#or cold take rather but okay XD

[archangeldyke-all]

I just know Sevika’s gotten so used to sleep holding you that when for some reason you have to leave town (maybe a work trip or visiting family) she can’t sleep for the life of her, she even tries spraying your perfume on her pillow to no avail. She gets so grumpy all week and when you finally get home she’s immediately dragging your ass to bed so she can nap on top of you

oh my god i love her

men and minors dni

honestly, at first sevika was looking forward to the weekend of sleeping by herself. you're the love of her life and all, but you're also fucking annoying sometimes.

like when you stick your freezing cold toes down the back of sevika's boxers, or you smack her awake with a pillow when she's snoring too loud, or you eat your snacks in bed and get crumbs everywhere.

so, sure, sevika's gonna miss you. but she doesn't think she'll mind having the mattress to herself for a week.

she's going to indulge herself. she's going to take a nice hot bath and then get in bed still soaking wet. she's going to spread out like a starfish and smoke a cigarette in bed-- something you curse her out for every time you catch her doing it.

and indulge herself she does. sevika almost feels like a bachelorette again, being as loud and messy as her heart desires.

she smokes her cig and talks to you on the phone, the sound of your voice relaxing her until she's struggling to keep her eyes open.

"sev?" you ask. "you fallin' asleep baby?"

"mmm." sevika hums. you giggle.

"go to sleep, love. i'll talk to you in the morning."

"'kay. miss you." she whispers.

"i miss you too." you giggle.

sevika smiles softly and pulls the blankets up over her shoulders, ready to dream of your smile...

only, sleep doesn't come for her.

sevika huffs and flops onto her other side, pulling your pillow to her chest and burying her face in it. she's tired, dammit. she just wants to sleep.

thirty minutes later and sevika is cursing as she sits up in bed and punches her pillow a few times.

why can't she sleep? she's gotten rid of her biggest distraction-- you-- so shouldn't she be sleeping like a baby right now?

"fuck." she huffs as she lays back down. it seems that despite all the things you do to piss her off at bedtime, sevika's still so in love with you she can't sleep without you next to her. or, on top of her, depending on the night.

sevika reaches out and grabs her phone. your line rings two times before you're answering. "you okay?" you ask.

sevika snorts. "i can't fuckin' sleep without you." she whines.

she listens to you relax with a giggle. "oh sevi-bear. poor thing."

"don't patronize me, i know it's pathetic."

"it's sweet!" you giggle. sevika groans.

"i don't get it! you're so annoying in bed! you kick me in your sleep!"

"hey, you kick too!" you defend.

sevika giggles. "and you're so clingy!"

"you're the one who insisted we get a queen so we'd be forced to cuddle!" you shout. sevika grins.

"you can't sleep without me, either, can you?" she asks.

you giggle guiltily. "i was five minutes away from callin' you, myself." you admit.

sevika whines. "remind me again why we're not together?"

you laugh. "'cause i'm here for a baby shower, babies freak you out, and you've got that meeting with silco tomorrow anyways."

sevika huffs. "i'd rather be well rested dealin' with a buncha baby shit than sleep deprived and dealin' with silco."

"aweeee... you love me that much?" you giggle. sevika grins.

"yeah, i guess i do."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@nanajustnana-a @helaenabugmom

[lawko-sama]

Walls and Whispers

Summary: Basically, it's a description of slowly getting together with Daryl.

Warnings: Blood, injuries, Merle is an asshole (XD)

Era: Prison

Word count: 2.7k

Something from me: Hello, hello. I apologize in advance for any mistakes with the appearance, layout of the post (first post on the platform). I will gladly accept any feedback. This beginning is part of the whole story I have in my head, I think there will be further parts. English is not my first language, but I think I write in it quite okay. And what.. I wish you a pleasant reading <3

It was a beautiful summer day. Or at least, it looked like one. But the moment you stepped beyond the cold prison walls, the scorching, suffocating heat hit you like a truck. The sun blazed mercilessly at its highest point in the sky, and the air had thickened, shimmering under the hellish temperature.

You stood by the entrance gate, watching as the approaching vehicle kicked up dust along the road. Since you had some free time, you figured you'd help unload whatever they had brought back. You opened the gate for them, wrestling with the locks and chains. Luckily, it didn't take you too long.

The old van rolled through the wire gate, and you quickly shut it behind them. The first person to jump out was Rick. The second the vehicle came to a stop, he was already hauling supplies out. Right behind him was Merle, a wide, shit-eating grin plastered across his face as he laughed at something—probably his own joke. Daryl was the last to get out, barely paying attention to anyone as he made his way straight to the front of the vehicle. He lifted the hood, immediately getting to work as thick, gray smoke billowed from the engine.

"Where is the Korean starboy? I have his order!" Merle yelled toward Hershel, who was making his way over.

Beth peeked out from behind her father, automatically glancing up at the watchtower. Merle caught on quickly, following her gaze with an amused smirk.

"Starboy!" he hollered, even louder this time. "Ya comin'?!"

Rick shook his head in mild exasperation but said nothing. A moment later, Glenn leaned out from the doorway of the guard tower.

"What?!"

He was still fastening his belt, his bare chest saying more than enough about what he had been up to. In the window behind him, a very flustered Maggie was visible, which only made Merle's grin widen.

"Ya cummin'?!" he shouted again, this time emphasizing a different syllable before bursting into laughter.

Glenn squinted at him, clearly confused, then turned to Maggie with a shrug, saying something to her you couldn't hear.

You exchanged an amused look with Rick and continued hauling boxes of food inside. You couldn't help but notice that Merle was in an unusually high-spirited mood today. He was always loud, always a presence impossible to ignore, but today he was practically bouncing with energy. For a fleeting moment, you thought maybe—just maybe—he'd be more of a funny asshole rather than just an asshole. That would be an improvement, at least.

"What 'bout ya, Darylina?"

Merle had somehow ended up right behind Daryl. But the younger Dixon didn't even flinch, still focused on the busted engine. Every now and then, he flicked his hand back as if he was touching something way too hot to be messing with.

"Do ya even know what I'm talkin' bout, baby brotha?" Merle prodded, leaning against the van with that ever-present smirk.

The van rocked slightly, and Daryl finally looked up at him, irritation clear in his expression.

"I am doin' somethin'. Can't ya see?" he snapped, voice edged with frustration.

"Ya can talk and still do yar thing," Merle shot back smoothly. "So?"

They stared at each other for a second. You found yourself eavesdropping more than you probably should, but curiosity had the best of you. You even slowed your pace, carrying one of the bigger boxes extra carefully just so you could keep listening.

"M' not five anymore. 'Course I know what yar talkin' bout," Daryl muttered, turning back to the engine.

For the briefest second, his eyes flicked to yours. Caught. You quickly looked away, pretending to focus on your task, but you knew he had seen you listening. And you had seen something too. A flicker of something in his gaze—something close to panic.

"But ya know it's different when ya alone n' when ya not, right?" Merle pushed.

Daryl didn't answer. He just went back to work, which only made Merle roll his eyes. The smug look on his face said he already knew the answer, anyway.

Then Daryl bent lower, reaching deep into the engine, his entire arm disappearing under the hood. From where you stood, you couldn't quite see what Merle was doing, but there was a glint of mischief on his face—a look you had come to recognize as trouble.

And then—

A loud bang.

You nearly dropped the food in your arms as you saw the hood of the van slam down, trapping Daryl between the metal and the vehicle. Worse still, something inside the engine must have been knocked loose, because the hissing sound grew louder, and more smoke poured out than before.

Merle's laughter rang through the air.

You ran over without thinking, pulling the hood up as fast as you could. Daryl immediately staggered back, coughing violently, his chest heaving as thick smoke spilled from his lungs. One side of his face was bright red—burned. And a thin trickle of blood ran down from his temple.

"Merle! Are you insane?!" you shouted, still steadying Daryl as he fought to breathe. "That's your brother!"

"Oh, come on," Merle scoffed, still chuckling. "Ya don't understand, so don't interfere, would ya?"

"This is too much, even for you, Merle," Rick cut in, his disapproval plain.

"M' tryin' to teach him a lesson 'ere," Merle said, holding his hands up like he was being accused of something unreasonable. For the first time, he actually looked somewhat serious.

"Look at him," he gestured toward Daryl. "Havin' this pretty angel face n' all that n' not usin' it? That is a true crime, baby brotha. So he gotta learn to use it by losin' it first. Simple as tha'."

Ignoring Merle's bullshit, you turned to Daryl. His hand was covering the burned side of his face, and when he tried to touch it, his fingers flinched away instantly. The skin was too raw, too hot.

"Are you okay?" you asked, immediately regretting how stupid the question sounded.

Daryl stiffened slightly, like he hadn't expected you to be this close. He looked at you—just with one eye, since the other was probably swollen. And then, predictably, he nodded.

Behind you, chaos was unfolding. Rick and Glenn were trying to talk some sense into Merle, but it was quickly turning into an actual fight. You saw something flash in Daryl's expression. His whole posture screamed exhaustion, but you already knew—he was about to jump in.

"Leave it," you said, placing a careful hand on his shoulder. "Please."

"Nah."

That was the only warning you got before he turned on his heel.

"Have ya lost yar mind, you psychopath?!" Daryl roared, effectively shutting everyone up—except Merle, who only grinned wider at the sight of him.

"That's what I'm talkin' bout! That's ma baby brotha—!"

"Shut da hell up! Ya wanna kill me or somethin'? Then fight me like a man would!"

"Stop that," you stepped between them, ignoring their protests. "Daryl, we need to take care of your wound. This isn't helping."

"She's right," Maggie chimed in, gripping Glenn's arm instinctively as both brothers turned to look at her.

"Look at that, Darlina! A little help from yar big brotha n' girls already love ya!"

"Zip it, ya punk!"

"Come on, Daryl," you urged, stepping closer.

Meanwhile, Rick had finally managed to drag Merle a safe distance away.

Daryl still couldn't tear his furious gaze away from his brother. You grabbed his arm and tried to gently pull him along, but he didn't budge an inch. You had nothing to convince him with, so you pulled a little harder. Finally, the younger Dixon gave in. He followed you, but his eyes stayed locked on Merle, who was still arguing heatedly with Rick.

Your eyes were practically devouring the archer. Especially after what just happened, you could finally be honest with yourself. Damn, you like him. From the start, he was way more interesting to you than the others. Visually, even with that brutal burn on his face, he made your knees weak. And once again today, Daryl caught you staring a little too long. And once again, you quickly looked away.

"We unpacked all the med kits in the prison recently," you said suddenly. "I saw some burn gel bandages in there. They should help."

"A'right," he muttered, chewing on his bottom lip.

"What was that about?" you finally asked, unable to accept Merle's behavior—especially his excuses for it.

You instantly realized you shouldn't have asked when Daryl's face twisted into a scowl.

"Quit bein' nosey. You heard what it was about."

So you shut up. You scolded yourself internally for your behavior around him. Silence was probably better for both of you anyway.

In perfect quiet, you reached the small room that now served as a makeshift medical office. Everything related to medicine was in here, including the burn dressings you were looking for. First, you took care of the wound that had been bleeding earlier, but it wasn't anything serious—no stitches needed.

You could feel Daryl's blue eyes on you. He sat on the examination table, leaning back against the wall. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the first signs of pain were starting to show on his face.

You didn't even know why you were so nervous. Your hands were shaking as you rummaged through the bins. Even though you had organized them yourself not that long ago, your mind was completely blank. Finally—miraculously—you wrapped your fingers around the package you needed.

You turned around quickly, trying to shake off the nerves and get rid of the million other things in your hands. You were clumsy, unable to fully control your movements, and Daryl definitely noticed. He just watched, silent and unreadable, but not exactly subtle about it.

"It might sting a little," you warned him.

He just nodded. The first bandage only covered about half the burned area. Daryl didn't even flinch when it touched his skin. If anything, he let out a small breath of relief. You immediately started searching for another one.

"...M'sorry," he muttered suddenly. "Ya know... for earlier."

His deep voice, though quiet, seemed to bounce off the small room's walls. You froze for a second, then gave him a sad little smile.

"Don't be. I shouldn't have asked."

"S'just..." he started, then stopped, like he couldn't get the words out. "It's okay. M'used to it. To him."

"It's not okay," you shot back, maybe a little too fast, too direct. "Being used to something like that—to someone like your brother—is messed up. But yeah, do whatever you think is best. I won't interfere if you don't want me to."

"Why do ya care?" he asked.

And this—this was the moment you knew you were screwed. Because you didn't have any explanation except the truth. And neither of you were ready for that.

"Oh—" you blurted out, seizing the excuse to change the subject. You turned to him with a smile. "I found it."

You waved the bandage in front of his face, and he seemed momentarily thrown off. At least he didn't push the topic.

You unwrapped the dressing and leaned in closer. Carefully, you covered the upper part of the burn, including his eyelid, with the cool, transparent bandage, trying to be as gentle as possible.

Once it was fully in place, you looked him over. It still looked painful, but at least he didn't seem to be in unbearable agony. Thankfully, the injury wasn't as dangerous as it had appeared—but it was still unacceptable.

Then, you caught yourself staring again. This time, you were way too close, still leaning over him like when you had applied the bandage. Your fingers had absentmindedly brushed his jawline. His blue eyes locked onto yours, piercing straight through you, and suddenly, you felt a deep pull in your stomach. Your heart pounded faster than it should've, and heat rose to your face.

"Tell me," he murmured, quieter this time, calmer. "Am I readin' this wrong?"

You looked at him with something between sadness and concern, avoiding his gaze like fire avoids water. You adjusted a piece of the bandage that had slipped when he moved his mouth and stayed quiet. 

"Are you pityin' me?" he asked, his tone strange, suspicious.

And just like that, your entire idea of how this conversation would go went straight to hell. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out—not even a broken one.

"I don't need that. Don't deserve it," he said, leaning back slightly. "So quit it."

"It's not—" you started quickly, then hesitated, realizing what he had just said. "...But why wouldn't you deserve it?"

"I just don't. And it's pathetic."

What scared you the most was that he said it while looking right at you, with an empty, emotionless stare. Like he truly believed it.

"I like you," you finally admitted, barely swallowing the weight of his words. "A lot."

For once, you let yourself shamelessly watch his reaction. His brows furrowed—both of them—so you reached up again to hold the bandage in place. Something flickered in his eye, but you couldn't read what it was. Then, a smile appeared on his cracked lips, but it wasn't a happy one. More crooked, almost mocking.

"Yer funny," he muttered, leaning back against the wall again.

You blinked, once, then again, confused. Daryl didn't seem to notice your frustration—didn't realize he had completely misread the situation.

"I mean it," you insisted, emotions starting to spill across your face. "I do. And I'll understand if you don't feel the same way."

The silence stretched endlessly. You knew Daryl needed time, but you also felt like you were about to explode. The smirk had disappeared from his face, so you let yourself hope—just a little—that maybe, just maybe, he had actually heard you this time.

"I don't deserve that either," he finally said, completely unaware of how much those words hurt. "Why?" he asked then, carefully, like he was walking on the thinnest ice imaginable.

"That's... it's unconditional..." you began, but he didn't look convinced. "I mean, I could list things—traits—but it's just... you. In general."

"M'a mess. Ya deserve better."

You saw it. The movement. He wanted to stand up. He wanted to leave. But you weren't about to let him.

"What's your deal with this 'deserving' thing?" you fired back, stopping him in his tracks.

"S'some people dese—"

"Say something like that again, and I'm leaving," you interrupted, finally getting some kind of reaction out of him. "Do you like me back?"

"It's not about that."

"Oh, but it is."

Daryl clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face tensing so much that he looked like he was fighting with himself. He didn't respond right away. You could see his breath becoming shallower, his fists clenching slightly—not out of anger, but in a desperate attempt to keep his distance.

You took a step closer.

"Daryl" you said, softer now, but firmly. "Tell me."

He hesitated, then dropped his gaze.

"I like ya, alright?" he muttered finally, but almost immediately shook his head, as if trying to reject his own words. "But that don't mean nothin'."

Your heart pounded harder. There was something heartbreaking about him. This man, who could fight so brutally for others, completely refused to believe that he could be enough for someone.

"It does mean something," you didn't back down, even though you could feel his walls rising higher.

Daryl let out a quiet scoff and scratched the back of his neck, visibly tense.

"Listen, ya think ya want this, but ya don't. 'M too fucked up."

You sighed heavily and shook your head.

"You don't get to decide that for me."

He looked at you, surprised, as if no one had ever said that to him before.

"You think I'm blind?" you continued, holding his gaze. "The way you protect people, the way you care even when you act like you don't. You push people away 'cause you think they're better off without you, but that's not your choice to make."

Daryl remained silent, the tension between you thickening. Finally, he let out a deep breath and ran a hand over his face.

"I don't know how to do this."

You gave him a sad smile.

"Then let's figure it out together."

He didn't answer right away, but after a moment, he gave a small nod. It wasn't a grand confession or a sudden dramatic shift. But it was a first step. And that was enough for you.

[ilikekidsshows]

Have you seen the Sublimation leaks? Pretty much the entire episode has been leaked by now and people have made a 19 minutes super cut xD I'm asking cause I don't want to send an ask about Sublimation if you haven't seen it and don't want to be spoiled

---

The entire episode came out while I was busy answering the ask game and I checked it out to respond to this ask properly . But, for future reference: unless it’s a show I’m liveblogging it’s open to spoil.

Okay, so the episode went just like I predicted with Marinette easily forgiven. Even before I saw the whole thing, I saw the collected clips and I could smell the upcoming Marinette validation in the final scenes. And yet, just like this show does time and time again, it's still worse than even what I prepared for. Of course the episode couldn't just be "Marinette gets forgiven without her having to do anything", of course her saying sorry and making reparations aren't just things she does after being forgiven, like she's the one rewarding her victims for their good behavior of forgiving her. No, they had to go even further and end the episode with Marinette's victim coddling her over her "friendship fears".

This episode is so manipulative in how hard it leans on the audience to pity Marinette throughout. Like, seriously, her Lucky Charm calls her the villain? The amount of self-pity there goes way beyond all the other cases of Marinette acting like this that have come before. Little miss “if I make myself miserable asking me to make up for what I did wrong would be cruel” now has her own superpowers take part in her self-flagellation just to make sure no one with the actual right to be mad at her gets there first.

Marinette always does this. She makes a mistake and rather than think of a way to make up for it, she calls herself the worst and whines. “The Lucky Charm pointed her out as the villain” is not Marinette facing consequences or the episode treating her as in the wrong. It’s once again Marinette being her own worst critic whenever she does something wrong, to make sure the audience feels bad for her first and foremost so that they can instantly forgive her even when she never actually learns. “Marinette loves to learn,” my ass. “The villain was me” is just “I’m the worst Guardian” with a new coat of paint.

The important part is that the person with the right to be mad at Marinette, Sublime, had already forgiven her before Marinette even had her little villain realization. Just because a character says something that’s right on paper doesn’t mean it’s being presented as the correct perspective in the episode. It depends on that framing I’ve been harping on about. So, while Sublimation rightfully chewed Marinette out, all the scenes before her Akumatization have her acting entitled, cold and harsh, calling Sublime’s dad a failure and getting on his case for coddling her when he merely offers her a balancing hand and not taking Sublime’s opinions on things into account. In all these scenes, her husband talks calmly while she’s snapping; the writers intend her to come across as misguided or downright unreasonable. This makes it so that her yelling at Marinette comes across as her just being unreasonable again and like we’re meant to see her as being mean, especially because Marinette also looks the saddest in the episode specifically when Sublimation is yelling at her. To further make Sublimation's points worthless, her power to make people the best version of themselves doesn't work on Marinette because she already "perfect". If she's already so perfect, then why does she keep doing this shit?

The only characters calling Marinette out are herself, in her typical “I’m the worst” fashion, and a “jerk-coded” character whose opinion we aren't supposed to respect. This was already visible in the leaked scenes and made it very clear to me that Marinette wouldn’t be suffering any real consequences for what she did, her feeling guilty is meant to be the consequence and punishment. And I was proven correct. When Sublimation is dealt with, no one is mad at Marinette anymore, because being mad at her is what villains do. It doesn’t matter that Marinette claims she was in the wrong because she does it in an overly exaggerated manner that the viewer won’t take seriously. It doesn’t matter that the other characters have a “this is going to end poorly” attitude about Marinette’s nonsense, when they’re clearly pitying Marinette and not her target. It doesn’t matter that Marinette gets called out when the character doing it is the supervillain in an altered state of mind we’re supposed to see as unreasonable.

This episode is so disrespectful towards Sublime. No one voices concern over whether or not she would need to be protected from the downfall of Marinette’s shenanigans, all Tikki, Alya and Trixx are concerned with are that Marinette will come out of this smelling like roses with that “mistakes are an opportunity to earn and Marinette loves to learn” nonsense. Yeah, Marinette loves mistakes because no one is ever concerned with the people those mistakes hurt! Sublime should not be getting treated as a teaching aid in universe, when she’s supposed to be a person Marinette wants to befriend. Like, it’s clear she only wants to befriend Sublime for control freak reasons to make sure she isn’t talking to Adrien behind her back, considering how obsessed she is with that thought, but that is still the stated end goal.

Speaking of, Sublime should not have wanted to be friends with Marinette no matter if Adrien told her she has difficulties making friends, her reaction to Ladybug shattering her legs should not have been “I’m okay!” She should want to stay away from Marinette’s clearly unbalanced ass. She should have been pissed at Ladybug, it was her right. But, no, she couldn’t possibly be upset about any of that because being upset at Marinette is what bad people do and Sublime is a good person and good people always put Marinette’s feelings before their own. It’s a good thing Marinette’s Miraculous Ladybug can fix any damage caused by anyone on the same day a villain fight happens or otherwise she couldn’t have rewarded Sublime and her family for being such good people who forgave her before she could even apologize or make reparations.

Also, if I got cornered by my new friend’s stalker girlfriend alone in a dressing room, I’d book it, not offer to talk about whatever she wanted to talk about to make her comfortable with me. Everyone in Miraculous is either a master of emotional control, or they get Akumatized, except, of course, for Marinette, who can do whatever messed up thing she comes up when she's having an emotion and she will be instantly forgiven because she was just being emotional. Well, in the real world, sometimes, when you do messed up things because of your emotions, another person's emotions make them yell at you for it, and they'll be right to do so.

The fact that Marinette did all that and is getting rewarded with the friendship she wanted at the start of the episode and more coddling from her victim just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Marinette’s magical powers of super convenience fixed her mistakes as a superhero and her super perfect therapist boyfriend's damage control saved her civilian reputation, not her own actions. And she still dared to be upset when she heard that Sublime had been talking with Adrien behind her back, because god forbid Adrien spend time with people who are not Marinette or a part of Marinette’s posse. What is Marinette teaching kids in this episode? That it’s okay if you fuck up and act like a menace as long as you say “I’m sowwy, I don’t deserve to be our friend”. Still keeping up the trend of teaching kids exactly how to manipulate people into forgiving you, I see.

[jujumin-translates]

[A3!] Tsuzuru Minagi | [R] Casually Showing Skin Mode | L3tt3r Fr0m A Gy4ru

Tsuzuru: (And I’m finally done with classes for the day. Okay, guess I’ll head home—.)

Tsuzuru: (Hm? That’s quite the crowd. Wonder what’s going on…)

Taichi: Ah, Tsuzuru-kuuun!

Juza: Good work.

Tsuzuru: Oh, so you guys are here too. Is there some kinda event going on or something?

Taichi: I dunno, we just got here. It sure is busy. Wonder what’s up.

Juza: Huh, there’s a whole lotta stuff here. They’ve got random things, books, ‘n even household appliances lined up.

Tsuzuru: Ahh, I get it… It’s probably a reuse market.

Taichi: Reuse market?

Tsuzuru: It’s a kinda on-campus event where students who are about to graduate give away things they don’t need anymore to younger students.

Juza: Now that ya mention it, you got a book of short stories at the last one, didn’t ya, Tsuzuru-san?

Tsuzuru: Yeah, I was curious about this one that one of the upperclassmen told me about, but it happened to be out of print.

Taichi: Damn, lucky! Where’s that book now?

Tsuzuru: After I finished reading it, I started passing it around the company to anyone who wanted to read it.

Tsuzuru: That reminds me, I wonder who’s got it now…

Taichi: Who are the ones who wanted to read it?

Tsuzuru: Umm, Miyoshi-san, and Takato-san have already read it… And I think Furuichi-san and Tsukioka-san said they were interested too.

Juza: I’m interested in readin’ it too.

Tsuzuru: Gotcha. I’ll bring it over to you whenever I get it back then, Juza.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsuzuru: I’m back.

Tsuzuru: (...Huh, did I leave a book out on my desk…?)

Tsuzuru: (Ah, that was the book we were just talking about. What perfect timing to get it back. I’ll go and bring it over to Juza right aw—.)

*Paper falls out of the book*

Tsuzuru: …Hm? Did something just fall out of it?

Tsuzuru: A note?

Thx 4 l3nding m3 thiz, Tzr-kun. I w4z rlly impr3zz3d w h0w clvr th3 f0r3shad0wing w4z. Th3 nam3z of th3 flwrz n th3 flwr l4ngu4g3 m3nti0n3d n th3 prlg s3nt such 4 shvr d0wn my spin3 tht I rlzd tht th3 clprt mightv3 4ctlly b33n TwT nstd 0f xD. If I w3r3 t0 pl4y tht r0l3, M sur3 thtz wht I wld d0…

Tsuzuru: The hell…? Is this a cipher or a prank or something?

Tsuzuru: —Ah.

Tsuzuru: Is this… that gyaru-speak thing?

· ❀ —– ٠ ❀ ٠ —– ❀ ·

Tsuzuru: Jeez, he better still be here…

Omi: Welcome back.

Izumi: Hey, Tsuzuru-kun, would you rather have curry udon or soy milk curry hotpot for dinner tonight?

Tsuzuru: Aren’t both of them still curry? Well, it was pretty cold today,  so hotpot would be…

Tsuzuru: Wait, that’s not what I’m here for! Is Miyoshi-san here?

Omi: Kazunari’s in the kitchen.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Kazunari: Lookin’ for me~?

Tsuzuru: The hell is this? I literally can’t read any of it…

Kazunari: Oh, gyaru-speak! What’s this about?

Tsuzuru: What do you mean ‘what’s this about’...? You didn’t write this?

Tsuzuru: It was stuck in the book I just got back, and you’re the only one who would write something like this, Miyoshi-san…

Kazunari: Ermm~, well, it wasn’t me.

Tsuzuru: What? But if it’s not you, then the people who I lent the book to after you were Takato-san, Furuichi-san, Tsukioka-san—.

Tsuzuru: No, it had to have been you, Miyoshi-san.

Izumi: Maybe if you read the note you’ll be able to figure out who wrote it?

Tsuzuru: Right. Umm—.

Tsuzuru: …

Tsuzuru: Yeah, not happening. I’ve got no clue what it says no matter how hard I try to read it…

Izumi: Let me see. …Umm, I can’t read it either.

Omi: Those don’t even look like sentences to me.

Tsuzuru: Damnit. What are we gonna do…?

Kazunari: I’ve gotcha, fam. I’ve got this gyaru-speak translator website.

Kazunari: Just gotta take a pic, scan the text, and… copy-paste and translate ♪

Tsuzuru: That’s incredible… So, what does it say?

Kazunari: “Thank you for lending me this, Tsuzuru-kun. I was really impressed with how clever the foreshadowing was. The names of the flowers and the flower language mentioned in the prologue—.”

Kazunari: “Sent such a shiver down my spine that I realized that the culprit might’ve actually been crying instead of laughing.”

Kazunari: “If I were to play that role, I’m sure that’s probably what I would do…”

Kazunari: Wait, could this be…

Tsumugi: I’m back~.

Tsuzuru: Perfect timing. Um, Tsukioka-san. About this note…

Tsumugi: Ah! Thank you for the book, it was really interesting.

Tsuzuru: No, not that…! Did you write this, Tsukioka-san?

Tsumugi: Yeah. Ah, did I forget to write my name on it?

Tsuzuru: Forget about that! Why is it in gyaru-speak!?

Tsumugi: Kazu-kun told me that gyaru stuff and gyaru-speak are really popular nowadays, so I tried using it.

Kazunari: Ohh~, yeah, so, I might’ve told TsumuTsumu about that translation website the other day…

Tsuzuru: So it WAS because of you!

Tsumugi: Ahaha, maybe I should’ve written it normally. Sorry, my bad.

Izumi: I never would’ve thought it was you, Tsumugi. That was quite a surprise.

Omi: Yeah. Good thing we figured it all out.

Kazunari: But like, wasn’t it kinda fun? It was like a little cipher game.

Tsumugi: Yeah, and it was really easy to do. Why don’t we recommend it to the others?

Kazunari: Banger idea, bestie! I bet RonRon and Taicchan would eat this up, don’tcha think?

Tsumugi: I bet Azuma-san and Homare-san would enjoy it too.

Tsuzuru: Wait! Quit trying to come up with weird trends!

[solifugae44]

As much as I hate how Aomine is portrayed by the fandom, I would still rather take him as a cold asshole with trust issues over a pathetic loser simp with no self-esteem who can’t see the world without his lover. Like, bro has too big of an ego for that.

I get that this might be one way to portray his depression—since he was very lonely, and lonely people tend to obsess over others (which is actually biological; your brain tells you to cling to someone because loneliness signals that you won’t survive alone). But Aomine is a true egoist. He always puts himself first, and I just can’t see him in that role.

He would never beg for attention. He’s the type to leave you without a word if you hurt him because the first person he loves is himself. He would NEVER, EVER degrade himself for others, and he would never choose someone else over himself. Because if he did, that wouldn’t be Aomine anymore. What makes Aomine attractive is his personality. What makes Aomine Aomine is that he is always number one in his own life. So no, he wouldn’t risk his basketball career just because he loves someone. XD Love isn’t that important to him—his only true love is basketball.

(I feel like the Joker right now.) But SOCIETY OMG sold you the idea that romantic love is the most valuable thing in life when, in reality, self-love and passion are much more important. For someone aroace like me, this is a joke. If you invest more in someone else than in yourself, you’re going to end up alone with nothing. You’ll lose your attractiveness.

He’s an egoist, and there’s nothing wrong with that! He doesn’t need character development for it! Society likes to paint egoism as a flaw, but it really isn’t. They just don’t want people to grow and focus on themselves; they’d rather turn you into a people pleaser who doesn’t cause any trouble.

This is exactly why I love Aomine the most—because no matter what, he always holds his head high. He is HIM. He has an undeniable sense of self, strong values, and unwavering dignity. Even when he’s wrong, a king without a crown is still a king. PERIOD.

He’s not your typical sad boy, all “Oh, there are so many better options than me, I don’t know why you picked me🥺”—HE KNOWS HE’S THE BEST OPTION, OH MY GOD. Even though he’s aware of his flaws, his self-confidence is impeccable because being aware of your flaws actually gives you confidence.

And GOD, I hate how some people treats self-degradation as a sign of character development when it’s the complete opposite. That’s character regression, if anything.

I absolutely DESPISE this kind of mischaracterization. It makes me question whether people even watched KnB or if they had their eyes shoved up their asses the whole time.

Of course, this kind of portrayal can be done well, but it just doesn’t fit Aomine at all.

He wasn’t depressed because other people called him a monster and isolated him (though that didn’t help). He was depressed because he couldn’t grow. He stopped developing. He wasn’t challenged anymore. His depression started with himself. Most people get this wrong because they project their own experiences onto him. But Aomine was in an inhumane position—no one could surpass him. His problems aren’t something most people can relate to because Aomine’s struggles are the problems of less than 0.01% of the most outstanding humans alive. He was simply too good. He was more than just human.

And if we all agree that Aomine canonically has ADHD, then everything makes even more sense. He lost his hyperfixation. He was bored and lost his thrill, his passion. And also people with ADHD don’t miss people (shoutout to all the neurodivergent girlies <3).

(I’m writing this post to cope). I’m a writer myself, and I can say that most of what Aomine does in my fanfics is far from canon—and that’s okay!!! Everything made by fans is fanon, not canon, so I hate when people act like their version is the only correct one. That’s just your interpretation of his character.

[dealbrekker]

When You Call My Name

Here's my Sylus fic! I figured I'd get it up before everyone is scrambling for Caleb XD Inspired by Sylus's myth and the choir version of Madonna's Like a Prayer (yes from the deadpool wolverine soundtrack, trust me).

Warnings: violence, blood, evol related violence, reader/mc is kidnapped but no violence is shown being done toward her, Sylus isn't as lucky, but he's okay, promise.

Word Count: 2500 Summary: When you're kidnapped by an unknown faction, it's not hard to determine it has something to do with Sylus. But the men who have you seem to know something you don't about Onychinus's leader, and that something could kill him. Too bad for them you remember everything in the process.

Ao3

The last thing you remember is leaving the Association. You’d waved goodbye to Tara and Nero, checked your watch for any final comms from Xavier, to see if his mission had finished up. When there wasn’t anything, you’d started home.

You don’t even know if you’d made it a block.

There is a black void in your mind from that moment to now. Now, where you’re tied to a chair in a nondescript warehouse. Your feet are bare, and your clothes torn considerably. You feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. You can tell a black eye is forming, by the way you can’t see much out of the right. Your bones are very unhappy with the current state of affairs, but you don’t think anything is broken.

You’d stopped calling out to see if anyone would answer. You’d been doing it for what felt like hours. No one has yet come along. You feel like you should start again, as even your hoarse voice is better than the ringing silence of the place.

They’d taken your watch. There is no way to communicate with anyone on the outside. No watch, no phone, and seemingly no kidnappers.

Which is far more unnerving than if someone had greeted you upon waking.

You close your eyes and run through your mind. Who can this person or these people be? You doubt they’re targeting the Association, but Ever could potentially be behind it. But you rather think that Ever would be more communicative with their hostage.

Are you a hostage, if there are no kidnappers?

You shake your head and keep thinking. Zayne doesn’t have any enemies. Rafayel probably does, but you doubt this is the work of some art world stalker.

Which leaves…

“Sylus.” You murmur.

As if on cue, men enter the room. You sit up straighter, trying to see if you can recognize any of them. They’re not wearing masks.

One of them steps forward, but does not touch you. You stare up at him.

“How long have I been here?” you demand.

You’re surprised when he easily answers, “6 hours and twenty minutes.”

“Why am I here?” You try not to let the length of time rattle you. “Who are you?”

“We would like a word with Sylus.” He is still staring at your face, as if searching for something.

“So just call him like all the other dealers do.”

The man smiles softly. “We prefer a more direct action. Take his finest treasure, and a dragon is sure to react.”

You glare up at him. “You’re severely overestimating my status.”

The man’s eyes flick to his watch. “I think, I am not.”

He motions, and more men stream into the room. You can hear them in the catwalks above you. And several settle into other chairs to wait. You clear your throat, desperate for a drink of water.

“Even if Sylus does come, he won’t be alone.” You wriggle your wrists. Your fingers are going cold. “He’s not an amateur. You should know that.”

“No,” your captor agrees, leaning against a pillar and lighting a cigarette. “Not an amateur. But easily goaded. Besides,” a ring of smoke puffs from his lips. “His minions are engaged with some of my men across town in a gambling den.”

You swallow. Luke and Kieren…

You aren’t worried about them. But that means Sylus will most certainly come alone.

The nameless man continues to smoke. You can see the embers dropping. The odor makes you cough.

“Why?” you ask again.

He doesn’t answer you. Another hour has come and gone while the men wander and say very little. You are completely ignored; left to wonder, left to ache.

After a while, you almost feel sorry for the group pacing the floor. If you could manage to get free, you’d try to take them down quickly and efficiently, granting swift deaths if necessary. Sylus, on the other hand, will likely make a mess of the men around you. You’ve been gone too long for him to show any sort of patience, or allow you to help take your own revenge on this lot. It has always confused you, the way he vacillates between murderous wrath if anyone touches you to seemingly reverent faith that you can take care of yourself. There are days you swear he could incinerate someone with a glance, and days he lets you lead and defend yourself against enemies with nothing but a soft chuckle.

Your gut churns when one of your captors eyes you from across the room. You stay still, hoping none of them come closer. You haven’t been trying to work your hands free for a few hours, because despite the glow of pride you begrudgingly feel when Sylus applauds your abilities, you can’t help but feel hollow and scared right now.

You don’t know why these men make you nervous. But they’re different from the usual thugs and sketchy dealers Sylus normally contends with. Petty criminals you can handle; these men, though…

It’s like they know something you don’t about the man ostensibly on his way to save you.

And he has to be. Mephisto, your ever vigilant shadow, would have reported. As far as you know the men haven’t sent any sort of word of your kidnapping. You don’t imagine they think they’ll swindle a ransom out of Sylus. Not these people, who communicate in glances and quick, whispered monosyllables. These men who haven’t asked you a single question. No. You’re simply bait. They have no wish for money or weapons or deals.

They want blood. His blood.

Your fingers clench and you start wriggling your wrists again. I need to get out of here, he can’t come here, he can’t…

The five men who had been seated stand silently, intent on the door. You freeze, straining your ears, willing it to have been nothing, silently screaming for Sylus to go away, you’ll handle this, go away, you’re in danger, you’re in danger, please don’t come.

The group is converging in toward each other, closing in on the main door. Several others wait in the shadows, apparently casing the windows. Silence reigns from the catwalks.

Sylus won’t bother with windows, you think. He’ll come right through the front door like he owns the place.

Don’t, don’t, don’t.

The leader unsheathes a blade you hadn’t noticed before. It gleams inky black, the hilt studded with vicious red gems that look horribly like—

“Aethercores,” you breathe.

Suddenly you feel in your very battered bones that this dagger might just kill Sylus.

The floor starts vibrating and your ears pop. It’s like all the air has been sucked from the room.

“DON’T!” You scream.

Too late.

The door explodes open, and he’s there, larger than life, shirt and hair billowing in the force of his own wake. His eye burns red, as red as the dagger’s hilt. The whips of his power surge, cutting through the warehouse like swords through flesh, impaling a few unlucky souls. Blood sprays in wild arcs, and the dead men never even had time to scream. Gunfire erupts.

You know he hasn’t even seen you, hasn’t registered that you’re alive and mostly well, tied in the center of the room. It does not matter to Sylus that the blood of these men has made it to you, spattering across your bare feet. He does not see it. He just knows you are here; he knows that you are hurting, and he knows that every person in this room responsible for your current state will die. Badly.

Except, you think, your mind pooling thickly, time slowing and slipping in a cruel, sticky way, he cannot know about the dagger.

The dagger that is plunging toward his chest. The dagger that sings somehow, a horrible requiem, a promise of goodbye. His eyes watch its descent, and then slip past it, finally, to you. You marvel at the surprise there. Someone has finally caught him unawares.

The dagger rips into his chest and you are caught in a fly trap of dawning horror, of a dropping heart rate, a pain so resounding, tearing at your insides.

Your ears ring.

Your throat is raw with a scream you do not hear.

Men wrench his arms behind him, and the dagger wielder strikes again, again, again. The gunfire has stopped.

When the sound comes back, you wish you’d simply gone deaf. The wet crunch of the blade sawing in and out of Sylus’s chest is a poison in your soul. But it’s his gasp that you know will follow you to your grave.

Sylus stumbles. And you watch the titan of a man fall. The man who has become so much to you, so much that you’ve not been able to define it, falls to his knees. You feel his blood speckle across your face, warm like summer rain, an anointing.

He looks at you, and you look back. Your name is a whispered prayer on his lips.

The world cracks open.

And so do you.

Your vision fails as your body bends, head thrown back, tears trailing down your temples into your hair.

Your eyes are wide open, but it isn’t the warehouse ceiling you see.

It’s a night sky.

And a shimmering cave.

It’s a vaulted chapel.

An ancient city.

A crowd of cold guardians, an organ, and chains on your wrists.

A tavern and a man on stage.

Treasures and weapons and gems and silks. A dagger with a studded hilt…

It’s your world crashing around you as you’re thrown into a pit. It’s claws around your throat and a tail around your waist.

It’s the sky rushing by like you’re flying.

It’s a field of flowers.

And a warm body beneath yours.

It’s the sunlight in his eyes.

It’s Sylus.

But not...quite.

A dragon carries you, sweeping through those who wronged you, cultivating your desires. He threatens and cajoles, he growls, and he bites. Your neck stings with his mark. Your skin is alight with it.

He lies in the field, and preens as you put flowers in his hair. Your lips barely brush his, and your heart screams when the vision within the vision fades.

You sob as the sword in your hands thrusts deep, and your dragon disappears on a warm breeze, your enemies slain in his final act of love.

And then it’s Sylus as he is now. Him in the boxing ring, sliding a ring onto your finger. It’s you and he in the snow, your hands brushing flakes from his hair. It’s you and he in the Grasslands, it’s you and he on a ship, silly little cat ears and all. It’s him making you dinner, helping you fight, smiling softly in the dark.

Beautiful garnet eyes are the last thing that vanish from your view.

As they’re fading now.

The cold air of the warehouse slams into you as your chair crashes forward back onto all four legs. You see the men standing around Sylus, watching the man—your man—dim. You see��and you do not see.

You do not know where you pull the sword from. You do not comprehend the way the air around you freezes, and then goes searing hot. You only feel the hilt in your hands, the weight of the weapon pulling at your arms. The rage that pumps the blood in your veins and the utter silence with which you wield the very weapon you once used to kill your beloved.

This time when the blade finds flesh, it is of those who deserve the death you deal.

The men never know how you got out of your binds. They never know where the dragon slaying weapon came from. And none of them would ever get the chance to whisper about it either. After all, what is a man to a blade forged against dragons?

But Sylus knows. In the dimming light he’d seen your binds melt away, had seen you stand and the sword settle into your grip like a lover’s hand, pulled from thin air, from time itself. The pressure and pain in his chest had ceased when you grasped the blade, and with it, eons of longing and anguish vanished like dust on the wind.

And then the room goes golden.

You sense your Evol, more than see it. The air crackles with the energy as your sword cuts through body after body. More men converge, forgetting to run, blindly thinking they’ll stop you. Maybe numbers will stop you. You are vaguely aware of the flash of the gunfire beginning again.

But your Evol meets another, and you gasp at the way flames fill your body. Power pours into you, curling around your Evol, stroking it tenderly. For the first time in all your life, you feel complete, and you pause for a moment to appreciate the power purr over your skin, before exploding from your pores and shattering the windows like a nuclear blast, reducing the shrieking men to mist. You never saw the way the lead man had eyed your weapon with a wild hunger as you cut through his men. But, your mouth curls into a nasty grin, you do watch his body turn to dust.

The sword clatters to the ground, and your body seems to hang, momentarily. You’re barely putting any weight on your feet, as if poised to spring forward and eliminate more threats. Sweat and blood drips down your face and arms. Your shoulders burn and your scalp tingles. You feel like you’ve been flying.

A soft moan brings you back to your body. Sylus is on his feet. Blood thick on his shirt, but not on his skin, and the sweat and blood of your face mirrors itself on his, and his wound is knitting itself back together under the glow of your resonance…

Your shared resonance.

A sob punches from your throat and you’re running and tripping and reaching for him. He reaches, too.

His hands are so large, yet so gentle as they thread through your hair and cup the back of your head. Because of the claws he’d never wanted to hurt you with. His shoulder is strong beneath your cheek, his body warm against yours as he pulls you impossibly close, alive and in your arms. He’s strong enough to keep you both standing, even as you shake uncontrollably.

You’re babbling as the last vestiges of the resonance fades. A tight, wounded, barely coherent torrent. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, forgive me, forgive me, I remember it all now, forgive me—”

And he: “Shh, shh, I know, I know, there’s nothing to forgive, my love.”

Over and over the hiccupping sobs and the body-wracking apologies. Tighter and tighter your fingers on his shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love you, I love you, I love you.” And you do. You have, it would seem. Even now, without the memory, you know you have.

“I know,” he whispers. “I know. I was just waiting for you to know, too.” His fingers are soft on your chin and your lips, beneath your eyes as they wipe away the tears.

“I love you, too, sweetie.”

And, gods, has he. For millennia; forever.

[slashingdisneypasta]

I need more Norman Nordstrom. That man is fine asf. I’ll gladly give him a baby as long as he keeps breeding me🫢🫠

Anon you caught me at the exact right moment XD I'm cold and I required something to warm me up XD

I'm warm now.

~

Norman Nordstrom x AFAB!SelfProclaimedSlut!Reader || Drabble

Plot: A sneak peak into a confirmed sluts regular hook up with the lonely old man down the street.

Warnings: Unprotected Smut. Use of 'Mr Nordstrom' rather then Norman. Creampie. And breeding (Its Norman, what do you expect). Unedited.

You always love visiting Mr Nordstrom down the street. His place was private without the stresses of your family, or work. Whenever you were there it almost felt like you were in your own little world with the old man, and no one else could get into it. Mr Nordstrom himself, was... always quiet. But you knew he liked the company; he didn't say it but you could tell. The more you came to visit, the more demanding he became of your presence.

Its cold outside these days but in here, hidden away in Mr Nordstrom's warm house on his cosy old couch by the crackling wood fire, you feel comfortable and toasty. Even the tips of your toes. Even the tips of your ears.

You're so lovely and warm now, you don't mind him taking off your pants all the way and dropping them to the floor.

With a grunt, he sinks himself all the way into you and you feel all your problems really drift away.

Sighing, you sink back into the worn cushions and take the dirty fucking with lazy pleasure. The greedy plunging thrusts, the slightly-too-big cock filling you up and stretching you out, anticipating the real fill later on- he never wears a condom; Mr Nordstrom.

You always loved visiting Mr Nordstrom- especially since the first time you let the lonely, hot old man hit it. At first it was out of pity, you considered it a good deed (A sluts job is never done (; XD Some may call you immoral- but you do nothing but good deeds! Thats what you do.), but then he fucked you so good you couldn't stop thinking about it, even at work (His hard thrusts, his larger then average size, the surprising stamina for a man his age, and the way he played skillfully with your clit when he was good and ready to cum- taking you over the edge right with him right when he wanted to), and you had to come back. This time, you begged him.

Now Mr Nordstrom is a very regular hook up of yours. Coming here, having a glass of wine with the old timer and then touching him was one of your favourite things to do. Especially when he felt like touching you back.

Like tonight- he was all over you from the moment you got in. You barely made it of the snow and through the door before he had you pinned to the wall with his mouth attached to yours; sucking your tongue into his mouth and feeling up your sides with his large hands. Hands you knew had killed. He was real pent up... but you made him wait. I'm cold, you said with a teasing smirk he could hear in your voice. Lemme warm up first and then we can get started, okay?

He had grumbled, but lead you to the living room where he had a fire already built (explaining how he could be in just a pair of grey sweatpants.) and the touch of the heat immediately made you sigh as you settled on the couch and asked him how his day had gone.

Frustrating. He complained, sitting down in his arm chair, that throaty voice of his and the sight of his clear outline in those tin sweatpants lighting you up inside. There was also a wet patch, so you were able to figure just how frustrating it had been.

You were frustrated from work all day... he was clearly frustrated from trying to jerk off all day and coming up 0 for 0.

Now he proves how badly he needed your hot cunt today, holding himself above you and pounding his hips into yours over and over; driving your ass into the couch and slipping a big killing hand up your shirt and squeezing a tit hard. When you give in fully, wrapping your legs around his hips so he can drive in deeper, grind himself directly into your sloppy, slutty wet cunt, he gives a growl of approval. His mouth finds its way up from your collar bone, over the curve of your throat, and to your lips. Kissing you deeply again, like the dirty old soldier has never wanted anyone so badly.

The hand thats not under your shirt, eagerly taking turns rubbing and squeezing each of your pretty tits, trails down your leg to hook under your knee and unwraps it from his hip; guiding it upwards towards the ceiling. Now he he hammers your cunt, his cock absolutely covered in wetness and a squelching sound clear in the air coming from you every time he cracks his hips into you.

And you can just take it; lay there and accept the nasty dicking down you're getting for your Friday night. You love it.

When you can no longer kiss for needing to breath, you can hear Norman panting above you and you crack your eyes open to watch him. Smirk. Tell him you're *pant* *pant* cute.

Another growl comes straight out of his throat and he shakes his head, before the hand that was holding your leg up grazes back down your calf and your thighs straight for your pussy. And- god- as soon as he starts to fiddle with your clit; rolling his fingers around it slowly at first but picking up in speed, you cant help how your back arches into him.

Finally Mr Nordstrom buries himself into your used hole one final time and releases his seed as deep inside you as he can.

You always loved visiting Mr Nordstrom.

[senseiwu]

sparkshipping headcanons?

Yesssss i will take any excuse to talk about them

Ray's love language is physical touch. This is great for Wu, who never realised how touch-starved he was til now. Lots of hugs, shoulder touches just because... Ray just likes to Hold people (just look at him with Maya in the show 🥺), which suits Wu perfectly when he comes to realise he likes being held

Another reason he likes being held by Ray? Well, as the Master of Fire, Ray has a higher than average body temperature. He's pretty much always warm, like a human heater. Being part dragon (yknow. Reptiles.), Wu is pretty sensitive to the cold. And he LOVES heat. Hugging or being hugged by Ray at night, feeling that warmth, probably also helps him sleep. (Wu is a bit of an insomniac and also wakes easily)

This is probably how Ray fount out... Wu purrs. Wu is embarrassed as hell by it, but Ray adores it. He thinks its wonderful.

He thinks lots of things about Wu are wonderful, and has made it his mission to try and get Wu to see how wonderful he is; to raise his self esteem; to help him feel good about himself. He'll try and cheer him up when he's down (that's my theory behind this picture XD)

On the flipside, Ray has always had a bit of anxiety (idk man something about him just gives me anxiety vibes. ...also adhd for reasons I can't quite explain.) Wu's been there, and is great at grounding him, calming him down or keeping him calm. This was especially helpful during the war, which was the biggest thing Ray had ever dealt with. And when they found out Ignacia had been attacked by a rogue group of Anacondrai; he feared the worst for his mother.

Theyre just. Both always supporting and uplifting each other

Wu is ace (you can't prove me wrong. That is the asexualest man to ever exist. He just gives me ace vibes.). He's also a bit iffy on kisses, especially the more. intense. ones. Ray doesn't have a problem with it at all, he's more than happy to just hug Wu. He's learnt he likes small kisses/pecks though, so Ray will often give him those. Ray appreciates it very much if Wu gives him a kiss. Probably has a big goofy grin, which Wu loves.

Wu is easily flustered/blushes heavily. Ray thinks its cute.

Ray likes to be the little spoon. As much as he likes to hold, he also likes to be held.

This probably looks a little silly, as he is very tall and Wu is very short. (Goldsmith height chart for vague reference)

Due to being part Oni, Wu's hair (and by extension, Lloyd's and Garmadon's) is quite floofy and soft. Ray loves playing with it.

This one's a bit silly but. It never really dawned on Ray that, being a lifelong martial artist, Wu is quite fit, and a bit muscular. First time Ray ever saw, he was just 😳 dgkdgisgj

Ray is someone Wu feels 100% comfortable showing his goofy side. Ray probably encourages it and matches it. Ray and Wu are both relatively smart men. However. Sometimes... it seems all their braincells disappear. Around anyone else, Wu would feel rather embarrassed.

Okay that's gonna have to be it for now cause I've gotta get ready for work zguskgdguai thank you for asking. I love spark :) very soft.

[sevi007]

Tales of the Abyss playthrough, the partest of the 26th or something

Look I gotta make this a little engaging somehow when I push everything under the cut

What a way to wake up! Well I guess Luke was not really asleep per se, he was piggy-backing in Asch's body, so like. He is still right there in the adrenaline-rush

*whisper* Omg give me a HD anime version of this to put as a wallpaper this is pretty

Argh. I know Luke is as pushy as always, but she got a point, I was in there right along with him about to go "hurry hurry!" - but I guess we need a plan first XD

Where's the next elevator to the Outer Lands for example?

Mep. Let me hug the boy please. Guy is coming for you Luke! And - now that I think about it, Tear stayed here!

(She still got a point, sadly. He does not really think on his own. Can't blame him, but it's true.)

Oh wait luke is having an epiphany I will shut up

THE WAY I GASPED - okay deep breath, deep breath. Did you know, I didn't have any idea why there were pictures of long-haired AND short-haired Luke on the internet? Even in the opening? I assumed he would get a makeover, maybe to separate himself from Asch yea, but didn't know when or why.

This is SUCH a great reason!

Wait let me - I'm gonna nerd out here for a bit, and I don't know how right I am with this, but I think in more modern Japanese culture, hair cutting is a symbol of turning over a new leaf, leaving the past being or something like that. And even if I remember that wrong, it still shows that Luke wants to step out of the shadow of what he was meant to be a - a mere replica of Luke / Asch fon fabre - and his own person. Such a great way to show that!

As for the conversation. It might seem like Tear is being harsh here, and I did say "OUCH" a few times over the dialogue because it just - is a big ouchy - but she is doing the right thing here. She is facing Luke in a way he has to get used to a bit, because people won't instantly trust him anymore, they will question him, he has to stand firm and resolute and use his head from now on! She is pointing out very important things he sooner or later will have to work through and work with, and it is a good thing she is there to teach him this. Also, she does recognize that he is trying and taking important steps - look at the face she makes after the haircut - and she does not want him to suffer, that's why she is rather cold when she points out that he talks about dying too easily, because she does not want him to!

HAH my boy is growing so quickly now. I'm a proud mom now.

Also we really need to clean that hair length up, it looks a bit silly right now XD

Gonna cut this short before tumblr can go harping on me about the maximal number of pictures per post -

@magicmetslogic

@ahsokaisawesome

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Hello :) I hope you’re having a fantastic day, please could I request a romantic matchup for Gotham, The Witcher and X-Men :)

Age:25

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Appearance: I am 5’3, have long black hair and green-hazel eyes and I’m very pale. In terms of fashion I normally dress in black and other dark colours as black and purple are my favourite colours, I normally wear goth style clothing, jewellery and makeup (simple and not over the top), and on special occasions I dress more elegantly.

Personality: I am a Capricorn and personality type INFJ. I’m normally shy when talking to people for the first time and scared to approach people. When I get to know people, I am more open and hyper around them. I really enjoy testing myself and improving myself as a whole (I have low self esteem), I also like to take care of other people and make sure they’re doing okay and I really have a soft spot for animals.

Likes (at least three things): I normally spend my time watching horror movies, playing video games, reading, listening to music and I love watching anime. My favourite music genres are rock, metal, goth and classical. I’m absolutely fascinated with Greek mythology and many countries History.

Dislikes (at least three things): I absolutely can’t stand when it’s too hot or sunny outside as I much prefer the cold. I hate being forced into social situations and when people are extremely judgmental.

Extra fun fact: My ideal dates are normally visiting museums, anything historical, nature walks and visiting spooky locations.

Hi, I am sorry for the long wait. I am trying to get all of my overdue matchups out as quick as I can! <3333

I hope you like your matchups!

(I was not even expecting for all of your matchups to have J names! XD)

Romantic Matchups; Gotham, The Witcher, and X-Men

~~~

Romantic;

~~~

Gotham;

Jervis Tetch -

When you were feeling up for it, you decided to go to a magic show, just because.

You met Jervis when he was performing his hypnotic tricks at a small, mysterious venue that immediately intrigued you due to its eerie, Alice in Wonderland theme.

You liked spooky things, and his Alice In Wonderland theme was pretty spooky, as said.

You were rather impressed by his magic tricks, mentally trying to figure them out.

What you didn't know was that Jervis had spotted you from the small crowd of people in their seats.

He was intrigued. And absolutely loved your style.

After the show, he couldn't resist approaching you to introduce himself.

Jervis was fascinated by your reserved nature and the depth of your thoughts. He found you a safe presence in his otherwise chaotic life.

Of, you know, his secret crime life.

At some point, you became friends...

Long conversations about literature, mythology, and your mutual love for the eerie would take place in dimly lit cafes or over late-night tea sessions.

He gifted you vintage copies of Alice in Wonderland and Greek mythology books, inscribed with little rhymes or riddles that made you smile.

You soothed his turbulent mind with your calm and caring demeanor, offering him a kind of peace he rarely found.

Jervis fell for you slowly, charmed by your passion for history and how you care for him.

You found his eccentricity endearing and felt a connection with his longing for a better world, even if his methods were misguided.

His confession sends your heart ablaze...

It happens one evening during a quiet moment in the secret Wonderland room he created for you. The two of you are seated by the warm glow of a vintage lamp, books scattered around, and a teapot steaming softly on the table.

There's even a brand new video game set up in there too for you.

He’s unusually quiet, his fingers tracing the edge of a teacup as he struggles to find the courage to speak.

Then, finally, he looks at you with those intense, dreamy eyes and begins his confession in a poetic cadence:

"Through riddles and rhymes, my heart has flown, With you, dear one, I've found my home."

His voice shakes slightly at the end, his vulnerability laid bare

He reaches out a gloved hand to you, his gaze searching yours with hope and nervous anticipation.

You give him your heart to hold.

Jervis adored planning dates that fit your interests. From midnight strolls through foggy parks to private tours of historical museums, he made each outing whimsical.

When you felt down, he’d recite poetry or sing old tunes in his peculiar yet soothing voice, pulling you into a dance to make you smile.

Reading late into the night with a pot of tea, you lying on his lap as he strokes your hair.

Watching horror films together - Jervis found your love of them curious but delightful, often commenting on the psychology of the villains.

Exploring old libraries or spooky locations, where Jervis loved to spin tales about their histories.

Two words; exploring cemeteries.

Playing word games and riddles, which became a playful competition between the two of you.

Surprises you with thoughtful gifts, like a vintage artifact tied to Greek mythology.

Defends you fiercely if anyone judges or mistreats you, his protective nature flaring up when needed.

Bring him back to reality when his darker impulses take over, helping him see the beauty in simple, harmless joys.

Listening to your favorite music together.

~~~

The Witcher;

Jaskier -

You first met Jaskier when he was performing at a bustling tavern you’d wandered into after a long day exploring a nearby historical site.

You just wanted to get a quick bite to eat to go and leave.

Your somewhat shy demeanor caught Jaskier's eyes, and after his performance, he boldly approached you with a charming grin, declaring, "I noticed you when I was performing, and I must inquire; are you a Goddess?"

Despite your initial nervousness, his wit and warmth quickly drew you into a lively conversation.

Jaskier loves it when you slip out of your shell.

Somehow, you convinced Geralt - with the help of Jaskier - to let you join them on their journey.

You bonded over your shared love for storytelling - he’d sing, and you’d recount myths and history, blending your passions.

You taught him bits of Greek mythology, which he incorporated into his lyrics to impress you.

Jaskier fell for you when he watched as you healed a baby rabbit in the woods.

He started writing songs specifically for you, though he’d deny it if you asked - his flushed face giving him away.

Your quiet strength inspired him, and he found himself wanting to protect and uplift you in every way he could.

When you were sad, he’d pull you into his arms and hum softly, his voice calming your racing thoughts.

You were his rock, his anchor, his treasure.

Jaskier loves to bring you small gifts - flowers, trinkets, or even a sweet treat - just because he thought of you.

Shields you from harsh sunlight with his cloak when you’re out exploring, grinning as he calls himself your “knight in shining armor.”

Will buy you dark clothing that you might like at the market to surprise you with.

He would totally be the inventor and creator of sunglasses for you.

Always ensures you feel loved and appreciated, showering you with compliments and affection.

You help him when his own insecurities creep in, reminding him of his worth with your unwavering support.

~~~

X-Men;

James (Logan) Howlett -

You had been a professor at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters for a few years, specializing in history and mythology.

Logan’s arrival was sudden, and while the students whispered excitedly about the "gruff guy," you first met him during one of Charles’ impromptu gatherings in the study.

Turns out Logan liked to visit every once in a while.

A wanderer, a loner.

He didn’t say much at first, simply leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, observing everyone with a guarded expression. You noticed the tension in his posture but decided not to push - figuring he'd open up in his own time.

When you introduced yourself, he gave a curt nod but said nothing.

Still, there was a flicker of intrigue in his eyes when you casually mentioned your love for history.

The first real conversation happened during a quiet evening. You were organizing some materials in the library when Logan wandered in, likely seeking a moment of peace.

He noticed the titles on your desk - books on wars, ancient strategies, and mythology - and made a dry comment, “Not a light reader, huh?”

Logan respected your independence and found your passion for history and mythology fascinating.

He’d silently accompany you on your nature walks.

Logan admired your determination to improve yourself, subtly encouraging you while never pushing you too hard.

Logan fell for you when he saw your kindness - your gentle care for others melting the walls he’d built around his heart.

He found himself wanting to protect you.

Logan showed his affection through acts of service, like cooking for you or fixing things around your home.

When you were upset, he’d offer a gruff but heartfelt, “I’m here,” pulling you into a comforting hug.

You'd watch horror movies together, with Logan sitting close beside you, not really understanding the point of most movies; sometimes even letting you know how he'd escape Michael Myers; also just believing that he could defeat all of them.

Logan teaches you survival skills.

Think about that hair of his for a moment...

Okay, times up.

You will definitely help Logan with finding out about his past and everything.

You'd do anything for him.

<3

He'd do anything for you, just probably won't admit it.

Randomly, Logan will gift you a rare book or something similar.

You remind him he'd deserving of love and happiness, even when he doubts it.

And not to worry, even though most - if not all - of Logan's partners either get hurt or die when they are dating him, you don't!

[youaremycosmo]

《my cutest psychopath》 taemin x reader scenario

Em, first thing - i don't know what i just wrote. It's definitely sth different ^^ Second thing - all inspired just from this photo, actually fiancé Taemin is supposed (you can imagine him as you want ofc) to look like in 2017-2018, but gosh this gaze?? Third thing - if some of you are waiting for smut from me, not worthy at all XD Word count// 974 words (such a shortie)

Pairing// Taemin x you

Summary// Taemin just after your wedding turns out to be a well-hidden psychopath who wants to have you all for himself. But not in real life.

Genre// fluff (?)

Warnings// um, handcuffing, dominance MASTERLIST

It was supposed to be the most pleasant morning in your life. 

The first morning no longer as a fiancée, but as a wife.

Lee Taemin's wife.

It sounded so... unreal. After all those long years, so satisfying and exciting.

You slowly opened your eyes, expecting either a kiss on your forehead and him asking with a hoarse voice if his love was up already, or his handsome face, still deep in sleep.

But you definitely didn't expect this.

- Eh? - you glanced at your hands, placed unnaturally upwards. Were those... handcuffs? Strapped to the bed...? What...?

With an uncomprehending look, you tried to move your legs, but they turned out to be tied too, preventing you from moving.

What the actual hell...?

Your breath suddenly deepened, trying to remember last evening while staring at the bed in nerves. Did somebody kidnap you? Or dropped something in your drink?

Finally, your attention turned to the man who was sitting across from you. 

Taemin, your husband, just sat in a huge armchair, his hands behind his neck, with a face deep in thought.

His eyes, now sharp and piercing, were so different from the warm and loving ones you saw every day.

He didn't speak. Not a word. He just stared. Like a complete stranger. 

- Taemin, what is this? - you said with slight panic, tugging on the cold metal once more. - Why are you sitting there? Free me... Is this some kind of joke? Very funny - you rolled your eyes, as usual, unable to understand his rather specific humor.

But he didn't smile. His face didn't move even an inch.

- Taemin-ah - you raised your voice, trying to correct your position a little. Unfortunately, those handcuffs didn't give you a chance to do that, moreover you could feel how they encroached your wrists causing slight pain.

- I wonder what to do with you, wifey - his deep voice finally cut the air, while his dark eyes moved over your body. This lack of any emotion slowly felt terrifying.

- What a stupid question, take it off from me - you said impatiently, struggling even more. - Okay, we had a laugh, but I feel like peeing... - you groaned, hoping that this would end this stupid joke. Taem never was the best when it came to spice things up, but that wasn’t even entertaining. 

- You're my wife now, so… - he finally changed position, resting his elbows on his tights. You search for any signs of amusement in this gaze, but without any success. - I think it's impossible, when you’re talking to me like that. 

- What is impossible? - you furrowed your eyebrows, disbelieving what you saw and heard. Cold shiver just came along your spine. - Taemin, I need to use the bathroom - you empathized, wanting this strange roleplaying to end.

- I'll consider it if you ask nicely - he replied, showing his extraordinary satisfaction with what he said.

Finally he smiled, but it wasn’t so bright anymore. He clearly derived pleasure putting you in this state, all vulnerable and not able to do anything without his help.

- My wife will ask me for everything now. And if you disobey... you'll spend a lot of time in this position - he shrugged as if it was completely normal. 

Silence. 

There was a long silence in which you wondered if he couldn’t notice you didn’t enjoy it or it was all… serious. You slowly raised your eyes to him again. The air in the room was suddenly suffocating.

Did you... just marry a psychopath? But... Taemin was never like this. He was always... okay, he was always jealous. Maybe a little restrictive. Could he hide for half of his life just to…

- You're mine. Completely mine. Isn't it wonderful? No way out here... - his happy voice melted somewhere in your head, while he stood up, coming to you. 

⋆୨୧⋆

- Wake up, sleeping princess - you heard his lovely voice, while he kissed your cheek like every morning. You groaned loudly in your pillow, wanting to prolong this sleepy state, especially when it was your free day. 

But then you opened your eyes widely and suddenly raised to a sitting position, causing Taem to almost fell off from the bed. You carefully stared at everything near you, searching for things you saw in your dream.

- I know you don’t like waking up, but this was… extraordinary - Tae laughed, sitting again on the bed in a safe place. - You could just say you want 5 minutes more - he pouted a little, reaching to the bedside table for a large mug, probably with coffee.

But you stared at Tae with a lot of caution, even as he tried to hand it to you.

- Something's wrong? - he tilted his head, frowning.

- I... I had a strange dream, you know? - you ruffled your messy hair even more. - I kind of… woke up and… - you bit your lip before saying it out loud. - You were a… psychopath… I… guess…

- Me? Psychopath? - Taemin giggled, leaning on his hand. His eyes were so attentive, like you just said the funniest joke in your life. - What, have I tried to eat you?

- Eat me? - now you tilted your head, not understanding anything.

- Well, if I had to do something to you, I'd probably eat you. You're so adorable sometimes - he laughed even harder, leaning to you and biting the tip of your nose delicately. - But... I would be sad then, who would kiss me? - he asked more to himself, puffing his cheeks.

You chuckled to yourself, staring at him. Taemin definitely couldn't be a psychopath, he was too cuddly for that.

[edennill-archived]

Stupidly long Númenor Playlist:

plenty by aeseaes

in the land of plenty, we don't know what the word no means

a coronation, a beheading from the funeral to the wedding do you think they care where the crown goes?

we want violence, we want blood we want superhero love, we want all the answers you promised us we want laughter, we want pain, and everyone will know our name

did you know that no two missteps are the same?

the flood by aeseaes

and we'll live freely without ever getting old

beasts of the wild, eyes of a child this world is all that you know

much madness by aeseaes

we'll drag you out into the light, quiet like the vines what are you afraid of, if you really have nothing to hide?

Vague warning for creepy imagery, maybe especially when interpreting it in this context.

Rilke Song by aeseaes

How did we get here and what does it mean Who said it must be and when can we dream The world outside is cold and bright but when you take a breath You'll inhale the sunlight and exhale the rest

We're older than we used to be And closer to the ground beneath Maybe we've got all the time to grow Maybe we've got all the time and maybe we just don't know

In spite of our failures the lines twist and curve To regrow the branches the night has disturbed And when we wake we'll take the shape of something free and bold And rest in the shade where the new greets the old

I am cheating somewhat here because it is more strictly a "my Númenórean OCs" song lol. I am actually being very disciplined in not listing all of them here, especially as the link tends to be a vibe that I adore ("it is bad, but everything will be all right in the end") that's not even particularly present in Akallabeth xd.

Carl by aeseaes

this lonely light looms; in the cosmic night we fell in love and spilled our blood on the pale blue dot

kids and killers shed their bones on this, the only home we've known

Okay, it was one more.

Ready Aim Fire by Imagine Dragons (though honestly, I'm still looking for a good cover)

Off in the distance There is resistance Bubbling up and festering We don't have the choice to stay We'd rather die than Do it your way

With our backs to the wall The darkness will fall We never quite thought We could lose it all

Ready aim fire Ready aim fire An empire is falling In just one day You close your eyes And the glory fades Ready aim fire Ready aim fire away

The Tower by Flannel Graph

Got a neck so strong for the crown upon your head Don't think anyone will leave it when you're dead There's a throng of men mightier than you And they're waiting and they're watching till they fill your shoes

Speed the Collapse by Metric

And then the storm was overhead All the oceans boiled and rivers bled We auctioned off our memories In the absence of a breeze Scatter what remains Scatter what remains

Pushed away, I'm pulled toward A comedown of revolving doors Every warning we ignored Drifting in from distant shores

Eastward of Eden by Amelia Day (I listen to the acoustic version)

Eastward of Eden, where the clouds meet the dirt We left our poor mother and seeded the earth The gates, they were shuttered, the latches were locked Oh, Eastward of Eden, where men become Gods

Few though our people, we toiled as one The fruits of our labors thrived under the sun Our children, they spread to outnumber the stars Oh, Eastward of Eden, where day turns to dark

Leave it all, leave it all, leave it all behind

Our towers, they rose up and set with the sun Our sermons, they burnt us with fiery tongue We wrought our wings of metal, surprised when we fell Oh, Eastward of Eden, where Heaven's a Hell

Daniel in the Den by Bastille

And for every king that died Oh they would crown another

Providence by Poor Man's Poison

Count the lights on empty souls Quietly behind the doors Oh, bleeding us just for fun Men of power telling lies Shifty hands and thirsty eyes And they can smell your fear like blood

Oh, my weary soul We've met your kind before Set fire to us all And oh sweet providence Come save us from ourselves From Hell and consequence

Hero by Heather Dale

You think that if you set the price, they'll turn me in You think that when I'm up upon the pike, you'll win They'll say that I was fighting for the spirit of the law What will they say about you when I'm gone?

You murdered and you stole, you mocked the hope I gave Though I'd prefer a happy end, no man can cheat the grave I know what they'll remember in the words of every song What will they say about you when I'm gone?

They'll say: "We stared into the wind that tore away our breath We left behind a message that cannot be claimed by death"

No More Fear by LEAH

A storm is rolling in A chill is in the wind A silence hunches over The wake of our heroes

Nothing left undefeated No one to take away our peace We stood, we claimed our freedom We held on to our souls

Victory by LEAH

Waves rise up Dark crimson sky Sails in the distance Sounds of war Hunting you down For this resistance

Look to your fathers from days of old You feel their heart; you face the day Now summon your courage, worth more than gold You hear their song; you see the way

Święty Graal by Sanah

Był sobie król Od pokoju Wolał iść w bój Słychać łkanie zza siedmiu gór Oj kochał szmal Patrzeć na łzy królowej chciał Dwie korony chętnie by miał

Lol, those lyrics sound stupid on their own. But it's a good song a little in the style of an old-fashioned ballad, imo.

Madame Guillotine from The Scarlet Pimpernel

No, I have no excuse and it doesn't even connect. But — the Terror, you get it—

Warning for uh, definitely sexual and maybe at times noncon-related metaphorical imagery.

The Island by Skipinnish

Summer time, long years ago I always will remember Just a boy who didn't know That those days would never die

Oh, I recall the island girl Her heart was still unbroken And still I hear the pipers scream In the summer island sky

[mammonprotectionsquad]

Helloooo I'm gonna puke out a little (not so little) life update, for whoever is interested lol

I'm not gonna go into too much details since that is private, but things changed into a direction where we most likely have to move countries way sooner than we thought. And by that I mean by about 3 years. We got the news at the beginning of the month, so super great start into the year 🙂 it took me until now to be able to talk about it without crying, because I'm so stressed and overwhelmed when I think about how much there is to take care of. Thankfully we do have a house in Greece, but it's pretty small so I need to seriously sort out all my things. Including furniture. I hope I'll at least be able to somehow send my gaming chair over (that mf was expensive, is pretty and comfy) but at this point I don't dare to keep my hopes up for much szurhj but for the most part it would be way way too expensive to send over the furniture we have here rather than buy new stuff when we did the move. I know it's silly to get sad over furniture. And I'm sure things would've been different in any other scenario, but we got thrown into cold water out of nowhere and as of now everything regarding the next months is uncertain. I wasn't prepared for any of it to be happening so soon and I'm still processing it. I'm trying to focus on the positive things, but it's fucking difficult.

I'll try to start semi slowly soon by sorting through things I know won't hurt to get rid of. And at least my aunt said she'll take a lot of our furniture so I know that's all in good hands. Just rn... This overwhelming feeling of uncertainty really sucks when you are already struggling with winter depression on top of your regular depression :)

I know that once we're there and things are settled, it'll be fine. It just fucking sucks that it might not be in our own time. Though there is a small chance that things won't end like that. That we do get to have more time to prepare properly etc. But I'd rather not get my hopes up. I'll also need to seriously save money now. Mainly because I'll need to get a loft bed to make the most of my room and that bed alone will cost me 400€, without a mattress 💀 not to mention the new desk (worst case a new chair as well), and some other things like a new closet, dresser, some shelves... Though most things thankfully aren't a pressing matter that we'd need to get asap. The bed and desk however? They are. Hhhh things are getting way too fucking expensive 😀

Okay that's enough whining now sgjtjjb I just needed to get this out again xD

[lilac-den]

Perhaps it was a dream. A dream that proved it's all too much to take on.

You woke up hurt. Feeling your bones and blood cried as if they're screaming when you tried to recover from the ground.

You're not sure what happened. But you felt like a lost soul trapped in a body that may not have been yours in the first place.

And so, you wander.

You left your chamber. You began to stroll mindlessly.

There's no one here at the moment. Just a few guards. But that shouldn't be a problem, the wind magic will carry you past them like a cold breeze too strong to handle.

And so, you kept on walking.

That's when you saw him.

And you felt your heart numbing.

—

He left his study in the castle by the time of midnight.

A few guards greeted him as he passed them, so he walked faster.

It wouldn't be annoying if he hadn't learned beforehand that at least twice out of every 10 guards would be out to get him.

Luckily nothing happened tonight. They're being careful. And so is he.

For now, two can play a game.

Until he saw her.

"Wanderer?" Maverick muttered as he approached the pale figure in a turquoise gown embroidered with faint details. "What are you doing here?"

She didn't answer, just looked at him. Or rather, somewhere on him.

He followed her gaze to his fingers. There was a small cut on them from the paper edge.

"Oh?" Not sure why, but he explained. "It's just a small cut. Don't worry."

The wanderer still wouldn't meet his eyes.

Maverick lifted the fingers of his left arm up. And just as he thought, she looked up too.

And he witnessed something that instantly teared him.

"What happened?" His tone were harsh, with worries.

She looked like someone with no attachment to life at all.

The Wanderer, is losing herself. He could feel it.

"Come on, we should...!"

Maverick couldn't move at all, as he watched. Her pale lips were pressed on those cuts. So careful, hesitantly. Like she meant to do so years ago.

"There," She smiled at him. "Now you wouldn't be hurt, Rick."

——I'm here, Rick. I'm right here.

"Your lord?"

Maverick snapped back from the sudden memories, and to his surprise, the Wanderer looked normal. Like a living person, as she should be.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

Something's not right. He figured it immediately. Something's definitely not right about the Wanderer.

And it has to do with him.

"Nothing." Maverick was lying. He didn't want to. But he couldn't help it. "Just happened to be here."

He watched as her eyebrows furrowed. "Okay...?"

"Come on. I'll take you home."

"I'm capable of taking care myself..."

Maverick turned around, perhaps a little too quickly, which was why the Wanderer slammed into his chest, and why he trapped her small frame inside of him.

He could feel her getting flustered.

"My lord, I'm so sorry——"

"Rick." He demanded.

"Pardon?"

"Call me Rick. Please."

Stop calling me as my lord. Not when we're so closed. In those dreams.

"Rick...?"

Maverick smiled. He's not sure why. But he's satisfied.

For now, those dreams can fucked off.

The Wanderer's here now. With him. Not the guy with a face almost identical to him.

He pressed a kiss to her neck. And smirked as he felt her skin warmed.

"Good girl."

——

Been thinking Maverick so here's a second snippet since last! Hope I'm not being OOC, but I do feel like Maverick would get jealous of his past self lol.

Thank you for sharing more of your lovely snippets! :3

And Maverick jealous of his past life's self...Who can say~ XD

Again, thank you for sharing your snippet! :D and ur love for the noble ice man!

[cryinginthebackseat]

hi dear,

recently your adler x bell fic from two years ago (...) caught my interest.

it literally is one of the best written cod fics there is on here, and i saw you mentioning a fifth chap in an old reply to a reblog, and im curious if youre planning on ever uploading another chapter. i think its obv very unlikely since its been so long (im desperate yall), and i totally get if you say you dont wanna keep updating it (since you might not even be interested in the game*s anymore).

also, i havent seen you mention anywhere that its finished, but after looking at your masterlist you havent tagged it as unfinished or anything.

i recently got back into black ops and there really arent enough fics xd (no matter if youre going to finish it or not, i admire your writing skills fr fr)

have a good day/night x (sorry for the paragraph) ♡

Hello, dearest nony!

Okay, first of all, I have to say I hadn't expected someone would ask me about a follow up to that fic, but here we are. Thank you so much for taking your time to read you've got more poision than sugar, by the way. Unfortunately, I've been hitting the wall with that fic for years now. I've been thinking of continuing it just for the sake of completing a multi-chapter story for once.

ALSO I KID YOU NOT, I HAD A DREAM OF MEETING ADLER SOME TIME LAST WEEK BEFORE I GOT YOUR ASK SO MAYBE IT'S A SIGN??? Either way, I'll def let you know when I've finally gathered enough muse to continue the fic. You're too kind and I hope you have a good day too~ thanks again for dropping by<333

I can share you snippets of what I'd written so far. I sincerely hope I can continue where I left off soon!

“You’re fucked.” Park and Lazar are dead and eighteen hours later the last person Adler would rather see comes to him. “We,” Adler says carefully, “are fucked.” Hudson shakes his head, sweat pooling on his forehead. Guantánamo Bay in March is a different breed of torture– heat, sun and the humidity collaborate to aggravate the whole situation they’re in. “No,” Hudson says, cold and hard. “There’s no us. It’s you. You're fucked, Russ. I warned you.”

[pr0serpinas]

Okay interview time. Pick one WIP or as many as you’d like and answer as many of these as you’d like:

1. What inspired your idea?

2. Is there a particular scene or moment you’re most excited to write (or have already written)?

3. What themes or emotions are you exploring in this fic?

4. How do you balance plot and character development in your writing?

5. Im sure I already know the answer to this but do you plan everything out or do you let the story take you where it wants to go?

6. Do you have a favorite part of the writing process like drafting, editing, or world building?

7. What do you want us readers to take away from your fics?

Oh no, oh my god, I’m about to be exposed for the fraud that I am xD

Okay, let’s do it with Oceans Brawl, because I’ve actually put the most work into it. Putting it under a cut because I care about y’all’s dashboards.

The inspirational period was part of a really weird time for me. I was reading a lot of 7th year reconciliation fics, but none scratched a sort of dark itch. I wanted a reconciliation fic where the reunion was a bit forced and they’re a bit toxic about it without it being actually dark.

Yes, I’ve already written it, but it hasn’t happened yet, so I’m not telling.

Christ, that makes it sound like there’s a plan here. The bittersweet futility of clinging to your past at the expense of your future. Ominis, in particular, is trying his damned hardest to pretend like the events of their fifth year happened to someone else, or an alternate version of the pair of them, and if he just loves Sebastian enough, then it’s like it never happened. He would rather pretend than properly deal with things. Meanwhile, Sebastian uses the past as a cudgel to beat himself with and refuses to acknowledge his capacity for growth. Both of them are on the verge of missing something really beautiful because they’re fixed on what could have been.

Obviously, I do not xD I mean, this is a pretty circle-jerky introspective fic. I think it helps that I have certain action events that I want to take place, and then it’s a matter of prodding the characters until they get there? Idk, am I balancing character development and plot action? Someone will have to tell me.

Uh, yes. Both. Oceans Brawl I have actually planned out. Sweet Like Sugar Venom (the 50s AU) I have sort of planned out. Even so, I kind of write on vibes. I write scenes out of order as they come to me and build around them.

Yes, my favorite part is when it’s over. My second-favorite part is brainstorming.

Emotional damage. I keep a note on my phone of really good phrases from books or fics I’ve read—things that have given me a cold thrill when I’ve read them. I’ve never reused any of the phrases in my own writing. But my dream would be if I wrote my own ‘cold thrill’ phrase for someone else.