#of course these points only make sense if you already agree with me on many other factors

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: omegaverse, size difference, reader's second gender is omega, so there are mentions of pregnancy, somewhat subjugating omega politics, old-fashioned high-class politics of sorts

♡ prequel to this

♡ GN reader

His eyes are garnet and slim—you can’t make up your mind if they’re judgemental or just assessing. Either would be allowed, of course. The point of the date is for him to decide if you’re sufficient or not.

And yet, you’re the one taking him in. His main is ashen blonde, boyishly spikey and wild—not fine-kempt and slick like you’d pictured. He didn’t have any grey hair either, or stubble, or wrinkles. Though he’s still much bigger and burlier than they are, he can’t be any older than the eldest males back at the institution.

He’s obviously an Alpha, and still, it’s so odd.

“You’re young,” you end up saying.

His nose scrunches. “No younger than you.”

It must have sounded accusatory, even when you only meant to point it out for yourself. You probably ought to have said it silently, inside yourself, and not out loud like you did.

And so you apologize, “I’m sorry, I was—I was just expecting someone older…” You try smiling, but the thought of him actually having been older makes your throat tight, and you swallow thickly instead. “Much older.”

He sighs, looks off to the side instead of at you. His brows tighten—you probably want someone who’s already got a house and a car and a boat on a lake, not to mention a good salary and not the intern pay he’ll be living off of for at least the next year or so. His foot taps beneath the table. You feel it in the floorboards. “You disappointed or somethin’?” he grumbles through grit teeth and a slim frown.

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head, blruting, “No!” You even jump out of your chair, both hands slamming flat on the table, making the napkin-wrapped cutlery clatter within their confines. 

Quickly, but too late, you realize you’re causing a scene. Cheeks burning, you look around before settling down again—you’re not making a very good first impression so far.

You take a breath, confessing, “I mean, I’m happy,” You place your hands in your lap and then start fiddling with them. “This way, we can be together for a long time…” Your voice is breathy as you let out a somewhat apologetic sigh, smiling some. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t dare look up to gauge his expression.

You end up laughing nervously in the silence, feeling the joke arise before you're able to dispel it. “I was afraid I was gonna have to be your nurse soon.”

His foot stops tapping. Then he scoffs.

You perk up again, fumbling over your newest mistake, already apologizing a second time so far, “I’m sorry, that was rude. You’re just not what I was expecting—I’m a little caught off guard, is all.”

He huffs, then grins. “That’s okay. You don’t gotta apologize.”

You both sit in silence after that. You pick your nails more. All the questions you’ve prepared are useless given his age—he doesn’t have an answer to how many kids he wants from you. Probably. It somehow feels strange asking him when he isn’t in his thirties or forties or early fifties.

You look at him in askance. It really is odd.

“You can ask—if you’re curious,” he sanctions.

You really want to, but you’ve made enough mistakes already. Your teachers wouldn’t be proud if they witnessed you acting so childish and not as the proper little lady they’ve trained you to be. 

“No, I shouldn’t.” You shake your head and look down at your lap.

“Come on, you don’t gotta worry about being rude with me,” he insists.

You bite your lip, feeling fidgety in your chair, peering up at him. “You sure?”

“Hit me.” 

The question leaps from your tongue before you have the mind to regret it. “How can you afford this?”

He leans back in his chair. “I can’t—not yet. My folks are paying.”

You hum—that makes more sense. “They must be nice,” you say.

“They try,” he agrees.

There’s a silence again. You don’t have anything appropriate to ask. You were more prepared to talk when spoken to, to answer his questions about your health and hobbies, all silly things that make you cute and likable, but given he’s your age, none of it seems any interesting. It seems he doesn’t have much to ask, either.

“I was unsure about this,” he declares after a while. “To be honest with you, it was all my mom’s idea. I didn’t ask for it…” With a pause, he picks up the menu that had been lying undisturbed in wait for his decision. “But, she tends to be right about most things. So, I think I’ll take the offer this once.”

He lets you decide without ordering for you. Neither of you decide to drink, even though you’re both old enough. The conversation is awkward, but you giggle a couple of times and he smirks in turn. You hadn’t anticipated it—this feeling. You’d anticipated the nerves and the tension—but not this other thing, this sweet fluttering feeling blossoming in your belly, flirty and fizzy. Is this what they call butterflies?

He’s left asking himself the same question.

♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[black00olive]

With you, always (unfortunately)

A/N: Reader can be interpreted as any gender

Pairing: Lucifer x reader

Wordcount: ~1,300 (very lightly proof-read)

Summary: It was Lucifer’s turn to cook dinner but student council work had forced the two of you to stay back late. So, instead you propose the idea of buying some takeout on your way home for everyone. As always with your wonderful ideas, Lucifer agrees and the two of you head to Hell's Kitchen. However, as he opens his wallet to pay for our giant order (the curse that comes with living with the Avatar of Gluttony) something catches your attention— rather a photo tucked safely into a clear slot of his wallet. A photo of you. There's no way you're not going to take this opportunity to tease the hell out of him. Or, Lucifer keeps a photo of you in his wallet and quickly grows very embarrassed when you point it out. In public, as well.

The unfortunate side effect of becoming part of the student council is days like these. Granted, you had willingly agreed to stay after with Lucifer at RAD to finish up some of the work for the upcoming event (which event was it now again? Diavolo holds so many you can barely keep track of them anymore) but that wouldn’t stop you from complaining a little. In your mind of course. You gather the papers Lucifer had finished going over and put them in their respective folders. Silence fills the room as the two of you harmoniously work to at least make a little dent in the giant pile of paperwork. Why do these events always result in so much paperwork?

As if Lucifer could sense all the complaining you were doing in your mind he speaks up: “Let us wrap it up here.” Shock is the primary emotion that takes over once you process his words— glee being the secondary emotion. Lucifer, workaholic, Morningstar is willingly not working on the paperwork until you force him to stop? You glance at the pile of paperwork that had just barely changed in size since you had started then turn your gaze back at him.

“I can tell you’re growing tired with all of the paperwork, soon enough you would start whining about it out loud,” he sighs as you send him a glare, a little offended at how accurate he was. “And furthermore, I am incharge of dinner tonight. We’ve already stayed out far too long for me to make a proper dinner, we stay out any later and we might end up with Beel destroying the house again.” You accept that, you had wanted to head home as soon as possible anyway. Lucifer straightens out his uniform as you subconsciously end up doing the same, not missing the small smirk that forms at his lips once he notices.

“Hey, let’s just buy some takeout on our way home. I’ll be quicker and the sooner we get Beel food the better, y’know?” You suggest, Beel isn’t the only reason you suggested it though. You can tell Lucifer is quite tired himself and cooking for what could basically count as 16 people is something that takes a lot of energy. However, if you were to point that out he would glare at you, claim that he’s the furthest thing from tired, and stubbornly cook a dinner for 32 people instead.

“Alright,” he nods, “you’re right that the sooner we get food to Beel the better. So, I suppose we can have takeout today. Let us pass by Hell’s Kitchen then.”

We enter Hell’s Kitchen as servers rush past. No surprise, they are a very popular restaurant. You follow as Lucifer heads up to the register. Effortlessly he starts listing his and each of his brothers’ favourite orders, Beel’s order taking about twice as long as all of the brothers’ orders combined. The worker’s face grows paler and paler as Lucifer continues without pause. Once he finally finishes he turns towards you and you say your order. The poor worker hesitantly repeats our order back to us and Lucifer nods as he pulls out his wallet. Mammon must have been rubbing off on you too much as your attention instantly strays to the wallet as you look at everything he keeps in there. Several different credit cards— Goldie included—, some receipts, and a couple of membership cards for different services’. That’s all to be expected in the wallet of someone like Lucifer, but what really catches your attention this time is a photo. Tucked safely into one of the flaps of the wallet that has a clear side.

What catches your attention even more is the fact that the photo is of you. Just you. It would have made sense if it was a family photo, with you and his brothers, but nope. You feel a smirk pull at the corner of your lips at the same time you feel your heart melt a little at the prospect that Lucifer had wanted to keep you with him at all times. Your urge to tease him about it was just as strong as your urge to coo at him. Satisfyingly, both would be equally as embarrassing to Lucifer.

Lucifer puts his wallet away after he finishes paying and the two of you go to stand further away as you wait for the unfortunate workers to finish your order. You have enough self-restraint to not point it out right in front of the worker and wait until you are at least a little more obscure from all of the other guests when you point it out. “It’s really cute of you to keep a picture of me in your wallet, Luci.” Of course, being a little more obscure didn’t mean that demons weren’t keenly paying attention to the two of you (when you’re out attention tends to always be on you anyway), both the curse and blessing of being a part of the Student Council. A blessing in this case as Lucifer knows just as well as you that the demons are desperate for anything they could gossip about, and in your opinion “Lord Lucifer keeps a picture of the newest Student Council Officer, the former human exchange student, in his wallet at all times?!” is a great header for the tabloids.

Lucifer glares at you, probably both for pointing out the picture and for using that nickname out in public, as he scoffs. “I do not keep a photo of you in my wallet, we must get your eyes checked soon. Humans shouldn’t be seeing things that are not there.” You roll your eyes at his response, you know very well what you saw and he wasn’t going to make you seem insane. As quickly as possible with your human body you grab onto his uniform and reach for his pocket where he kept his wallet. Lucifer is faster though, not super shocking news, and grabs onto your wrist. It doesn’t hurt, you note as you try to free yourself, but you really aren’t given any wiggle room here.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He sighs as you try to get your wrist out of his hold again, to no avail.

“I was going to grab your wallet,” you say as nonchalantly as if you were talking to him about the weather, “I mean, if I was really seeing things you should be okay with me checking your wallet, right?” A deep scowl starts to form on his face as you continue to press him with a face full of mock shock. “Unless…” You gasp. “You were lying to me, Luci? Don’t tell me you were trying to gaslight me! Really, what am I supposed to do with you? There’s no need to be ashamed of keeping a picture of me in your wallet. Really, I support it, I know you can be pretty desperate and clingy so this way you can still keep me with you at all times,” you tease him.

Lucifer’s scowl deepens even more— you didn’t know how that was possible— as he practically sends you a death glare. You’re sure that if you had been anyone else you would have withered away on the spot, but you’re not anyone else and you can tell he’s just trying to hide how flustered he is. “You humans always spout such inane things,” is all he says as he lets go of your hand. You carefully note how he hadn’t really disagreed with what you had said. Of course he wouldn’t, you both know nothing you had said had been nothing but the truth. You also manage to catch how the tips of his ears are bright red before he quickly walks to the pick-up area.

“Our order isn’t ready yet. You know that right, Luci?”

[phantomyre]

It is time... to obsessively hyper analyze Vincent. Come on. You knew it was coming.

So first off, while there isn't a lot to glean per se, there are a few interesting design choices that I'd like to go over. One thing that I was surprised about is the complete lack of round shapes/edges. Vincent looks overall a lot more 'sharp', 'edgy', whatever you want to term it. Take his buckles for example. The round edges have been replaced by sharp edges. Artistically speaking, these design choices are meant to depict the character's personality. For example, if you have a soft character, you use soft colors, soft edges, round shapes, etc. If you want a more harsh character, you give them dark or vivid colors, lots of squares, triangles, etc. In Vincent's case, they've virtually removed all of the round/soft edges he always used to have. We will delve further into this as we scan down his body *cough*. Edit: Forgot to point out that he has double the spokes on his buckles, so instead of 4 prominent spokes, he now has 8, which is the symbol of Chaos.

Anyways.... speaking of Chaos.

Continuing to analyze his upper body, the most obvious are his eyes (or single eye). It's hard to tell, but judging by the few clips we've seen along with the still images, it looks as though only his left eye is glowing. Nevertheless, he does have the Chaos inner-glow. While he's always had a touch of yellow/orange in his eyes, it looked more like natural eye reflection rather than an actual glow. This is likely the change the dev team hinted at during an earlier interview. His pupils are also notably very small compared to all of the other characters with the exception of Sephiroth's cat-eye slits. Overall, they've made it a point to give Vincent predatory eye(s) this time around, leaning more heavily into the fact that he is no longer fully human. The material that makes up Vincent's cape and headband seem to be of slightly different material, and the colors are even slightly different. His headband looks to be made of a very thin cloth of fine thread. His cloak, though also seemingly thin and light, is only slightly thicker. His cloak looks to be made of either felt or very fine linen which looks to be heavily worn out (of course). Also, Vincent seems to have snake-skin on his gun-wielding arm which I've only seen the Turks and Sephiroth wear. In general, this luxury material seems to only be worn by those connected to Shinra. Thus, it is likely this is meant to coincide with Vincent's past as a Turk. But in terms of his role as Turk, I will get to that a little later.

I think we can all agree that the weapon he is currently wielding is Quicksilver. It would make sense that he would start off with the same weapon he has in OG, though I and many others were surprised he wasn't wielding his most iconic weapon, Cerberus. While it isn't confirmed, and with the inclusion of many DoC elements, this makes me think that we could get an origins story for how Vincent obtained Cerberus in the first place. We are getting an origins story for Sephiroth's Masamune in Ever Crisis, and we already know the Bustersword's origins, so it's not out of the question. (And there are a lot of parallels to be drawn between Cloud, Sephiroth, and Vincent). Side note: I didn't write this in the graph but you can also see Vincent's left eye glowing through his bangs yet again even from such a distance. Natural white room bounce-light wouldn't have this affect on normal eyes. Rebirth Vincent seems to be sporting his OG button-top which is a design that we haven't seen since OG. It too has a little bit of snake-skin accents. A few other not so important changes are the alterations of his buckles, and the fact that it looks to be more obvious that he is wearing a two-piece set instead of a single piece jumper. Makes it much easier to remove, am I right?

Going down to those luscious DoC hips, some belts are shifted around or missing, but then we have the thigh guard which was responsible for giving Vincent that unusually thick hip appearance. However, he is still sporting that gorgeous slutty tiny waist we all love from DoC. Thank you, Squeenix. The armor on his side is an odd choice, though more than likely it is meant to protect those birthing hips from that extra dangerous looking set of claws--- which I would like to remind is also lacking in round edges. Yet again, all of the round shapes/edges have been replaced by sharp ones. Take the knuckles for example. I will miss his AC/DoC claw. It was less of a bitch to draw. The gauntlet looks to serve not only for offense but for defense as well. It is heavily armored for impact, and as we will see going down the rest of his body, heavy protection and sharp edges continue to be a theme for his new Rebirth look.

Once again, we can see how thin and light the material is on his cloak. It is in contrast to his very elaborate and possibly expensive gear/suit. His cloak and headband seem to be the only things that clashes with the rest of his gear in terms of quality and practicality. While there are signs of use on his armor, it pales in comparison to the possible age and wear of his cloak. As a matter of fact, it almost looks like it is about to fall apart... like it was hand-made years ago. Very different from the heavy material we see in AC and DoC. And then of course there are the sabatons/greaves. While I cannot pin-point it, his armor design seems reminiscent of the Ancients/Minerva for some reason. That aside, the heavily layered armor makes it seem like he will be doing a lot more damage with his claw and legs going forward, on top of being heavily protected. The design on his shin reminded me of an army symbol, but that's neither here nor there. ....And I'm so happy they kept his tiny ankles. In general, Vincent's Rebirth design seems to lean into a Vincent that is much more guarded, 'edgy', and ultimately a lot more reserved, albeit self-reliant. We've seen as much in his room where it doesn't appear that he has only been moping in a coffin all these years. What's more---

--He points a gun at Cloud and threatens the group. This did not happen in OG. Vincent appears to be even more distrusting and hostile this time around. This yet again is depicted in how he is dressed in the heavy armor and ample sharp edges.

And what's with a vending machine and protorelic(?) dispenser in his mancave? Vincent boss fight, maybe? Please? Sure seems like Vincent hasn't been lacking anything... But back to Vincent being a lot more distrusting this time.

Unless this is merely for the audience and new FF7 fans who know nothing of his character, this implies that Vincent doesn't divulge his connection to the Turks and instead calls himself "Security" guard. And not only that, it's spoken as if it's current tense. Not past tense. So yet again, if Vincent is indeed avoiding the term Turk and doesn't even tell Cloud and Co that he used to work for Shinra, this adds to the idea that his level of distrust is much higher than before. At this point, it wouldn't surprise me if joins the party much later, even after learning who Cloud's foe is. And since his connection to Sephiroth aka Lucrecia/Hojo is the mystery factor, he may not even divulge this to Cloud and Co when they first meet until much later. Either way, Vincent might actually prove to be a much tougher egg to crack this time around, along with more layers to uncover. (take that last phrase however you'd like)

[thiriann]

The Ascension and the sexual implications of it

We all remember the post from a few weeks ago that circled here. I didn't go through with the Ascension from a purely game sense "this is clearly evil " standpoint. I didn't really understand why it's evil or even more why it's sexual. Some analyses have floated around here and tumblr that mentioned it's because "vampires are a sexy fantasy". Well, yes but you're getting a vampire either way, aren't you?

I didn't manage to connect the dots until I started looking into possible ways for him to walk in the sun. It seems the only reliable one is a “Wish” spell. But that seems to turn the vampire mortal again. Now, that didn't sit right with me. If Ascension was changing him, this was even more of an "I'll fix him" situation. But I thought, would he even agree? He's so power hungry probably giving up on being a vampire would be the last thing he'd agree on. But the more I thought about it, the more it became clear to me that he actually has a strong dislike for being a vampire. If you tell him his reflection is a small price to pay for vampire powers he answers "To you, maybe." He loves seeing the sun again, all the colors. He can't see or remember his eyes, which if we take into literary view, eyes being the windows to the soul we could say it shows his disconnect with his soul, with his humanity. He absolutely hates the hunger urges that come with vampirism, saying they make him pathetic and it's the worst version of himself. And of course, the sexual part. He hasn't actually seen any perks of vampirism, just that it makes you an object of desire, a thing used only for sex. That is the only side of vampirism he has managed to experience and that is what he connects it with.

The point in the story that clearly connects his vampire nature to sexuality is the talk with the blood merchant. She is a drow, her society already views men as slaves good for one thing. But she doesn't ask him for sex, she asks him for a bite yet it's just as sexual. It shows the player that vampires are sex objects yet again. But whatever is left of him, of his soul and humanity is very separated from his vampire form. He doesn't take being a vampire as an identity but separates himself from it, calling it an affliction, or condition. So why push him further into nature that he doesn't accept or enjoy?

At many points he mentions there's almost nothing left of the man he was, whatever little is left of his soul, etc. He believes he doesn't have much to offer, especially after sex is off the table. That is why it's so important to remove sex from your romantic relationship for him. While obviously, it's a time for healing, it's also a time to actually connect to the person behind the vampire. The person he used to be before he became a sex object.

And that is the same if you choose his spawn romance ending. You pick the man he managed to remain despite everything that happened. That's why his post-scene at the grave is basically a rebirth of him, of his humanity. While the romance post-scene of the Ascension is a rebirth of you. You chose to reduce him to a vampire, to an object, and even went as far as to objectify yourself as well by accepting the vampire nature. And ultimately, that's all that's left of him, the vampire. The person he was is gone completely.

I'd just like to add that a lot of people like to bring up that they let the other characters make their own choices but that's a weak point. Shadowheart's choice is very influenced by your choices/approval and let's not forget she would actually kill Lae'zel if you don't get involved, you literally have to choose if you sell Wyll's soul or not, and Lae'zel would kill you if you don't stop her.

Also, there is the argument that he wants this. And for that, I can only guess based on my speculations, that despite all the power hunger brought from whatever feelings, survival, fear, selfishness -until the very last moment he hadn't made up his mind. He even tells you this before you enter Cazador's chamber. He won't know what he'll do before he faces him. His turmoil is obvious. You can tell him this isn't him, not really. And he responds that it should be, he doesn't want to be pathetic.

The choice for the ascension never was his, as it never was for him. He himself saw no way out, just like when he was under Cazador. And the temptation that was obviously present at the idea of being just like Cazador. The choice there was for you.

For the player, whether it'd be as a lover or a friend.Do you want the man or the vampire?

[agentrouka-blog]

What made you first interested in Jonsa? I really want to love Jonsa. Which may sound strange. But hear me out. I’ve read all the metas and from a metatextual level I really agree with and believe in Jonsa. But I have trouble actually enjoying it and I think maybe it’s because so much content seems to focus on Jon pining over Sansa. I’d much prefer to see things from Sansa’s perspective where she sees the hero in him and sees that maybe all the songs aren’t lies after all as opposed to him “winning her over.” I feel I have been inundated my whole life with stories of outcast men pining over beautiful women they see as out of their league and “winning them over” and I honestly find the trope tiring because it’s so male perspective focused and doesn’t give Sansa the agency of choosing her lover, instead, making her something to be won or earned. If you have any suggestions for Jonsa content that focuses heavily on Sansa’s point of view, on her falling for Jon first (or at least falling for each other at the same time without realizing it) I’d love to hear them! And I’d love to hear what makes Jonsa appeal to you on a personal non-meta level!

Hi there!

I too draw a difference between Jonsa as a theory and shipping it for entertainment.

I've drifted quite a bit away from what you describe as "content", which is fanworks, art and fanfiction. My tastes are very narrow and that puts me outside the target audience for a lot of what is being shared by creators. Plus, I get a great deal more personal enjoyment out of just interpreting the canon text. I enjoy what the couple represents in the narrative more than I necessarily enjoy immersing myself in different non-canonical variants.

And there's a lot of variants. You have two similar but also very different canon-sources (books and tv show) and within those two sources very different takes on the couple. For as many "Jon pines for higborn Sansa" approaches you get an equal amount of "Sansa jealously pines for her brother's oblivious best friend" modern au's. What we enjoy in recreational reading is extremely personal and subjective.

That said, for fear of disappointing you, I don't particular enjoy the "Sansa falls first" scenarios because what I like about the couple especially is the idea of Sansa finally being appreciated for who she is. Canon offers us plenty of examples of Sansa extending affection and crushes on other characters. They are never truly reciprocated, and they join in on a theme of Sansa going unappreciated for her qualities by the world around her. She is disregarded, mocked, criticized, belittled, humiliated. So much so that a large part of the fandom considers this to be justified and educational for her. She has given up on being loved for herself, but she will not sacrifice her values as a consequence. So someone falling in love with her is to me a very compelling and cathartic validation of Sansa as a person. Of course, this only works if the person falling for Sansa is actually attractive to her and embodies the things we know she has been looking for all this time. But specifically the idea that Sansa falls first fails my personal taste because it contains a sense of lacking reciprocation that we've already seen multiple times in her story. She's been not-loved-in-return a lot already.

I do enjoy the concept of Jon being loved by Sansa, too, because it validated aspects of him he usually keeps close to his chest. Things that touch on his specific mixed sense of identity as a nobly-raised bastard. He has soft sensibilities, a romantic disposition, pedestrian dreams of family and home, and highly idealistic and emotional ideals surrounding leadership that center on duty and honor. But he is generally not appreciated for those specific things. He is appreciated for his brains and his abilities, his bravery, his pragmatism, his loyalty to his friends and duties - but not for the boy who wants to be Lord of Winterfell with a lady wife and babies, who wants to be a hero from the songs, Florian the Fool, Ryam Redwyne. It's a lovely and very specific recognition of a very private part of Jon, to be loved for his secret soft self.

But it's not my primary focus because unlike Sansa, Jon still receives a lot of validation and love in the source material. It's just not the specific kind he wants. So that makes it comparatively less compelling to me.

That doesn't mean that Sansa primarily falling in love with Jon isn't an equally valid thing to enjoy! It's just that I can't make you any good recommendations on this subject specifically because it's not my specific favorite flavor of jonsa.

I wish you good luck though!

[billskeis]

RAHH could you make a tom kaulitz fluff like how the female reader is younger 2 years so like hes 17 while shes 15 and he helps her with her homework 😅 they ARE together btw :)

2006 tom :)

ᡣ𐭩 tom helping his gf w math

“i’m back!” you turn to look around at tom who enters his bedroom with drinks and snacks. you were currently staying over at his place so he can help you tutor. “hi tom…” you sigh heavily as you stare at the paper beneath you, many questions, but it remained blank.

maths wasn’t your best subject, but phew! could the tom kaulitz do his algebra.

“still struggling?” he sits down on his seat next to you as he leans on the desk with his head resting arms that fold on top of it. “thank you, and yea.. i just—it doesn’t make any sense to me!”

“hey hey, no need to get frustrated,” as you slam softly on the table, somewhat shaking the coca colas in the iced glass cups. “just break it down, okay..? can you do that for me? the way i taught you.”

despite his deviance as a junior, tom does quite well on his academics. which maybe, is why he chooses to prioritize fun over school. he never really required the effort in doing well because he was just naturally born with it.

you on the hand, not so much.

and it wasn’t like this for every subject, luckily. it was just math. whatever you did and no matter the amount of effort you put into it, always ended with you failing. it’s getting tiring and overwhelming at this point.

which is why your math teacher had assigned you tom as a study buddy, a tutor. none of you really fought against this, that being that you were together.

“now y/n, i don’t know if you know mr. kaulitz but he is quite the troublemaker.. don’t want you in the wrong crowd now eh?” your math teacher asked you sternly, to which you could only nod to.

little did he know that this little troublemaker was your boyfriend.

“okay y/n, so just take it from the top.. you do this.. and then,” as tom continued to explain the strategies in solving the equations, all you could do was stare at him.

the way his lips move as he addresses the concepts, how he writes his letters and numbers, the eye contact? you swear you couldn’t focus.

“tom, i can’t do it…” you bring your head down. it upset you. he was going out of his way to help you, even though it was a punishment from the math teacher despite being his best student, you felt as you were being ungrateful and totally useless.

“schatzi, it just takes time.. i don’t expect you to automatically be good at math just from this one night.. we’re just getting started!”

and although he makes the effort to comfort you, it wasn’t helping much. you just lacked the motivation.

shifting, he leans his body toward you, leaning his head down to face yours. his eyes fluttered beneath his lashes. he puts your hands in his as he caresses them softly.

“how about this, you do a question, i’ll give you a reward,” your head perks up in curiosity, “a reward..?” “mmhm! just a small one though, for each question. how about that schatzi?” you contemplated, but anything from tom would be good! so you agreed.

finishing the equation, you place the pencil down to revise your work to ensure that everything was correct. you turn in the office chair a bit to face tom who was already paying attention to you. “all done?” “yep!”

tom’s eyes scan the paper, blinking. you bite your lips in nervousness worrying about if the hard work you’ve done was all for nothing and it ended up being wrong or incorrect, worse, none of it made sense to the point where tom couldn’t even see where you went wrong.

“good job baby!” tom places a kiss on your cheek that leaves you stunned, all you could do was look at him, eyes and mouth wide open, “your reward of course..” “do it again,” “what?” “tommmm, please?” he just giggles and pushes you away softly when you want to kiss him again.

it made you feel all bubbly and fuzzy again, you don’t know what it was.

was it tom’s scent that wafted your way for just a second that made it so addicting for you to get a sense of him close again? was it how soft and gentle his lips were on your cheek that tickled you slightly?

or was it just, tom?

“no baby! finish another question and you can get another one,” ruffling the top of your head to mess up your hair. pouting, you look down. a part of tom feels bad, so he just leans closer to you. little did he know this was all apart of your plan to place a quick peck on his lips once he was caught off guard.

he backed away so quick, face a beet red. he wasn’t the only one who was able to fluster you, “you little..!” “can’t blame me, you wouldn’t give me what i wanted!” “now you’re in for it..” tom tackles you to tickle you onto the ground.

laughter and giggles filled the room, you and tom play fought for some of the night. eventually, the two of you got tired and worked up an appetite, leaving the bedroom completely empty to go eat.

the homework was completely forgotten, but that can wait.

(you guys never got the homework done and both were scolded by the math teacher)

[thelunarfairy]

TYSM FOR ANSWERING MY LAST QUESTION EEEEEEEE

Sorry to be back so soon- but I had another question I was curious about. Again, if this one happens to be stupid you don't have to answer it heh.

But anyways, my question revolves around Hanako's names and how he's referred to. Like, I guess it's hard to consolidate into one specific question, but I've always wondered why Hanako lets Tsukasa call him Amane, and why Tsukasa calls him that. Well, then again, Tsukasa does whatever the hell he wants, but Hanako doesnt correct him either.

Similarly, Tsuchigomori only calls him Number 7, despite knowing his real name. Doesn't even call him Hanako. And that struck me as odd because since he cares so much about him, why keep it so professional? Is he just trying to distance himself? Or did Hanako get angry in the past and pull rank or something, telling Tsuchigomori to refer to him that way?

Nene is a whole nother story. She knows Hanako's name is Amane. You'd think she'd bring it up or call him that, right? Even once? And on top of that, in the fictional world, Hanako used his real name. Like he KNEW Yashiro already knew it too. He had to have known, because otherwise I don't think he'd use his real name if Yashiro didn't know it. Especially since he doesn't want to share his past with her. And to avoid confusing her further in the pp world, bc he wanted her to know it was him- well, alive version of him. Since the whole point he stayed was to see what it was like to be alive with her.

I wonder, if anyone else tried to call him Amane, how would he react? (Outside the pp world of course) Would he get flustered if Nene did it? Would it piss him off or make him uncomfortable? And what would happen if Tsuchigomori referred to him as Yugi again? Ugh so many questions I don't have answers to.

I'm probably reading way too much into this. I know it's likely that Tsukasa refers to him as Hanako because he knew him as Amane, and Tsuchigomori refers to him as Number Seven to be respectful. And Nene calls him Hanako-kun still because, well, "Toilet Bound Hanako-kun". But idk, thought it could be interesting to think about!!

Thanks again for answering my other question btw!! I loved your take on it

hahahahaha yeeeeeeeeeeeeeey!!! happy to see you happy!!!!! XDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD.

Don't worry, don't worry 😉

So, in JSHK we have a meaning for names, not just the literal meaning of the thing, but the sentimental meaning.

If you notice, Hanako is the only one who calls Nene "Yashiro", and she said so herself.

In addition to including the fact that she likes the way he calls her. There is a sentimental meaning here, only he calls her that.

In Hanako's case, Tsukasa never called him that way because Amane is his brother and he always calls him that, maybe because he doesn't see the point in calling him by any other name than his real one or because he doesn't agree with hiding the truth.

Tsukasa has always been very truthful about everything, including about their past. And Tsukasa was willing to tell Nene the whole truth about Amane, so it simply doesn't make sense for him to call his older brother Hanako.

Tsuchigomori apparently made a deal with Amane that he wouldn't talk about absolutely anything about his past to anyone, including his real name.

Tsuchi used to call him Yugi, as a sign of respect, he followed Hanako's wishes, not calling him by his false name, but by the title he now has, leader of the seven.

Hanako wasn't surprised to see that Nene knew his name because Tsukasa called Hanako "Amane" in front of her, so he probably deduced that Nene knew his name because Tsukasa mentioned it several times.

So, he did know that she knew his real name.

He wanted to show Nene his "true" side in the PP arc, even though Nene called him Amane-kun a few times, it's like she doesn't associate that name with the boy she knows.

She wants Hanako, that fun and "happy" Hanako that she lived with for so long, Amane is like a version of him that died, that refers to sadness, that refers to something that she doesn't recognize as the person she likes.

Nene associated the name with the past, she discovered his name when she saw that he was suffering in the past. She was the one who was curious about him, and the first thing she discovered was his name and the short story of how he gave up on his own life.

So, the name Amane has this weight for her.

No matter what reality she is in, or what version of Amane she meets, she will call him Hanako.

I still imagine that this will change at some point, her calling him Amane would be like a symbolic way of saying that she has accepted him completely, that Hanako is Amane, that they are the same person and that she has to understand that there is not only the "happy Hanako" but also the "sad and lonely Amane".

They are both the same person, but ever since she found out about Amane's existence she seems to want to run away from it, so I imagine that's why she always calls him Hanako.

About how he would react if someone else called him that, he would probably try to understand how they found out, but only if it was someone important. He doesn't seem to care much about that.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡 Thank you!!!!! I'm glad you liked it!!!

[yanderes-galore]

Hi Panther,

Transformers ask? May I please make make a romantic yandere request for a oneshot with Yan!Tarn with a Neutral!Bot reader and propmts 2, 30, and 46. I was thinking of the idea in fannon where Deceptacon culture dictates the dominant con claws or bites a nasty wound that scars as a mark as “Mine” usually as a mate.

Sure, I'm not well versed in Transformers fanon as I try to keep it as canon as possible. Yet the concept seems pretty basic so I'll try.

Still relatively new to the comics and I'm not that far so if information is off, that's why.

Energon is depicted as pink in this as the comics usually use this as the color from what I've seen.

Yandere! Tarn Prompts 2, 30, 46

"It's an honor for someone such as me to take you in and love you!"

"Those lasting marks are signs of our love!"

"Even monsters can love, can't they...?"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Marking/Injury, Delusional behavior, Forced relationship, Possessive behavior, Not much plot... mostly just a kidnapping scene/plot, Transformer fanon HCs as a plot point, Mentions of "Mate", Cybertronian/Cybertronian, Bleeding, Vague implication of stalking, Graphic scene (?).

"You'll tire eventually, that's fine, I can wait."

Tarn's calm and patient when pursuing what he wants. Patience is something he's had to learn in his line of work. That and loyalty.

Tarn knew eventually he'd have you in his claws. Honestly, he couldn't wait for it. He had been eying you for a long time as a potential partner for himself.

You're a neutral party... something that can easily be changed once he has you. Part of him originally wanted to take you in to convert you. Now it seems he has... ulterior motives.

Tarn has never considered a Conjunx Endura. He had loyally followed Megatron's teachings and that's where most of his life has gone. Then he saw you... Decepticon potential in his eyes.

That and Conjunx Endura potential.

Even as you run from him in a pitiful display, Tarn indulges in the chase. It's a little game to entertain himself before he claims you. He'll allow you to think you have a choice in the matter.

Oh, naive bot... you never had a choice the moment he picked you.

"You're making this harder than it has to be. Your spark is safe with me. All you need to do is surrender!"

At this point he's taunting you. Tarn is already plotting how to corner you. Each movement he does is calculated, predicting your every move.

Right... until... you're right where he wants you.

Tarn feels excitement swell within him when he finally manages to corner you. He sees you run into a dead end and realize you're trapped. You stare at him with many emotions swimming in your optics.

Tarn sees confusion... fear... and aggression. Fear is the strongest emotion that clouds your vision. Tarn can tell you have a vague sense of who he is.

Pride fills him while he steps closer.

"Game's over, my little Conjunx Endura. I do believe you've worked us both up enough."

Tarn's voice is teasing... while barely concealing a deep hunger within. You stare up at him with more confusion and disgust than fear for a moment. The looks you give him drive him crazy.

Oh... he picked well.

"Now... will you come with me willingly..." Tarn drawls, trapping you between him and the wall.

"Or will I have to get the D.J.D involved?"

Reluctantly, as he expected, you agree to come with him to his base of operations.

To him, that's already a good sign you'll be a behaved partner once he marks you.

---

Sounds of metal on metal echoed through the room. Pain coursed through you and it was all you could even think about. Even with the red eyes glaring down at you in possessive aggression... your mind only thought of the pain.

"I took you in for a reason..." The Decepticon hisses out. You hear your own metal creak as he digs his claws into you. You swore you felt Energon trickle down. "I chose you to be mine... my mate... I think I've waited long enough to mark you."

Tarn then pulls your chin to make you focus on him.

"Haven't I been nice and patient enough with you?"

You shudder against him, trying to break eye contact to see the damage. Tarn doesn't allow you to look and brings your eyes back to him. For a brief moment you see the look in his eyes soften.

"Those lasting marks are signs of our love." Tarn hums, sitting you up. You see him pull his claws out of the wound and catch a glimpse of vibrant pink liquid dribble down them. You feel ill and the pain throbs... you decide not to focus on his claws.

"It's an honor for someone such as me to take you in and love you." Tarn praises you, eying the Energon on his hands. "A mark as deep as this will show every Decepticon I claim you."

"Am I going to die?" You heave.

"I'd never let you." Tarn replies, already preparing to call over Nickel to stop the bleeding. "You'll live... and have a pretty scar to remind everyone of what has happened."

Tarn then leans over you to brush his other hand across the side of your face. His eyes hold what appears to be adoration... but it's wrong. Anyone who really loved you wouldn't gouge a hole into your side so you spilled Energon on the ground.

"After this you're no longer a neutral party... you're a Decepticon." Tarn continues, gaze never leaving you. "I've claimed you, I've marked you, and I plan to brand you when you heal."

Tarn's tone sounds confident and pleased. You narrow your eyes at him and try to push him away. He doesn't budge.

"You're a monster... get away from me...." You hiss. Tarn makes a displeased scoff before leaning away from you. You'd take time to convert.

He'll just have to find more patience it seems....

"Even monsters can love, can't they...?" Tarn muses. "Eventually you'll understand."

Tarn presses his mask to your forehead and you flinch back. It was meant to be a comforting kiss. To you... it's anything but.

"Nickel will nurse you back to health." Tarn tells you, picking you up to transport you. His grasp his tight... Energon still dripping from his claws. As he walks with you, his gaze meets yours again.

"Until you're well rested... I'll be waiting, Conjunx Endura."

[multific]

Small Steps

Vinent de Gramont x Reader

Warnings: Talks about blood and mention of smut at the end

Summary: You and your husband have a conversation about your future.

"I want five." you nearly choked on your food as he said that.

"F-five?!"

"Exactly. Or more." the way he said it with such confidence, made you a little nervous.

"More?! What am I a machine?!" you now regretted bringing up the topic.

"Is five children a lot?" he finally looked up at you, finding your eyes as he looked confused.

"Yes! When you are the one who has to carry them and give birth! Yes, five is a lot."

"I never thought it would be, well, since you brought it up, how many would you want?"

"Two? Maybe three?" you were now nervous to answer him. Sure, you have known him for a long time, married him almost four years ago and you were rather surprised that the topic of children was never truly brought up until today.

"Okay, we could agree on three." he said turning back to his food.

"Okay."

"When?"

"Sorry?"

"When can we start trying? Do you feel ready to be a mom?"

"Oh, I think I am ready. I mean we have been together for almost seven years now, married for four and I didn't even know you wanted children." you looked at him then took a sip from your wine for courage.

"I do want children. I just never wanted to bring up the topic because I didn't want to make you feel like you have to do it for me. With my line of work, you must understand it is difficult but I'm in a much higher position now. I am at a point where I feel like we are ready and no one would hurt you or them. But if you don't feel ready, I understand."

"I will talk with my doctor, stop taking pills and we can go from there. I feel ready to have a baby." you nodded, happy that you two came to a conclusion.

"Small steps, I like that. I will go with you to the doctor."

"I mean I know he reports you every time I'm there, so you would know everything either way." you smiled and he smirked.

"Clever girl."

"I'm also pretty sure the cashier at the convenience store is one of your men."

"Paid him so he would only sell the best stuff for you."

"That explains why he wouldn't sell those bananas for me. He spent five minutes at the back looking for strawberries instead and he made sure they are ripe. It was suspicious."

"You know I just want the best for you."

"I do. And I love you for it." you returned to your pasta as he looked at you still.

"Are we really going to have a baby?" he asked, you sensed in his voice something that he never showed to others, anxiety.

"Yes. We will start trying and see when... it takes." you cringed at your own words but he found it rather amusing, judging by the smile on his face.

"I'll do some research."

"Research?"

"Of course. I never go into something without a plan."

"You don't have to plan for this." you said but you already knew he probably had ten plans ready in his head. Much like when you were engaged. He let you believe that you were the one planning things but he was behind it all from the start.

"But I do, we might need a bigger house and we have to set up their room."

"I'm not even pregnant yet. And I'm on birth control at the moment still! Also bigger house?! We live in a mansion, Vincent. What could be bigger than that?"

"A palace? A castle?" you looked at him, unamused but you could tell he was joking.

"We have twelve bedrooms."

"Then we can have eleven children." he smirked and you wanted to groan but you also found it amusing.

You hoped he was joking, the fire in his eyes did make you take a step back.

"Not my point."

"I was thinking a house which is safer. Not like our current one isn't."

"We have eight houses."

"How many rooms are there? We could fill all with a child."

"Vincent." you giggled but you did mean it as a warning.

"Okay, okay, I was thinking a slightly smaller house. So the baby can be...closer to us."

"Oh, that's sweet. We will look something up, I'm sure we can find a nice safe home."

"How about Versailles?" he suddenly looked at you, pleased with his idea.

"Y-You are NOT buying the Palace of Versailles! Also, it would be so obvious! Everyone knows where it is."

"That's the beauty in it! It's so obvious that it isn't."

"Vincent, please can we just focus on the doctor and my pills first?"

"Small steps." he nodded and soon you were having dessert.

You looked at him as he was eating his cake, he looked so calm and so incredibly handsome.

His eyes caught yours as he noticed you staring. He had a questioning look.

"Maybe... maybe five isn't that many after all. If they all look like you."

"I had the exact same thought. I was watching you at our wedding, dancing with your friends, you looked so stunning. That's when I decided that I would want as many children with you as you would like. Even if you didn't want children, I would have been okay with that." you smiled at his sweet words as his hand reached out and you gave him yours immediately.

"You sound like a love-sick teenager."

"More like a poet, you are my muse."

"Your art is death, Vincent."

"Indeed. And you would look stunning covered in blood." you smirked as you watched his eyes change. His gaze became more predatory, it excited you.

"I think we should go home." he nodded.

Maybe you were supposed to take things slow. Maybe you were supposed to take it step by step.

But as his gaze turned darker by the second all you could think about was him filling you up and whispering the dirtiest things into your ear.

Small steps can wait.

More Vincent

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06 @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  

Vincent Taglist: @l4venderia​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[otogariado]

mentioning LOST's church ending got me riled up about the racism in LOST again lol. i obviously am aware that some actors just did not return to production for possibly other reasons, but also especially in the case of harrold perrineau (michael dawson) he felt like his character (and walt, his son) was treated like shit by the writing. and he was absolutely right. i've already made posts about this (will try to dig them up later), but michael was treated absolutely bullshit and unfairly wrt the story. michael betrayed them and killed two people, yes, but what did he do it for but to protect his son? he felt like nobody gave enough fucks about walt and there was some truth to that claim. his whole character arc is about being a dad to walt and their improving relationship over the course of being stuck on the island, so of course he would do that. it just makes sense.

which is why i don't think it's all that fair to punish him for it immensely in the narrative. harrold perrineau said it himself that he didn't want michael and walt to be another case of the absent black father stereotype [citation needed, i'll look for it but he said it in an interview] yet that's what he ended up being anyway. after his and walt's escape from the island, apparently walt cast him away because he doesn't agree with what his father did—which i actually think its interesting to explore: walt disagreeing with michael's actions and trying to grapple with it, but i don't think separating him from his dad was the best writing choice to make. walt is being punished for caring about his son by making his son be the one to cast him away. you can argue it's supposed to be tragic, michael is supposed to be a tragic character, but with the context surrounding michael's character? there's better ways to make his character be tragic than this.

which brings me to his next punishment. i was happy to see michael again on the kahana (just happy to see him in general), but it didn't last long when he gets killed, sacrificing himself to prevent/prolong the kahana's explosion from happening. (put a 📌 on this bc it's similar to how sayid dies and we'll come back to that later.) michael dies here and walt doesn't know about this. and then michael joins as part of the whispers, his soul trapped on the island (presumably forever) and that's why he's not in the church ending.

i'm gonna be frank. michael being trapped on the island because of his guilt or remorse or perhaps repenting for his sins is just bullshit to me. a lot of characters seen in the flash sideways and in the church ending are characters who've done "bad things". it's bullshit to have michael be the only one doomed to pay for his misdeeds forever. his misdeeds for... killing two people. not that killing two people is Nothing, but moreso if you examine the circumstances it's hardly anything to be damned eternally for.

remember the 📌 we had wrt sayid and michael? both of them died trying to prevent an explosion from reaching everybody else. which makes this more egregious imo. i can say 1000 things about sayid's arc (points to url), but this is about michael and not him, so i'll just focus on this: sayid was grappling with "being a bad person" for torturing and killing so many people. he worked as an assassin for ben. and yet, somehow, you're telling me sayid is not being damned eternally for his misdeeds but michael is? if you don't see the BS in that i don't know what to tell you.

i'm also aware why some characters don't appear any more re:conflicts with their actors (or just availabilities or other reasons for declining to come back), but even then arguably any conflicts with harrold perrineau stemmed from a justified place because of how michael was treated.

i think mr eko had a more dignified arc (he's one of my fav characters, thematically speaking) and honestly he had some of the rawest shit i've ever heard:

I ask for no forgiveness father for I have not sinned, I have only done what I needed to do to survive. A small boy once asked me if I was a bad man, if I could answer him now I would tell him, that when I was a young boy I killed a man to save my brothers life. I am not sorry for this, I am proud of this. I did not ask for the life that I was given but it was given none the less, and with it I did my best.

but despite this it doesn't change the fact that his absence in the church ending is very noticeable. he had meaningful connections with charlie, with locke, and interestingly like michael he kind of parallels sayid but this time thematically through their arcs. sayid is constantly burdened with feeling like he's a bad person and resigning to it as some sort of self-fulfilled prophecy, but mr eko is very firm about how he sees himself as not necessarily a bad man, just a man whose hands were forced because of the cards he was dealt. i wish we could have seen a more direct parallel between them, because it would've been interesting. back to the main point: i think it's such a missed opportunity for mr eko to not be here. especially since even after his death, hurley was able to communicate with his ghost, showing that he still had connections with his fellow losties even long after his death.

ana lucia being "not ready to move on" is interesting. but ultimately you can't help but raise a few eyebrows at it anyway. you can argue that, unlike mr eko she died an unresolved death, but most of the LOST characters died with an unresolved death. (she was killed early.) that's the whole point of the sideways segments. so what makes ana lucia so different from the others? yeah she killed shannon, but that was completely a freak accident. her people (the tailies) were being picked off one by one by the other so she was understandably on edge. she was kind of a hated character but i think a lot of it is just racism and misogyny combined tbh. (LOST is...notorious for a lot of misogynistic character writing decisions.) ana lucia was just as complex and morally "ambiguous" as the rest of them. i find the decision to make her corrupt in the sideways segments interesting (negative). cz like, there was never any indication she was like this in real life. what does that corruption symbolize? because obviously that corruption is a key to why she "can't move on yet". what exactly is she supposed to be repenting for? they hinted at a possible direction her arc is going towards before killing her off, ie. her ultimately choosing not to kill "henry gale" because she no longer wants blood on her hands. again, in a way, she's just like sayid! someone who decided they'd turn away from ceaseless violence. only right afterwards she got killed. so what does she need repenting for so much that she's left out of the church ending? much to think about.

i don't really know how to conclude this post. but my main point is that the lack of these characters during the church ending is and has racist implications. (again, i understand the casting issues, but it's still a writing decision you can critique as a viewer at the end of the day). i'll try to find the old posts i made last year abt michael and mr eko and their parallels to sayid and link them here (and self reblog).

edit: go read/look up "burn it down". it details a lot of the behind the scenes mistreatment of the staff (including racism and sexism), including actors and writers. the quote from an interview from harold perrineau that i mentioned was also linked in a reblog. (post link)

[malaierba]

i just peaked into an alternative TL where Laios was the one that got eaten by the dragon, so Falin & co had to go save him.

The way it played out (and I was thinking about this before falling asleep bcs it came up in a conversation with a RP buddy) Falin wants to go immediately, Marcille and Toshiro can't stop her, ChilChuck tags along, Namari is instructed by Toshiro to go look for his retainers so they catch up to them since he feels like the party is at a disadvantage with only him as a physical fighter.

The funny thing is that the fandom went from a ship war between Farcille and Shulin to a unspoken agreement that those three were in a V poly relationship, since over the course of the story the combined wet paper bag energy of Marcille + Toshiro (plus the face that Toshiro is canonically a bit intimidated by Marcille. Marcille. Marcille) made everyone realise, oh, they're a funny duo, let's put them in situations. Romance is a situation.

And this was the fanon until the party meets Kabru & co, and they rescue Laios, point at which the weird foiling/reflecting/"I respect you and I know you've had good intentions with me but the way you approach me gets on my nerves because it's rude and also I feel responsible for not making up for your carelessness which got you eaten but also if you saw me properly I'd want to befriend you please SEE ME properly so I can befriend you"/"you're the coolest thing since swiss cheese what do you mean we aren't friends already"/"actually I agree with the guy dying to kick some sense into you and also your ass I've been trying to befriend you for so long please look at me properly this is who I am underneath wanting to leverage your strength and also keep an eye on you bcs your fascination with monsters concerns me: a guy who recognises your strengths and your struggles and wants to relate to you as an equal"/"btw isn't it funny how we're so similar in so many ways, intrigued buddy who I've just adopted?" "You're right, interesting, this is the first time I find it so easy to speak to a guy approximately my age" "surrogate mommy issues?" 🤝 "Surrogate mommy issues" happens,

At which point the fandom divided like we were the sea and fucking moses was taking a stroll:

Pathetic failgirls V-shaped poly ship VS. Chaotic yaoi polycule. The shade was insane, "Toshiro's a trans girl and Falin cracked his egg" truthers vs. "He's gay and demi and so repressed he's one 'no, thank you' away from collapsing into himself like black hole"

Don't get distracted. The IMPORTANT THING was that in this dream I kept winning because my blorbo (Toshiro, Falin) is automatically my fandom bicycle so I was thriving. It was a feast and chat I was getting fed.

This revelation looped like 4 times with minimal changes in my mind (that I can remember). It was great. Why am I in this fuckass TL smfhsmfhsmfhsmfhblrblrwrlll

[andreafmn]

Kinktober ⛓ Day 2

Word Count: 3.2K Paring:  Severus Snape x Professor!Fem!Reader Prompt @kinktober2023: Roleplay WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI),  vaginal fingering. spanking, student-teacher roleplay

Summary: (Y/N) reminisces about her times as a student in Hogwarts and wants nothing more than to fulfill one of the fantasies she'd had while within those walls.

A/N:  again, sorry not sorry about my Kinktober works 🤭🤭

<- Previous | Next ->

It was weird to walk amongst the walls of Hogwarts as a teacher rather than a student when, only a few years back, that’s precisely what (Y/N) had been. She had been just like the overeager students she now taught, trying her best to get through the day without imploding from the throes of being a teenager. 

But gone were the days that she had to worry about handing in her History of Magic papers on time or failing Divination. Now, the only thing she had to concern herself with was her students’ grades and staying in the good graces of her fellow colleagues who had once taught her—especially the grumpy Potions professor. 

“Oh, good evening, Professor,” a startled Hufflepuff student called out. “I was just…” 

“Don’t worry, Ms. Ainsworth. Just hurry back to your dorm,” (Y/N) smiled at the scared girl. “I won’t fault you for something I used to do.” 

“Wow, really? You won’t take off points?” 

“Of course not,” she smiled. “But run along now, dear. I can’t promise anyone else will be as lenient.” 

After a playful wink from the older woman, the girl ran off, careful not to be caught by anyone else in the dungeons. It brought a chuckle out of (Y/N), thinking of all the times she had been seen in that very situation, and had cost her house many points. If she’d had a teacher like her, maybe she could have spared herself many nights in detention. However, she barely regretted most. 

She walked through the dungeon halls with a purpose, trailing to the place most students dreaded to be in. If she’d had any sense, she would have dreaded it too. Instead, it was the place she wished she got to spend more time in. 

“Knock, knock,” (Y/N) called out as she opened the creaky door to the classroom. 

“You don’t have to knock if you’re already inside,” the man inside grumbled as he looked up from the papers he was grading. “And you definitely do not have to say the words: knock, knock.” 

“Well, Severus, since you can’t punish me by taking house points anymore, I don’t feel any threat from your words,” she teased as she walked toward the front of the classroom, her steps echoing in the emptiness. “I’m not a student anymore, so you don’t terrify me.” 

“It’s good to hear that I don’t terrify my girlfriend,” Severus chuckled, finally standing from his chair and rounding his desk to meet her. “And you know there are other ways I could punish you.” 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, darling,” (Y/N) laughed. “It might remind me of all the daydreaming I did in your class back then.” 

“Oh, how could I ever forget those impure thoughts of yours, love? They got quite distracting at the end of term. It seemed you couldn’t keep your head on straight.” 

A breath got hitched in (Y/N)’s throat, making her swallow a lump. “You knew about that?” she asked in surprise. “And you never said anything?” 

“It seems you forget about my legilimency skill, love,” he grinned, brushing a piece of hair from her face. “And it’s not like you did anything to keep those thoughts to yourself. It was practically the only thing running through your head when you should have been paying attention in class.” 

“You read my mind while I was in class? Out of all the students there, you read my mind?” (Y/N) teased, a mischievous grin on her face. She could only chuckle as her words brought a red hue to Severus’ cheeks, flushing at the admission. “Well, professor, could it be that you were just as interested in me as I was in you? Is that why you agreed to go out with me last year after I bumped into you at the Three Broomsticks?” 

“I need not lie, my darling. But you were still a child back then. I should not have been thinking that way.” 

“I was already eighteen years old, darling. You could have done something about it.”

“I was still your professor, (Y/N).” 

“And thank Merlin, you’re not anymore,” she grinned. “It could get us into a lot of trouble if I had done something like this.” 

The woman stood on her tiptoes, her hands pressed against Severus’ clothed chest for support, to kiss the man firmly on his lips. He placed his hands on either side of her face in response, deepening the kiss to savor her mouth. “You know,” (Y/N) continued, her fingers walking across his chest. “I still have my uniform tucked safely away in my dormitory.” 

“What are you suggesting, love?” 

“Well, it’s a rather quiet night,” she grinned. “And I know a certain wizard that could make sure that door remains shut and no one can listen in.” 

“You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you, (Y/N)?” Severus said with an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Trying to get me in trouble?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with two consenting adults in a relationship to be together.” 

“What if someone did catch us?” 

“Then, you’re not as good a wizard as you claim to be, darling.” 

“Oh, you’ll certainly be punished for that, love,” he laughed darkly. “Now, why don’t you go ahead and get changed while I enchant this place?” 

With a devilish grin, (Y/N) sauntered over to his office, where she accioed the perfectly folded uniform she had left sitting on her bed. It felt rather strange to be dressing in those clothes once more. The skirt fit a bit too snug, the shirt felt a bit too small, and the tie felt just too constricting. But all of that discomfort died when she remembered why she was wearing the pieces in the first place. The thought was enough to send a shiver down her spine and cause warm wetness to pool between her legs in anticipation. Everything she had dreamed of in her last year at Hogwarts was about to come true. 

She walked out of Severus’ office with her house cloak draped across her back, quick to find the seat she had done all her daydreaming in –first row, far left corner, directly in front of his desk. He was already sitting back at his desk, pretending he was still grading papers –or maybe he still was– and acting as though (Y/N) had just walked into his classroom. 

“You’re late for your detention, Ms. (Y/L/N). Ten points from (Y/H).” 

“But, professor!” she whined, her mind reverting to the times that very situation had occurred. “It’s not my fault that I was late.” 

“I do not care for excuses, (Y/L/N). You were supposed to be here right after dinnertime. It is well past curfew hour. I think I’m being rather reasonable by only taking ten points.” 

“That’s not fair!”

“I could take more if you think that would be fair. I’m sure your fellow housemates will be thrilled to hear that you cost them points for complaining.” 

“You can’t do that, professor. I haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“Is that why you’re in detention with me, then? Because you haven’t done anything wrong?” 

“That’s right,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You gave me a detention for absolutely no reason.” 

The chuckle that left Severus’ throat sent chills across her veins, making her cross her legs tightly in a futile attempt at friction. “I don’t think messing up your potion because you were in your head the entire class is no reason,” Snape grumbled. “You cost your partner their grade and made a mess of my classroom.” 

(Y/N) wanted to laugh as he recounted something that had occurred many years before. The very day that had gifted her with her first detention with Severus Snape. Instead, she said, “I wasn’t in my head. I simply read the instructions wrong.”  

“A brilliant witch like yourself would never be careless enough,” he countered. “And I have ways to prove that you were daydreaming, Ms. (Y/L/N). So, we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way. Whichever you decide, the punishment has already been chosen.” 

“Then, it’s not much of a choice, is it?” 

“I’m giving you a chance to admit your wrongdoings rather than taking the truth from you,” he offered. “And, might I suggest the path of least resistance?” 

The woman pretended to think for a moment. It was what she would have done at that moment. She would have weighed her options and convinced herself that telling the truth would at least lessen her punishment. “Alright then,” she said. “I admit that I was daydreaming in your class, which led to my potion exploding.”

“And?” 

“And what? That’s all that happened.” 

“But you haven’t said what it was that you were thinking of, (Y/L/N),” he said as he stood from his desk. “And, in my opinion, that’s what caused this whole fiasco.” 

“I-I can’t say that, sir,” she stammered as a deep-red hue painted her face. “It’s not pertinent to the situation. I admitted to my fault. Just give me my punishment.” 

“That is part of your punishment, (Y/N),” Severus countered, his voice dropping. “So, what was it?” 

“I won’t say it, sir.” 

“It seems you’re under the impression that this is a request,” he chuckled darkly. “Come here, (Y/N).”  

“W-what?”

“I said: Come. Here,” the older man answered sternly. “And I don’t like repeating myself.” 

(Y/N) scrambled to her feet and hurried up the three steps to stand before him on the other side of his desk. He towered over her, and she couldn’t help but feel slightly intimidated. Severus looked her over, inspecting the uniform he had seen her wear many times before, only this time he was allowed to take it off her. Much more, she wanted him to take it off her. 

Severus had never deluded himself. Even if it always seemed like he held all the power because of his age and his character, it was (Y/N) who had complete control over him. It had been a startling surprise when he had decided to break into her thoughts and find out what had made one of his star pupils so distracted, and he saw some compromising situations staring him, but it had been a bigger one when years later, she agreed to go out with him when they ran into each other. Truthfully, he couldn’t believe that a woman like herself would ever want to be with someone like himself –a man people ran from, not toward. 

“Tell me, (Y/L/N),” he growled. “What were you thinking of? And don’t lie to me.” 

“I, uh, was thinking about some rather indecent activities,” (Y/N) stammered, her chest heaving in nervousness as Severus took her tie in his hands. “Indecent activities with some I shouldn’t have been thinking of.” 

“And who was that, dear (Y/L/N)? Who was the protagonist of these salacious thoughts?” i

“I can’t say that. Anything but that.” 

Severus pulled her closer by the tie, wrapping his hand around the piece of fabric. “I thought I told you I didn’t like to repeat myself, Ms. (Y/L/N),” he said. “Now. Who was it?” 

“It was you, professor,” she answered sheepishly. “I was thinking of you.” 

“How hard was that? Telling the truth shouldn’t be such a drawn-out ordeal,” he chuckled. “As for your punishment, (Y/N), I think you’ll find it rather… fulfilling.” 

“Isn’t you knowing what I was thinking of you punishment enough?” (Y/N) whined. “Why can’t I just go back to my room?” 

“Because I don’t think it’s enough, dear (Y/N). You made a mess of my classroom this morning, and you disrespected my time by showing up late to your detention. Those things cannot go unpunished.” 

“But, sir…” 

“No buts, (Y/N),” Severus interrupted. “You will receive your punishment, you will do as you’re told, and you will not complain. Am I understood?” 

“But…” 

“I said, am I understood?!” 

“Yes,” she answered. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, professor.” 

“Alright then,” he grinned. “Bend down across the desk.” 

“W-wha…” 

“What did I say?” 

“Sorry, professor,” she quickly apologized. “I just find that to be a rather peculiar request, sir. I don’t know how that could be a punishment.” 

“Do not question me, you insolent witch.” 

“Sorry, professor,” she mumbled as she did as told. The wood felt cold through her clothes, and it helped to calm the warmth that rushed through her veins. 

“Good,” he acclaimed. “Now pull up your skirt, (Y/N).” 

“Sir?” 

“I said no questions, (Y/L/N). Didn’t I?” 

“Yes, professor,” she said. Her hands reached to the hem of her skirt, pulling it up and revealing the black lace underwear she would always wear in her student days. “I just don’t understand how this would help.” 

“I do not need to explain my methods, Ms. (Y/L/N). You’re the student here.” 

From behind her, (Y/N) could hear movement, but she did not know what was happening. Until she heard the familiar sound of a belt buckle. She knew exactly what was coming, and she could not wait. Her knees pressed together as she searched for any kind of touch. Not that it was enough. 

“You see, dear (Y/N), I just think you need a punishment that you will remember. Something that you’ll still feel the next day.” 

“Professor?” 

“I want you to count out loud after every single one.” 

“Every wha…?” 

Her words died in her throat as she felt the sting of leather bite the skin of her ass, the sound of the spank reverberating against the stone walls. “I said you had to count,” Severus reminded her, running his hand over where he just hit. “And this is the last time I repeat myself, (Y/N).” 

“Yes, professor,” she croaked. “That was one.” 

“Good girl,” he cooed.

Severus was relentless once he got started. He switched between his belt and his hand, squeezing her skin after every hit and admiring the way her skin turned red. But what made his erection press on the seam of his pants was the sound of (Y/N)’s strangled voice counting every touch.

He could see how it was affecting her, and he reveled in it. Her knees started buckling after every hit and her panties darkened the longer they went on. At that point, she would cum just from the spanking. 

“Thirty-five,” (Y/N) cried at the sting, swallowing down the moans that threatened to escape. She felt like her skin was on fire, tingling after every single spank. “How much longer, professor?”

“Well, I suppose that thirty-five is enough for you to have learned your lesson,” he tutted. Behind her, the woman felt him bend down, his face close enough to her behind that she could feel his breathing against her sore skin. “And, look at that you’re unbelievably drenched, Ms. (Y/L/N). Could it be that you have enjoyed your punishment?” 

“No… I, uh…” 

“If you’ve enjoyed it this much,” he said, swiping his fingers across her covered slit, making her body shudder. “Then I don’t think you’ve truly learned your lesson. This was meant to discipline you, not turn you on.” 

“I can’t help it, professor.” 

“I should hope you have more control over your body than this, (Y/N),” he scoffed. “But it seems you still require more correction.” 

Before she could answer, she felt Severus stand and press his hand on her aching clit. The lace fabric felt rough against her, but the friction was just what she had been yearning for. He circled the bud, pressing against her at a punishingly slow pace. “You’re not to cum until I give you permission, Ms. (Y/L/N),” he whispered against her ear as he draped over her. “Am I understood?” 

“Y-yes, professor,” she moaned. “I understand.” 

(Y/N)’s hands grasped at the edge of the wooden desk, digging her nails into the table as she tried to prolong the finish she wanted to reach. Severus was unrelenting, changing his speed, bringing her as close to the edge as possible before altering the pace once more. It was a punishment like no other. 

Suddenly, she felt her underwear being moved aside as he moved his hand through the front of her body, allowing two of his fingers to breach her as his thumb continued the attack on her clit. 

“I can’t hold on for much longer, professor,” (Y/N) cried. Her breathing was staggered, and her eyes had fallen shut. “Please.” 

“Please, what, (Y/L/N)? What is it that you want? Beg for it.” 

“Merlin, please! Just let me cum, professor. I need to cum!” she exclaimed as her grip on the desk tightened. “I promise I’ve learned my lesson, professor. I won’t get distracted in class again!” 

“Maybe you should, dear (Y/N). Especially if it leads to having you in such a compromising position,” he chuckled. “But I guess you deserve to cum. So, go ahead, dear. Let go.” 

With a mewling cry, (Y/N) came around Severus’ pumping fingers, meeting their pace with her hips as she rode out her orgasm on his hand. His free hand snaked around her neck, straightening her back against him and twisting her head to kiss her roughly, his fingers still buried inside her. 

“Good girl,” he mumbled against her lips before pulling her lip with his teeth. “You did so well, my love. Truly made me forget that this was all make-believe.” 

“Well, it wasn’t all pretend, darling,” (Y/N) chuckled. “You already know that this very scenario ran through my head during your classes and your detentions, hoping that you weren’t a good man and would act on my wishes. But it seems I had to wait a few years to get you into bed.” 

“You were barely of age, darling,” he chuckled softly, brushing a piece of damp hair behind her ear. “And I was still your professor. If anyone had found out, my career would have been over, and you would have most likely been expelled.” 

“Oh, but what fun it would have been, darling,” (Y/N) grinned as she pushed him onto his chair, straddling his lap. Her smile grew as she felt his erection through his pants, smirking as she knew she would leave a wet spot on the fabric. “Could you imagine?” she continued, moving her hips softly against his length. “If another professor waltzed into your classroom and caught us this way, or even a student. It would have been an absolutely thrilling disaster. But I wouldn’t have stopped. Merlin knows I wouldn’t have. I would have made sure we both came.” 

“What are you doing, love?” Severus said with a strangled voice. “The charms have already fallen. I never meant for them to stay up too long.” 

“I told you, darling. I would have made sure we both came,” she said against his ear, nibbling on the soft skin. “And that’s exactly what I will do now.” 

Next ->

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[dingodad]

you can link to it if youve already answered it, but how do you think lord english “runs” his empire? by the way you talk about alternia, it sounds to me like you imagine he did play a role as some kind of shadow political leader that made active decisions in the structuring of alternia. is that the case? i think thats really interesting, i always wondered what his rulership over the condesce actually looked like. iirc lord english has only ever shown been screaming and destroying things so i’ve always struggled to imagine if he would even be lucid enough to make decisions or do anything other than mass murder. does doc scratch have some way to implicitly understand his desires and then deliver orders to the condesce on his behalf? or was the caliborn that the “kids” fight at some nebulous time in the “future,” the one who’s soul dirk rips out, not teen caliborn but an actually fully realized adult cherub caliborn who had already been fucking with alternia? idk if that makes sense, the part of the comic where the beta kids are described by caliborn to have been sucked into the juju has always been a little weird for me to wrap my head around. i always imagined the battle happened between them all as kids still but now that im trying to imagine a lucid lord english im realizing they could very well all be adults because we still havent “seen” it actually happen aside from caliborn’s claymation right? anyways. very interested in what your thoughts on caliborn’s active influence on alternia looked like

lots of really great questions! i'll try to get my thoughts in order here.

to start at the beginning of lord english's story: yes, it is an important point that we have no idea "when" caliborn's masterpiece actually takes place; how old caliborn is, where the kids who beat him up even came from... and I think this is because the details in that story don't necessarily matter. while i certainly believe there is a point in caliborn's timeline where a gaggle of teenagers show up and stuff him into a puppet, what we see play out on his claymation stage is a mythologised account of something that happens to him over and over again in many many different ways over the course of his time loop.

so while i wouldn't call that caliborn "fully realised", necessarily, i think we are supposed to see him as "caliborn-as-lord-english"; he has the peg leg, he has mastery over the felt, he's finally obtained the rainbow magic eyes, and while he certainly hasn't encountered the trolls yet, no, he has had loads of practice at being the puppetmaster of his own world as he hones his homosuck craft and uses the terminals left to him by his session to influence homestuck itself! (i don't think whether caliborn is ultimately "teen" or an "adult" is hugely relevant, because caliborn's specific circumstances mean that he doesn't really "grow" or "mature" by aging the same way a human does; he gradually acquires power in different ways.)

related to this, i tend to use the names 'caliborn' and 'lord english' interchangeably. which i know not everyone will agree with, but i think it aligns with the hussie's philosophy that act 6 is about the kid versions of the comic's grownup characters; while, yes, the lord english contained within lil cal also contains sprinklings of equius, dirk and gamzee, these characters are ultimately caliborn's servitors, and i would argue that subsuming weaker personalities into his own is kind of part of caliborn's Bag as a dominant cherub.

anyway, all that is just to say that it's important to be aware that lord english DOES act like caliborn, and isn't just a mindless, speechless force of destruction - at least not all of the time. when damara tries to escape his captivity, he speaks to her in caliborn's voice, and perhaps more importantly, tells us the one thing you must never forget about lord english: he is ALREADY HERE. never be fooled into thinking lord english only showed up at alternia's death and then fucked off into the furthest ring to hunt his sister - his first act was to travel back to the beginning of alternian history and become its architect. notice how as soon as lord english speaks, two things happen: first, the cursor changes into english's reptilian hand; second, we see the puppet hole in doc scratch's back - he was the literal puppetmaster behind scratch's actions the whole time!

so yes, lord english was an active participant in the shaping of the alternian empire, though i think "political leader" is probably the wrong description; he certainly never had any face-to-face conversations or gave any direct orders to any trolls, at least within modern troll history. but that's not what he's about: as the cuestick, and with scratch as his cueball, english's manipulations are more about lining up the perfect shot, executing a precision strike, and then letting events play out exactly as planned.

probably the most influential of these precision strikes was establishing the subjugglator cult, who worship him and his puppet as twin mirthful messiahs; while we don't know exactly how he did this, it's not hard to imagine it had something to do with appearing to them as an all-powerful angel at the very dawn of their society. compare this to how the condesce makes cordial visits to every planet she passes on her journey through the stars, then fucks off to let her army of trolls decimate the place. after all, scratch operates in exactly the same way: he doesn't waste his time constantly relaying orders to his proteges, but rather grooms them when they're still young, turning them into his unwitting soldiers so that when he finally does intervene he's only telling them to do things that "deep down, they already know they want to do." (commentary from Homestuck: Book 4, p. 216)

while the condesce formally becomes english's puppet when she kills the handmaid - inheriting both the rustblood's curse and essentially taking up scratch's role on earth - it's not like she was ever particularly hands-on when it came to helming the metaphorical ship herself. in porrim's words, she was "the Lo+rd's slave all alo+ng [...] thro+ugh manipulatio+n by his cunning emplo+yee", but what the condesce enjoys doing most is delegating! on alternia she gave most of her authority to the subjugglators, and then did the exact same shit again on earth. remember meenah never wanted the responsibilities of heiress, and ran to beforus' pink moon to escape them; the way i see it, the condesce rushing off into space to explore the galaxy instead of overseeing the planet she's responsible for is just a repeat of the same behaviour, and doing so left a power vacuum for english to essentially insert his own guys into. (possibly thematically relevant, since lord english's role is fundamentally to shoot balls into unfilled dark pockets.)

in short, english is cleverer - or at least, more competent - than we give him credit for. it's just that rather than a chess master who moves each piece to its proper place individually, he's playing pool; if you line up just the right shot, you only need to make one move, and the balls will play the rest of the moves off of each other. looked at another way, as the Lord of Time and master of the alpha timeline, english makes his moves by controlling inevitability itself. he engineers things so that events can only play out in the exact way he wants them to, and all other options are doomed. and to do that, he only needs to be present at key moments in alternia's history - most importantly its very beginning and its very end.

[thepromisethatlovecouldbeeternal]

tvd adjacent so I wanna see if anyone else agrees

If you've read ACOTAR and are active in the fandom, I swear the ship war is veeery familiar to TVD 😂

You've got the "destined" pairing where people want them together because they're fated to be = Stelena / Elucien (of course, Elena actually liked Stefan whereas Elain does NOT like Lucien. AT ALL.)

The one where it doesn't even make sense but people ship it because they read waaaay too much into interactions that aren't even romantic, and somehow keeps coming up with headcanons that are already canon scenes for another ship? = Bamon / Gwynriel

The one that clearly has insane chemistry, and is all "fuck destiny", has many romantic and friendship moments, everyone around them can clearly see SOMETHING between them, to the point that even Stefan/Lucien can tell and it makes them uncomfy because they have to acknowledge that there is something there, they're touch her/him and you die/saved each other, hands them something they wouldn't trust with anyone else, spouts goddamn poetry to the other, etc. etc. = Delena / Elriel

And guess which TVD couple was endgame? 🤭

You have fans who also can't spell Gwyn's name, just like TVD fans.

Stefan = Stephan/Steven

Damon = Demon 💀 (this could be intentional but considering they can't spell Stefan or Elena's names either, I'm not sure.)

Elena = Elaine/Elain

People claiming if you don't like Gwyn it's because you're a victim blamer/haven't been SA'd (WHAT THE FUCK BTW) 😐/people claiming if you don't like Bonnie, you're racist.

Sadly, there may be a few that are, but to blanket statement a whole group of people of something horrible/disgusting because they simply don't like a character is wild.

The fandom bullshit will always happen. Sad.

That being said, the only difference for me personally, is that I actually don't care for Gwyn at all, Bonnie was great. Was she my fave? No. Did I dislike her? No. I wanted her to get her happy ending too.

Gwyn? I forgot she existed after I read ACOSF, if she never appeared again, I would not care.

Anyways, rant done.

[nobigsecrets]

(I Don't Believe) It's That Simple

Fandom: 9-1-1 Relationship: Eddie Diaz & Tommy Kinard Rating: T Words: 2,478

But this? Is coming from a different place. It's also clearly running deeper than random curiosity, it's something that Eddie has already put some thought into—and something dawns on Tommy. Is Eddie questioning?

"Hey, Eddie," Tommy says, as softly as he can manage to pull Eddie back out of his head. "Where's this coming from? You think you might be... not straight?"

Or: Eddie and Tommy are having a conversation.

Read on AO3

"So, how did you know?" Eddie asks, apropos of nothing.

Tommy's brow furrows as he's trying to make sense of the question. They're sitting in Eddie's living room, after they'd first played basketball and then watched basketball on TV while eating takeout and having a couple of beers. The game has long since ended though and they've been silently nursing their latest round of beers for the past few minutes. He tries to recall what they were talking about last. A call the 118 had taken a few days ago, he remembers, Evan had had to rappel down a bridge and it had been stupidly risky. But apparently Eddie's thoughts had taken some turns Tommy can't quite follow—

"How did I know what?"

"Buck told me—" Eddie starts, then has to put his words into the right order before he continues. "He said he knew he was bi the moment you kissed him. Like you handed him a puzzle piece and he immediately knew where it was supposed to go." Eddie takes a swig of his beer and turns around so he can better look at Tommy, who's sitting at the other end of the couch. "So I wondered, how did you know?"

"Mmh," Tommy says and then asks back, "how did I know Evan is bi? Or how did I know I'm gay?" It's been too many beers over the course of the evening and he can't quite read if Eddie's sudden interest is sparked out of random curiosity—or something else.

"Oh, uhm," Eddie says, somewhat unintelligible and clearly the beers have left an impact on him, too. "Well, both. I think. What I meant is how did you know you're not straight?"

"I always knew," Tommy readily admits, marveling at how easy it sounds when in reality it had been anything but. So for accuracy he adds, "but for the longest time I pretended that I didn't."

Eddie makes a confused face for a moment. "So you, uh, dated women? Like, before—?”

"Yes, I did hook up with women," Tommy admits and sighs, he's not exactly proud of his past. "It was before I came out to myself. I lied to them and I lied to myself, pretended it was what I wanted even though it never felt right."

Tommy knows it was a shitty thing to do. He now also knows it was driven by self-preservation for the most part and therefore explainable. Not excusable, his mind adds automatically. But his therapist had been adamant about driving that point home, that there were reasons for why he did what he did, that he shouldn't blindly take all the blame for it on himself.

Eddie nods like he understands. It takes a moment before he comes out with the next question. "And did you ever have a girlfriend? Like, something long-term?"

"No, not really," Tommy says, "only ever a few months before I broke it off." And that's one thing the Army offered that he's actually still grateful for. Being on duty, getting deployed, it was an easy excuse to get out of anything that came close to being called a relationship. "The longest I've been with a girl was through basic training and a few months after that. Maybe half a year? I couldn't do it, it was—“

Tommy breaks off, looking for a way to explain how stifling it had felt but he doesn't need to bother because Eddie offers, "It was like performing a role and you played it because it was expected of you."

"Yeah!" Tommy agrees, surprised by how precisely Eddie's words hit the mark.

Eddie murmurs something that Tommy doesn't quite catch but that sounds a lot like "go figure" and now Tommy takes a closer look. Eddie looks tired, but he's looked like that ever since Chris left. It's the actual reason why Tommy is sitting on Eddie's couch this late at night. But Eddie also looks anxious. He's worrying at the label on his empty beer bottle with his thumbnail, peeling off the paper in tiny pieces.

Tommy knows Eddie has started therapy. He knows—via Evan—that Eddie thinks it might be helping. But this? Is coming from a different place. It's also clearly running deeper than random curiosity, it's something that Eddie has already put some thought into—and something dawns on Tommy. Is Eddie questioning?

"Hey, Eddie," Tommy says, as softly as he can manage to pull Eddie back out of his head. "Where's this coming from? You think you might be... not straight?"

Eddie takes a deep breath. He puts the empty bottle on the side table. "I don't know, man," he says, looking over at Tommy before running both hands over his face. When he looks back up, he seems more determined.

"I did a full Buck the other day," he says and a small, affectionate grin briefly flashes over his face. "I overheard something Hen said to Buck and I didn't want to butt into their conversation, so I went and looked it up on Wikipedia. And then I read the whole article on bisexuality. And then I found out about all the other sexual identities I didn't even know existed."

Eddie shoots a quick look at Tommy, hesitant and vulnerable. Tommy can clearly see he's heading somewhere, that there's something that’s s been stewing in him, something he needs to get out and Tommy waits him out patiently.

"I read all kinds of stuff, you know, and I read about—" Eddie continues and now he's taking a deep breath, bracing himself for the part that he actually wants to share. "Did you know you can be sexually attracted to someone but not romantically? Or the other way around or not at all?"

"That's—“ Tommy says and wrecks his brain. He can vaguely remember someone explaining this at a meetup of the queer LAFD group he sometimes joins. Split-attraction... something, he thinks. It's not what he'd expected Eddie to say if he's being honest.

"It's got something to do with asexuality, right?" Tommy shifts his position from where he's lounging in the corner of the couch, turning more towards Eddie and scooting a little closer.

Eddie looks relieved that Tommy apparently knows what he's talking about. "Yeah, that," he confirms. "It said on the web that you can be asexual or aromantic or a mix of both—it's a spectrum, evidently."

"And you think you're somewhere on that spectrum?" Tommy asks in a way he hopes is reassuring as much as encouraging.

"Yes. No. I don't know. But man, it kinda makes sense to me." Eddie says and the way he's torn up about this, the doubt Tommy can hear in his voice, it sounds painfully familiar.

"I mean, I do like having sex. Seeing a beautiful woman, it works for me, you know. But I suck at relationships, it's like... like I said, a performance. Always has, even with—" Eddie stops abruptly, biting his lip. He looks away for a second before he catches himself.

"I once had an actual panic attack over being stuck in a relationship, did Buck ever tell you that?"

"He did not," Tommy says with a small shake of his head. He's got to fight back his curiosity because it sounds like that's a story he'd like to hear about someday. But he sure as hell won't ask for more than what Eddie is willing to share right now.

When he'd picked up things with Evan again after their first failed date, Tommy had promised himself to go slow, to do right by Evan in a way no one had ever done right by him. But then it turned out Evan neither needed to go slow nor to be handled with care and they'd been able to set their pace together. It had been a pleasant surprise after their initial bumpy start.

With Eddie though, Tommy recognizes the same hesitation, the same kind of uncertainty, the same fear of failing to meet other people's expectations—or his own expectations for that matter—that had plagued himself for so many years. He's glad, and honored, that Eddie asked him about it. Tommy thinks that if he'd had someone back then, someone he could've trusted, he might have come to terms with being gay so much earlier. But the first openly queer person he'd ever met, or at least had come into closer contact with had been Hen—and by that point he'd dug himself so deep into the closet that he barely remembered there was a way out. He doesn't want anyone to go through the same pain, not if he can help it—

"How can I be sure that I'm not just confused?" Eddie asks now, taking Tommy's momentary silence as encouragement to go on. "Like, how do I know it’s because I’m... aromantic and not just because I’m crap at relationships? I mean, maybe I'm just a shitty partner.” Eddie stumbles a bit over the word; like it's a pair of pants that's one size too big and doesn't fit quite yet.

"Well first of all, I don't think you'd be a shitty partner because I know for a fact that you're a great and loyal friend," Tommy says and he's glad to get a small—if pretty self-conscious—smile in response. "But to answer your question about how you know—you basically just said it yourself: it makes sense to you. That's all that matters."

"That's all that matters?" Eddie repeats, eyebrows raised and oozing skepticism. "I don't believe it's that simple."

"It really is that simple." It's a fact Tommy's had to learn the hard way but it's something he now believes in one hundred percent. "You are the only who knows how you feel. What works for you, as you put it. No one else can tell you that. So no one else gets to decide. If there's a label that makes sense to you, if you feel comfortable with it, claim it."

Tommy can almost see the gears turning inside Eddie's head as he's thinking things over. He waits him out patiently and reaches for the beer bottle he deposited on the coffee table earlier. Coffee would probably be a better fitted drink for this conversation, he thinks as he takes a drink of the lukewarm beer.

"The idea— well, the possibility of just not wanting a romantic relationship with someone, it... it felt like a relief," Eddie admits. "I don't like going on dates. It feels all staged and, I don't know, fake. Most of the time. I'd rather be hanging as friends, you know. Like with Buck, with you guys." Eddie gestures towards Tommy, apparently wanting him to know he's included. It's sweet.

"But then I think a family is everything I ever wanted. Being married, having kids, the way it's supposed to be. I never pictured my life any other way. And I think of Chris—and it all feels incredibly selfish."

"And did you ever give yourself the time and space to picture your life any other way?" Tommy asks and carefully places his still half-full beer bottle back onto the coffee table, very much aware that his next question is a delicate one. "Chris' mom, she was your high school sweetheart, right?"

Eddie looks up sharply and Tommy is ready to apologize and take a step back, he knows the woman has left a sore mark behind, but then Eddie's face softens and he nods in agreement.

"Shannon," Eddie says. "Yes, she was. And we had Chris when we were 19. We didn't have much of a choice back then. At least it didn't feel like we did."

"Yeah, I can imagine," Tommy says and he means it. He remembers being that age, being pressured into making decisions that will affect your whole life—while being offered no real prospects of a future. "That's why sometimes we adopt what people expect us to do as our own expectations.

"Look, when I was growing up and through my time in the Army, I told myself I couldn't be gay—because I'm not interested in... I don't know, arts or fashion or fancy shit like that. I like typical guy stuff, always have. Engines and sports and fighting. I didn't fit any of the clichés about gay men. So I fell between places. I wasn't straight in the way people expected me to be and I wasn't gay in the way people expected gay men to be. It took me years to figure that one out. It takes time, Eddie."

"Yes, I guess that's something I need to untangle," Eddie says. "Shannon and I, we fucked up. And then I tried to do right by her by marrying her. Plus it was the only way I knew how to appease to my parents. And I... I always tried to tell myself it was what we would've done anyway. But now I don't think it was what either of us really wanted at the time." He sighs and rubs a hand over his face and hair, but now the gesture is more thoughtful than anxious. Eventually, a small grin steals itself on Eddie's face, "See? It's not that simple after all."

"Alright, I relent. It can be messy until you get there," Tommy says, glad to see a tiny challenging glint back in Eddie's eyes. "But once you stop lying to yourself, once you stop trying to be who other people want you to be, it really is that simple."

"I'll take your word for it!" Eddie scoots forward on the couch and reaches for his beer bottle, pulling a face at finding it empty. It's a clear signal that he's done talking for now.

"Let me know how it goes," Tommy says and then finishes his own beer in a few gulps.

"You want another one?" Eddie gets up from couch and starts to collect the empty bottles.

"No, I'm good," Tommy says, getting up from the couch, too. "I should get going anyway. It's late." He takes half of the bottles and helps Eddie carry them into the kitchen.

"Yeah, sure." Eddie puts the empty bottles on the counter and motions for Tommy to do the same.

"Tell Buck I said hi. And that I'm sorry for keeping you this long," he says as they're walking back into the living room and towards the front door.

"I'm sure he won't mind." Tommy stops with his hand on the door handle, "but just so you know: I won't tell him what we were talking about. That's your job. If and when you're ready."

"Understood," Eddie agrees and then pulls Tommy into a quick hug, patting his shoulder twice for good measure. "Thanks for listening, man."

"Sure," Tommy says with a smile. "Thanks for trusting me with this."

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt13

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I'm depressed, have barely eaten all day, and haven't taken my nightly meds yet. All this to say: this is not proofread. (I will be eating and taking my meds right after I post this)

Warnings: references to slavery, discussions about fears, self-doubt, references to abuse/torture, references to blood/gore/viscera, hurt/comfort, light angst

Word Count: 1,635

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

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You probably wouldn’t have agreed if Karlach hadn’t jeered you on. Tensions were high, the Absolute was hanging over your heads like an executioner’s ax - what could it really hurt?

“Close your eyes, little ones. Be still as stone to earth. And remember to breathe.”

Fidgeting uncertainly, you do as she asks, but you reach over and take Astarion’s hand. He’s quick to hold on, and soon it feels like your world has been tilted on its axis.

When you open your eyes, your hand is empty, and you’re no longer at the circus. You seem to be standing somewhere in nature, but it feels… off, somehow. A manufactured illusion. A waterfall, split by rocks, spills into a river. The river creates a divide between you and Astarion, with only a thick log bridging the gap. If the tadpoles weren’t protecting Astarion, one slip and he’d be reduced to nothing. You didn’t like thinking about it.

To your right, the druid stood. “Ah. Glorious. Your bond is sweeter than nature’s dew. I see you. Know you. But do you know one another?”

You share a look with Astarion. Something silent is communicated with just that one glance - don’t tell her anything true. Karlach may have egged you into this, but telling a random stranger your deepest selves didn’t sit right with either of you.

“A tumultuous past haunts you both - the same story with different tellers. The heart is fraught, so let us begin with the joyous.” She looks at Astarion with her glowing eyes. He feels as though she is looking straight through him into the very core of his being. “Astarion, when is your lover happiest?”

Your heart thuds as he contemplates his answer. His eyes study you, a slight crease between his brow. It’s… difficult to allow yourself to be seen. You’ve shown him so much already, allowed him to witness the horrors you faced, but seeing was far different than speaking it aloud. This question wasn’t something so simple as What is their favorite color? It requires an answer that can only be formed through observation. And, gods, you had no idea how he saw you.

He offers a slight grin, though his brow remains tight. He must sense your worry. “Any time they’re with me, of course,” he said haughtily.

You chuckle slightly. It’s not a lie, and from the glimmer in his eye, he knows it. “It’s hard not to be.”

He steps forward on the log when the druid prompts him to. She turns to look at you. “Now I ask you: when is he happiest?”

If he wishes to play this game of half-truths, you’re happy to indulge him. He smiles when he catches that same look shining in your eye. “When he’s elbow deep in gore.”

He chuckled. “Guilty as charged,” he agreed, before leaning in conspiratorially. “Sometimes literally…”

You stepped onto the log. Even if it was an illusion, you worried for a moment about slipping and falling in.

“Your bond beats in pleasure. It is an honor to behold,” the druid waxes. “Many things delight the heart, but only one makes it sing. Tell me, what do they desire more than anything?”

A salacious grin tugs at his lips. You give him a pointed look. Whatever unholy thoughts crossed his mind are tempered, for now. “A glass of wine under the stars.”

“As long as it’s with you.”

He steps forward. Zethino poses the same question to you.

“Revenge.”

“Oh yes!” he exclaims, becoming giddy. “Yes, please.”

You step forward. You could touch him now if you wished, merely an arm’s length away.

“Our touch has been one of sunlight, but now we must ask the deep. The difficult. Fear sits in the soul of all - to tame it, we must name it. What do they fear most?”

He can see the answer in your eyes. Even just posing the question makes you uneasy. You frown, memories flickering within your irises. He wishes to reach out, touch your cheek, assure you he’s here. But something in the druid’s energy tells him he can’t. Instead, he does his best through his answer alone. “Gale’s cooking.”

It startles a laugh out of you, catapulting every horrible, real fear away in an instant. All you can do is nod as your giggles taper off. He takes a small step forward.

“Astarion - what is his deepest fear?”

With a new confidence, a new self-assurance, you grin as you say, “Breaking a nail.”

That, too, shocks a laugh out of him. He makes a show of checking his nails. “Well, when you look this good…”

You take your own small step forward, and you don’t hesitate to take his hand the moment you’re within reach. “Thank you,” you whisper. The words come spilling out before you can stop them, but you mean them so truly. Where he feared having his truth told to strangers, you feared giving your truth any voice. To speak your master’s name was as good as tying a noose ‘round your neck.

He leans his forehead against yours. “Of course, my love.”

The druid sighs, smiling brightly. “I press my finger to your bond and find a shield impenetrable. It is… beautiful. Your love is one few have - cherish it.”

-

The day is a staggering success, you think. Sure, you had to fight a few cultists, but the aura of contentment around everyone upon the return to camp was reward enough - a few cuts and scrapes weren’t going to dull that anytime soon.

But even as you go about your routine, lighting a new candle you got from a vendor and setting it in the metal pan, listening to Astarion scoff at a poorly thought out plan from a couple thieves he’d overheard, something uncertain clings to the back of your mind. You must not hide it as well as you think, because Astarion sighs and takes your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing your fingertips.

“What’s on your mind, dove?”

You sit down fully across from him, frowning as you watch him tenderly care for you. “I keep thinking about the druid,” you admit. “The love test.”

“Thank you again for not divulging everything. I trust you with that information, not a random carny.”

“That’s the problem, I think.” You meet his eyes and you look so utterly uncertain. You search for answers in him, trying to find them before you have to speak the questions aloud, but you come up empty. “She asked how well we knew each other, and- and I know it’s silly. I mean, we know each other well enough to skirt around the truth, but…”

He hums. “You’re worried we don’t really know each other as well as she thinks.”

You nod.

“Well, then, there’s only one thing for it. I don’t have a mystical waterfall, but I think we can make do.” He lowers your hand to his lap, and you subconsciously turn your hands over so you can play with his fingers. He smiles at the gesture. “When am I happiest?”

You study him. Your eyes flicker over his face, taking in every minute twitch, slowly but surely putting the truth together. “I don’t think you’ve been happy in a long time,” you whisper.

He grins, but it’s sad. His eyes betray it all. “I’m starting to learn how to,” he assures softly. “You haven’t been either, have you, love?”

You shake your head slightly. You couldn’t recall a time before your slavery where you were happy; all those memories lost to time and torture. But even now, out of arm’s reach from her, joy was fleeting. A moment here and there, stolen from time, but never consistent. “I am happy with you,” you add. “What do I desire most?”

He sighs. The answer is already one he’s familiar with. “Freedom.” He squeezes your hand, eyes sharpening with determination. “And we will be free. Soon, my dear. You can be sure of that.”

The difficult question, the druid was right about that. Neither of you wanted to ask, and neither of you really wanted to tell. But both of you stayed there, waiting for the shoe to drop.

“Your deepest fear,” you begin, quietly, “is forever feeling like a slave to someone else.”

“Is that yours, too?”

You tear your eyes away to watch as you lightly thumb at the blunt edges of his nails, trailing from one finger to the next. His nails were always so well kept and tidy despite the dirt and viscera that haunted your daily lives. “It used to be. Now…” You inhale shakily. “I’ve made so many wonderful friends. And I’m terrified to go back to- to her. But losing all this - losing you - scares me more than anything.”

He frowns. He can’t say you won’t lose them. This mission you’ve found yourselves on is dangerous; you risk your lives every single day. And once it ends, it’s a terrible truth that everyone will go their own separate ways.

What he can do is bring your hand back to his lips and press a kiss to your palm. He can close your fingers around it and get you to hold that symbol of his love safely. And maybe that’s all he needs to do. Really, what could he possibly say? Any assurance would be like rubbing salve on an arrow still embedded in your side.

And perhaps it’s enough, because you lean forward and wrap your arms around his waist, and he wraps his around your shoulders and back, pulling you close. He’s determined to find better answers to the questions, one day. You both will find consistent happiness, and desire something as simple as a good book. And you won’t be afraid of being alone again.

One day.

---

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