything other than confidence and power and sensuality seeping through as he commands the camera with his energy. despite his aching body, john's grateful they ran the routine into the ground last night to the point that it's nearly muscle memory, because it's hard to concentrate when gale's looking down at him through long faux–lashes and gloss–plumped lips, caressing his jaw, playing with his hair, the sway of his hips and roll of his waist beneath john's hands so mesmerizing, john's half convinced he's being serenaded by a siren.

the tension would be insane, but equally confusing because neither of them would be able to discern what's an act and what's not, or if it's all just an act, pushing and pulling at an invisible line but never quite stepping over it even once the shoot wraps, both for the sake of professionalism but also for fear of rejection.

maybe after it all, john's on his flight back home and realizes in the whirlwind of everything, he never got gale's number (has a moment of 'why would i need it? this was just a gig' lol okay yearner). john's not even sure at that point what/how he's feeling about gale, the conflicting emotions of feeling attraction to him while in borderline drag doing nothing to help the confusion, especially because he can't excuse the attraction as just that when he was feeling things during rehearsal in casual clothes too.

he knows he could easily ask his manager to reach out to gale's manager for his number, but then he gets in his head convincing himself that if gale had wanted to talk further, surely he would've asked for john's number, since gale has way more reason to be selective with his own with his status.

he doesn't realize that on the other end of things, gale's realizing he also never got john's number, only he's talking himself out of reaching out because he doesn't want to read into john's friendliness as something flirtatious when as far as he knows, john is straight, and this was likely just a job for john, as well as they seemed to get along.

cue miscommunication when one of them actually works up the courage to dm the other on instagram since they're mutuals– either john dms gale something simple, a 'thanks again for the opportunity', and because gale is never on his socials and gale's team doesn't check messages much, it's weeks before anyone clocks john's message, during which john becomes sure he's nothing more than a coworker to gale, which he understands but is sad about. or, gale dms john, but from a private account with an innocuous username that he has just for friends and family, and john never even opens it because the lack of profile picture and generic user blends in with all the other message requests he gets a day.

they only end up reconnecting when the music video actually drops, because obviously it breaks the internet, and john happens to be doing promo interviews and radio shows at the time for his band's new album and tour, so an interviewer of course asks him what the experience was like working on a set like that and working with gale. john gives a glowing review, goes out of his way to praise gale– "the nicest guy you'll ever meet, and the craziest work ethic i've ever witnessed firsthand in hollywood."

when the interviewer asks if john would ever consider working with him again, y'know, the classic question an interviewer has to ask so they can drum up clicks with a 'john egan hints at possible future project with gale cleven!' title, john lays it on thick the way he always does with a wink at the camera and a "he can call me up anytime," but then adds a serious "no, really, i would love to work with him again, he was great."

predictably, the people who are already losing their shit over the music video and making edits and fan theories about the two of them go even crazier, spam–tagging gale and his team in the comments of this interview post, which leads to it eventually making its way to gale, and gale then realizes that john hasn't been uninterested; he must've just not seen his message since surely he would've replied if he had (marge looks at him with so much disappointment when gale mentions his attempt to reach out– "gale, no one with that kind of following is going through dm requests from faceless, private instagram pages, you of all people should know this").

gale hasn't told marge about his possible feelings, but marge isn't dumb; she didn't stand on set for nearly 24 hours with her eagle–eyes and not notice the way gale had been looking at john. to anyone else, it might've just seemed like he was leaning into his persona, but marge has known gale for a long time, and she could tell it wasn't all him playing it up for the cameras.

so marge puts her manager–brain and best friend–brain together and decides that with all the hype surrounding the new song and video, the two of them being seen together in public and making a few posts together would be a great boost for both of them. but she knows gale will never go for it if she voices this to him, because he'd see it as using john for popularity; she reasons that if he doesn't know, it can't be using. so she reaches out to john's manager and figures out when they'll both be back in the same city, and relays her plan as if it's just business, asking for john's manager to let john know that gale will be in town the next week if he wants to set something up, and she gives the manager gale's number for john to contact.

when gale wakes up one morning to a 'hi, this is john! my manager passed on your number to me, hope that's okay. i was told you're in town next week? :)' and then 'egan. btw. lots of johns out there.' and then 'the music video guy.' (john, absolutely panicking on his end, worrying that gale might not even remember his name, not knowing gale's been stalking his socials and confusion–pining just as much as john has been doing the same.)

and then more miscommunication after they arrange to hang out, because john assumes this is just for publicity based on what his manager told him, and he understands, as much as he wishes they're hanging out properly. but gale assumes this is a genuine hangout, because john never says otherwise, until the end of the evening, when gale has to leave for a dinner event and john says "we better take those pics for the 'gram before we say goodbye, or the big guns'll have a fit."

and either gale masks his surprise and then disappointment and goes along with it, thinking maybe he missed a memo or misread things, and this conflict and miscommunication is dragged out even longer, or gale doesn't hide his confusion in time, and john is then equally confused, says "your manager didn't...?" and gale says "sorry, i didn't know; i guess i misread your texts," feeling stupid that he's been thinking the hangout is anything other than a pr stunt. and then there's the awkward "no! no– well, yeah, i was told that this was to promote the video, so i thought– i mean, i would've liked to hang anyway, i just didn't think you wanted to?" from john.

gale is slowly connecting the dots in his head and he's so embarrassed, but also relieved that he hasn't misread things and made a fool of himself. john looks on the verge jumping out of his skin as gale sits quietly, so gale puts him out of his misery, smiles and pushes his irritation about the incident down and says "i do want to, john. i think marge– it doesn't matter. it was a miscommunication, i guess." and all the tension evaporates out of john's body, and he lets out a laugh, and a "oh, thank god. fuck. i was about to walk into the street," and gale lets himself relax too, scoffing at john.

so they decide to have a redo the next week, since they both do feel obligated to take their stupid pictures now to please their teams (and the internet), and thus a tentative friendship is born, the two of them dancing around each other and around feelings because everything is confusing as is, let alone with the way their careers affect every aspect of their lives. so much slowburn, lots of john trying to figure his attraction out and gale keeping his walls up because the thought of literally becoming the person he's singing about in his music video is laughable, he doesn't wanna be strung around or used as an experiment for john.

and john respects this unspoken boundary and also appreciates that they can get to know each other as friends while he tries to stop freaking out every time he pictures him and gale doing less than platonic things. probably a whole lot of chaos on john's end with the absolute tornado that he is, ie: '4am 'am i gay' quizzes taken in the dark of his bunk on a tour bus, asking an openly queer friend from his band if his feelings toward gale are normal, rumours started by a fan that they saw john in a gay club after a show, etc.

because john doesn't do anything halfway– he's ready to literally go out and kiss men and explore his newfound feelings, not just to prove himself to gale, but to figure himself out, because he's terrified of hurting gale since john doesn't have the best track record with relationships. overthinks the shit out of everything and doesn't realize it's not that deep, that liking gale doesn't mean he's suddenly attracted to all men, that all gale wants is for john to be confident in himself and his feelings for him before pursuing anything.

there's a lot of back and forth and messiness and emotions stacked on top of their already crazy hectic schedules and lives, the theorizing and prying from fans and paparazzi, caution from management, but when they eventually have their point of no return moment and cross that line from friends to more, the chemistry is so intense that both of them feel stupid for dragging things out for so long.

when the initial new relationship shyness wears off, the sex is also insane, all the exploration and playfulness (and inevitability of the whole feminization thing coming back into play since that's what starts everything in the first place lol). they're barely able to keep their hands off each other, almost always spending the night at each other's places, stealing as much time as they can to make up for the time apart when there are tours or other events separating them.

they try to keep things private for a while, but with how active john is online, he slips up a good few times– tiktoks where a hat or something of gale's is accidentally left in the background, story posts where john's wearing one of gale's hoodies unthinkingly, mirror selfies where there's a mystery hand or leg in the background. the internet is torn, some convinced it's coincidence, some certain it's all a pr stunt to get people talking, some adamant that they're in a secret relationship. gale's never upset about it; they both just know how much things will change if they go public.

months are spent sneaking around, rarely going on public dates, the odd paparazzi shots still leaking out until it finally gets to the point that there's no point hiding things anymore, it's obvious that they're not just friends. they never actually announce it or make some relationship launch post; they just stop caring, and it's freeing and neither of them expect to be so affected by being able to publicly show affection for each other, but it's such a sweet thing and makes things feel so much more real.

john goes to gale's sold out arena shows and stares up at him in awe and can't believe that gale chooses him every day, and gale goes to john's band's high energy festival sets and watches his golden boy light up with joy every time he glances at him side stage and can't believe john chooses him too.

:-)

lol this post was meant to just be the two lines above the cut but then i got to thinking about origin stories and whoops new au drabble because i'm a master at getting carried away!!

[tojiscrack]

Guess who found your fic on ao3 at 11pm, not noticing the 108k words on the bottom and got so hooked even by the half quarter of the first chapter that resulted in her staying awake until 10 am, reading all 108k words in one sitting. Yes me. Me, who got so hooked she read it all in one sitting. Me, who’s now so emotionally attached to this fic that she’s anxious about your comments under the chapters, stating that THE MAIN PLOT hasn’t even STARTED YET. Me, who knows DAMN WELL the little caterpillars and butterflies and the moths story Megumi and y/n read out is for sure foreshadowing. Me, who’s noticed several butterfly symbolism used over the course of the story. Me, who screamed into her pillow when it was stated that y/n’a dress resembled a butterfly. Me, who’s seen your comment replying to someone, stating that there MIGHT be some kind of drifting apart. Me, who’s well ware of the Heavy Angst tag on the fic. Me, who knows that an author who’s this good at delivering humor and fluff is gonna DESTROY me when the angst is gonna be written. Me, who half regrets now that she’s discovered the story because she’s scared of all that’s about to come.

You seriously have a way with words, dialogue, symbolism, humor, the bond between every character. It’s not so simple to put more than 5 characters in a setting and deal with them all while trying to make it as natural as possible but you SOMEHOW do it SO WELL. I’m just. God. All the thoughts I have on this fic would maybe even rival the 108k words you’ve written up until now but I don’t have the capacity to put them into words as well as you do.

just know that this fic impacted me so much, so badly, years from now on after it's finished, I'll still think about it and re-read it.

so excited (and scared as hell ngl) to see where you'll be going with this story. I may havw joined late but I am sticking around till the end.

love you, great work <3

liar, liar masterlist here:

yayyy, another ao3 reader 😫 welcome to the tumblr crew, i’m so glad you’re hereeee ❤️‍🩹

i had to go back and check whether it really is 108k words and i found myself shocked bc damn, i really wrote that much? 😭 if i put half the effort i put into this story into my essays instead, maybe i’d be a better student but we live and we learn ig 😬

“emotionally attached” to the fic is mind blowing to me 🥹 i didn’t know it’d have this big of an impact on someone but i can’t say i’m displeased. that’s one of the nicest things i’ve heard on here (among other things ofc). ugh, you’re so nice for sending a message on that 🩷

and yes, you are absolutely right. the main plot does not start until next chapter (or more accurately — in terms of drama — somewhere down the line AFTER that) 👀 idk which comment i said that on but i trust ur judgement ‘cause i remember mentioning that somewhere 😭 DON’T BE SCARED, IT’LL BE FUN (and thrilling and scary) BUT STILL 😊

the butterfly thing you mentioned is interesting, actually 🫢 maybe i just really like butterflies (even tho they scare the ever living shit out of me and i nearly killed a few in the london zoo YEARS ago as a child cuz i was fidgeting since they just let them roam free in that greenhouse thingy and i was scared for my life and dying of heat with the humidity?).

YOU MUST HAVE BEEN STALKING MY PAGE BC I DO REMEMBER SAYING SMTH ALONF THOSE LINES I JUST CAN’T REMEMBER WHERE 😭 but i invite you to continue doing so bc i like watching my lovely little liars squirm and then send in their predictions and fear 😋 and this long, juicy message has me giggling to myself and REELING 🤭

yeah, but we’re not holding back on the heavy angst tag… er… buckle up? it’s gonna go downhill from here on out 😟

“you seriously have a way with words” — stop.

“it’s not so simple to put more than 5 characters in a setting and deal with them all while trying to make it as natural as possible but you somehow do it so well” — DOUBLE, TRIPLE, QUADRUPLE, INFINITY STOP OR I’LL CRY 🥹 no one has ever said that about my writing, and in fact, i hadn’t even noticed that myself 😭 i think i’m gonna levitate in glee ✨ to know it flows well enough for it to be commented on (out of ur own free will and not me pressing a gun to ur forehead), it’s just UGHHH so nice and sweet and i’m so glad you’ve joined the liar, liar community 😫 warmest welcome ml <3

gosh you’ve put this story on such a high pedestal, i’m almost scared i won’t be able to meet ur standards, even with everything planned beforehand 😟 but i’m willing to try. if you’re here for the super long ride (my updates are sporadic and will continue to be a such as the time goes on).

it was definitely not a LATE arrival per se — the liar, liar family is still pretty small. i’ve only got about 321 followers, so definitely not as much as the bigger jjk writers on here, and half of those are split between my megumi fic readers and levi fic readers. i now consider you an og just bc this analysis was so in depth and interesting, i found myself smiling so hard my cheeks hurt 🙂‍↔️

but i love you SO much for this. i’d love to see more comments and messages from you. don’t be afraid to spam me if you must (in fact, i encourage it!!!) 😁 i get so giddy and excited and motivated when ppl send me their predictions. it’s one of the greatest things about writing (and the best part imo).

have a lovely day! and i can’t wait for you to see the next chapter and what i have in store for you <3

[itsbenedict]

Okay, but what would the roster of that game look like? I... actually need to know this now. Let's break it down.

First: who in the cast does and does not have a mom?

First- characters who definitively do not have mothers who make any visual appearance in any Nintendo media:

Princess Peach (knows not of her past; adopted by Toads)

Donkey Kong (Wrinkly is his grandma, and we never learn who his confusingly-named father Donkey Kong Jr. sired him with.)

Captain Falcon (international man of mystery)

Falco Lombardi (intergalactic bird of mystery)

the Ice Climbers (we know nothing about their relationships, even with each other. official sources are inconsistent on whether they're related, romantically involved, or just good friends.)

Kirby (shaped like a friend)

Princess Zelda from Ocarina of Time (though we'll get into other Zeldas)

Link (and his younger self) from Ocarina of Time

Mr. Game and Watch (?????????????)

And special mention to Mewtwo, who wins the prize for being the least mom-having character in the entire game, being the only one to canonically, definitely not have a mom of any sort, being a clone of Mew created in a lab.

Next up: the characters who are basically just animals.

Yoshi is sometimes treated like a specific character, but there are hordes of technicolor Yoshis all over the place, many of whom fall tragically into pits. They give birth to eggs all the time, so a Yoshi is technically Yoshi's mom, unless of course you want to count Mama Luigi.

Likewise, Pikachu and Jigglypuff are species of pokémon capable of breeding and producing more of themselves as offspring. Due to the way egg groups work, any pokémon in the Field or Fairy egg groups is capable of being Pikachu or Jigglypuff's mom, respectively. Who's to say Pikachu's mom is not a Dunsparce? No one, that's who.

Notably, Pichu is the only one of these who cannot just continue to be in the game as its own mom. Baby pokémon cannot breed- so Pichu's mom could be in the game, but not Pichu itself.

It is time for legit mom-havers.

First, the Mario Brothers. It's a bit of a tricky situation, but... yes, they have a mom. The only appearance she ever makes in the games is in SMW2, Yoshi's Island, as presumably one of two pairs of hands:

Mama Mario does technically make an appearance in the Illumination movie, but for the purposes of this exercise we are not going to acknowledge that thing. Instead, we can go by the Super Mario Bros. Super Show, wherein she makes several appearances, played by Captain Lou Albano:

So that's definitely fair game.

Again diving into the Super Show well, Bowser has a mother- and she even shows up in at least one game! It's Mario's Time Machine, but I'll count it.

I'm sure she's very proud of her son. Much like Mama Mario, her moveset is probably pretty similar to that of her progeny.

Ganondorf is a bit of an edge case- his biological mother is never mentioned by name, and may or may not appear in-game. He was given up to and adopted by a pair of surrogate mothers:

Now, these two could be a duo character like the Ice Climbers, but luckily these two diminutive women with fire and ice themed powers with gems embedded in their bodies can magically fuse into a single very tall person, named Garnet:

Uh- wait, no, sorry, my mistake- named Twinrova:

Fox McCloud does have a mother with a name and confirmed appearance, very technically:

Vixy Reinard (presumably later McCloud, unless the leader of Star Fox was scandalously born out of wedlock or if she kept her name after marriage) was killed by Andross with a freaking car bomb, but presumably if she hadn't taken her husband's car to work that day she'd be just as proficient with a blaster and/or Arwing as her son.

Ness has a mom! She makes steak! And screw you if you don't like it, Pokey. She knows her way around a tenderizer! She has no need for psychic powers- she is going to beat the absolute stuffing out of everyone. And you might think, well, technically she doesn't have a name--

--the whole dang game is named after her, you fools!

Samus's mom, Virginia Aran, does technically have a name and face and appears in the games! She doesn't do a whole lot besides getting murdered by Ridley, which her daughter demonstrably does not do very often, so an argument could be made that the Metroid franchise has better options for mother representation. Mother Brain actually kind of is a mother figure to Samus in the manga backstory- and if you're willing to go along with Team Ninja's character assassination in Other M, Samus herself is kind of already a mom.

Now, Princess Zelda from Ocarina of Time doesn't have a mom, and in fact the only other viable moms among all Zeldas are the unnamed and unseen Queen of Hyrule in Breath of the Wild, and...

...this portrait of a woman seen on Tetra's pirate ship in Wind Waker. It's a sort of obvious implication, but there's technically nothing confirming it and she's never given a name.

That said, most Zeldas do in fact have an in-game mother figure, whose exact relationship to her varies but is usually explicitly Zelda's guardian and caretaker. Impa is a strong candidate for this game's roster, and depending on how you define your terms you could say she's Sheik's mom, too.

Marth has a mom. Her name is Liza, she's the queen of Altea, and she has no particular traits and gets killed offscreen by the badguy for fridge motivation reasons. Probably the most perfunctory appearance on this roster, but she does technically meet the requirements.

Roy is an interesting case. We know he has a mom, and we technically know her name and appearance, but we don't know who specifically she is. Eliwood, his dad, has three A-rank supports with women in the prequel/sequel Blazing Sword- with Lyn, Ninian, and Fiora.

Eliwood likes blue hair, apparently. Can't knock him for that. Apparently all three of these moms are potentially canon, but by far the most likely option (being sort of the central romance and Eliwood's main motivation for the latter half of the game) is Ninian. That said, we do have to consider this is a fighting game- Ninian is a noncombat dancer unit, and while we could hypothetically teach her some kung fu or let her do some Corrin-style partial dragon transformation attacks she never exhibits in-game, the others might make a little more sense. Lyn is an assist trophy already, so maybe Fiora is the best choice? A pegasus knight would be fun to play, probably. I dunno. Make up your mind, Eliwood!

(The Super Smash Mothers Ultibrate roster is out of the scope of this post, but would likely run into numerous complications of this nature:

The Roy situation would of course repeat itself due to Lucina's Schrodinger's parentage situation.

Diddy Kong also presents issues, as he may or may not actually be the nephew of Donkey Kong, whose sister is never shown and might not exist.

Which Piranha Plant had bone in it?

Bernadette Hedgehog apparently only existed in something called the "Pre-Super Genesis Wave Timeline", which was erased from existence (presumably by some sort of Super Genesis Wave, judging by the name), and the less I know about that, the better.

Bowser Jr. is in Ultimate, and the academic debate over his parentage could fill more than triple the length of this post alone.

The only thing I think we can definitely agree on is that 5-Volt, despite not being Wario's mom, needs to be on the roster somehow.)

Super Smash Mothers Brelee

[accirax]

New Evidence Regarding DRDT's Chapter 2 Killer?

Hello again, everybody! As I continue on my journey of rewatching DRDT via stream, I continue to pick up on more and different things than I noticed the first time. The subject of this theory post is the letter, signed by Eden (even if it wasn't necessarily written by her), that she, Rose, and Whit put together before the second Class Trial began-- I want to take another look at it.

(CW for Despair Time spoilers through 2-10 and mentions of suicide as described in Arturo's secret)

This note is a highly important piece of evidence, and I would expect that anyone invested in trying to solve the case is pretty familiar with its contents. However, I want to highlight exactly what the killer had to know in order to put this note together.

There is someone in the cast who has a motive secret that someone was "responsible for the death of [his/her] sister."

Eden was the recipient of this person's secret.

Eden didn't mean to tell this person, but it slipped out.

This person threatened to do something to Eden.

Arei promised to be Eden's friend.

Like I said, shouldn't be too much of a shock to any of you. However, what I really want to draw attention to is the first bullet point: someone is responsible for the death of his or her sister.

Why am I drawing attention to it? Because the last time Eden or Arturo says anything even close to a family member dying is here... (11:31)

...before Arei arrives. (12:44)

(The last time anyone actually says "sister" is Eden at 11:13.)

But, why is the time of Arei's arrival such an important distinction?

The thing is, most killer theories I've seen for anyone other than Eden or Arturo account for the killer being able to write this note by listening in to the conversation through the door. What I'm trying to say is that there's a contradiction there that I, at least, didn't notice until just now:

If the killer, listening in through the door had to know that the secret Eden received was about Arturo being responsible for the death of his sister, they had to be listening in before Arei arrived, because that is the only time in which Arturo's secret is discussed in enough detail to mention a family member dying. However, when Arei arrived, she had to walk right past and through the door.

This is what the door to the outside of the Infirmary looks like. There is no way in hell that Arei wouldn't have been able to see anyone who was walking by or listening in while she was doing the exact same.

So, what would this mean? Well, it would mean that only Arturo, Eden, and possibly Arei (depending on when she got into earshot of the door) knew enough about Arturo's motive secret before the murder to include all of those details in the note.

Or, at least, that's the boldest version of the claim. However, there are some counterarguments.

The first is that other people could have known if Arturo, Eden, or possibly Arei told somebody else about what happened and mentioned the detail about Arturo's secret. However, I don't believe that any of the three of them would have done that.

Arturo very clearly did not want his secret to get out, and seemingly didn't even want to believe that the death was his fault in the first place. Threatening Eden and making an enemy of Arei also make him look really bad. Both factors combined make it very unlikely that Arturo would want to tell anyone that this happened.

Eden also didn't want to tell anyone about what happened because she was afraid of Arturo finding out, as is clear in the Class Trial. Additionally, if she did want to tell someone so that they could help protect her from Arturo, it probably would have just been Arei. Thus, the information wouldn't have spread any farther than just Arei again.

Arei is definitely the iffiest option, but I still find it hard to believe that she would have told anyone about this occurrence. Firstly, it's already debatable whether Arei heard the specifics of Arturo's secret in the first place. Secondly, Arei probably would have had respect for her new friend and not wanted to share this traumatic event and put Eden in danger. I guess it's possible that Arei could have tried to tell someone about what happened to try to rally a larger movement against Arturo, and then that single person turned around and decided to kill Arei (thus leaving no innocent person who would want to bring up that Arei talked to them in the Class Trial). But, that's... a bit of a stretch. Plus, even if Arei did that, why include the specific details of what Arturo's secret was about?

The second option is that the killer could have planted some kind of bug or other listening device into the Infirmary so that they could overhear the conversation from afar. However, given that we have been given literally no advanced warning that a device like this can even be obtained within the set, much less that anyone actually used one in that location, I'm tossing this objection out, too.

And no, I don't think J's remote could have accomplished something like that, either. Not without an actual listening device already in the room.

The final possibility that I've thought of is that someone could have overheard the conversation from somewhere other than the doorway, which holds a lot more weight. Let's take a look at what's around the Infirmary.

Based on the map, I think the only places that are possibly close enough to the door of the Infirmary are the doors of the Cafeteria or Bathroom (Wash Closet; WC). Recall that, given the private nature of the conversation and that Arei is shown pushing the doors open in the CG, the doors were probably closed. Thus, anyone listening in would have needed to hear the conversation from behind at least one set of closed doors.

Let's start by quickly ruling out the Bathroom. I'm operating on the assumption that, if you can hear something going on in the Infirmary from where you are, people in the Infirmary could hear what's going on in that location, too. If people could hear what's going on in the Bathroom all the way from the Infirmary... Well, that's some pretty shitty architectural design, pun intended.

The Cafeteria is a viable location, though. In fact, we've already confirmed that you can overhear a conversation going on in the Cafeteria from the Infirmary.

So, using the same logic I described earlier, if Teruko could hear something in the Cafeteria from the Infirmary, it stands to reason that you could hear something in the Infirmary from the Cafeteria.

However, this argument still has its issues as well. The thing that Teruko (and Xander) overhear in this scene is, funnily enough, Arei arguing with Eden over not being invited to bake with her. It is described in multiple lines as a very loud event.

While I don't deny that a panicked Eden, a shaken Arturo, and an infuriated Arei could have been quite loud, all of those things, once again, happened after the last time that Eden or Arturo said anything about a dead family member. It's impossible to tell for sure given that the prior part of the conversation isn't fully voice acted, but it's implied that everything Eden says about Arturo's secret is in a regular, or possibly even hushed, tone of voice. If someone only started listening in after things got loud, they would not have heard about Arturo's secret in detail.

Additionally, there are the logistics of who would be sitting in the Cafeteria. Given that nobody else has stepped forward and shared that they overheard this conversation as well (even under potential penalty of death), it seems reasonable to assume that no innocent student overheard what happened in the Infirmary. Therefore, conversely, if any student(s) did overhear the conversation, they were probably involved in the murder somehow. I'm sure you could argue some fringe cases, but this is the general rule.

Unfortunately for this argument, though, the majority of scenes in the Cafeteria have many people present in them, whether due to partaking in a meal or a fight. Overall, that makes it unlikely that someone would be in the Cafeteria by themselves or with only one or two other people. That's not always the case, though, so we can't rule out only a few people being in the Cafeteria!

Can we try to further pin down the time period when this confrontation occurs to try to figure out who could or could not have been in the Cafeteria?

Eden tells us that this confrontation happened on "the day Nico tried to kill Ace" and "the day that Arei and [Eden] had a falling out," which, by my notes, is Day 6. Arturo never challenges this notion, and it also lines up with Eden being afraid that someone is following her on the night of Day 6, so I think that this is true. The canonical events that Teruko takes part in during Day 6 are:

Teruko plays with cacti and gets caught by Eden

J and Arturo, Nico and Ace, and Arei and MonoTV fight

Charles' secret is revealed

Eden tries to host a clock decorating event

Arei has her breakdown and David comforts her

Teruko confronts Rose about her secret

Nico threatens to kill Ace

Nico's secret is revealed and Hu and David comfort them

J drags Teruko into a closet to get away from Arturo

Teruko runs into Eden in the Dress Up Room

Ace is nearly murdered and tries to confront Nico afterward

The events highlighted in green are the only ones of the day that none of Arturo, Eden, or Arei are in. Given that all of them were present for the confrontation, it could not have happened simulataneously with any of the other events.

If the confrontation occurred while Teruko discussed Rose's secret with her (and Nico was there), the killer could really be anyone other than Teruko, Rose, or Nico. Anyone who we didn't have eyes on theoretically could have been in the Cafeteria at that time.

If the confrontation took place while Nico was threatening to kill Ace, however, I doubt that anyone would have been able to listen in on the Infirmary conversation over that cacophony. Therefore, for the sake of someone listening in, that option should also be eliminated. If it took place while Hu and David were comforting Nico, things would look bad for Levi and Rose, as they were both still in the Cafeteria after Teruko left. I know what I said about multiple students in the Cafeteria probably all needing to be collaborators in the murder, but if it was Levi and an asleep Rose, perhaps Levi could have gotten away with eavesdropping by himself?

Despite all of that, though, I think that Arturo's relatively calm and normal (for him) demeanor during the closet scene would speak to the notion that he hadn't just heard that Eden knew about his sister's suicide. Therefore, I believe that the confrontation likely occurred between Teruko's two trips to the Dress Up Room, when she "spent the rest of the day in her room resting." That would line up both with Arturo's claim that he was just "in the middle of something with Julia" (Teruko saw them together just beforehand), give Arei more time to cool down and reflect after her big afternoon, and put the time of the confrontation very close to when Eden is worried about someone following her. (Although, it does give Arturo less time to have "been following" her, assuming that comment was about him.)

That would also give pretty much anyone the chance to have been in the Cafeteria, because Teruko wasn't with anyone at that time. However, it may have been during a pretty dinner-y time, which decreases the odds that anyone would have been in the Cafeteria alone or nearly-alone.

If all that wasn't enough, here's one final wrinkle: whoever witnessed all of this happening would have overheard Arturo threatening Eden and decided not to get involved themselves. It's not a total nail in the coffin, given that I would assume most theories in which the killer overheard the conversation require them to have not attempted to help Eden for one reason or another. But, it is something to consider. Personally, I have a particularly hard time believing that J, #1 Arturo Hater, and Levi, adventurer on the quest of being a good person in the same vein as Eden, wouldn't have tried to stop what was going on if they'd heard.

So, in summary, if the person who wrote the note is not Arturo, Eden, Arei, or someone working very closely with them, they have to be someone who was in the Cafeteria probably alone at the time of the confrontation (assuming Eden's words were even loud enough to be overheard from across the hallway through probably closed metal doors), who decided not to step in to save Eden.

What does that mean? Well, I think that it means that it's very likely that Arturo or Eden is the killer, because having all of those dubiously possible clauses happen to fire off all at once seems implausible to me. But, I already thought that Eden was the killer, so it may just be confirmation bias. Otherwise, since we can't pin down the exact time of the confrontation, I don't think it actually helps us to fully eliminate anyone from the running-- other than, arguably, Teruko. I do urge everyone who thinks that someone other than Eden or Arturo is the culprit to consider this data when coming up with their theories, though.

However, I will end this on the note that all of this deductive reasoning is... incredibly nitpicky. At the end of the day, the crew behind DRDT is very small, and I would understand if the exact details of where and when what parts of Arturo's secret were said or what exactly the Infirmary door looked like were things that they didn't take into account when planning out the murder.

I've seen some critics say about recent YouTube indie animation shows that the long hiatuses between episodes give the shows an unfair disadvantage. That's because the long gaps allow fans to scrutinize every detail of the worldbuilding and characterization and find their holes for far longer than a network television show would between episodes. While DRDT is not exactly one of these indie animation pilots, it is a YouTube show created by a small team of independent creators. I can only imagine that they may be facing the same thing with having to take a break mid-trial. If that's the case, and what I've presented here contradicts what actually happened in Chapter 2, know that I don’t hold it against DRDTdev at all, and don’t think you should, either. I would apologize for pointing out this “mistake,” if you can even call something this minor that.

However, I also think that all of this might be possible, perhaps even on a coincidental/subconscious level, because Eden or Arturo is the killer, and DRDTdev didn't think too much about the logistics of how someone else would overhear the conversation. So for now, I'm considering all of this logic as reasonable theorywork.

If you have any rebuttals though, whether about a specific character or the premise in general, I'd love to hear them! Or, if I missed some detail in the story in general that blows this theory to smithereens entirely, I wouldn't love to hear that, but it would probably be good if I did.

Otherwise, thank you for reading, and have a lovely rest of your day! :D

[worldsokayestdragon]

GreedxLing Week Day 5: Regrets

Read here on AO3

Greed wasn’t the type of guy who had many regrets. He went for what he wanted when he wanted it, and he didn’t waste time moping over what might have been. 

Oh sure, some things stuck with him, (Like blood swirling through dirty water, limbs floating by as he failed again and again to strike a single blow against the bastard who’d done that. Like blood on his own hands and a small body crumpled on the floor of the nightmarish tunnel he’d been told to guard, a face that became familiar too late stuck forever in an expression of betrayal.) but for the most part he let any regret he might feel go as he focused on his next big plan.

Even now that he was dying for good when he should have had a few more centuries of life in him, Greed didn’t have any regrets. It had been less than five minutes since he’d found out he’d been deluding himself about what he wanted for his entire existence, but he’d always been quick to adapt.

He’d found his way to what he’d truly desired regardless.

Ed was a good friend. That was why so many people cared about him. And it was obvious he cared about Greed, even if Greed never got around to telling him he felt the same way.

He hadn’t thought that Lan Fan girl liked him at all, but now she was looking up at him with hurt in her eyes, like she really cared that he was dying before they could get to know each other better. She was tough as nails, that one, and the most loyal person he’d ever met. It was a pleasant surprise that she had any positive feeling for him at all.

And, of course, there was Ling.

Ling was…everything. 

Everything a guy like Greed could hope for and more. 

Kind enough to want power not for himself but to help his people, and selfish enough to refuse to trade any of those people to get it. Smart and calculating, ruthless when necessary but never needlessly cruel, fucking deadly with a blade. 

Not to mention perceptive enough to see through Greed’s bullshit, with all the patience needed to ease Greed into seeing through it himself. Greed probably never would have recognized that what he truly wanted was friendship–much less admitted to it–without Ling’s influence.

Ling was the best friend Greed had ever had.

Leaving him hurt. Lying to him hadn’t felt too great either. 

But it was the only way to keep his father from killing Ling too, so Greed didn’t regret that either. He was far too greedy to let someone kill his best friend.

No, Greed didn’t have any regrets as he looked down, taking in the sight of his friends one last time. It really had been enough.

Ling looked away from Greed, which was a little disappointing. From his vantage point, drifting away above the battlefield, Greed could just barely hear Ling say Lan Fan’s name.

The girl nodded once, a determined look on her face, and then…threw something at Greed? 

Rude! No respect for the soon-to-be dead.

Whatever it was seemed to warp in shape as it sailed through the air, its arc unerringly bringing it right between Greed’s eyes. It was bright red.

Greed realized that it must be the philosopher’s stone Lan Fan had found right before it hit him.

The untethered, floating sensation that had been carrying Greed out of this lifetime disappeared, and he felt he’d been swimming in a giant tub when the plug was pulled, carried down and down by an irresistible current. 

The sky and the battlefield and his friends all disappeared, and Greed found himself once again suspended in a familiar, red-tinged void. The screaming around him was as loud as it had ever been–something you got used to and stopped hearing unless something reminded you to listen after a while–but Greed could tell that it was different than before. New voices from a new stone.

(Greed wondered if he could talk to all of these souls, get to know them like Ed’s dad had done for the ones in him, or if you needed to start that right after the stone was made so people didn’t have time to lose their sense of self.)

Something shifted again, and Greed found himself looking across the void of souls and into Ling’s face. Just like old times.

Ling didn’t struggle to find his footing this time, body and mind already accustomed to sharing this space with Greed. After barely a second to reorient himself to the new stone, Ling’s eyes locked onto Greed and he surged forward.

And punched Greed in the face. 

Once again, rude! Everyone was attacking him today, and he didn’t even have his ultimate shield in here to protect himself.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You idiot,” Ling snarled, winding back to punch Greed again.

Greed was ready this time, and projected an arm for himself to catch Ling’s hand. Ling reached to hit him with the other hand, and Greed caught that too. Ling struggled to keep swinging at Greed, but the homunculus didn’t let him go.

“Why am I an idiot? I just saved the day, ya know.” This really was not the reaction Greed was anticipating for his noble sacrifice.  

“You were only thinking about yourself!”

“That’s kind of my whole deal, Ling.”

“No it isn’t,” Ling insisted. “You know it isn’t. And you lied to me! You promised we’d rule Xing together and then you left me.”

Ling was crying.

Ling was sobbing, and he’d stopped trying to pull away from Greed’s hands, clinging to them instead.

“You left me,” Ling repeated. “I was all alone. I don’t want to be alone like that again. It doesn’t matter if Lan Fan had a philosopher’s stone, I need you.” 

All the regret Greed hadn’t felt as he was dying slammed into him now. 

He hadn’t meant to upset Ling. He’d never wanted to make Ling cry. He’d been trying to protect him, to save him.

Regret and guilt churned uncomfortably inside of Greed.

Hesitantly he pulled Ling toward him and into a hug. Or as close to a hug as two soul projections–one human shaped and the other mostly a floating face–could have.

Ling went easily, wrapping his arms around Greed so tightly it might have been a problem if Greed needed to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” Greed murmured, the sound nearly lost to the cacophony around them. “It was the only thing I could think of to keep you safe. Father was going to kill you, too.”

“We could have fought him together,” Ling argued. “We should have fought him together.”

They really shouldn’t have–they would have both ended up dead–but Greed didn’t say that. Instead he just rubbed a hand over Ling’s back in a way he hoped was soothing.

“Please don’t leave me again.” Ling whispered.

“Never.” Greed wrapped his arms even tighter around Ling. “I’ll never leave you again if I have any choice about it. I promise.” 

He hoped Ling believed him, but he couldn’t be sure how much trust he’d damaged with his one and only lie.

Ling pulled back, and Greed reluctantly let him go. 

He didn’t go far, just putting enough space between them to look into Greed’s face. 

Before leaning right back in and kissing Greed.

Greed’s mind screeched to halt. This wasn’t something he’d ever expected, and only partly because in this form Greed didn’t have what would traditionally be considered a human mouth.

Ling was amazing. Ling was perfect, really, and he was a prince. He could have anyone in the world, so why the hell was he wasting his time kissing Greed?

Ling pulled back when Greed didn’t respond, too stunned to kiss back. The prince looked embarrassed and a little afraid.

“I’m sorry,” Ling rushed to say. “I should have asked first, or–or not done that at all. I was just–I was so scared when you were gone, and then I was so relieved to have you back, but that’s no excuse. Please forgive me, we can forget that this ever–”

Well, that just wouldn’t do.

Greed took Ling’s face in both his hands and pulled him in for another kiss.

It was better than Greed had ever imagined, and not just because he’d never let himself imagine it. He’d wanted it, of course. Ling was his person, the one he could admit–at least to himself–that he cared about as more than a possession even before he’d realized that he wanted that with the others too. Ling knew Greed better than Greed knew himself, and that went both ways. Of course he wanted Ling to be his in every way.

But people had to want to belong to him, or there wasn’t any point to it. And Greed still wasn’t sure what Ling saw in him.

He definitely saw something. He pulled Greed impossible closer and deepened the kiss.Greed was a bit worried at first about his own sharp teeth, but judging from Ling’s enthusiasm, that wasn’t even a problem.

Eventually they pulled apart again, and this time Ling grinned at Greed.

“Does this mean you still want to come rule Xing with me?”

Greed laughed and tucked a bit of hair behind Ling’s ear as he answered. “Yeah, of course I’ll rule Xing with you. You don’t even have to ask.”

It was no King of the World, but Greed had never truly wanted that anyway. He would gladly rule a country with Ling. He would gladly rule just one clan with Ling.

Greed would happily move to a farm and rule nothing but a bunch of chickens if Ling asked him to.

He knew the hurt was still there from his lie, from his near death. He could feel it in the way Ling clung to him, afraid he’d disappear if he let go for a moment. 

Greed would spend the rest of their lives making that up to him. And with the brand new philosopher’s stone within them, he would have plenty of time to do it.

[nostalgia-tblr]

i nearly anon'd the thorki non-con fic out of SHAME but in two weeks it's become my third most clicked-on fic of the year, behind only a multichapter fic and a bit of angsty sifki porn lololol

[icewindandboringhorror]

finally finished all of one character's entire quests/optional dialogue/questions/etc.... 100,000 words... .... aughhh

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Felt silly, wrote a 1.4 K word short story that I was kinda thinking about writing in the future, on my phone, in the train, then and there