#okay the metaphor thing works out a little bit in that. it's on brand
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the way everyone has a dislike in their profile that actually says something integral about their character. lu guang doesn't like plans getting messed up, cheng xiaoshi dislikes loneliness, xia fei with owing favors, vein with lying...
and then you have liu xiao, who dislikes... cilantro. and fish mint.
(shakes fist) (putting him in a glass jar and shaking vigorously) learn to be vulnerable!! tell me something about yourself!! I guess him liking movies lines up with the theater metaphors, and there's him liking chess, but that. doesn't count methinks
#mine musings#liveblogging link click#link click#okay the metaphor thing works out a little bit in that. it's on brand#70% of what we know about liu xiao are implicitly gained from other characters#e.g. how xf and ltc relate to him. how the liu family talk about him. how he thematically juxtaposes other characters like lg and cxs#the 30% are the things we know explicitly from him e.g. he's a rich kid with a sports car. he can hear heartbeats#he wants to merge the parallel lines or whatever#the rest are inferences like. oh okay no parallel lines? he doesn't like uncertainties i guess#the way he talks about friendship with xf and ltc? he values a transactional view of relationships#(maybe because transactions imply a certain level of certainty?)#he's the current favored child of the liu family but he wasn't before#he's a “manipulator” but really that's mostly from marketing stuff and implications from canon#like. we know a lot about him but at the same time we don't#the way we just know his uncertainty -> certainty thing contrasts with lg's certainty -> uncertainty thing#we know his heartbeat hearing implies he knows everyone's level of sincerity and both xf and cxs exist as foils to that#the hunter thing with ltc. why does he believe that?#lots of “bringing the darkness” lines in three of his songs for some reason#so like. i can't say that the show hasn't told us anything. they have but in circular ways#we don't know much about him from him directly but we do. know stuff. kinda. do you get me#all i want from YE6 is veinxiao friendship being shown so i can have new dimensions on how lx views friendship#and maybe like. a hint at what his motivations are. like why is he Like That#<- again funnier if he's just Like That from the womb. even if the liu family isn't fucked up he's still Like That#but that's not this show's style so probably not#lx notes#like the INSISTENCE of writing lx as a point of comparison or through other people's perspectives and very rarely from his own#is fascinating to me
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in love in italy
hey!!! long time no see…sorry i’ve been off the grid - i’ve been working loads. i just randomly wrote this (I was feeling very poetic after reading Sally Rooney lmfao) hope you enjoy!
being with harry in Italy brings on some intense feelings that you just need to confess.
warnings: very brief mentions of sex, other than that it’s absolutely heart wrenching fluff.
word count: ~1k
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You’ve never felt like this before.
At least, not when you're in the middle of having sex with someone.
This wasn't just someone though, it was Harry.
Sweet and gentle Harry, whom had made everything feel a little bit lighter for you since the moment you met. Here he was, skin so close to yours it felt like he was trying to meld you both together like clay. His head was dipped into your shoulder, his breaths heaving but blissful. You felt like a pot of boiling sugar bubbling up to a gooey caramel and oozing into the bed below you. He made you feel as though one look from him or one kiss from him would make you shed every negative piece of your mind.
"You okay? You're awfully quiet after that." He half laughs, referring to the intense scene of love that was just displayed in the early hours of the morning, in a random villa in Italy. You’d woken up to get a glass of water and returned to bed to find Harry awake. A quick good night kiss turned into wandering hands and clothes being stripped to the floor. It wasn't quick, or impatient, the way you'd held eachother. It was intense, and thick and heavy — like there was something lingering for the two of you. You feel a few tears slip to yours ears and on to the pillows. Harry still hasn't noticed, gently stroking the leg around his waist. You scratch your fingers in his hair and let out a shaky breath.
You always found it hard to hold in your cries, since you were small. They swelled your chest like a balloon, and with a sharp gasp of breath the balloon pops and Harry's snapping his head up quickly and brushing your hair out of your face.
"Woah, woah. What's wrong?" His voice is panicked and you don't find yourself trying to avoid his gaze, which is strange. You don't feel upset, you feel overwhelmed. Harry always said it scared him how every time you looked at him it felt like you were reading his mind.
You wipe the sweat from your brow, the warm room making you feel flushed. Or was it this nagging urge to tell Harry something you’d kept to yourself for so long, out of fear of scaring him off so early in your relationship.
You smile, and he must think you look manic, grin growing the more you look at him, his constant over concern for you, like he couldn’t bear to think of anything bad happening to you.
“I feel good.” You say quietly, running your thumb over his mole next to his mouth.
“Yeah? That’s good.” He kisses you softly.
“Do you feel good?” He nods at your question without hesitation.
His eyes seem to gloss over akin to yours, and the words are literally behind your teeth when he says, “Always when I’m with you. You make me feel so safe. I can’t describe it-”
“I love you so much, Harry.” The tears are no longer tears, rather streams of saltiness that saturate your hair and Harry’s hands. He seems to deposit the last of the air in his lungs before he can speak again. Like your words winded him.
“You love me?” His voice is timid, and his hand is now shaking.
“You know that thing, where people paint in acrylic on a canvas, and it looks good, but kind of dull? A bit moody?” Harry nods, with a small smile creeping up his face. You always were one for the metaphor, “and then they paint it with that shimmery gloss and it makes the painting look so different. Like it’s brand new, and you’re finally seeing it in its best form? That’s how you make me feel. I wasn’t bad before, I just needed something…or someone to make me more vibrant. You do that for me. And I love you for it.”
He laughs, and the movement makes his tears fall out of his eyes and on to your cheeks. You are the most emotionally intelligent person he’s ever met in his life and he can’t believe that you’re in love with him.
“You always come up with the most beautiful metaphors...” he kisses you again, like staring at your face for too long brings on the urge to just devour you whole. “I genuinely think my entire life was created to coexist with yours, and just hear every piece of your mind that you’ll let me.”
You pull him down again and kiss him again. You were insatiable for his kisses, they were like oxygen for you. He’s still crying, and you’re still crying, and all you can hear around you is his heavy heartbeat and the owls in the trees around you. Your favourite place to be with Harry was in his Italian house. It felt like no one in the world existed or cared about the two of you when you were within these walls.
“I love you. I have done for months and I will do for a lifetime. Okay?” His brows are pinched together, in a sincere and reassuring way. Like he needs you to know that he’s not going anywhere.
“Okay.” You smile widely, until your cheeks hurt and your eyes wrinkle. “I love you.”
“I love you.” Now that it’s out in the air it feels like the only form of communication between you both in this moment. Harry rocks against your hips and kisses your neck, and you begin to breathe shallow. You whine when he connects your lips again.
“Show me how much you love me, H.”
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#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles#harry styles blurb#harry styles one shot#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#harry#harry styles story#boyfriendrry#harry styles smut#harry styles boyfriend#harry styles imagine#harry styles husband#harry styles fic#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles oneshot
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The thing I always forget about Bad Girls before I rewatch it is just how ridiculously plot heavy it is. I don't think it's the best episode of the season -- I don't think it's even the best episode of the season so far -- but it is an almost relentless progression of memorable and/or pivotal scenes.
In the space of just under forty minutes:
We meet Buffy's new Watcher and learn a lot more about the Watcher's Council. Wesley is not (to put it mildly) a very admirable character this season, but he works really well as a way of telling us more about Buffy and Faith and Giles.
Buffy drowns! Again! (Okay, she's only faking it this time, so this is only a metaphorical death and resurrection this time.)
There's a whole mini arc of Buffy flirting with Faith with the idea of embracing Faith being the Slayer and enjoying being the Slayer, even at the expense of her school work and her friendships and respect for the law and for people who aren't Faith Slayers.
We meet a brand new vampire cult (with a ridiculously bad name), find out their long-dead leader isn't quite dead after all, and that he used to be a rival of the Mayor, whose own plans advance considerably this episode.
A lot of this feels like it could easily have been spread out over several episodes, and maybe in a later season of the show it would have been. As it is, we're still in a not quite fully serialized era of the show: the events of previous episodes like Revelations and Helpless are mentioned briefly, sure, but a lot of the long term character work is left only implied.
We can assume that (after Amends), Faith and Buffy managed to patch their post-Revelations relationship up a little bit (and Faith is at least going on patrol with the rest of the gang at the start of The Zeppo). We can guess that Buffy has forgiven Giles for the events of Helpless (perhaps helped, in part, by whatever heroic thing he did at the end of The Zeppo that we never got to see). And presumably Buffy's lingering resentment about the Cruciamentum factors into her attitude toward Wesley and her decision to be a bit more like Faith and care less about following the rules. But none of this is actually ever made explicit on the show itself.
The show is still trying to be as self-contained as it can be, even with all the past events it's built on, and the result is an episode in which a lot has to happen at once. It's maybe a little rushed, is what I'm saying. And even when the episode finishes, the story it tells isn't quite over.
Because I forgot one thing:
Faith kills a man.
It's okay though, she definitely doesn't care and this won't have any long-term consequences for the rest of the season.
(Balthazar himself really is a pretty forgetable character though, let's not kid ourselves about that.)
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Hello again. I know you will send an email when a new post comes up but I am here checking anyway. Another question/comment. When Wilhelm visits our favorite therapist for the first time, he's wearing a VERY EXPENSIVE sweatshirt with a small heart with eyes on it. Is he signaling to the therapist his status/wealth? Is he 'wearing his heart on his sleeve' (chest)? There are brands on clothing sprinkled throughout but that sweatshirt stood out to me. And we never see it again. makes you wonder...
Thank you very much for your kind ask.
If it’s okay, I’m going to answer the question about Wilhelm’s clothes below and first reply to your question about my substack project.
My most recent post would be the one about the ‘Clementine’ Metaphor. (I don’t know if you’ve read that one. If you have and I’m somehow mixing something up, please forgive me. It’s hard to keep track of everyone.)
The ‘Clementine’ Metaphor post deals with the question of why there are so many satsumas/clementines/tangerines associated with Simon (and with a surprising number of other characters) and what they all mean.
As for any new posts, I’m currently working on two posts at the same time:
One will be a regular post (free for everyone to read) on yet another metaphor
One will be a paid-subscribers-only post
Please rest assured that the overwhelming majority of my substack articles on ‘Young Royals’ will remain FREE for everyone to enjoy, read, discuss and comment on. I will also NEVER retroactively paywall anything that’s currently free and I will never paywall the comment button. (I find a lot of this paywalling thing really, really weird, to be quite frank.)
The only (!) exception to not paywalling anything will be the occasional bonus post for my paid subscribers (basically a post every couple of weeks as a little dessert treat for them). I will make sure that these bonus posts are both a bit different and outside the usual chain of argument, so people who only read the free ones won’t feel like they are missing out on anything. Nobody should feel that there are any weird gaps in the chain of metaphors we’re discussing. There won’t be any missing links in the chain, so to speak. The bonus posts will be strictly additional info.
(Phew, I feel I should maybe make this a separate post and pin it at the top of my tumblr as soon as I work out how to do that.:D)
Anyway, as I said, I’m currently working on two things. I hope to get them both posted over the weekend, but one or the other might be a couple of days late. (It’s difficult to write two things at the same time.)
Now, as for your question about Wilhelm’s hoodie in that therapy scene…
Just so we’re on the same page, we’re talking about this one here, right?
You know…that is a great, great question!:) And you’ve got very sharp eyes because this, indeed, is a deeply meaningful costuming choice! This hoodie is a visual metaphor.
And no, I don’t think it has anything to do with the old saying about ‘wearing one's heart on one's sleeve’. If anything Wilhelm is doing quite the opposite in that scene: He’s not opening up to his therapist. We can see that both in the metaphorical subtext (remember the ‘Clementine’ metaphor: there is a whole bowl of unpeeled clementines in the therapist’s office in that scene, and it tells us that nothing is okay in that sense) and in the plain text (in the literal layer of the script): Wilhelm doesn’t want to open up. He’s not ready for that step yet.
(As I pointed out in the ‘Clementine’ metaphor article, though, there’s also a single apple placed among all the clementines in that bowl, and seeing as apples are symbols signifying temptation, I’d say that Wilhelm is at least tempted to say something…somewhere in the back of his mind.)
Anyway, so the heart on his chest is definitely not so much about ‘wearing your heart on your sleeve’, it simply means that Wilhelm is here because his problem relates to the heart. It’s because of ‘matters of the heart’ that he ended up in the therapists office, in the first place. In other words, it’s the fact that he loves a boy, but isn’t allowed to love him.
Which leads me to the next point: Why is this hoodie a visual metaphor?
Well, because it shows us more than just the heart image on Wilhelm’s chest. It also tells us what awful, horrible contradiction, what polarity, what faultlines there are in Wilhelm’s life: The hoodie is expensive, insanely expensive as a matter of fact. It reeks of wealth and privilege and high status and everything that makes it so impossible for Wilhelm to pursue that relationship with said boy that he loves. In other words, the hoodie is a contradiction in and of itself – just like Wilhelm’s life at that point, his emotional inner life, his psychological outlook on life, his mental health related life, his love life. In all of that, there’s a contradiction between the heart (the things that he actually wants) and the wealth/privilege (his background that forces him to deny himself these exact things). And he wears that contradiction on his very body, i.e. it’s plain for the therapist to see; it’s obvious, and Wilhelm carries is everywhere with him, wherever he goes, stands, sits or lies: it’s written all over him.
And all of that is encompassed in just one piece of clothing, which makes this hoodie a really good visual metaphor and an excellent costuming choice.
Anyway, thank you again for dropping by. I very much appreciate your kind words. My inbox is always open for lovely asks such as yours. Thank you for reading and letting me know you enjoy what I write.:)
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Challenge: Choose a random* tidbit in the cookie vault and do your best to turn it into a proper prompt!
*Completely random, no peeking… ;)
WOW anonie you really got me~
I have decided to change the cookie vault to the 🍪COOKIE JAR🍪, where I will definitely, maybe, hopefully take all of my million of unfinished works (some good, some very much not. I'm sorry in advance my lovelies uwu), and turn them into bite sized fics, au prompts, and little nibbles for you all <3
I've been struggling to write a completed fic for almost a year now due to graduate school, and I think that making the Cookie Jar could be a great way to get me writing again for fun and post things that I would only keep to myself otherwise.
These are imperfect, and not as well executed as when I write a proper fic, or make a long AU prompt that I am fully invested in. However, I want to be open and free with my work, rather than nervous about only posting what is polished and fully developed. Not everything will be to one's taste, and that's okay 😌 I've been slowly evolving in my kinks, and writing about them is a way for me to experiment and figure out how I feel about new things. I love you all a lot, and I would rather share these ideas, than have them sit and collect dust. This will be a fun way for me to share all of my rambles in a safe space, enjoy writing for pure fun with no pressure, and hopefully make your day a little bit brighter.
As they say: for every finished, successful artwork, there are a thousand unfinished, rejected, and unpopular ideas. I want to start sharing mine with you.
So- to kick this off... LET'S CRACK OPEN THE COOKIE JAR. I shall take a prompt (coined cookie crumbs) and turn it into a lil treat for you.
Weighting for Love
Tags: ABO, wolf hybrids, Namkook, w/g, concepts of vore/ cannibalism, wolf hybrids eat prey hybrids, they're vicious lil babies, slight blood kink, predator/ prey, wild packs + forest setting, softness- physical and metaphorical, saccharine, breeding, is it a sugar cookie fic without Jungkook getting fat? no.
4.8k words
Prompt: Deep in the forest, once Omegas accept courtship with their future mate, they’re plumped up by their Alphas. It’s a declaration of being a good provider, and it is essential if the pair want the pack's blessing in order to exchange mating bites. If an Omega is soft and fat, then the pack accepts that they’re well-taken care of, because it shows that they aren’t going hungry. It shows that they’re loved. If an Alpha isn’t able to fatten up their future mate during courting, then they don’t have the hunting skills required to support even more hungry mouths to feed with a future of pups.
Everyone blessed Namjoon and Jungkook’s courtship right away, mainly because Namjoon has been one of the highest-respected young Alphas for years. He's strong and powerful, but with a quieter, gentle side that reveals itself in their courting. Jungkook would have never guessed that the huge, meaty Alpha would blush and bring the Omega wild flowers in secret.
Namjoon was quiet and deadly on pack hunts. It was what he was best praised for. His hunting skills were unrivaled, and it became apparent incredibly quickly that the fiery Omega Jungkook was his chosen. Jungkook appreciated that in his pack, Omegas weren't expected to be submissive like he witnessed in the neighboring clans. Even if the pretty Omega was built delicately, that didn't mean he would roll over and let an Alpha go unchallenged. And Namjoon apparently liked that fire. A lot.
Jungkook watched jealously year after year as his older friends were courted, softened out, and then mated.
Everything in Jungkook's life changed when the next spring mating season arrived. Namjoon brought Jungkook a plethora of hunting gifts, and the lean Omega quickly chubbed up underneath his care and courtship. In the packs on the east side of the mountains, no Alphas bear mating marks. It is incredibly uncommon, but Jungkook’s bite is branded in Namjoon's skin in the exact same way that the Omega wears Namjoon’s mating mark with pride.
Now after the mating ceremony, the entire pack is delighted that there are pups on the way, because Jungkook is round and well-fed, fat with his Alpha’s love and sporting purple kisses each morning from Namjoon's affections. Jungkook's own paintings on his Alpha are better hidden, usually spattered across Namjoon's hips and stomach, and occasionally up his jaw, where Jungkook likes to claim him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~cookie jar~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Omegas wait with baited breath at choosing ceremonies for Alphas to deposit a gift at their feet. If an Alpha is especially interested, they will press a kiss to the insides of their wrists where tiny scent glands are. Jungkook has received 2 gifts and no wrist kisses, but he passes the time by weaving a circlet of grass and flowers as he watches the joined packs mill around. Not everyone reveals their intentions during the formal choosing ceremony, it's really more of an official start to the mating season, and the beginning of all of the springtime festivities that will last until autumn harvest.
However, over the coming weeks, Omegas that are old enough to mate stare with envy as other Omegas begin getting chubby. As pairs couple off in preparation for mating season, Omegas are doted on and fed to gain the pack's blessing.
Jungkook has happily picked fruits and flowers with the mated Omegas for years, and dreamt of the day when his small waist would round out and grow soft with the love of a sweet Alpha. He watched with quiet adoration as Seokjin first grew with kisses from an Alpha, then Taehyung as he was courted and put on weight until he was mated, and most recently, Jimin. Jimin and Jungkook snuggled for years on end in their mother's nests, so Jungkook was able to tell when his best friend began softening and getting squishy. He was so much better for cuddling without boney limbs. Jungkook latched onto Jimin’s softness and whimpered with terribly concealed jealousy as Jimin’s tummy and thighs filled in. Each day, he came home from being courted by Alpha Min Yoongi, and his stomach was pushed out, full with whatever courting treats Yoongi had fed him in the golden sunshine.
Jimin was sweet and kind about it, as Jimin always was. He hugged Jungkook back and let the younger Omega jealously squeeze his growing form and whine about how he wanted to be chubbed by an Alpha so badly. Jimin let him grope his tummy with envy and squeeze all of the weight that seemed to pudge up more every week as the spring turned into summer. Jimin’s mating ceremony was a whole year before Jungkook’s was. He couldn’t help but feel a little bit discouraged as the following spring came around, and his other Omega friends had promising suitors. Nobody seemed to take a true liking to the quiet Omega with big eyes that was more inclined to sit in the cooling spring, weave baskets, and giggle as the koi fish nibbled at his toes than gossip with the other Omegas.
That was, until one day a shadow fell across him while he was working in the water. Jungkook blinked up from where he was sitting, and Alpha Kim Namjoon was shuffling back and forth like he was uncomfortable in his own skin. Namjoon was one of the packs most promising young Alphas. Strong, and one of the best hunters. Namjoon’s Omega grandmother had raised him, since his parents had passed when he was young. Jungkook liked Namjoon's grandmother. She said nothing but praises about her grandson, and Jungkook trusted the old woman. She was the one that had taught Jungkook how to weave baskets instead of just crowns of flowers.
What was Kim Namjoon doing here? The Alpha had never even spoken to him. Aside from rumors that Namjoon was being trained as one of the next pack leaders, and showing his strength and calculated skills in hunts that brought in bounties for the pack, Jungkook only really knew anything about him by association, because he was apparently close friends with Jimin’s mate, Yoongi. That didn't mean that he had ever spoken to him before.
“Namjoon-ssi?” Jungkook shielded his eyes from the sun that shone around Namjoon’s head like a halo. The Alpha was flushed high in his cheekbones, a color that was very attractive with his caramel tanned skin.
Jungkook blinked. Namjoon had asked him how to… weave? Jungkook was confused. The Alpha's grandmother knew how to weave amazingly. He could just learn from her. But Namjoon sat with him in the spring and watched with careful eyes as Jungkook showed him the knots and patterns over and over, even as the Alpha struggled because of his long fingers and big palms. Jungkook was just as shocked when Namjoon came back the next day, asking to watch and learn again. His own products were.. Well, endearingly horrible. Somehow along the way, they became friendly on a first-name basis. When Namjoon leaned in to watch Jungkook’s nimble fingers underneath the water, the Alpha’s deep, cozy scent settled on his skin and made his Omega all but purr. Jungkook had to keep his wolf in check and make sure that he did not let his eyelids flutter, or his ears flick, or his tail wag.
One day though, Namjoon leaned so close that Jungkook’s wolf took over and mistook the gesture. Namjoon’s warm, delicious scent wrapped around him and his soft, soothing voice soaked into his bones. Jungkook’s head lolled to the side as he exposed his bare, smooth neck and his scent gland to the Alpha in invitation and submission. His cheeks heated up bright red the second that he realized what had happened, but Namjoon was… uncharacteristically sweet about it. Alphas weren't supposed to be sweet about this kind of thing, but he gently realigned Jungkook’s head, gave him a bashful smile, and reassured him that it was okay.
And then Jungkook was all kinds of confused. His friends Jimin and Taehyung teased him for how much time the popular Alpha was spending with him, but. If Namjoon had wanted him, shouldn’t he have just leaned in and pressed his nose against the sensitive patch of skin on his neck that pumped out his scent? Shouldn’t he have breathed deeply and spread his own scent back on Jungkook in return? It was customary to scent when an Omega was attracted enough to bare their neck. And now Jungkook understood why, rejection was way worse. It was mortifying, even if his invitation hadn’t been intentional. It was still embarrassing.
The next day, he was quiet and a bit irritated when Namjoon showed up, uninvited and maybe.. Unwelcome? Jungkook was trying to be alone to brood in peace. He had abandoned his usual spot in the pack’s nearby stream in hopes that Namjoon wouldn’t find him. Jungkook had hidden himself away some twenty minutes in a meadow and was weaving flowers together, muttering to himself in confusion and a bit of self-loathing that he has subconsciously grown attached to Kim Namjoon’s scent, his quiet voice and gentle hands... just to be rejected.
He could almost smell the Alpha now if he concentrated hard enough. A shadow fell over his work and he snarled in irritation that he just wanted to be left alone. When he looked up with sharp eyes and saw… Namjoon, his nimble hands froze.
The Alpha was shifting, just like he had been the first day that Jungkook had spoken to him weeks ago. Like he was feeling too big for his body and unsure what to do with his powerful limbs. Jungkook didn’t know what to say, and was about to bite something snide when a full, ripe strawberry was pulled from behind Namjoon’s back, and the large Alpha held it gently with two large fingers by the green stem. Namjoon's cheeks were the same color as the fruit as Jungkook looked up again in confusion.
“F-for you… Omega,” The Alpha mumbled the last word and Jungkook’s spine tingled at hearing him be addressed… like that. By this Alpha. By an Alpha that he liked. Heat bloomed in his cheeks, and Jungkook smartly replied.
“W-what?”
Namjoon grimaced in pain that Jungkook didn’t somehow just get it, whatever this was. Namjoon made a soft whining sound out his throat and swallowed hard. “This strawberry is from me. To you. As a g-gift. Would you please accept it?”
Jungkook’s tummy fluttered as this gorgeous Alpha- maybe the pack’s best Alpha, was shyly in front of him and offering him a courting strawberry. Jungkook couldn’t help it. His cheeks bunched up into a smile and he beamed at Namjoon, all of the flowers in his lap forgotten. His scent accidentally sweetened with excitement. Jungkook was very intentional about his words.
“Thank you… Alpha.” He leaned in and kept his eyes on Namjoon, peeking up out of his lashes. Jungkook parted his lips and bit the strawberry, accepting it, and his lips brushed against Namjoon’s finger tips. The Alpha wasn’t able to cut off the low whine that bubbled up out of him, or the way that his tail swayed back and forth behind him. His wolf was happy.
Namjoon scurried away afterwards, but Jungkook caught a glimpse of the dark red splotches on his cheeks before the wolf fled away from him. Jungkook’s mouth was still full of the ripe summer fruit, and he giggled as the pack’s most esteemed Alpha scampered away from him: Tiny and unthreatening.
Jungkook couldn't really believe it. He was a little bit suprised, yet entirely delighted when Namjoon showed up the next day again with a basket full of strawberries and a white daisy. It only solidified Jungkook’s thoughts and quenched his worries. Kim Namjoon wanted to court him. During Mating Season. Which meant that he wanted to mate him. Jungkook couldn’t keep from grinning and squealing into his pillow like a pup when he fell into bed that night, his tummy full of sweet, ripe strawberries and his lips flushed pink from the way that the Alpha’s fingers had gently swiped over his lips while they sprawled in the meadow during the sunset.
He had all but knocked down Jimin’s den after dinner time and promptly tugged up his own shirt to show the chubby Omega the way that his tummy was adorably pushed out, full of sweet fruit that had been hand fed to him by the Alpha. Jimin’s eyebrows had shot up when Jungkook giggled with glee, settled his paws on his own tummy and beamed in explanation, “Kim Namjoon.” He could just imagine getting more and more strawberries until he was as round as one himself.
The next day, Jungkook wove Namjoon a laurel wreath with flowers that he thought would suit the Alpha's skintone and fur coloring the best. When Namjoon showed up as Jungkook was patiently waiting for him by the forestline, he bashfully smiled up at him, then pushed himself up on his tip toes and settled the crown of flowers on Namjoon’s silvery hair around his large, pointed wolf ears. He made sure that his fingers combed through the locks and brushed over the base of Namjoon’s ears, just to ever so gently drag his claws down the back of Namjoon’s skull and neck. The Alpha rumbled in an accidental show of the deep pleasure that the touches gave him. Jungkook blushed, but he kept his gaze boldly locked to make sure that he wasn’t incorrect. That Namjoon really did want to court- and maybe mate him.
The Alpha spread the widest grin, and his long fingers came around Jungkook’s wrist. He asked, breath husky and sweet, “Jungkookie. Can I please scent you?”
It was unlike Alphas to ask to scent an Omega, but the respect that it implied made Jungkook's lips fall open in a shocked little pout. He was tempted to retort if you have to ask… but he could see how kind and respectful that Namjoon was being.
Jungkook softened his features, tilted up his face and smiled.
“Yes, you have my permission, Alpha. Thank you for asking.”
Namjoon lifted Jungkook’s wrist and first nuzzled his nose into it, breathing deeply. Jungkook watched his silvery ears fall in bliss, took in how his eyelids fluttered, and admired the way his tail swayed back and forth. The Alpha made a low, soft rumble of pleasure, and Jungkook almost yipped with how badly he wanted to be kissed. Namjoon’s full lips pressed against the inside of Jungkook’s wrist. It made the Omega’s knees shake.
“You smell- so good. Like honeysuckle-” Namjoon exhaled against his skin. His tongue dipped out at pressed against the small scent gland. The lick shot tingles up Jungkook’s arm. He did everthing in his power to not whimper even as his own dark ears grew heavy with relaxed pleasure. His Omega started purring.
Namjoon smiled against his skin and his nose twitched and he mumbled “more… want more-” He nosed up Jungkook’s bare arm, up to the cut off sleeves of his summer tunic, and nuzzled his face right into the side of Jungkook’s neck. This time, Jungkook couldn't keep his Omega back, and he accidentally made a soft yipping sound of want. Jungkook's head lolled to the side in euphoria at being scented by this Alpha, and his knees stopped working entirely. Strong, large hands came to his waist as Jungkook collapsed against Namjoon’s thick chest. He'd intended to stand upright, not accidentally grip the Alpha’s thick biceps and cling on for dear life as his trembling thighs threatened to slick up.
Namjoon’s chest rumble deepened from Jungkook being plastered against him, and the Alpha slowly slid his tongue across Jungkook’s scent gland for a taste. The most embarrassing sound fell out of Jungkook, and his bones turned to liquid. He fully melted into Namjoon, limp against him as pleasure pumped through his veins and clouded his mind.
The Alpha wrapped both thick arms around Jungkook and he thumbed at Jungkook’s small waist. Namjoon purred into his neck as he rubbed his bare skin with his fingertips, “You're so small. So skinny. Alpha will have to change that. We need to feed you up, sweetheart.” Namjoon gently squeezed Jungkook’s waist, and Jungkook made a second, incredibly embarrassing mewl as his scent all but pumped out waves of pleasure, his belly heated, and his thighs trembled.
Namjoon grinned against his flushed skin and gave him a little nip, an affectionate gesture. “In case my intentions weren’t perfectly clear, Jungkookie-” He licked over his scent gland again, and Jungkook feebly clawed at the massive Alpha’s back, wanting to crawl into his skin. “I want to mate you.”
Jungkook panted, feeling dazed and drinking in Namjoon’s scent. The Alpha let him regain his senses by petting up and down his back soothingly as Jungkook whimpered from the touches. Eventually, his mind slowly pieced itself back together.
Namjoon had this much of an affect on him and his Omega… just from scenting? Jungkook swallowed hard. He would be melted honey in his hands if- when Namjoon kissed him. Jungkook could finally stand, and he pulled back to look Namjoon in the eyes. The silvery Alpha was so pretty with the flower crown on. Jungkook claimed him with utter confidence and a smile tugging at his lips. “If you couldn’t tell… I want to mate you too.” Namjoon’s face shone with the brightest beaming dimples, and he kissed each of Jungkook’s cheeks. It wasn't quite what he was expecting. His lips tingled with want. But he’d accept cheek kisses... For now.
The following evening, Namjoon returned from the pack hunt, clothed only in loose trousers as all of the Alphas did during the hunt. Namjoon had caught three deer, which was the biggest haul of any hunter that went on the trip. They were slung over his shoulders in triumph and he deposited them all at the pack’s central hearth. Jungkook giggled and watched as Namjoon received many kisses on his cheeks from the elderly, wholesome Omega grandmothers that fawned over all of the hunters.
After Namjoon let himself be the subject of all of the grandmothers telling him what a good pack member he was, he broke away with a smaller rabbit hybrid slung over his shoulder that had been hidden beneath the deer he carried. Some wolfs' eyes followed him amidst all of the celebration of the hunters' return, Jungkook included.
Namjoon made his way through the crowd and found Jungkook standing with some other mated Omegas. Namjoon smiled at him, flushed and glistening from the hunt. It wasn't doing anything helpful for Jungkook’s health to see him like this. Not that he hadn’t seen Namjoon post-hunt before but… Jungkook hadn’t really been looking. Not in a way that he allowed his mind to think ‘that will be mine to enjoy…’.
There was a lot of Namjoon to enjoy. His golden chest was thick with muscle and his abdomen lean, tapering into narrow hips and powerful thighs. Jungkook whined as the Alpha stood in front of him in all of his glory, but it was loud enough in the celebrating camp that he hoped Namjoon didn’t catch the sound. Jungkook swallowed hard, not sure where to look.
Namjoon dropped down to his knees and placed the bunny at Jungkook’s feet, a clear, blatant, declaration of courting. The surrounding people turned and stared. Namjoon’s warm hands settled on Jungkook’s waist and he looked up at him with sparkling eyes. “Will my Omega accept my gift from the hunt?”
His thumbs gently rubbed back and forth over Jungkook’s hipbones, making his skin tingle. So many people were watching. Jungkook nodded shyly and blushed at all of the attention, but he wanted to make his acceptance clear. He leaned down to press a kiss to Namjoon’s cheek, and spoke clearly. “I would be honored, Alpha.”
Namjoon beamed up at him and squeezed his waist in excitement.
That night after all of the hunters bathed in the stream, Jungkook sat by the fire as everyone ate deer, but he got to have bunny- a delicacy. He was leaning against Namjoon’s legs as the Alpha was required to sit on a large stump until the pack had eaten his own kills. Jungkook was thankful that his Alpha was considerate of the size of prey he had brought him for courting. Jungkook was in no condition to eat an entire deer, and he was thankful that Namjoon had considered his smaller size when hunting for him. Once the three deer that Namjoon had brought were consumed by the pack, and another Alpha was brought to the stump for the few squirrels that he had hunted, Namjoon sunk down to Jungkook’s side. He wrapped his arms around him, pushed his nose into his temple, and rested a paw on Jungkook’s tummy. Jungkook was feeling incredibly full as he tried to finish up the small prey, fitting the very last of it into his belly and panting from the effort. His tummy bulged in Namjoon’s grip, and the Alpha purred and rubbed it. “Your appetite will grow as I feed you up, sweetheart. It will get easier, I promise. Until then, I will keep finding small prey for you- although my instincts tell me to hunt the biggest prey I can find.”
Jungkook nodded, flushed and thankful, and he snuggled into Namjoon’s side. His mouth was stained red, as all of the other wolves’ were, but he turned and crawled into Namjoon’s lap, and pressed a soft kiss right onto the Alpha’s lips. Namjoon instantly smiled against his mouth, and Jungkook had to wait a few minutes for the adorable Alpha to stop grinning before he cupped his cheeks and kissed him again, much more thoroughly. That night, as the fire was tended and the stars slowly crawled across the sky, Namjoon’s paws found their way to Jungkook’s overfilled belly. He gently rubbed deep circles, rumbling happily at how his future mate was currently fat with his hunt, and Jungkook purred at the feeling of being full from his Alpha’s care for him.
Throughout the next few days, as Jungkook's predator tummy slowly digested the prey, it felt like he was constantly receiving a warm hug from Namjoon. On the third morning when he woke up, Jungkook rolled over and mewled as he felt his middle squish underneath him. He sat up and yanked up his tunic to look. He had some softness in his tummy. He poked his belly to make sure that he wasn’t imagining it, and watched the flesh sink underneath his greedy fingers. He grinned down at the soft fat filling in his belly from his Alpha’s gift.
Jungkook scampered to Jimin’s den and showed him the warm layer of pudge that was resting inside of his waist and hips from eating an entire bunny himself. He earned many kisses across his cheeks and ruffles of his ears from both Jimin and his mother. Jungkook couldn't keep himself from preening as the first few pounds of love were settled in his waist, promising to grow.
The gifts of prey became more frequent, and Jungkook started to feel like Jimin had last summer when he was courted. Every night, he was going to bed with something warm, delicious, and fattening sitting inside of his stomach, with his lips swollen from kisses.
Jungkook went hunting a few times with Namjoon to learn how the Alpha did it so well. When Jungkook successfully caught a chipmunk hybrid as his first prey, he instantly deposited it with pride at Namjoon’s feet and told him that his tummy needed the courting gifts too. Namjoon had barked a laugh because it was unheard of for an Omega to hunt and gift prey to an Alpha, but Namjoon gratefully accepted the gift with a deep kiss to Jungkook’s lips and heavy scenting that still made his knees weak.
Jungkook snuggled up against Namjoon for naps in the summer sunshine, and the Alpha’s warm palms pet over his sides as he purred and felt how Jungkook was filling out. He whispered praises that had Jungkook’s belly fizzling and him slicking up embarrassingly. “My baby is getting plump… Alpha is feeding you well.” Namjoon patted Jungkook’s soft belly as it pushed out supple and fat without anything even in it. That night, Namjoon had caught a deer and fed Jungkook as much of it that would fit into his belly before giving the rest of the prey to the pack. Everyone looked fondly as Jungkook sat in Namjoon’s lap. His belly was so full that it was stretching his tunic, and the Alpha’s paws were lovingly rubbing and massaging the stuffing to help his tummy digest it. Jungkook felt so fucking pretty as he chubbed up on his Alpha’s courting gifts. His chin was soft, his belly warm and full, and his waist was round.
Jungkook's soft body fit so well in Namjoon’s adoring hands, and squeaked and giggled as the Alpha gripped his thighs and asscheeks in the dark of the forest while kissing his neck and whining for Jungkook’s kisses and pets in return.
Jungkook fattened much faster than the rest of the Omegas partaking in mating season, and their mating was the first to be blessed by the pack, to both Jungkook and Namjoon’s delight. Jungkook’s once small waist was bulging, and his belly jiggled when he trotted. All of the mated Omegas fawned over him, kissing his chubby cheeks, petting his ears, and cooing to him at how well Alpha Namjoon was taking care of him. That it was obvious by how well Jungkook was fattening up that his Alpha clearly adored him. Jungkook blushed under so much praise, and giggled as small pups wanted to squeeze the thick roll of his lower belly and pouted that someday they hoped to be mated too.
Back in the safety of his den, he adoringly pet over all of his weight too, in love with how soft he was because of Namjoon constantly feeding him. He snuck into the Alpha’s cave a few times, always to Namjoon’s delight and grabby hands as he squeezed the Omega in his thick arms and snuggled with him like a bear. Namjoon’s paws snuck beneath Jungkook’s tunic and wobbled his belly, purring deeply into his ear as Jungkook jiggled in his hands, a sign of love and being cared for. On more than one occasion Namjoon's palm had to be pressed against his mouth to keep him quiet as Namjoon kissed and adored his body, prepping him for the mating ceremony with his tongue and fingers. Jungkook arched into his touches, mewling into his large hand and trying to keep quiet to not wake the rest of the pack.
As the Harvest Moon approached, and along with it the moon goddess's blessing of all of the mated pairs, Namjoon hunted and fed Jungkook every night, intent on keeping him full and satisfied. Jungkook fell asleep with a rounded, firm belly full of prey every evening, and woke up snuggled in Namjoon’s arms, soft and bloated. He was kissed awake with his belly bulging at the bottom and stretched with new chub from being fed so well. The Alpha greedily squeezed the plump roll, feeling the ample padding that Jungkook was growing as he fattened up his future mate. Jungkook’s belly finally rested heavily in his lap, his chin doubled, and his chest and limbs soft and squishy. He sat cute and fat at all of the summertime fires, letting Namjoon feed him treats and fill him in with more squishy weight. The pack members cooed in delight and squeezed Jungkook's full cheeks at how well he was being courted.
When their mating came on the night of the Harvest Moon, Jungkook shyly asked to bite Namjoon too. The Alpha agreed instantly.
They shared a fat squirrel hybrid as a treat after getting knotted, much to Jungkook's delight- Namjoon had discovered that Jungkook had a taste for sweet, plump prey rather than large, lean, powerful prey, and he was keen to oblige him. With both of their bellies full, Jungkook’s soft and sweet in Namjoon's hands as the prey promised to fatten him even more, Namjoon sunk his teeth into Jungkook's shoulder, making him cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. With his neck and shoulder bloody and throbbing, Jungkook returned the bite, branding the Alpha with his own signature too.
They licked over the blood until they both healed, and Namjoon kissed every inch of Jungkook, adoring his weight and growling over and over with possession as he sucked dark bruises onto him. Jungkook giggled and moaned at being so adored, squishing underneath Namjoon’s paws and jiggling underneath the smallest touches. He drooled at being so fat to wobble as Namjoon mated him again throughout the night, and the Alpha salivated at it too. Namjoon groped his belly as Jungkook was knotted and bred enough times for his belly to bloat, and he purred in pleasure as he enjoyed the fat jiggles of his mate.
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I COULDNT SLEEP LAST NIGHT SO I SPENT THE NIGHT REREADING ALL OF TRADTIONAL !!!! AND IT WAS SOOO MUCH FUN I LOVEEE THEM😭😭😭 he was sooooo down bad im obsesseddd
"bro, you're annoying as fuck" GOODBYEEEE THAT IS ACTUALLY THE REALEST IVE EVER HEARDDDD. my dad is always like “you know, u can tell me anything.” AND IM LIKE “since when?? i literally can’t???” this is the same man that gets sooo mad when i just ask a question he doesn’t like😭 but my big brother’s wife is actually pregnant and she’s due soon so one good thing is i’m going to get to be here for that !!
sam you’re too sweet i looove you😭😭 my sister calls me barbie all the time and i think it’s so cute you chose the same nickname. I LOVE YOU YOU BEAUTIFUL, AMAZING, TALENTED WOMAN🫶🫶🫶🫶
i used to usually make my coffees at home. id brew it in a french press orrrr id make some using my keurig (omg if u or a friend have a nespresso machine those make it taste SOOOOO GOOD my mom has one and i LOVE using it) i add a little bit of sugar while its hot and i let it cool down and id use oat milk (i’ve only tried two brands; califa farms & oatly, i enjoyed them both. if im out i literally just use regular milk cuz whtvr) and thennn id use the coffee mate french milk creamer (is that what it’s called? it’s milk idk) and then a little bit of the torani vanilla syrup (cause it’s pretty strong). if my sweet tooth was kicking extra hard i’d add a drizzle of some white chocolate syrup.
HELPFUL AT HOME ICED COFFEE TIP I SAW ON TIKTOK: maybe this is common sense (it wasn’t for me tho🫣) but you’re supposed to add all your syrups and creamers into the coffee and mix it together AND THENNN pour onto ice😭😭 apparently it doesn’t mix as well when you pour them one by one onto the ice (WHICH IS WHAT I DID HAHA) and i did actually notice it made a slight difference.
so sorry that was wayyy longer than it had any right to be but it took me forever to find a way i enjoy making it at home. AND IT WORKS CAUSE EVERYONE IVE MADE IT FOR SAYS IT TASTES LIKE ICED COFFEE FROM A CAFE YAYYY !!! when i go out though i usually get a cup from dunkin. their cold brews are sooo yummmm and i love getting the sweetened cold foam.
omg thank you for asking abt the whole GED, i can’t believe you remember, its so sweet that you do, but i was actually going to bring it up in my last ask but i guess i forgot to. I DIDNT HAPPEN☹️ I HAD TO CANCEL THE CLASSES BEFORE I EVEN STARTED BECAUSE OF THIS TRIP☹️☹️☹️☹️ it actually upset me soooo much at the time. i’ve been trying for a couple years now and it NEVER works out, i was SO sure it would this time, but now im starting to wonder if the universe if just telling me it’s not meant for me😭
i don’t have anything planned yet but hopefully it’s chill. i hope you have a great weekend as well babe !!!💕💞✨
~🎶
I frequently reread traditional. Especially when I'm in the mood to write about them more. I really like how caring Harry is in that one 🤭 I think it's cute when he tries to spoil his girl 🥰
My dad knows surface level things of me as best but he thinks we have this connection. I feel bad, he's mean to my sister. But tbh I don't tell my parents EVERYTHING. I tell my mom a lot, she's one of my favorite people, but since I've moved out, I just tell them both less and less. They're a lot of work and a) I don't want to burden them with my shit, and b) there's not much they can do at this point in time to help me.
BABYYYYYYYYYYYY boy or girl? Can I ask that? I love babies so much I love that for you!!!
AHHHHH I just went with your metaphor, but I love it! 💕
Okay I think I misled you. I buy a jug of cold brew every week and make coffee that way. I will have to try the pouring onto ice. I had NO IDEA. I do one at a time too! I don't have any coffee making machines. Everyone I KNOW has a nespresso machine. But I refuse. Idk. I'm a cold coffee gal and I'm like anti using hot to make it ice 😭
I think I've mentioned I'm from the Northeast before so I literally run on dunkin so I get you. I cold foam the other day (a treat for myself because I usually just do coffee) and it was SO good. I forgot how much I liked it!!! When Dunking does their $3 cold brew deal every day for a month (I think it's usually February because it's the shortest month--Capitalism am I right?) I enjoy getting cold brew from them!
I unfortunately yap a lot but I try to remember the big things! I'm glad I remembered! I kind of figured the trip would have affected it's happening. Don't give up yet! I think if this is something you want you should do it, regardless of how long it takes. Who cares if it's a little later than you wanted! I think if it's what you want then it's meant for you! 💕
xoxo
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/* Here's one for older Lora, if that's okay? Thinking this is post Legacy... --@not-that-dillinger */
Encom Tower at night, Ed thought, was oddly peaceful. Perhaps it was the nostalgia of pulling an all-nighter, or the below, or the lack of people, something else, but he usually found it calming.
Usually.
The past two weeks had been nothing but a whirlwind of meetings that left Ed mentally exhausted and anxious, beginning with the disastrous release of the OS-12 and Sam Flynn taking back the company the next day, and culminating in the catastrophe that was today's board meeting and that had devolved into a shouting match between him and Flynn.
Neither of them was innocent in the incident, but Ed would probably take the blame for it. Ed could practically hear the thin ice he'd been treading cracking beneath him...
Ed had to admit, there were plenty of good things changing with Sam taking over, in the form of a whole slew of new and innovative and exciting projects that Mackey would never have let fly (Mackey was gone, and in any other case, that would have been a relief, except that Ed could just feel that it would only be a matter of time before Sam said the word, and the metaphorical ice beneath Ed's feet gave way to the frigid watery death below), and bringing back the digitization laser project.
He wasn't sure how to feel about the laser project restarting. His father had become all but obsessed with it after he returned from prison, but he had to admit, he was curious about it, and the implications of what it could do were earth-shattering.
Tonight, Ed could find no peace in the darkened tower. He couldn't go home; he was afraid of what he'd do to himself if he did, but none of the usual tricks worked. He tried losing himself to the code of one of his other projects, typing until his hands were numb his head ached from staring at his computer monitor for too long, but even that wasn't enough.
Which was why he found himself in the break room at an hour far after everyone else had gone home, fixing his fourth cup of tea in just as many hours.
He hadn't bothered turning on the lights as he made the trek from his office; the route had practically become muscle memory, and the dark helped with the headache.
He'd been staring out the window at the city lights lost in thought, the faint smell of camomile and lavender wafting from the warm mug in his hand, and feeling the closest he'd been to relaxed all day, when the lights flickered on.
Ed squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenched to hold back a pained hiss. He tensed at the dim reflection of Dr. Baines in the darkened window when he opened his eyes.
There was a beat of silence that seemed to stretch into eternity, Ed feeling awkward and more than a little like a child that had been caught stealing from the cookie jar at midnight.
"You're still here?" he finally asked in surprise.
“I could ask you the same question,” her smile was thin and tired. She inched past the young man back towards the counter, jimmying the lid off her tumbler. It was a nice cool blue with the companies branding across its face. She always saw it as a bit cheesy but the consumer base ate it up.
She pours the remainder of the days coffee into her cup. Either uncaring or unnoticing that it had gone cold hours ago. Lora looks over her shoulder at him carefully. He was — devistatingly tired looking. Aged simply by being awake. Her eyes shift to her watch, then the man, then back again.
“Weird couplea’ days huh?” Her smile took on a warmer , understanding look. She had her share of far too late nights and frantic workweeks. She also knew how startling a shift in the corporate structure could be. Lora had seen the meteoric rise of his father… and his fall… then the rise and fall of Flynn himself.
They always had to go out in a blaze of glory. Media trials or underground movements— largest scandals of their times. Hell! Flynn managed to overshadow Dillinger in the same decade twice! God… that man.
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what if markus went back to look for simons body among the wreckage of other destroyed androids, found him, and gave him a new heart.
and it worked. simon lived again.
Are you in my Google docs??? Do you read my WIPS when I'm not looking???? bc I'm literally writing a fic like this KDHDJSH
It honestly could work. I mean they're not like humans where if they don't have blood pumping after a certain amount of time their brains die. They can be reactivated at any time, so who's to say this isn't possible?
And since you accidentally guessed so closely to my fic, I'll give you a brief outline, as a treat: (summarised directly from my draft)
So in my fic, once the initial battle of the revolution is won, Markus retrieves Simon's body and has a brand new heart made for him. Markus keeps Simon's old heart instead of getting a newer one for himself because 1. Simon sacrificed himself so Markus could live, and 2. Markus is in love and sentimental as fuck. But a little while later, the revolution is still going on because no freedom fight is won in a day, and the heart Simon gave Markus starts to malfunction due to its age, but he doesn't tell anyone because he doesn't want to give up Simon's heart. But Simon figures it out - he notices when Markus unexpectedly slows down or zones out, when his breathing is heavier than usual as his systems work overtime to cool him. Simon sees how Markus’s strength fades at times, and Markus tries to hide it, but Simon knows him too well. He tells Markus to get rid of the heart, get a new one, a better and stronger one that won’t die on him. Markus evades, he promises he’ll get a new heart but never specifies when. He knows he should, and he knows holding onto a faulty biocomponent on mere sentiment is illogical, but so are most emotions. So he keeps procrastinating, not taking it as seriously as he should. Then one day, the heart fails him at the worst moment, and he dies on a battlefield before Simon can get to him.
Of course, he lives, because I don’t do angst without a happy ending. But Simon is furious, and scared. And it takes a while to find a new heart for Markus; everyone’s too busy with the war effort to make enough thirium regulators, and so many deviants need hearts and other various biocomponents. But Simon doesn’t give up; he’s determined, and a bit desperate, and he finally just goes straight to Kamski, and begs him to make Markus a new heart, promises anything. He’s surprised to discover that Kamski genuinely wants to help, with no strings attached and no trade off necessary. Simon doesn’t entirely trust him, but Chloe seems to, and at least he knows Markus was Kamski’s one-of-a-kind creation, so maybe that’s why he wants to help. Whatever the reason, Simon accepts his help, and Kamski builds Markus a brand new heart.
When Markus wakes up, Simon scolds him for being stupid, but they’re both just relieved it worked and Markus is okay. Simon is like “why the fuck would you do that” and Markus admits he wanted to keep Simon’s heart for as long as he could. Simon can’t stay mad at him for that, because he knows he would’ve done the same thing. Markus admits he’s sad to be without Simon’s heart again, and gets the idea that they should switch, so they can have each other’s hearts. Simon argues against it, because Markus’s new heart is so advanced and efficient even compared to Simon’s newer heart, and that wouldn’t be fair. But Markus is insistent, and promises that next time his heart begins to fail (if it does) he’ll get a new one, and then he and Simon can switch again. That way they’ll always have each other’s hearts, metaphorically and literally. Simon knows it’s dumb, but it’s okay, because he is a morosexual and Markus is the deviants�� number one himbo.
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!! Hi hello !!
I'm Arwen, I'm 19 and I make art, memes and random ass posts. I use they/them, please respect that and don't use feminine type nicknames with me!
I'm working on a commission sheets for if others are interested!
I have a lot of interests, so just ask! Atm it's a hyperfixation of the Magnus archives! I make art and memes of it, so you're welcome to follow!
Keep in mind, I am autistic ( AuDHD ) and might not always understand your tone. I often use tonetags, they're provided in the ( read more ) bit below !!
Please use them if you can, they are very helpful. Thank you!
Links to my Paypal and Kofi for the future, a better commission sheet is a w.i.p!
Paypal.com/LilGodOfNight is my PayPal <3
Tone indicator list
/aff — affectionate
I’m thinking of you. /aff
/c — copypasta
crazy I was crazy once they locked me in a room a rubber room a rubber room with rats rats make me crazy /c
/cb — clickbait
You’ll never believe what’s inside this $20M home! /cb
/f — fake
Look at this real-life unicorn. /f
/gen or /g — genuine
You’re such a nice person. /gen
/genq — genuine question
Does this help clarify? /genq
/hj — half joking ( you're like, half serious, half not )
I mean, I’m usually right. /hj
/hyp — hyperbole
I have 10,000 things to do today. /hyp
/ij — inside joke
There’s just something about those beach fries. /ij
/j — joking
Elias bouchard never did anything wrong/j
/lyr — lyrics
Vintage tee, brand new phone. High heels on cobblestones. /lyr
/lh — light-hearted
I think you misspelled mosey. /lh
/lit — literal
The rat we saw was the size of a small dog. /lit
/lu — little upset
Our top client won’t be renewing. /lu
/met — metaphorical
His fingers were icicles after shoveling for so long! /met
/nav — not a vent ( more so an update or a statement, )
Work has been so busy. /nav
/nbh — nobody here (none of your followers)
I’m really feeling down because of someone. /nbh
/neg — negative connotation
Oh my gosh. I’m going to cry. /neg
/neu — neutral connotation
The dog needs to go outside. /neu
/nf — not forced
Do you want to hang out today? /nf
/nm — not mad
Did you leave the iron on this morning? /nm
/nsb — not subtweeting
I hate when people don’t say things to your face. /nsb
/nsrs — non-serious
I just bruised my leg, but I’m okay. /nsrs
/nsx — non-sexual intent
You look so good. /nsx
/p — platonic
You look so pretty. /p
/pos — positive connotation
Oh my gosh! I’m going to cry. /pos
/q — quote
“Sometimes I’ll start a sentence and I don’t even know where it’s going.” /q
/r — romantic
I can’t wait to do life with you. /r
/ref — reference
It’s exactly like the gold or blue dress debacle. /ref
/rh or /rt — rhetorical
I still can’t figure out the issue. How can I be so stupid? /rh
/s or /sarc — sarcastic
This is just what I needed on a Monday. /s
/srs — serious
I really like working with you. /srs
/sx — sexual intent
You look so good. /sx
/t — teasing
Oh really? Guess we have to be best friends now. /t
/th — threat
I will block you if you don’t stop. /th
Pictures version:
( so you can download them
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OMG WAIT YOU WRITE FOR OSOMATSU-SAN??? Is it alr if I ask for headcanons of the bros supporting a trans reader? (ftm preferably but it can be more open if you want it) You don't have to write write all of them if you don't wanna, I just kinda need supportive stuff atm
Admittedly, this is kind of a new concept for the sextuplets. Ichi, Totty and Jyushi (and maybe Kara) are the only ones that have seriously looked into the LGBTQ+ community prior to you coming out, but all 6 are fairly sure they identify as their AGAB, so this is brand new territory. However, they all think it makes sense. If you don't feel like the label that was slapped onto you at birth is a fitting one, you should absolutely be allowed to find and use a better one! It's just common sense, right? It should be common sense, anyway.
Oso doesn't treat you any differently after you come out to him. He won't make it a big deal if you don't want him to. Take it from somebody who is completely the same person now as he was in high school: people change all the time, right? Small changes, big changes, doesn't matter. But you're still yourself when you change. Even if you're completely different today from the person you were yesterday. And that's why he still loves you, because you haven't stopped being yourself. You're just becoming a happier version of yourself, and that's pretty kickass.
Kara gets all poetic about it, like he does for many things. Lots of cute, slightly painful metaphors, like comparing you to a butterfly, or the moon, or a flower blooming, or any other thing in nature that changes phases. Even if it's kinda pretentious, you can't help appreciating how far he goes to make sure you know he loves you no matter what. All the cliche flattery is completely sincere, he means every word. He's just dramatic as hell.
Choro is a little freaked out, not because of you but because he's super worried about saying or doing something wrong and totally ruining everything between you. You have to admit it's cute to watch him fumble over his words and get all worked up, but eventually you reassure him that it's okay to make a mistake here or there. As long as he isn't purposely misgendering or deadnaming you, it's understandable to mess up a few times at first.
Much like Oso, Ichi doesn't feel the need to make a big deal out of it and won't if that's not the energy you're looking for. He's more the kind of person to show his support in small ways. If he manages to find anything with trans pride flag colors, whether they be there intentionally or not, he'll probably get it for you. He'd also be really excited to go to a pride parade or other pride event with you, he's kinda always wanted to but never felt like he had a real reason to before... which is silly in retrospect, he absolutely could have gone if he felt like it. But now he can also go with you, which makes it even more special.
Jyushi is much better than his brothers at parsing out the kind of response you're looking for, his emotional intelligence in general is a lot higher than that of his brothers. So if you're looking for a big, excited reaction from him, he's gonna throw you a coming out party. If you're looking just for acknowledgement, he can also do that. He and Ichi are probably the most likely to Choose Violence when it comes to addressing transphobic assholes, as well.
Y'know, it's kind of a funny coincidence, but people occasionally mistake Totty for a girl. Especially if he's not with his brothers. Sure, he is a bit of a twink and he does care about fashion, but it bothers him that people immediately label him a woman just for those things. Anyway, his point is that people are so weird about gender roles and all that. Like, it's completely baffling what things people will attribute to being Inherent and Exclusive to One Gender Only™️. Having a larynx? Oh that's only for men. Being creative? Oh that's only for women. And so on and so forth. Again, it's baffling. All that to say, try not to let it get to you too much. If people misgender you or are transphobes, they just have bizarre, socially ingrained notions about gender that don't reflect reality. You and him can be cooler, happier individuals than those who are so damn invested in goofy societal expectations.
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"Chappell Roan's thing is like; you're gay, you like this, and I hate that, because I do!" — Chanse on Smosh Bit City City Pop Girl episode.
(or something like that) I've been thinking about that line
because it’s not just funny—it’s painfully real to some of my friends in the queer community. Chappell Roan’s entire aesthetic does kind of feel like queer culture in neon pink: unapologetically fun, a little over the top, and very aware of its audience. She knows who she’s singing for, and honestly? That’s part of the appeal.
But here’s the thing: the line also taps into this weird tension in queer media and music right now. On one hand, we’re living in an incredible era of representation where artists like Chappell Roan can make music that explicitly celebrates queerness, instead of hiding it behind metaphors or subtext. But on the other hand, there’s this nagging question of whether it’s authentic or if it’s leaning into "queer baiting"—but for the aesthetic instead of the narrative.
When artists or brands say, “You’re gay, you like this,” it can sometimes feel like being pandered to instead of seen. It’s like when a company slaps a rainbow on their logo for Pride Month and calls it a day. Sure, it’s visibility, but is it coming from a place of genuine understanding, or is it just marketing?
With Chappell Roan, it feels more complicated. Her music does actually resonate with queer people because it’s playful and campy in a way that queer culture has always celebrated. But when an artist’s whole vibe becomes the aesthetic of queerness, does it risk flattening the complexity of queer identities into something that’s just marketable?
And then there’s the broader music industry. The line between authentic representation and capitalizing on niche markets is thinner than ever. Streaming algorithms reward hyper-specific branding (“if you’re gay, you’ll LOVE this”), and artists have to figure out how to play into that while still staying true to themselves. Originality becomes a balancing act between creating music that’s honest and building an image that sells.
At the same time, it’s worth celebrating the fact that queer representation is now profitable enough to even be a question. We’ve gone from coded references and subtext to explicit queer joy, and that’s a win in itself. But representation doesn’t fix everything—it doesn’t automatically make an artist’s work more original, more meaningful, or more immune to criticism.
Ultimately, the real challenge isn’t whether queer media is “too marketable” or “too pandering”—it’s making sure that queer stories, voices, and experiences don’t get reduced to a checklist or an aesthetic. Queer art doesn’t have to cater to every queer person, and we’re allowed to feel conflicted about it. The beauty of the queer community is that it’s diverse, chaotic, and full of contradictions.
So yeah, Chanse is right. Sometimes you hate how much you love something because it’s so on the nose. But maybe that’s okay too—because at the end of the day, queer art isn’t just about liking or disliking it. It’s about existing in all its messy, complex, neon-pink glory.
#chappell#chappell i love you#chappell roan#smosh#music industry#queer community#queer media#queer artist#essay#reflection#essay writing
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"It depends," Lilia answered honestly. "Some things are clearer than others, easier to see. Other aspects I have to work a little harder if I want the details. But mostly, yes, it's in bits and pieces." But that was part of the skill of being a divination witch; it wasn't having the Sight, or having a deck of cards. It was knowing how to interpret what you see, to put the pieces together. "Other parts...it's just reading the person." And what she Saw in Cassidy was vulnerability and pain, and a survival instinct she'd been forced to hone from an early age.
"He should have told you what the branding was for," Lilia said heavily, her expression filled with sympathy. Ignorance was the worst thing when it came to being a witch; she knew that from personal experience. The less you knew about your powers, where they came from, why they were happening, why things worked a certain way, the less anchored you were. The more likely it was that everything would just go off the rails. Uncontrolled. Or worse.
Listening to more of Cassidy's story, Lilia privately decided that her instincts were right in wanting to reach out to Agatha. The woman had been treated as evil by her own mother from the moment she was born, given no chance in life to be anything else. Agatha would know what Cassidy's experiences felt like first hand, and as much as Agatha would refuse to admit it, Lilia Saw that it had given the infamous witch a determination not to allow other witches to feel the same way, as if they were innately wrong somehow.
"Magic isn't good or bad, it just is. How we use it, our motivations, are what give it any kind of morality," Lilia explained. "Hell, even demons aren't all automatically bad either. A lot are just...not from here. The way they see things is different." The only real danger came from engaging in arrangements and deals where you hadn't read the metaphorical fine print; a pitfall more humans fell into than witches. But Lilia had lived for almost five hundred years without crossing the wrath of a demon once, so it seemed to her than you only really had to worry if you deliberately caused them a problem.
Lilia watched as Cassidy began to spiral, asking questions she perhaps hadn't dared to ask herself before, challenging her family's teachings, things she'd accepted as facts about them and about her own powers. Seeing that her nails had worked through her clothing, that blood was now starting to stain the fabric, Lilia reached forward and grabbed hold of Cassidy tightly, pulling her into a firm embrace.
"Calm down," she told her gently, her voice warm and tender. "You're fine. It's fine. You're okay." Still holding onto Cass closely, Lilia reached down to the broken skin with one hand, a glimmer of gold crossing over her fingertips and spreading to the girl's skin, healing it. "It's never too late to learn something new, to start from the beginning," she told her, speaking mostly into Cassidy's hair as she continued to hold her. "It took me over four hundred years before I finally learned about myself something that my teacher had tried to explain centuries ago. You've got all the time you need. You're fine," she reiterated. "Everything's fine."
at the mention of her father cassidy stills, body going rigid. “it’s complicated,” is all she says. memories that have been dulled by time, the way her father did his best, the way he protected her and clem. only clem hadn’t been sick, hadn’t been too much for an immigrant teen mother. doesn’t realize how worked up she is at the memories until the chain she’d been fiddling with snapped in her hand.
“can you see my whole life? or just bits and pieces? because…it wasn’t always all dark magic and blood sacrifices. after my dad died no one knew what to do with my magic so i tried to teach myself.” remembers a dead man in the woods and running away, turning to her aunt and the way her younger sister looked at her when she finally returned home. how her mother tried to teach her to heal and cassidy couldn’t, the ways in which she felt disappointment was bone deep. how even though she did ballet and stayed in school and practically raised her youngest siblings she was shunned and pushed away, grandmother and mother claiming that her magic was dark and would spread. providing her with books the explained how evil her magic was and how nothing good could come of such a thing.
“when he branded me with the family crest…” cassidy swallows and places the broken metal she’d been clutching on the table, instead picking at the tear in her jeans. it’s been so long since she thought of any of this, the details are blurry, cassidy takes longer then she’d like to recall what matters. “god i was so mad. i had to miss ballet for two weeks and give up my solo in a recital, i cried and screamed for days before i realized that i wasn’t having seizures anymore. my magic was my own and things weren’t catching on fire and i felt in control of my body. i was so scared something was wrong because i wasn’t sick anymore,” she laughs dryly and shakes her head at the thought.
“my dad died just before my first full moon. it was hard to figure out exactly what he did, no one had done any ritual like that since my ancestors. turns out the connection to whatever being my ancestors reached out to had grown weak. it was there but something was wrong, my dad did the ritual to reaffirm the connection, to tap back into whatever hell dimension my powers came from.
“my grandma took over teaching me magic because my mom either had newborns or was pregnant. ended up teaching me about how my magic was evil and so was i, that dark magic was all i’d ever be able to do. gave me books on how awful and horrific this would be but i ended up embracing it. it’s easier with the bloodlust to embrace darker and more arcane magics, so i never questioned it. even my mom gave up trying to teach me magic, said she couldn’t help me and just left me to my own studies.” cassidy picks at her jeans again, dropping threads onto the table as she rips them off.
“i didn’t have time to question any of it. i did ballet, ran varsity track, raised three of my younger siblings and was babysitting the others all the time, helped them with homework and their magic studies. it didn’t ever occur to me that what i taught them could apply to me too. my magic didn’t look or behave like theirs, and if im being honest being a werewolf took priority, i was so scared of hurting them and a few times i almost did,” thinks of how clem doesnt talk to her and how her mother no longer asks her home for the holidays, “i’m trying to learn now, i am. but even now i’m doing that wrong, making assumptions and not even looking at the right books.”
cassidy scoffs and shakes her head, doesn’t even realize that she’s picked clean through her jeans and fishnets and too sharp nails are scratching at her thigh. licks her too dry lips as she sinks further into the chair, wonders what would happen if she tried to talk to her mother about this, if her family would let her back in after what happened. “how in the fuck am i supposed to undo all of that? to learn about magic any different? i get my power from some form of darkness, some of demon or entity that most humans run and hide from. the only way to try and learn about it has always been books about darkness, about hell and evil and magic that comes from it.
“and now you’re telling me that what…that it’s bullshit? that i can do anything i put my mind too? because there’s no way that i’m suddenly just able to do any spell or magic i want, there’s no fucking way that my entire life i could’ve been doing magic without such great sacrifices. how in the fuck could my family let that happen? why would no one ever try to look any further or help me? because i tried so hard to be good and right and do magic how they wanted and everyone just gave up. so i really need some help understanding this lilia because otherwise i have no idea who i am or who my family is,” chokes on her words, wolfish claws digging into a now bloody thigh as tears start to break free.
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As I was saying
Summary: You recently found out that you’re pregnant and Henry is being all sorts of over-protective and annoying about it and won’t shut up about what you should or shouldn’t eat. So you find a creative way to shut him up...
Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader (no description of body type or ethnicity thought it’s mention that Henry is taller)
Word count: 1.8k
Warnings: 18+, RPF, fluff to smut, early pregnancy, blow job, bodily fluids, slight FemDom/SubMale, My overuse of poetic sex metaphors, cottagecore!
*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, or parts from it.
A/N: This story was born out of a convo I had with my sweet @the-soot-sprite about the photo above. Many thanks to @agniavateira my solid rock who betas all my work and to @firefly-graphics for the dividers
Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed my story. I work hard on each one of them and your validation means the world to me. 🖤
As I was Saying
Henry’s velvety voice carried through the cottage like seductive vapours of honey liqueur. It wasn’t often that he'd sing a blissful tune so casually out of the blue—after earth-shattering sex perhaps, which indeed you had the night before. However, this morning, his chants were laced with a new flavour of sugary bliss.
Two little pink stripes. That's all it took for his eyes to shimmer the way precious cobalt is kissed by a moonlight glow.
Sneaking about in the mien of a curious little mouse, you trod after the pleasant tune of his voice, which was now accompanied by a soft rustle. Wander laved your face once you leaned against the kitchen door frame, peering at the prodigious man who stood in front of the open fridge.
Preoccupied, he appeared to be ransacking through the shelves with the song ‘Cheek to Cheek’ thrumming on his tongue.
“Heaven... I'm in heaven…”
Fingers clutching at the edge of the wall, you pressed into the chilled surface with a relaxed smirk, lingering on the irresistible view when your ease of mind faded with a blink of an eye — while methodically rummaging through the fridge, Henry threw fresh food straight into an open trash can.
“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice rising to a high-pitched yip.
Henry made a soft flex; the muscles of his back rippled in a tidal motion. Though acknowledging your presence, he proceeded to hover a finger over different products.
“Cleaning up the fridge," he answered absentmindedly.
With a soft shove, there went your French cheese.
“That’s brand new!” you protested and rushed toward him, alarmed.
Towering over the trash can, you considered diving in to salvage the precious bulk of cheese from the dreary pit. Henry glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, testing your resolve while his claw grabbed some papaya salad leftovers and pushed it over the edge of the shelf, joining the rest of the discarded meals.
“It is,” he nodded and closed the refrigerator door, carrying on to the high cabinets. With a slight wrinkle between his brows and a hand scratching the stubbles of his dimpled chin, he narrowed his eyes to scrutinise the items carefully. “I'm pregnant-proofing the kitchen. I called Hanna while you were asleep. She created a proper daily menu for you with the dos and don’ts: less sugar, more veggies and protein.”
It took you a moment to process his words, your eyes narrowing while asking, “Hanna? As in Hanna, your nutritionist?”
Henry nodded at your question, a faint crease lining his cheek. “That’s the one. Don't worry, princess, she specialises with pregnant women.”
Unwittingly, a somewhat inhuman growl sounded in your chest. You were only getting used to the idea of developing another person inside you, and here stood your husband, already seeing fit to dictate your diet. Slithering into the narrow space between the heavy man and the counter, you tilted your chin to meet his stare while your fists pressed into your hips assertively.
“Listen here, Cavill! You might have jizzed me one too many and succeeded in putting a baby in there, but this is still my body. I can take care of my own pregnancy diet.”
With an arm stretched above your head, Henry offered a charming display of pearly whites to pacify your strained nerves. His dimples nearly managed to beguile your senses when your eyes flared at the sight of what was held between his long fingers.
“No! Henry, no! Not the coffee!”
“Oh, I’m afraid so, my love. You shouldn’t have any caffeine at your current state.” Despite his argument, the tenderness of his gaze stroked upon your face like a warm ray of sunlight piercing through heavy clouds. Lazily it dropped to your belly, the cascading heat cradling your unborn child.
Words of protest left you for a sliver of a moment, too in awe of the dreamy grin on his face.
Thoughts of how beautiful you’d look rounded and full with his child illuminated him that you swore his skin developed a glow over the night. Didn’t they always say women are radiant when they are pregnant? Well, it seemed that in your case, it applied to your husband as well.
The charming haze of bliss almost swallowed you up; but you quickly slapped yourself back into reality, reaching a hand in an attempt to stop Henry from throwing away your delicacy. Though taller, Henry held his hand far out of reach, a hint of a smugness stretching his lips.
“A pregnant woman is allowed to have a little bit of caffeine!” You muttered and sent both hands in an attempt to retrieve the box while Henry teased you by throwing it from one hand to the other, further fueling your annoyance.
Vexed to the point of frustration, you stood still and sighed, “you know what else is bad for the baby?”
Henry paused his foolish games and tilted his head as he waited to hear your answer.
“His father at the morgue after I’ll kill him. Now stop that and hand it over! A pregnant woman can have a cup a day, according to Google.”
“Nope,” Henry clicked his tongue, his laughter replaced with a severe stare. “Love, I know they say it’s okay to have a teeny bit, but I’ve been doing some research while you were asleep, and it’s not recommended. Caffeine increases heart rate and blood pressure, which is not good for you nor for the baby. It also increases urination, which may cause dehydration.”
Clenching your jaw at the onslaught of information he bestowed, you watched his lips move while none of his words registered. Preoccupied with the rules of a “healthy” pregnancy, Henry was set on being the practical one, completely forgetting to enjoy the moment. And damn, it was the moment to celebrate. All you wanted right now was to stay in bed for a day, ride your handsome husband to hell and back and eat as much ice cream as possible.
“Everything you eat from now on goes to our baby,” Henry proceeded to lecture on a thing you were perfectly aware of.
Ire found you within seconds, embroiled with pregnancy hormones which made him further intolerable at the moment— intolerable
... and delicious.
Soaked with hunger, your eyes raked his sight: the thickness of his muscles was apparent beneath a plain black t-shirt and those good old grey sweats outlined the source of your current predicament. Your fingers twitched just from thinking about it, mimicking the sensation of squeezing its girth and eliciting those low groans that made your heart flutter.
But his chatter still interrupted your sultry thoughts. If only there was a way to get him to shut up, you mused. Then your eyes focused on the soft bulge that winked back at your hungry glare.
Unaware, Henry turned toward the table to grab a bulk of informative documents he printed earlier in order to educate you of your pregnancy, he licked his thumb and began to read through, “As I was saying….”
Hastily, you exploited his lack of attention and took a step forward, your fingers latching around the hem of his sweats. With one swift movement, you fell to your knees and tugged his trousers along.
Lost in his passionate speech, Henry was still muttering nonsense when your hand seized him; but as the lushness of your tongue bedded his soft cock without warning, all that could be heard in the kitchen was a husky gasp.
Feeling the warm silky flesh swell and harden within your mouth, you sent your eyes up to peer at him, admiring the sight. Nothing spoke of your power better than the wrinkle between his shut eyes and his mouth agape with all air draining from his lungs. There you were, lowered to your knees with a maw full of his cock and yet, he was the one who lost his ability to speak and had his legs quaking of need.
Unable to help yourself, you sent one palm to feel the tremor that ran through the muscles of his thighs while the other cradled his heavy sac.
“Uh……” he finally managed to utter, a groan of bemused bliss pushing itself between his parted lips. “What… what are you doing?”
You crooked an eyebrow in response and answered by dragging your mouth along the length of his shaft. Your pillowy lips ran across ridges and thrumming veins, your jaw loosening until you felt him deep in the back of your throat.
Locked in the cavernous cage of your maw, he tightened his gut and shuddered with pleasure. Though, the low unbridled groans that sputtered from his chest fueled your enticement just as so; memories of how the same thick girth that brimmed your mouth would split open your narrow canal made both your eyes and abandoned cunt tear of desperation.
It always beguiled you how much arousal could be found in bringing him to his rapture without touching yourself. The harder he throbbed on your velvety serpent, the more you soaked.
With fervent strokes, you feasted on the briny flavour of his cock; the tendons vibrated with bliss while your tongue twirled and pushed around them. You pulled, sucked, and pumped him in your warm mouth, milking the senses of a man infinitely stronger—a man who succeeded in conquering your womb yet now crumbled to nothing at the touch of your tongue.
“Fuck…. Babe… keep going,” Henry breathed out a plea. The documents held by his hand slipped between his fingers as he pressed his palm to the cabinet with a thud, and began to rock his hips back and forth to fuck back into your mouth. Like feathers, the white slips floated around you, landing onto the ground while you worked him to his ecstasy.
His other hand found your head, caressing lovingly and trying to take control: yet his strength waned and his head fell back with a moan. Faster, harder, you sucked your husband to the point of submission while hums of admiration laced around his rigid length. Your eyes beamed as you watched his resolve shatter. Your fingertips toyed with the coarse hair at the apex of his thighs, your thumb seeking the tendon at the base of his cock and pressing into it, urging him to spill his gift down your throat.
“I’m going to… I’m going to…. In your throat… fuck.”
With a guttural grunt, he thickened against your tongue; the overflow of salty-sweet cream glazed your mouth and then flowed down your flaring throat.
The room thrummed with the buzz of the refrigerator, Henry’s heavy exhales - these were the sounds of your triumph. Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you cracked a smile and neatly pulled his trousers back on before you rose to stand straight.
Overwhelmed and drenched in sweat, your husband scrutinised you while you reached for the box of capsules and tilted your head.
“You were saying?”
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I wish you would write a fic where the gallaghers + kev & vee find out about ian's 87% comment and they all give their opinions and ask why mickey, ian's husband who's been a part of ian's life for nearly eleven years only gets 87% of his heart, if the other 13% goes towards his toxic exes and why since they're not in his life anymore, ian explaining himself and ends with ian taking the comment back so mickey has 100% of his heart
I decided this was perfect for Gallavich Week Day 5: Fix-It! Thanks as always to @gallavichthings for hosting💖. Also on AO3.
Eighty-Seven Percent (Anatomy of a Heart)
It was a normal morning in the Gallagher kitchen.
That is to say, it was chaotic.
Carl and Liam sat across from each other at the narrow table, tossing dry loops of off-brand cereal at each other over Franny’s backpack, which lay open between them. The girl herself was running circles around them both in her pajamas, Debbie chasing after her with a stern face and a frilly dress held in outstretched hands.
“Come on, Franny,” she muttered impatiently as her daughter evaded her again by diving under the table, “just put on the dress!”
Mickey laughed when Franny ran to him instead, trying to hide behind his legs where he stood by the brewing coffeemaker. Ian ruined her attempt by swinging her up into his arms and twirling her around until Debbie snatched her from him, resulting in an angry shriek as Franny writhed in her hold.
“For fuck’s sake, keep it down in here!” Lip hissed, coming in from the living room where Tami had just gotten Fred settled in his play pen. “If you get Fred crying again, I swear I’ll fucking end you all.”
If anything, the kitchen got louder as everyone there chimed in in their own defense.
Mickey just snorted as he grabbed two mugs and got to pouring the fresh coffee. “Good luck with that,” he offered to Lip, amused. “You get one Gallagher going, you get the whole fucking pack.”
Lip glared at him, opened his mouth the say something undoubtedly scathing and most likely regarding Mickey’s place in the family, when Carl laughed and chimed in from the table.
“Funny, man, that’s what Trevor said to me and Ian at the station yesterday.”
The room went quiet.
Or maybe it just seemed that way to Ian, who could see the way his husband’s back immediately tensed at the familiar name, the way he gripped the handle of his mug a little too tight and poured the coffee a little too high before setting down the pot with a hard clack.
“Trevor, huh?” Mickey asked, voice deceptively mild, and Ian winced behind him.
Carl didn’t get the memo.
“Yeah, you remember him, right?” he checked. “He still works at that youth place, came in to post bail for some kid when Ian was bringing by lunch.” He shrugged, tossed a handful of cereal into his mouth. “We chatted a bit,” he mumbled as he chewed.
Mickey gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles going white under his tattoos. “Funny,” he said quietly, “Ian didn’t think to mention that.”
Ian sighed, ignoring the eyes of his family on their quickly unfolding drama. They’d been fighting a lot lately, a lot more than they used to, and today had been shaping up to be better, damn it. Now he had to do damage control again instead of enjoying a quiet day in with his husband.
“We’ve talked about this, Mickey,” he started, a tad bit exasperated. It must have come through in his voice, because Mickey’s shoulders went up. “Trevor’s not a bad guy, and I’m not gonna avoid him if I see him around.”
Mickey released the counter to grab his coffee again, taking a long, scalding swallow. “Right,” he said finally, not looking at Ian. “Not a bad guy at all. Just wanted to leave your ass rotting in jail when you couldn’t be his poster boy anymore, that’s all.”
“Mickey…” Ian warned, but it didn’t stop him.
“Tell me, Ian,” Mickey mused, turning to face him with hard eyes. “How much of that thirteen percent belongs to him?”
Fuck. Not that again.
“Wait, what’s he talking about?” Debbie was the one to ask first, voice cutting through their palpable tension. She’d even stopped trying to force the dress over Franny’s head in the interim, allowing the girl to escape up the stairs unscathed. “What thirteen percent?”
“Oh yeah, he told me about that,” Lip butted in. “Said Mickey got all bent out of shape cause Ian still thinks about his exes, or something, right?”
Ian closed his eyes against the hurt in Mickey’s as his brother revealed that he knew about their squabble. Fuck his family right now, seriously.
“Not quite,” he gritted out, but when he opened his eyes again, Mickey had schooled his face back into disinterest.
“No, that’s just about it,” Mickey confirmed. “Got my nose out of joint because Ian, here,” he gestured at Ian with his mug, ignoring the hot coffee that splashed over the side, “said I only got eighty-seven percent of his heart.”
Someone whistled, low and long. Ian couldn’t tell who.
“It’s not that big a deal,” he insisted yet again. “My whole life is a fucking shrine to you, Mick. If my heart was a room, there’s be posters of you on every fucking wall.” He took a step closer, until Mickey’s mug pressed into his own chest, leaving a wet spot on his shirt.
“You really can’t let the others have a little space in that room? Not even in the bottom drawer of a dresser that nobody uses anyway?”
Mickey was still, and silent. Then he spun around and slammed his mug back down on the counter, shoved past Ian, and stormed off up the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Ian called after him.
“To clean out the goddamn drawers!”
It was quiet in Mickey’s wake, and then—
“Dude, that’s fucked up,” Carl said frankly, and Liam nodded in agreement, eyes wide.
“Did you really say that?” Debbie asked, sounding horrified, and before Ian could answer the back door slammed open.
“Morning neighbors!” Vee greeted as she came through, Kev on her heels. She was holding something, a dish covered in foil, and a carton of juice hung from Kev’s hand.
“We brought you guys some…” Vee trailed off when no one even looked at her, noticing the tension in the room.
“Uh,” she voiced, confused, “what did we miss?”
Carl answered, still looking at Ian in disbelief. “Ian told Mickey he keeps stuff from his exes in a drawer, so Mickey’s up there looking for it.”
“Oh, that’s cold man,” Kev breathed, and Ian exhaled.
“It was a metaphor,” he muttered, and Vee heard him.
“A metaphor for what?” she asked, curious.
“For the thirteen percent of Ian’s heart that belongs to other people,” Debbie revealed, and Vee set down her dish with a clatter.
“You said that to him?” she clarified, and at Ian’s reluctant nod, shook her head and turned to Kev.
“You ever say shit like that to me,” she said firmly, “I’ll cut off thirteen percent of your dick.”
—
A few long minutes later, after he had finally escaped his family’s inquisition about the state of his relationship, Ian made his way upstairs, alone.
When he got to their bedroom, Mickey wasn’t actually going through their things. He was just sitting on their bed, back to the wall, spinning his wedding ring round and round on his finger. Next to him, balanced on their folded blanket, sat the little box with the fancy ones they used in the ceremony just so they wouldn’t have to take theirs off.
Ian’s heart beat harder. That box had been sitting safe in the bottom drawer of their shared dresser.
The one that nobody used.
“Hey,” he said softly from the doorway. Mickey didn’t look up.
“You okay?” Ian asked, and that at least got a response.
“Do I look fucking okay to you?” Mickey returned, eyes on his knees.
He didn’t. Not really. He looked haggard, and upset, his hair spiky where restless fingers had combed through it. Ian couldn’t see his eyes, but he had a feeling they were rimmed in red.
Ian let himself into the room, sat opposite Mickey on the bed with his feet still firmly on the floor. He reached out to trace a finger over the rings in the box, and then the ring on Mickey’s finger.
Mickey let his own hand fall away when he did.
“You know that’s not how I meant it, right?” Ian asked, suddenly desperate to hear Mickey agree. He needed to know that Mickey understood, that just because he remembered his past, it didn’t mean he wasn’t dedicated to his future.
But Mickey just shrugged.
“Not a lot of ways you can mean it,” he said, and shit. Ian had really fucked up this time. “Either I have your whole heart or I don’t,” Mickey continued, “and I don’t. So,” he shrugged again, “whatever.”
Ian took a moment. A long one. He thought of Mickey’s reaction the first time he had said it, when he was mostly just teasing. The way he had been shocked to think that Ian still had fond thoughts for other men. And he thought of his family downstairs, each one more fucked up than the last, all in agreement over the severity of his error.
And to be honest, he still didn’t quite get the uproar. But maybe that was because none of them got his side, either.
“You’re right,” he began, “you don’t.”
Mickey tensed further, pulling away from him on the bed, but Ian wasn’t done.
“You have all the good bits, you know,” he continued. He went to rest a hand on Mickey’s chest, saw his stiffness, and pointed at his own instead.
“You have all four chambers,” he told him. “Atrium and ventricle. You keep my blood moving, keep it useful, keep me alive. And you have my valves,” he added, trailing a finger side to side to point to the right spots as he spoke. “Mitral and aorta, pulmonary and tricuspid.” He smiled. “You keep me going in the right direction.”
Mickey was softening, he could tell, the tension seeping from his limbs as Ian droned on. He kept going anyway.
“You have all my arteries, Mick,” he whispered. “You’re in all my veins. You said I was under your skin, once?” Ian laughed. “Well you’re under my skin, too. And in my muscles, and in my blood.”
“And the others, they’re like…” he hesitated, searched for the right words. Better words than he had used before. “They’re like cholesterol,” he settled on, “plaque. Or…like the scar tissue from a triple bypass, the parts that don’t work anymore.”
Mickey’s lips quirked, despite himself, and Ian counted it as a victory.
“You have a lot a heart surgeries, Gallagher?” he questioned softly, catching on.
Ian smile widened, and he reached out to take Mickey’s hand. This time, Mickey didn’t pull away.
“Maybe a few,” he admitted. “And maybe I’m better for it.”
He lifted Mickey’s hand to his lips, held it there.
“I don’t mind the broken bits,” he told his husband. “The pieces they left behind. Because you pushed through them every time, and made me healthy again.”
Mickey fidgeted, and nudged himself off the wall to settle closer to Ian’s side.
“Alright,” he allowed, “I get it.”
“Do you?” Ian asked earnestly. “Because I want you to, you know.” He dropped Mickey’s hand to hold his face instead, gently stroking a thumb over his cheek. “I want you to know that that thirteen percent, it doesn’t really matter. All that matters are the parts that are you.”
"I chose you, Mickey," he murmured. He reached out blindly for the spare rings in their box on the bed, worked one free. Slipped it onto Mickey's finger without looking away from his eyes. Mickey's hand clenched around it, around Ian's hand, and held tight.
"I married you," Ian added. "Because I love you with every real part of my heart, every little bit that works."
“All eighty-seven percent?” Mickey prods with a soft expression, leaning forward until his nose brushes Ian’s.
“All eighty-seven percent,” Ian confirmed, and kissed him.
#daily speedwrite#gw2021#fanfic#ian gallagher#mickey milkovich#gallavich#fix-it#gallagher family#albeit briefly
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I made a playlist
Reasons below
1 - Large Dr. Pepper No Ice : TLT OP 1
A high-energy song to get people interested in the show. Plus with fun lines like “I’m so afraid of dying already” to showcase the dangers of life as a demigod
2 - Dante’s Inferno : TLT Ending 1
A slower paced song to wrap up episodes. Works well with the goal of going to the underworld.
3 - Reliable Narrator : TLT OP 2
A song to play before the Ares Fight. A high energy song and a great into to Percy being at least a little bit of an unreliable narrator in terms of how powerful he is.
4 - Seaside : TLT Ending 2
The title should be enough of an explanation and I will always suggest Bears in Trees
5 - Kirby Down B : SoM OP
High-Energy song to get people hyped. Showcases Percy as a gamer/skater type kid. Just feels very on-brand at this stage of the story.
6 - How to Let Go : SoM Ending
Slower song with tree metaphors to highlight Thalia’s tree being poisoned and to allude to her coming back at the end of the season
7 - A Joke that You’re Not In On : TTC OP
A high energy song that represents Percy feeling left out of important things
8 - Save a Dance - TTC Ending
A slower song to highlight Percy and Annabeth’s slow dance at the end of the season
9 - Succulents - BOTL OP 1
High energy song that feels like it fits that this book is ANNABETH’s quest and “I don’t want to care this much” for the romance aspects of the story
10 - fish tank - BOTL Ending 1
Well, works for Percy and the pressure of being prophecy child and it works for Nico too.
11 - I’m not doing fine - BOTL OP 2
Works well for everyone including Percy, Nico, and Annabeth
12 - Icarus - BOTL Ending 2
This song playing over the demigods using the Icarus wings to get out of the labyrinth? Fantastic
13 - In an Emergency Such as the End of the World - TLO OP 1
High energy song to give high-stakes feeling to this season. This could be the END OF THE WORLD
14 - Sally’s Interlude : TLO Ending 1
Okay but this song?? For asking Sally to bathe in the Styx??? Heartbreaking. Needed.
15 - Trapped : TLO OP 2
I will never stop relating and promoting this song as the PERFECT Kronos + Luke possession song
16 - Driver’s Seat : TLO Ending 2
A higher energy ending song for battles and the feeling that this truly is their godly parents fault. They’re truly fighting their parents battles and that hurts.
17 - One Hundred Million Years Ago a Hero Walked the Earth : Ending
Feels good to include for Percy
What if Percy Jackson had been an animated series instead? 👀
#pjo#indie music#music#playlist#pjo playlist#pjo should have been animated#battle of the labyrinth#the last olympian#the titans curse#the lightning thief
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Mello/GN!Reader — Mafia Buddies
A list of headcanons detailing what being in the mafia alongside Mello would be like written by someone who doesn’t know how a mafia works. Should be fun :)
dude, it’s dangerous stuff. It has been made clear to you many times — by others in the mafia and yourself — that love has no place in a situation like this. If you dated anyone, you would be putting their life at risk, and them yours. Ten times the dangers to worry about. Not even worth it.
So why was he just so damn pretty? No matter how much you tried it was pretty much impossible to stay away. Well, not impossible, but you really really didn’t want to.
And it was strange, but you got the feeling Mello felt the same way. He was usually the one who sent you on jobs (because Rod is the “boss” but lets be honest, it’s Mello who calls the shots), and lately you have only been receiving assignments that were close to home base. Whether it was just you being paranoid or he wanted to keep you as safe as someone in the Mafia could be — you didn’t know. You just liked pretending that it was the latter.
But Mello was a hard person to like romantically — not in a bad way, it’s just that he gets really focused on one specific goal he has set for himself and ignores pretty much everything else. You admired this about him, and you wish you had the same drive and passion he does...it’s just that sometimes you want his attention too.
So sometimes you’d end up pulling dangerous stunts on your job. Sometimes they’d get you into some trouble and he’d have to help (which wasn’t always a bad thing), and other times you would come back with a triumphant grin on your face and the head of one of your enemies on a platter (metaphorically, of course...mostly). Either way, Mello would be with you for longer than usual and you didn’t care if he was scolding you or reluctantly praising your reckless actions. Because he was there, and that was all that mattered.
But sometimes seeing him so invested in his goals can sometimes make you feel...bad, instead of admiration. You don’t like seeing him so worked up over a goal that essentially means that he doesn’t think he’s good enough. Which is ludicrous — you think he’s perfect the way he is.
Which leads you to be a little more affectionate towards him than anyone else. This...can be a bit of a problem, considering this is the Mafia and no one ever gets “affectionate” with anyone unless they want to sleep with someone for leverage or whatever the hell (idk how mafias work okay? Cut me some slack here please). Basically, you stand out like a sore thumb.
One time he was sitting on the couch, elbows planted into his knees as he rubbed his temples and you asked him in he wanted to rest his head on your lap. Let’s just say heads turned. He looked at you with those adorable freaky bug eyes narrowed and declined as if you had just insulted him. Which, given his ego, you probably had.
You never made a mistake like that again, but you did decide to show your love in more subtle ways.
Sometimes Mello would come into the hideout to find that his chocolate stash was running low. Later that day, after you walked past him, he felt an abnormal heaviness in his pocket. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a bar of chocolate of the exact brand he usually bought for himself. He turned it around, flipping it to each side and inspecting it as if to check for a secret hidden explosive. Finding none, he graciously accepted your little offering and pointedly gnawed on it in front of you later that evening.
Slowly, your “relationship” started to become more prominent. Mello began returning your small favors through subtle nuances of his own — you saw him fiddling with a chocolate wrapper as he sat deep in thought one day, only to find said wrapper folded into a little crane and left in your jacket pocket as you walked home.
The days Matt visited were always the most entertaining. He was the closest anyone could really be to Mello, so it was easy for him to pick up on the blonde’s mannerisms and the emotions that caused them.
He was chilling in the common area, no one else in the room besides you and Mello. It was fairly silent save for the tip-tapping of the keys on Matt’s computer as he worked, and the gentle crunch of a chocolate wrapper as Mello snapped pieces from the candy. You really had nothing else to do, no jobs, no nothing. And you knew Matt was a chill guy, so nothing was really stopping you from taking the straw and it’s wrapper from your to-go cup, placing the tip of the wrapper onto the straw, and shooting it at the blonde across from you with a sharp blow.
“What the hell was that for!?”
“wHaT ThE heLL wAs tHaT fOr!?”
Suddenly the coffee table was being kicked into your legs. Rather than yelling, you started to giggle uncontrollably as you and Mello both started to push the coffee table with your feet, trying to push it into the other’s legs and...I don’t know, break them? What was really the ultimate goal here?
You had no idea, all you knew was that not only were you hyperventilating with laughter, but Mello’s scowl had actually begun to transform into a smile.
The moment you saw the corners of Mello’s mouth quirk upwards in a genuine, childish smile, you knew you were dead. You had fallen hard and there was no going back now.
In your daze, Mello had managed to shove the edge of the table against your legs, pinning them to the front of the couch you sat on. The laughter died down, and you realized that, oh yeah, Matt was still there. The redhead hadn’t even looked up from his work, but a smirk was pulling at his lips.
“So what are mafia weddings like? You throw bullets instead of rice?”
“MATT I SWEAR—“
#death note mello#mello death note#death note#death note scenario#death note fanfiction#death note fanfic#fanfic#x reader fanfic#x reader#x reader scenario#reader insert#reader insert scenario#Mello x reader#death note mello x reader#mafia
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