#something possessed me and had to post them

[dollyswishingwell]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Spoilt girl

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ Fluff, slightly suggestive, A bit OOC? borderline stockholm syndrome, rich men.

> ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ The boys love to spoil their pretty little wife

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You didn’t mean to quit your job. Not at first.

But Rafayel had a way of making it seem inevitable. It started with little things, longer visits to his oceanside villa, missed calls from Jenna while you lay tangled in silk sheets, the scent of salt and paint clinging to your skin. “You’re too delicate for that,” he’d whisper, brushing your hair behind your ear while you drowsed in his arms. “You weren’t made for blood and bullets. Let them chase the wanderers, you’re meant to be adored. Let me adore you like i’ve always dreamed of” And slowly, gently, he peeled you away from it all. No more physical checks. No more mission briefings. Just soft mornings, sapphire skies, and Rafayel, always watching you like you were the center of the galaxy.

Now, you were his pretty little housewife. And you loved it.

The ocean murmured in the distance, waves brushing gently against the shoreline just beyond the cliffside villa. The morning light filtered through soft pink gauzy curtains, casting soft rose gold across the white stone floors.

You stood in front of the mirror, holding a pale lavender dress against your body. It shimmered faintly, made of some silk-like fabric only found in the N109 trade routes, expensive, unnecessary, and absolutely perfect.

Behind you, Rafayel lounged on the edge of the couch, legs draped over the arm, sketchbook forgotten at his side. His eyes tracked your every move, a sleepy smile pulling at his lips.

“You’re staring Raffy,” you murmured, biting back a smile.

“I am,” he said unapologetically, stretching like a cat (despite hating them). “You look like you belong in a painting. My painting.”

You turned, holding the dress up with both hands. “Too much? It’s for your exhibition, not mine.”

Rafayel stood slowly, bare feet silent against the floor. He moved with the effortless grace of someone used to walking between worlds, between reality and dreams. He came up behind you, arms slipping around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“I want you to have it cutie,” he whispered, voice low and indulgent. “All of it. That one, the blue one with the shell clasps, the earrings you pretend not to like. Buy them all.”

You giggled, cheeks heating. “I thought we were pretending to be frugal this cycle.”

“That was before I saw you in this light,” he said, nuzzling into your neck. “I don’t care if I have to trade every pigment I’ve ever ground, if it makes you smile like this, it’s worth it.”

His fingers played lazily with the fabric at your waist, his tone laced with fondness, a loving charm and something deeper, quieter. Possessiveness, perhaps. Devotion? Worship, definitely.

“You used to chase wanderers,” he murmured, as if reminding himself. “Now you’re here. With me. My little pearl.

You looked at him through the mirror, pouting slightly. “i just want to look pretty for you.”

His expression melted. “You always do, baby. You don’t have to lift a finger unless it’s to point at something you want.”

Your grin turned smug. “Even the pink heels with the pearls?”

He kissed your cheek, then your jaw. “Especially those.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣e ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You never thought you’d slow down. Not after everything.

But then came Zayne. calm, steady, patient Zayne.

He didn’t tell you to quit being a deepspace hunter. He never had to. He just started sitting beside your hospital bed more often, hand steady over your pulse while you slept, voice low but firm whenever you skipped post-mission scans. “You don’t have to destroy yourself to prove you’re still alive,” he said once, after stitching a split across your shoulder in silence. And when you tried to laugh it off, he just looked at you. Not with pity, but with something heavier. Something like love.

Eventually, he made you a deal. “Let me take care of you for once. Let me give you a life you don’t have to survive.”

So you did. And now, you were his wife.

His spoiled, pampered, bratty little wife, and you were thriving.

“I don’t need this many dresses,” you teased, spinning in front of the mirror as the baby blue silk clung perfectly to your waist.

Zayne didn’t look up from his seat on the velvet chaise, legs crossed, expression unreadable behind his glasses. “Yes, you do.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m going to one gala, not a royal wedding.”

He adjusted his cufflinks, voice smooth. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the room either way. But you’re also my wife. So you’ll have options.”

You paused, watching him in the reflection. “Is this really what you imagined when you told me to stop risking my life?”

Zayne finally looked up. His hazel green eyes flickered to yours, they were warm, sharp, and weirdly unreadable. “No,” he said honestly. “But I’m not complaining.”

You turned, raising a brow. “And if I wanted the velvet one and the silver one?”

He didn’t blink. “Then you’re getting both.”

A soft laugh bubbled up your throat. “Being the top surgeon really got to your head, Zaynie”

Zayne rose from the chair with that slow, effortless confidence you loved. His hands slid around your waist, fingers brushing just under the edge of the dress’s open back. “I became a surgeon for you. I have all this money and power for you. This is simply my thank you, for staying alive. For letting me love you.”

You melted instantly.

He kissed your temple, then your jaw, then your collarbone, each one calm and deliberate, and ever so gentle. “There’s people around, Mister Doctor” You let out quietly giggling at the ticklish kisses.

Zayne chuckled, low and warm. “Maybe it’ll show them i’m not as icy as they think.”

“I’m literally shivering at your touch—”

He groans playfully “I should give you back to Jenna.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

You used to like being a hunter.

But that was before Xavier. Before he held your hand in the ruins of the no hunt zone and asked, quietly, without expectation, if you were tired of this.

He never pushed. Just made space for you beside him.

And once you said yes, once you let yourself rest, he bought a new penthouse, one with wide windows, soft golden light, and more pillows than you thought anyone could reasonably own. “We require proper nesting,” he’d said, totally serious. “And a kitchen where I can make breakfast without setting off alarms.”

Now, you were his wife. No gun. No wanderers. Just a silk robe, messy hair, and bare feet curled beside him under soft linen sheets.

Xavier was half-asleep, arm draped across your waist, breath warm against your shoulder as you scrolled through your holoscreen with lazy flicks.

“I have nothing to wear, xavi,” you mumbled dramatically, even though you had three whole virtual closets full of new outfits, mostly ones he’d insisted on buying after you married.

“You have seventeen suitable options bookmarked,” Xavier murmured without opening his eyes.

You squinted at him. “Are you spying on my screen, Mr bunny?”

“I am merely present,” he said, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades. “Also, the one with the pearl draping and backless cut. That one.”

You bit back a smile. “You’ve got good taste for someone wearing pajama pants with cats on them.”

“You bought them for me back then,” he said sleepily. “I love these pants.”

You snorted and leaned back against him, screen held up. “You really think I should wear the pearl one?”

“Yes,” he said, brushing his lips gently down your spine. “It compliments your shape. Also, I enjoy the idea of every hunter in that room seeing what I come home to.”

You flushed instantly.

“Your the most jealous man i know,” you mumbled, a little flustered.

“How many men do you know?”

“Your unbelievable.”

“Maybe.” His voice was still soft, unchanging. “But I do care about looking smug with you on my arm.”

He nuzzled into your shoulder, then slipped his fingers into yours, cradling your hand like it was something sacred. “Pick whichever dress you want. I’ll be proud either way. Just don’t wear heels that hurt your feet. You tend to forget.”

You turned toward him slyly, giggling. “You’ll carry me all the way back home if my feet hurt, right?”

Xavier blinked slowly, an adorable confused expression washes over his face. “That’s simply my duty as your husband.”

And just like that, you melted again, sinking into his chest, warm and safe and totally ruined for anyone but him.

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

It only took one mission. One mistake. One second where your gun failed and everything went white.

When you woke up, you weren’t in Akso Hospital. You were in Sylus’s personal safehouse, one you’d never seen before, cloaked in obsidian walls, the room so quiet you could hear your own heartbeat. You were stitched up, bandaged, monitored. And Sylus was there, not smug for once, but cold and furious.

Not at you. At everything else.

“You’re done,” he said simply, without argument. “I’ll burn that entire sector if it looks at you again.”

You tried to protest, tried to tell him you didn’t want to be caged. But Sylus just laughed, dark and…sad.

“You think this is a cage?” he murmured, brushing your hair back from your temple. “This is a home. You’ve bled enough. Let me give you everything else.”

And so you did. You let him.

You became his wife. his pampered, spoiled, silk-wrapped wife, and never looked back.

Now, the bedroom was chaos. Or, well, chaos on black satin.

Luxury boxes were everywhere, Maria Lucia Hohan, Dolce and Gabbana, Etro , even rare off-world jewelers. You were twirling barefoot in front of the mirror, holding up earrings and necklaces, draping sheer gowns across your body with dreamy little gasps.

“Sylus, look at this one,” you beamed, holding up a gown studded with red crystal feathers. “It looks like your brooch!”

He was lounging against the headboard, shirt half-unbuttoned, long legs stretched out beneath the scattered shopping bags. His glowing red eyes followed your every move, sharp and unreadable, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

“I already knew you’d pick that one,” he said. “It’s the one that makes you look like you belong on a throne. My throne.”

You giggled, twirling again. “You’re so dramatic. It’s your birthday, not a coronation.”

He arched a brow. “Everything I do is a coronation. And you’re the crown.”

That shut you up a little. Your cheeks flushed as you reached for another necklace, this one gleaming with dark pearls and fire-gold chain. You looked so soft, so utterly enchanted with the process of choosing, matching, imagining. It was the happiest Sylus ever saw you.

“You spoil me too much,” you murmured, your lips forming a gentle pout subconsciously, trying on another pair of earrings. “You never even check the prices…”

“I never check the price because it doesn’t matter,” he said coolly. “You’re mine. The only thing that matters is seeing you shine.”

You pouted, cheeks warm. “You say that like I’m a possession.”

He tilted his head slightly, voice dropping an octave. “No. You’re a prize.”

You padded over to him, dress in hand, crawling across the bed to sit on his lap without asking, not that you ever had to. He welcomed you easily, arms sliding around your waist as you tucked your head beneath his chin.

“I just want to look really pretty tonight,” you whispered against his collar. “It’s your birthday…”

He tipped your chin up, red eyes glowing. “You could show up in one of my shirts and bare feet, and I’d still have to stop myself from killing every man who looked at you.”

You grinned, heart thudding. “That’s hot.”

“I know,” he murmured smugly, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip. “Now try the heels. I want to see the full look. And if you fall, I’ll catch you.”

“Because I’m fragile and precious?” you teased.

He leaned in, eyes with limitless love, a gentle kiss to your lips. “Because you’re mine.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

He didn’t even raise his voice when he grounded you.

He just keyed in a new passcode to the penthouse. Installed biometric locks. Pulled a couple string to have your access revoked in the deepspace hunter association. He said it all so sweetly too, pressing a kiss to your temple as he helped you out of your uniform and into soft silk lounge clothes instead.

“You’re not going back out there,” Caleb murmured, stroking your hair as you trembled from the withdrawal of action. “Not when I’ve worked this hard to bring you home.”

You had called him a control freak. Had fought. Screamed.

And he had just smiled, that same smile you grew up with. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve always been this way. I just didn’t want to scare you off before.”

It wasn’t a prison. It was a penthouse in Skyhaven, glass walls, sun-kissed terraces, gardens in the clouds. You were spoiled, adored, and fussed over until you stopped pacing like a caged bird and started perching on his lap instead.

And now, you couldn’t imagine anything else.

“Baby, you’re gonna short-circuit my brain if you keep coming out lookin’ like that.”

His voice was warm, teasing, as he lounged on the boutique’s velvet couch, still dressed in full Farspace Colonel regalia. He hadn’t even unbuckled his harness yet, came straight from a strategy meeting just to be here with you.

You stepped out in a deep purple gown that shimmered like a nebula when you twirled, your grin wide as you modeled for him. The boutique was exclusive, Skyhaven elite only, and currently empty aside from the two of you and a terrified assistant Caleb had already waved off.

“How about this one?” you asked sweetly, turning to show the daring back cut.

He let out a low whistle, one hand braced against his jaw. “If you show up to the banquet in that, I’m gonna spend the entire night reminding everyone there’s only one bed you sleep in.”

You laughed, padding over to him in your heels as he opened his arms instantly, tugging you down onto his lap with that boyish grin that always made your heart flutter.

“Caleb,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck, “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m not dramatic,” he said, nuzzling your cheek. “I’m possessive. There’s a difference. Look it up, pipsqueak.”

You puffed your cheeks. “Don’t call me that here!”

“I call you that everywhere,” he said proudly, brushing your hair back with his gloved hand. “You’re still the little baby who yelled out for gege for every little thing and cried when gege didn’t give you enough attention.”

“I did not cry!”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. Which you’ll be doing in my arms, wearing one of these pretty dresses, because I’m buying all of them.”

You blinked. “All?”

He kissed your temple. “Mmhmm. And when you get tired, I’ll carry you home like always. Deal?”

You sighed, melting into his chest, heart so full it might burst. “Deal.”

And as you tried on dress after dress, twirling and giggling and showing off, he watched you like he always did, like you were his whole damn world.

Because you were.

And he was never letting you forget it.

[bunnis-monsters]

Puppy Love

Preview || Patreon/Kofi Exclusive

Puppy Hybrid x Fem!Reader

WC: 5k

A/N: the rest of this story is only available on Patreon and Kofi!

It had been beyond late when you got home from work. Your eyelids felt as heavy as a ton of bricks, and you nearly passed out several times on the train ride you took to get home.

Late nights like these have become more prevalent lately, leaving you worn out each day. No amounts of energy drinks and positive affirmations helped the exhaustion that settled into your bones the second you stepped out of your office.

Working overtime had been something you wanted to avoid at all costs, but lately things had been a little rough on you financially.

The one thing that made everything worth it at the end of the day was coming home to your loving boyfriend.

As you lazily munched on some stale fries, you looked out the window. Your boyfriend was the sweetest puppy hybrid ever. He loved you, truly and genuinely adored you more than anything.

It was cute, how he worried for you throughout the day as he worked. You’d get several messages, and even a few naughty pictures when he was feeling lonely and needy.

You tossed your empty fast food bag into the trash as you stepped into your home. As expected, your lover nearly tackled you the second you were in the door.

“You’re home, I’ve missed you so much!”

A laugh escaped your lips. Leo’s tail was wagging so hard, thumping against the floor as he sniffed and nuzzled into you. He was excited that you were finally back in his arms, that was clear to see.

“Silly, it’s only been half a day. I see you every morning and night, don’t I?”

Leo huffed, puffing out his cheeks in a pout before giving yours a lick. “And that’s not enough time to get all of the attention I want! I wish I could keep you with me all the time…”

You scratched behind his fluffy ears, watching him cling to you. It truly wasn’t fair to him, and you were well aware of that fact. Puppy hybrids were possessive, needy creatures that mated for life. Not being with you for such a long period of time was stressful for him.

“I know… I don’t like this either, you know?”

With a sigh, you nuzzled him back. “I don’t have another day off until this weekend, pup. After this project is done, I shouldn’t have to stay so late…”

He placed his hands on your chubby belly, squishing it to relieve some of his stress. “But that’s too long… you’re being mean to me, I want to breed you. You said we could have pups soon…”

You leaned your forehead against his. “I know I did… Why do you think I’ve been working so hard? If I don’t, how will we afford to take care of a whole litter of pups? It’s a lot of work, I’ll need to take maternity leave too.”

Leo’s fluffy ears flattened against his head as his tail drooped. “I know you’re right… but that doesn’t mean I have to like this. You’re working yourself to death, how will we have pups if you aren’t healthy enough to carry them?”

He nuzzled your soft tummy, as if fearing you’d lose your chubby frame from how much stress and work you had taken on. Kisses were left along your pliable flesh, and his fingers started to get dangerously close to your panty line.

“Hey…” you groaned out a low warning, giving his nose a poke. “I’m tired, baby. It’s late and I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

The puppy hybrid huffed, his ears flattening against his head. “Again? It’s been a while since we… you know…”

His tail wagged furiously as he simply thought of the word “sex”. Images of you on your back, your tits bouncing as he fucked into your pretty, fat cunt had him basically humping your leg.

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight

[prism-forgone]

headcanon about the origin of kris's knife and carol holiday

(based on this post by @patchwork-crow-writes because it got me Thinking to an extreme degree)

i always thought that while toriel might let kris keep their knife, she doesn't strike me as someone who would get her kid a weapon like that. and asgore feels like too much of a wimp to go against her like that while they were still together. so, where did it come from?

let's consider the way the dreemurrs and the holidays used to be close when their kids were little and carol's appreciation for sharp weapons (like her katana, or casting noelle's paper snowflakes in bronze). i think that for a kid like kris that would've been the coolest thing ever, that they'd constantly ask her to show it to them

regardless of how cute of a mental image tiny kris watching carol showing them her big fucking sword with glittering eyes and their horned headband on makes, the newest headcanon of mine is that carol could be the one that gifted kris their knife, perhaps for their birthday or for christmas. it's something of theirs that they value a lot (to the point of not letting the player even touch it - i talked about that fact a bit here) and quite literally always carry i guess (thanks ch4 for confirming that i love youuu)

i think that makes the possibility of her making kris the weapon that does her dirty work now even sadder. i suspect something deeply terrible happened in her psyche when one of her daughters disappeared that made her lose sight of stuff like care, morals or not-exploiting-a-possessed-teenager-you-watched-grow-up and end up the way she is now

it makes it doubly sad if this is kris's way of holding on to any shreds of what they used to know. their mom doesn't even notice anything wrong with them and seems too distracted to pay them any closer attention and do anything other that shrug and say "they do weird things sometimes", their dad is busy with his failing business and conspiracy corkboard trying to prove he didn't do anything wrong and is pretty inept at taking care of them, asriel is gone, noelle is distant, dess is missing and rudy is sick. up until they grew closer to susie, they had really no one to talk to perhaps save for carol. and, in that setup, maybe it doesn't matter if she's using them. they're not alone, at least. they can cling to the past like that

[adhd-riddled-crow]

Not to "yes and" this post but...

My self insert Rook, Samael de Riva:

Is an abomination. Like Lucanis he was fused with a demon, not entirely against his will (not this one at least) he was possessed by a Despair demon.

I personally have a relationship, if you will, with despair and a sense of depression. Sometimes, I'm just sad for weeks on end, whether I cry tears or not. I wanted to add that to him as a character trait that we could share. (That and the added angst ability if I ever write about him and not just as a cameo character.)

And this is why his sclera are pitch black, I chose this design choice as a way to show you that he wasn't just a normal looking elf. That there was something else to his character that you couldn't quite understand just yet, if at all.

I even have a Spite style tell for when Despair may be in control or using their powers, Sam will cry nonstop these viscous black tears, like ink dripping from a pen onto paper (ala Billie Eilish):

It's awful, and he hates it, but it tends to happen more often than not. He tries to hide it from any of the others as best he can.

Despairs powers that Sam can use act similarly to Blue Diamond's fro Steven Universe where others around him whilst Despair is active begin to cry involuntarily, the worst thing with Despair and their power is that after the effects ware off the effected has no recollection of what just happened or why/what they were crying for. (Samael hates explaining what happened to those he cares about - friends, family, anyone - that's why he tries not to do it around them if he can help it. No one knows that he's possessed, and he wants to keep it that way ideally.)

Although he'd much rather face cleaning up inky tears from his skin or his clothes than deal with Rage's destructive behaviour.

That's right, this elven mage has enough trauma for not one but TWO demons to want! (I'm not 100% sure if someone could be double possessed and remain unaffected and normal looking, but eh, we love some creativity with our oc's in this house!)

Now Rage and his tell is different, less dramatic than Despair's. His tell is basically Sam's eyes glow a deep fire like orange. Like his eye's glow like Lucanis' do when Spite takes over except Sam's literally look like there is a fire in his eyes. (Like the metaphor!)

And! The fun part! His powers basically make Sam dash around ala Hunter from The Owl House!

Samael mainly uses it for transportation and/or dodging in a fight, but can use it to sneak up on others if necessary (he is a Crow after all, so.) It also glows the same fire like glow too!

(I, too, have had a history in anger issues, so that is why I chose Rage as a second character trait.)

I also like to believe that his mage abilities in certain elements are enhanced because of the demons' presences. I.e, Rage fuels his fire spells, and Despair fuels his lightning spells (cause I don't use ice magic in gameplay, so I changed it to lightning/storm magic.)

He is also deeply intune with blood magic. And guess where he's originally from!! I bet you won't get it with the first guess!

Samael de Riva is originally from Tevinter. ('Cause irl, I am English speaking and sound closer to a Tevintan when speaking, so to me, it makes sense.)

But I will (hopefully) get into that connection in a small fic about him (that may or may not feature a cameo from @dragonagegayz 's Bas de Riva! <3). All you need to know for now is his connection to/with blood magic is how/ why he got possessed by Rage. (He pulled an Anders with a Meril twist 🤭)

today i’m thinking about how the despair demons tend to single rook out and how the first time this is recognized is after the treviso/minrathous decision

like, listen. i know it’s probably just a game mechanic thing. but it’s interesting to me that every despair demon in the game does this—single rook out. and how you encounter a lot more despair demons the worse the situation gets. and every single time, without fail, rook is their primary target.

like. the potential juiciness of it all. rook who carries regrets and despair hidden behind a smile that no one can see behind until the regret prison. rook who has to keep up a brave face as the leader so that the team doesn’t collapse because someone has to make a decision.

the narrative juiciness of regret…despair…someone sedate me

[halfadiamond]

You Think It’s Love- Ending A

Not Taking Them Back

Masterlist

Both Endings are being posted consecutively so here is Ending B (taking them back).

You think it’s love when you realize that you’re better off as friends than as lovers.

You still remember the men’s reaction to when you told them that you didn’t think you’d be able to take them back.

Johnny looked like he wanted to cry.

Kyle and John looked a bit caught off guard.

Simon was definitely surprised at your decision but he chose to push it aside to comfort Johnny.

But you were right. John had spoken up, shortly after that, and accepted your opinion and while he didn’t fully agree to it, he’d told you that they will respect your decision but if you’d at least be open to remaining friends.

You’re not sure why but you agreed very quickly. You think it was because you really did enjoy the men’s company even if it didn’t work out between you guys, you didn’t see as to why you guys could not be friends. It may be awkward in the beginning but you were positive that you guys would be able to work it out.

—

It took a bit of work and some space for you guys to once again find what works for your friendship. You’re still happy that you got to keep the guys as friends even if it didn’t work out romantically. To you, love could be platonic, love didn’t need to be kisses and saying I love you, it could be just sitting together talking about anything on your mind and laughing together.

You and Kyle still hung out often going out to eat. You two loved just sitting there and talking (gossiping) about whatever was on your mind.

Johnny started to teach you how to draw, he’d even found a painting class and you two would often attend. You enjoyed the teasing between you two for the works of art you guys had made.

You and John formed your own little movie club where you’d often come over to your former home and watch all sorts of movies. At the end, you two would act as movie critics and discuss what you thought.

While for you and Simon, you two found a system that works for the two of you. You still would join him for his walks or you two would send each other little messages throughout the day. You think out of all of the men, you and Simon had gotten the closest.

—

You knew there was the possibility of the men finding someone else as much as there was a possibility for you. While in your case, you knew that you’d rather work on yourself and enjoy the single life, you couldn’t exactly figure out what the men’s next plans were.

It’s during your walk with Simon that you decided to ask him.

“Hey Simon?”

You heard the little grunt that you knew meant he was listening.

“I know we broke up about three months ago so maybe you guys aren’t even thinking about it. But I was curious do you think you guys would find someone new?”

Actually now that you think about it… you sound like the type of girl that wants to keep an eye on her ex boyfriends because she doesn’t want them dating anyone else.

“A-actually forget what I said! You guys don’t need to tell me about that stuff! I’ll respect whatever you guys want to!”

You stammered slightly, trying to make sure that Simon didn’t think of you as a possessive ex-girlfriend. But to Simon? He never thought of you as one.

“We did talk about it.”

He eyes you from his side, seeing your interest in his statement as you guys continued walking.

“We decided that we probably are better off, not adding anyone else into our dynamic. We have something that works for us, we don’t want a repeat of before.”

You nodded along to what he said. You suppose he’s right. As much as you’d think there’s someone out there who’d fit right in with the men, maybe it’s better sticking with what works for them and them only. But you still wanted to in a way make sure they knew that you weren’t going to stop them from finding someone new.

“You know I won’t stop you guys from finding someone else. I want you guys to be happy, so whatever works for you guys then it’s fine by me.”

“We know.”

And you guys walked quietly together, enjoying the night sky.

—

Sometimes you wonder what would’ve happened if you had taken them back. Would you guys be back at the same situation? Or would you guys found a way to communicate more better? You’re always stuck questioning every probability.

But sometimes? You don’t regret your decision. For you, it wasn’t worth the constant worrying that they’ll ignore you again, it wasn’t worth you not communicating again and leading you guys back to that day.

You think it’s love because in the end all of you guys are happier together as friends than as lovers.

Taglist: @reni502 , @darkangel4121 , @rafaelacallinybbay

To those who are being tagged, I only tagged you on this ending since both endings are posted at the same time, didn’t make much sense to double tag you 😁 unless you specifically asked to be tagged for only a certain ending.

It’s finally done 🥹 lowkey I’m gonna miss it. I didn’t feel right making it a sad ending because I think reader and the men are happy in their own way even if they didn’t get their happily ever after with each other that doesn’t mean they can’t be friends.

Anyways… now it’s time for me to find a new story to start 😭 lowkey I’m using this opportunity of both endings to chit chat a bit with you guys. I hope you guys enjoyed this story and I’ll continue working hard! 🤗

I was thinking for my next story maybe writing this? Like an eventual relationship either poly TF141 or just one of the men? Or maybe instead of Soap being dead it’s another soldier?? Maybe 🤔??

[rabotimagines]

This is a bit old but I was reading this post of yours https://www.tumblr.com/rabotimagines/777430496310329344/battlefield-flirting-gn-bot-reader-x-megatron

And it for me thinking of the constructicons cause the way your wrote Scrapper was adorable. And it had me thinking of a rare time the bots and cons have to work together over something, and you have the constructicons being little fangirls.

And holding back Scrapper from going over as he gushes you glanced at them(completely missing Long Hual who’s already walking over)

Just big dorks, I love big dumb himbo mechs my sweets

Please never be shy to mention my older works I like talking about stuff I've shared old or not (*´∀｀)ﾉ, also I'm assuming you meant Scavenger based on context.

"Paparazzi" GN BOT Reader x The Constructicons

Summary: Constructicons fanning from afar. (Long Haul up close)

G1 characters: The Constructicons, a lil' bit of Ironhide.

Genre/Theme: Yearning/jealous gestalt.

Warnings: Constructicons being possessive while not in a relationship with Reader.

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Notes: Flirty Autobot Reader! The cons all want a piece, actually, but Constructicon focus, reader threatening Long Haul a little. (He likes it so its fine)

"Scavenger, stop fragging trying it, you useless fragger!" Bonecrucher yanked Scavenger back by his grappler. Scavenger yelped and nearly took a knee from the force of it. Scrapper grabbed his arm and forced him to stay up right before he could make a big show falling down in the dirt.

Scavenger helplessly wriggled against the hold he was in. "Why not!? We're on the same side right now!"

"Because you're going to embarrass us, you pathetic loser!" Mixmaster snapped. Hook scoffed and tried very hard to pretend he was not a part of his own gestalt via looking away from the entire scene while off to the side.

The Decepticons were on a temporary ceasefire right now with the Autobots. And well... more than a few Deceptions figured they'd obviously try and take advantage of the situation to interact with you a bit.

But the Autobots were smarter than that. Because they had made sure not to let you be without at least one of them by your side at all times. Optimus had kept you particularly close for the first joor of the cease fire. Megatron making a point to converse with both of you. Optimus smart enough not to let Megatron even a klick of privacy with you. But you just seemed somehow entertained by the development. Chiming in occasionally with your usual smile like you weren't stuck in between both faction leaders heated glares.

Thundercracker had surprisingly managed a few private words in with you. You were stuck with the twins as guards at the time, and they were both distracted by Skywarp and Strascream. All until that red mini bot noticed and came stomping in and physically got between the two of you. He immediately and loudly started chastising Thundercracker for being a pervert. That got people's helms turning back towards you and Thundercracker to retreat. While you physically held the red mini bot back from breaking the held peace.

Ironhide was with you now sitting right next to you on a large rock. And they were faced by a truth they hadn't had the privy to know before now. You and Ironhide were close to one another. Very close. Sure, you were friendly with everyone enemy or not, but-

Scapper watched you grab Ironhides arm and then use it to both pull the mech closer and lean your full frame weight against him. Ironhide jolted and stared at you with a frown. Your smile curled a bit more in clear amusement, and you said something to him. Whatever it was made, Ironhide's optics brighten, and his plating fluff. Scrapper could feel a bit of jealously curl in his own fuel tank. So Scrapper already wasn't looking forward to their next mind meld if even he was feeling this way about it.

Scrapper then watched Ironhide shove you off his arm aggressively- which had Bonecrucher and Scavengers plating visibly bristling at the sight. You were theirs to break and make after all- but you only laughed and pushed Ironhide back. The sound much lighter than how you'd usually laugh on the battlefield around any of them.

"Slag it all-!" Scrappers' attention was brought back to his gestalt when Scavenger cursed and promptly broke out of the hold he was in- and rushed forward. Oh Primus, if this idiot breaks the ceasefire on accident!

You noticed Scavenger running over and wordlessly stared. Which only made Ironhide turn and watch just as Mixmaster closed in on Scavenger and tackled him. They hit the ground, and Mixmaster sat down on top of Scavenger, effectively pinning him in place. Scavenger scrambled at the ground while Mixmaster rightfully degraded him.

And you saw that entire thing- Oh, joy and Ironhide was making his way over here now. This could only go well...

-

Ironhide marched off towards Long Haul's disruptive gestalt. Now Long Haul couldn't help letting himself get a touch closer and ended up stopping in his tracks to stare. You looked- different so close up. Well, it's not different, but it was definitely different being able to actually see you like this. Your faceplate, the shape of your olfactory, and your optics. He could even make out a few scrapes and scratches in your metal.

You must've felt him staring because you turned immediately towards him, and your optics found his visor. Oh, slag- well- it's been a fraggin while since he's done this, but he knows he's supposed to go over or make himself scarce when he's been caught staring. Long Haul glanced at Ironhide, still focused on the rest of his gestalt before he let himself get even closer to you.

"Hm- oh uh-" your optic bridge creased in thought. "...Long Haul-? Right?" You wondered aloud. Slag- you knew his designation- unaware of the effect you had on him, you just continued on. "Sorry I call y'all different things in my helm." You laughed like it was no big deal. "I like 'Doll' a bit better for you to tell the truth." You're smile curled, and Long Haul could feel his visor brightening under the playfulness in your tone.

"Uh, right. That's me! ...Ha ha-" Oh Primus, fragging come on-! it hadn't been that long since he'd done this... had it? Primus, how long had he been a Decepticon, and how long ago was his last bar pick up? Long Haul stared before finally sitting down next to you on the rock. Not nearly as close as Ironhide had been not feeling particularly lucky about you saying something if he got as close as you two had been.

Fortunately, you just seemed to find his floundering amusing because you just slightly raised your optic ridge. You then huffed a breathy vent that could have been taken as a laugh- (He was taking it as a laugh and a win in his processor.). "Right, now... what's got you over on my side of the red tape, Doll?"

"What? I can't-" Long Haul gestured vaguely, and why the slag did he do that? "Socialize during the ceasefire?"

"Oh, is that what you're doing now? How brave of you." You praised him, and Long Haul knew you were trying to make a joke from the soft amusement oozing into your voice. But he had to tamper down the urge for his engine to purr. Why the frag was he acting like this right now!? He wasn't Scavenger! Have they not had an actual interaction with you in so long that his frame was glitching over benign slag now!?

Long Haul was so worried over his frames reaction- and his plating fluffing and what you'd think that he almost misses it. But he was close. The closest he'd ever actually been to you before. And Long Haul needed to have a critical optic for noticing small slag for all the projects they'd build- so he sees it. Long Haul notices your optics crinkle and your smile becoming just slightly more pronounced over his response. Long Haul is struck with a sudden realization that made his plating clamp back down and his processor to stop to focus immediately.

You knew.

You knew what you were doing to him-!? You knew!? You knew what you'd been doing to them, and- you enjoyed it! It wasn't just some thoughtless habit!

Something heated, he usually only feels when it's all of them as Devastator forms in his tank, and he acts without thinking.

Long Haul couldn't stop himself from grabbing your arm when you almost turned away. "You know-!"

Before anything else happened, you grabbed his own arm with your free one and yanked him closer. Your chassis pressing against his own Immediately derailing his train of thought and making him release your arm. You waggled a digit in his face and clicked your glossia. The pad of the digit coming down and pressing were a mouth would've been on his mask if he had the equipment. "Careful now, Doll, you might just get burned if you get too close. We don't want that now..."

Long Haul arched his spinal strut instinctively when your other servo suddenly dug into the notches of his back. Only making him press closer to your own frame, causing a slight sound when metal pushed on metal. You tilted your helm slightly, your face now only a digit away from his own- "Do we?" Your tone was dark. Your optics sharp. Your em field that was brushing along him warmly had gone completely flat. And Long Haul suddenly remembered the other Autobots weren't the only reason the Decepticons hadn't been able to capture you right yet.

... And maybe Long Haul did want whatever you were promising him if he didn't comply.

But the look in your optics told him that was not what you wanted to hear from him right now.

"N-no." Long Haul settled on getting out.

The almost devious expression on your faceplate turned back to looser and more playful- like usual. "Good." You pulled away from him and stood up. "Till next time then, Doll!" You practically sung. With that, you turned and waltzed your way over to where his gestalt was definitely getting threatened by Ironhide- and Long Haul was suddenly very aware he really liked watching you go... he has to suppress his engine from revving, and he could still feel his back plating shifting where you'd grabbed him roughly.

You threw your arm over Ironhide's paldron and tugged him closer to you, making him and the rest of his gestalt snap their attention right to you instead. His gestalt was absolutely going to hate him when they mind melded again. But hey, it wasn't Long Haul's fault you were so addicting! Primus- they needed a better strategy to get a hold of you and make you theirs yesterday! Especially when you did everything on purpose!

They may be mad after the mind meld, but afterward, they'd at least be as serious about you as Long Haul was right now... For better or worse.

[smilesatdawnmain]

So in previous post we get overprotective wukong caring for pregnant Macaque. Can we have the reverse, overprotective Macaque guarding a pregnant wukong during a stroll

🥰🥰🥰

Wukong took a careful step down the cobblestone path, clutching the edge of his dress with care.

“Careful, Peaches,” his mate murmured quietly, his presence pressed right against Wukong’s side. A hand was offered, which Wukong took with a shaky hand.

“I’m fine, Moon,” Wukong chuckled. As “fine” as he stated, the King was moving at a snail’s speed and had been for a few days now. As the Months drew closer and closer to the due date, his belly swelled and his energy levels dropped to an all-time low.

He was hungry all the time, a little whiney and attention seeking- but otherwise, Wukong felt blissful. It was frustrating not being able to move like he normally could, but there was also a sense of peace with it. He enjoyed being able to lounge around all day, being fed fruits and honeyed buns by his darling, hardly lifting a finger except to point at where another pillow should be nestled. The Sun had never set so warm and easy on the Flower Fruit Mountain.

Today, however, the urgency of a craving had propelled Wukong from his den. That, and Macaque’s gentle insistence that “fresh air would do him some good.” Which, in practice, translated to Macaque hovering at his elbow, ready to catch Wukong at the faintest misstep.

They strolled past tangles of azalea and the mossy skeletons of old trees, the air thick with the damp of spring.

Many of their citizens lifted their heads in their passing, eyes widening and then filling with joy, smiling and waving to their expecting King. It was hard not to when the King himself was rounded, fuzzy- the very definition of a peach during this time.

Macaque was holding back comments, sooo many comments on how cute Wukong was. How precious he was.

He settled for squeezing Wukong’s hand a little tighter, his tail curling possessively around the Sun’s, and for once, the clinginess didn’t provoke a snip or a jab. Wukong simply leaned heavier into his side, taking a greedy inhale of the sopping, dew-wet scent.

“I’m craving it more the closer we get, you know,” Wukong admitted, as they took the next bend, careful not to disturb a bumblebee dozing in a cluster of lilac. “It’s obscene, really. I never even liked sweet buns this much before.”

“I think the baby likes them,” Macaque said.

“Little Sweet Bun,” Wukong mewled, rubbing his stomach. That was a cute name. He was going to nickname the child this. “Where are the boys and Sying today?” he asked, curious where their assortment of older children had scampered off too.

“School,” Macaque reminded him, easing him over an unstable patching of dirt.

“Rumble and Savage don’t go to school yet,” Wukong was certain of this. Granted, the energy drain of the baby had certainly given him “baby Brain” and he forgot things on a dime, but he was at least positive about that. The Twin shadows were only two, afterall.

There was a moment, just a flicker, where Macaque’s hand tensed a fraction. Protective, as Macaque always was over them in particular. However, he had forced that down today to focus on Wukong, “They are with their Uncle Sandy today.”

“Are they going to come back covered in paint, or mud this time?”

“Most definitely both.” Macaque smiled, squeezing his fingers around Wukong’s palm until every muscle in his wrist seemed to hum. “But I told Sandy to keep them out of your quarters until after bath time.”

Wukong’s snort was something grotesque and nasal, but he couldn’t quite breathe and laugh at the same time these days. “You’re afraid they’ll stress me out.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” but yes, that was absolutely true.

Wukong grinned, sharp white teeth set between plum lips. “Fine, I’ll read your mind instead.” he teased. Not that he had that ability- it was just easy to tell what his Moon was thinking.

“Please don’t. It’s embarrassing in there.” Macaque side eyed him, smirking.

“Don’t I know it~” They rounded the last stretch of path before the storied Bakery, the one that always smelled of fried oil and maltose syrup. Wukong smiled excitedly, vibrating with glee as the shop got closer, his eyes locked and focused.

He hadn’t quite noticed in his state, but his senses had significantly dulled from the drain. While normally he could pinpoint an out-of-sorts energy from miles away, sometimes he struggled to even notice it right in front of his own nose.

It was one of the many reasons Macaque wouldn’t let his mate out of his sight. Precious, lovely, vulnerable.

He could sense the eyes on them, thinking themselves sneaky by being a fair distance away. Foolish to think Macaque would allow anything to even glimpse his mate in this state.

His eyes turned sharply with Wukong distracted, darting over the space to the side of them.

A single blinked and his shadows were moving, shooting across miles, arcing beneath the canopy in silent pursuit. The spying energy was not malicious—just bold and bored, by the flavor of it. He recognized the signature, even as he kept a soft smile pasted for Wukong’s benefit.

No doubt a spy from the Celestial Court. For which member in particular, it did not matter to him. He knew their game. Whether they would attack or not, he wasn’t amused by any amount of information they had on his family.

With a slight twitch of his finger, his ears picked up the faint- CRACK of bone snapping- of a body falling limp- of his shadow consuming the form whole so not to worry any on the mountain should they stumble upon the corpse.

“I want honey,” Wukong tugged his sleeve a little, sweet and pleading. “And powdered sugar.”

“Of course, Peaches,” Macaque purred, the syrup of adoration thickening his voice. His mind flickered back, double-checking that his shadow had truly finished the work—yes, the Celestial’s energy guttered out completely. He’d have a chat with their employer later, but for now, there were cravings to attend to.

Macaque grasped the handle of the door to swing it wide. The kitchen was crowded, as always; the sweet, doughy warmth inside the open-walled bakery made it the unofficial gathering spot for children and adults alike.

Wukong, overpowered, made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a squeal. Macaque, bemused, nearly missed the way his mate’s ears went rigid, all attention suddenly turned.

They parted, the crowd, like a river around a boulder, at the sight of their King. Not for fear—but rather in an almost sacred awe, a hush of reverence that said: The Sun walks among us.

…The adorably plumpy Sun.

Many children giggled and cooed in delight, so excited to see what little one came from the couple. Two toddlers in the arms of their nursemaid reached out with sticky fingers to touch the hem of Wukong’s robe. Wukong let them, making a show of holding his belly and grinning wide, fat-cheeked, like the dawn itself.

“Peaches,” Macaque mused, wishing he wouldn’t be so open about it- but knowing he couldn’t stop Wukong either. The child would be adored and loved just as all their other children. And truthfully, Wukong could subsist on this sort of attention nearly as well as the sweet buns themselves.

He led Wukong to the counter, which was crowded with plates of golden, puffy buns and jars so full of sugar they might as well have been gemstones. Wukong all but leaned over the glass, nose pressed to the case, pupils dilated dangerously.

The baker, wide-eyed and beaming, hurried to press the freshest selection to the front. The first day Wukong wobbled in had been a day he had fainted. The King had since visited several times a weak- the amount of customers this had procured them was unpresidented!

“We’ll take six,” Macaque told the baker, who looked like he might faint from the honor. “Add another dozen, actually.” Couldn’t go back without some for the kids.

Wukong, engrossed, bounced on the balls of his feet as crumbs rained down behind the counter, each bun selected with the diligence of a jewel appraiser. “Oooh Ooh-” he squeaked, “And a Jar of mulberry jam.”

“Of course,” The baker boxed them quickly, trembling, and smiling, “Special for you, Great King,” the baker said, voice trembling as if presenting an offering to a temperamental deity. Which, in a sense, he was. “And your little gift,” he glanced at Wukong’s stomach.

Wukong cupped the box in both hands, lifted it and sniffed, a shiver of delight running up his arms. “Thank you, thank you!” he said, beaming. He flicked his tail in gratitude, curling it delicately around the baker’s wrist for a moment before releasing it. The room was melting.

Macaque slid a few coins across the counter, overpaid as usual. He always tipped heavily, especially if their mate or children were pleased by the person’s efforts.

Then, he slipped his arm around Wukong’s waist, drawing him close to ease the transfer of all that precious cargo. Balancing the bun box, Wukong burrowed against his mate’s chest so thoroughly that his face was invisible but for the edge of his golden brow, which glinted over the rim. He allowed himself to be shepherded out, the crowd parting again as if rehearsed.

When they were gone, many relaxed, some cooed, and many more children hoped excitedly, eager to see the next little Prince or Princess of their domain.

------

Another cute little mini story for this au~

Wukong is carrying little Xue~

Whether Wukong and Macaque, both are extremely weak during their pregnancy, as all their energy is being absorbed by the Baby.

Wukong can't lift anything heavy, not even his own staff. He can't use almost any of his abilities, his senses are so skewed, and his own mind is a little fuzzy.

He rarely leaves Macaque's sight during this time.

[mrsknowitallll]

Blackbird

Elijah “Smoke” Moore x Black Plus Size Reader

Summary: Smoke has plenty of demons, most he can’t shake, most that keep him up at night, but despite it all he loves you more than anything in the world and will go to the ends of the earth to protect you, after a bad dream that leaves him spiraling it’s your turn to protect him.

Warning - Depctions of ptsd, nightmares, trauma, post war anxiety, tremors, etc.

A/N - This been in the drafts for a minute, something short sweet and comforting for our baby smoke cause he deserves it. Also probably a few mistakes, imma fix em later.

The ghosts of Smoke's past were heavy, sometimes entirely too much for him to bare, so much so that oftentimes he felt he'd be crushed beneath the weight.

The only person that truly understood him was his brother. He saw him for exactly who he was beneath his tough exterior, every demon he possessed, every sin he wouldn't dare speak aloud, every fear he did his best to keep hidden, all the worst parts of him. Despite it all though, his brother loved him anyway.

But his brother was gone now and all that he had left was himself.

Then you came along.

It wasn't easy to let someone else in after everything that happened to him, to be vulnerable and expose them to every side, the good, the bad and the ugly, the scars, the wounds that ran deeper than anyone could have ever imagined.

But you saw all of him and decided to love him anyway just as his brother did, to care for him, to protect him.

Tonight was just one of those nights, you could always tell when it was gonna be a tough one because his demeanor changed completely, he'd grow cold, closed off. Not on purpose, it was almost second nature, an instinct he developed over time, a way to protect himself.

He was distant throughout the day, almost as if he wasn't there at all,  somewhere else entirely. He didn't speak much, didn't want to be touched  and his tremors were so bad that he could barely eat, unable to hold his utensils for long without dropping them.

You were patient with him through it all, giving him the space that he needed, letting him come to you when he felt like it.

When nightfall rolled around you were alone for most of the night, Smoke's side of the bed cold and empty.

You tossed and turned for a while, unable to fall asleep without him by your side.

Just when you had made your mind up and decided to go look for him he came through the door, heavy eyes sweeping over you, exhaustion seeping from his being.

He striped off his clothes until only boxers remained, reclaiming his spot in bed next to you and pulling you close, tucking your head under his chin and throwing an arm around your waist, a rough hand squeezing the fat of your bare thigh.

"I'm here you know... I ain't going nowhere, imma always be here." You whispered, a mantra you always repeated when he got like this, you knew that sometimes he just needed the reminder.

He stayed silent, pulling you closer and pecking your forehead.

Surprisingly he had fallen asleep first, he had to have been really exhausted because sleep didn't come easy for him. You were just happy he was getting the rest he needed.

The steady sound of his heart beat began to lull you asleep but just before you could slip out of conciousness Smoke had began stir.

At first it was slow, small mutters under his breath, head lolling from side to side.

Then began to scream, his words unintelligible as he thrashed nearly knocking you off the bed.

He was having a night terror.

You got on your feet, keeping your voice calm and steady as you kneeled beside him, calling out to your lover.

"Elijah, come on baby wake up you're having a bad dream, it's not real okay? Come back to me baby please, it's just a dream, a really bad dream." You began to tear up.

Slowly but surely he stopped, his body relaxing partially, hands still shaky, sweat beading on his forehead.

His eyes shot open and he sat up quickly beginning to sob.

You let him cry for a while, rubbing his back comfortingly, whispering sweet nothings, letting him get it all out.

"Let's go outside and get some fresh air." You spoke softly, grabbing him by the arm and leading him toward the front door.

You sat on the edge of the porch and he laid across you, head in your lap.

"I'm sorry." He spoke up after a while, voice barely above a whisper.

You looked down at him in surprise but he didn't look back, ashamed to meet your eyes.

"Hey look at me." You hooked a finger beneath his chin, turning his head toward your own.

He finally glanced up, eyes red and puffy from crying.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, don’t be apologizing to me, ‘specially not for crying.” You spoke slightly stern.

“I’m supposed to be strong, to hold you when you cry, not the other way around. I feel so weak.” He huffed.

“You always do, now it’s my turn. And ain’t nothing weak bout allowing yourself to feel things, to express yourself, to cry or kick or scream. Ain’t nothing weak bout being vulnerable Elijah. You’ve been through hell and more, i ain’t expecting you to be strong all the time.” You stroked his face gently.

“I need you to know that i got you as much as you got me, that i’ll always be there to catch you when you fall, to give you strength when you’re feeling weak, for as long as i have breath in my body i’ll protect you, just as you protect me.” You pecked his lips gently.

“I love you.” He whispered against your lips.

“And I love you.” You replied.

The both of you stared off into the night sky, hearts heavy, minds uncertain of the journey ahead, but one thing the both of you knew for certain is that you had each other, and that’s all that mattered.

[districttrifurcate]

An Analysis of Beetee, Wiress, and Ampert in SotR

There’s something I have to get off my chest, and that’s the handling of Beetee, Wiress, and Ampert on Sunrise on the Reaping. This critical analysis is rather long, and you can feel free to skip it if you don’t care for critical commentary on a book you’ve really enjoyed. If you are interested, read on.

[Critical analysis, and spoilers, of Sunrise on the Reaping under the cut.]

Wiress

To save some space in this post, I’ll start by linking an essay I posted on AO3, titled An Analysis on the Missed Opportunity of Wiress's Moral Complexity in Sunrise on the Reaping. In this essay I analyze, and lament, the flattening of moral nuance in the portrayal of Wiress and her Games in SotR.

Beetee

Beetee’s storyline felt like one of the biggest loose threads in the whole narrative of Sunrise on the Reaping. I don’t think the retcon bothers most readers, because it’s a background element and it moves the plot along. But for me, it’s one of the most glaring, and one that I wish Collins had taken better care to craft.

We understand that the narrative needed to bring the District 3 rebels and Haymitch together. Providing Beetee with a traumatic backstory that rivals Haymitch’s is a bonus. But there are so many subtler ways this could have been thoughtfully accomplished. 

The notion of a victor’s son being reaped has precedent, as Katniss mentions:

Victors’ children have been in the ring before. It always causes a lot of excitement and generates talk about how the odds are not in that family’s favor. But it happens too frequently to just be about odds.

So, it turns out Beetee is one of those unlucky victors, a fact that most certainly should have been mentioned in Catching Fire or Mockingjay and pointedly was not. Why?

Because it hadn’t been invented yet.

Getting Beetee and Haymitch together

We don’t know much about Beetee’s backstory, and from a narrative perspective it makes just as much sense to reap his son as anyone else’s, given that of all the mentors he’s the one most likely to possess knowledge of the structure of the arena and how it operates. But it also does something else: it gives him, a mentor from another district, the chance to cross paths with Haymitch and hash out the arena plan when he would have had no realistic pathway for doing so otherwise. We’ve got Wiress stationed as Haymitch’s mentor on one end for such things as knocking out the power for Rebel Talk, but there must be a reason for Beetee, one of the masters behind the plan, to gain access to a District 12 tribute, and what better way than putting him on the training room floor as punishment?

We have to accept that the demands of the narrative entail that Beetee needed a plausible avenue to speak with Haymitch, and a plausible motivation to destroy the arena, since Haymitch could not have accomplished this task on his own. What I can’t swallow is how it was rolled out to us. 

“And no doubt you’re wondering why I’m here, Haymitch.” Beetee removes his glasses and polishes them on his shirt. “It’s because I’m being punished for coming up with a plan to sabotage the Capitol’s communication system. I’m too valuable to kill, but my son is disposable.”

We remember from Mockingjay that he “redesigned the underground network that transmits all the programming” years after this takes place, making this a throwback of sorts, but it raises too many questions. After he had demonstrated the intention and capability of sabotaging such an important piece of infrastructure, why would the Capitol allow him to continue working on such projects afterwards? Why would they allow such unmitigated access to their tech, designs, and infrastructure after what he had done?

We’re supposed to understand that he’s the Only Genius in Panem (he’s not; the Capitol has loads of brilliant scientists working on tech, communications, development, etc.) and that he has megawatt plot armor (the book refers to this over and over as he’s “too valuable to kill”). Most importantly, he’s alive by Catching Fire, so we know they don’t kill him. But the fact that he continued to do his work for the Capitol and was able to successfully rebel years later suggests that he has no history of treason. The trust they have in this man is astounding, especially because, as the book beats us over the head with, we know “how Snow works.” If his redesign of the underground network was an act for the rebels that we’re learning had failed in this past attempt, it’s even more inconceivable that the Capitol would have allowed him continued access and trust given that he had already committed treason. And not once, but twice by SotR’s end.

“I’m too valuable to kill, but my son is disposable.”

This feels like a blunt instrument hammering the obvious to the reader in a not very satisfying way. Yes, your son is disposable. So why take the risk of putting him in danger? It strains plausibility that Beetee ever would have. 

In other words, it’s another example of how SotR is stitched together with the original trilogy in ways that make sense on the surface but not under the hood. Of course the brains behind the 75th arena breakout would have attempted something like this before, and had good cause to try. And I think we can accept that without much issue. What I cannot buy is how someone who knew the risks of what he was attempting, and knew the stakes in no uncertain terms, would be willing to do what he did with a son who’s just reached reaping age. How convenient. (Are we to assume his communications breach had been going on for a while and that they waited until Ampert was 12 to dole out the punishment?)

Besides giving Beetee parallel trauma to later-Haymitch and emphasizing Snow’s cruelty, which did not need further emphasis, the purpose of this was to place Beetee in Haymitch’s path. In other words, it’s contrived, and it does not respect the deep intelligence of the man that has been saddled with being the Tech Expert Archetype ™ in the story. 

"At the time, I was just thinking of the science of it all."

I know it’s not fair to hold the books to something stated in the movies, but all the same, the sentiment remains. This line now makes no sense, because the science of this particular project would have had a different gravity to it considering it earned his son a reaping. And if he’d been involved in treason that had rendered such painful consequences all this time, the archetype of the scientist getting caught up in their work before realizing what they’ve brought into being is a little less believable, because he definitely should have understood the stakes at this point.

Crouching Rebel Hidden Family

I think the whole scene in the training room would have made more sense if Beetee had been subtle about what he was getting punished for, and without telling (expositing, info-dumping-real-quick) everything we need to know about WHY he was there. Haymitch doesn’t need to know. Hell, Beetee probably doesn’t know the Capitol’s intentions, entirely. And we don’t really need a callback to his redesign of the underground network/communication system hacking. It could have been anything else, and it would have made perfect sense. The point is that Beetee was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing, and Ampert was a warning. Not a full takedown, just a warning.

Perhaps it could have gone something like:

“Hello, Haymitch.” 

“Hello,” I say. 

“Impressive thing you did out there.” He adjusts his glasses. “The parade. What happened in Twelve. It was very brave, what you did.”

“Thanks,” I say. How did he witness any of what happened in 12? It wasn’t aired to the rest of Panem. And for that matter, why is a victor, a mentor, here operating a training booth?

He must see this question in my eyes, because he says, “I’m here to demonstrate how to turn a potato into a battery.” He lowers his voice and glances past my shoulder. “But as for why I’m really here, I suspect it has something to do with the Capitol detecting me digging around in places I shouldn’t have been. I can’t be certain, but I can reasonably guess that’s why my [son/nephew] was reaped. As punishment. As a warning.” 

“Oh,” I say. I’m not really sure what he wants me to say.

He looks over to Ampert, and I follow his gaze. “My presence during his training is an essential component, I should think. And, if there were any doubts as to whether I’m being targeted for my breach, this is my answer.”

This establishes that Plutarch has a link to Beetee and is feeding him information behind the scenes. We don’t see it, because Plutarch and Beetee appear to work independently with Haymitch, but both are most certainly in contact with each other. That at least answers the question of why Beetee requested Haymitch’s presence at his booth, why Haymitch stood out to him as an acceptable agent for hacking the arena. And I like the idea that we don’t really know what Beetee was up to. Was he working for the rebellion? Was he just digging around because he was curious? Something else? It makes his character more nuanced if his motivations aren’t explicitly spelled out for the audience.

Having Ampert as a nephew instead of a son solves two problems: One, it retains the impact of the emotional trauma (suppose they were very close, suppose Ampert spent a lot of time growing up with his victor uncle, like a son) while removing Beetee from having made the overwhelming and nonsensical gamble of raising a family when we know Snow is vindictive as hell AND that Beetee is one of the biggest threats against the Capitol this side of the Dark Days. It was pretty much a given that this would happen to him. Snow has dispatched family for way lesser reasons. And two, it absolves Collins of the need to contrive a “reason” for him to stay alive for the wife and unborn baby that Snow will almost certainly also terminate. If it’s a nephew, the message is still clear and the emotional impact is still heavy, but Beetee is not in control of what his siblings choose to do or what becomes of their children. He is only in control of his own fate, and he knows he’s chosen the side of the rebellion, for better or worse. But will Snow stop at targeting his siblings’ children to make a point? Of course not. Emotional impact retained. 

Katniss says something early on that stuck with me:

I know I’ll never marry, never risk bringing a child into the world. Because if there’s one thing being a victor doesn’t guarantee, it’s your children’s safety. My kids’ names would go right into the reaping balls with everyone else’s. And I swear I’ll never let that happen.

You’re telling me that Beetee, a man who’s committed actual treason and is highly connected to the Capitol for his work, is not only going to risk having a family knowing what his work entails, but is also going to deliver this as an explanation for such imprudent actions on his part?

“I took a risk. I didn’t suspect that I’d been found out until the reaping. The timing was calculated. If I had known, I could have killed myself, and Ampert would be safe at home. That is how Snow works.”

You don’t say, seeing as how the whole book hammers this point home continuously. We saw Snow do this and worse in other books, too. Why use Beetee to communicate something so patently obvious? It does a disservice to him and to the audience. The fact that he then goes on to father another child with an offscreen wife when we know what becomes of the living family members of anyone Snow wants to punish, to say nothing of the victor’s purge in Mockingjay, suggests…well. That they got the Ma and Sid treatment back home. So what was the point of their inclusion in the story? Wouldn’t their deaths only fuel Beetee’s desire to off himself even more? Personally, I think Beetee’s renewed commitment to the rebellion after SotR, coupled with the need to be there for Wiress, would have been more than enough explanation for why he continues living.

Allies

Then there’s this. In Catching Fire, Katniss reports:

I shrug. “But I don’t want Brutus. I want Mags and District Three.” “Of course you do.” Haymitch sighs and orders a bottle of wine. “I’ll tell everybody you’re still making up your mind.”

Haymitch’s reaction now makes little sense here, considering how vital all three were to him in his Games, and considering how profoundly he had shaped them in turn. We’re meant to understand, given the prior scene with Peeta explaining the Nuts and Volts dynamic, that Haymitch sees these three as weak, elderly, infirm, or irrelevant. We’re certainly led to interpret them that way at first. That now seems cruel and heartless given how important the three were to Haymitch, and him to them.

If we want to be charitable, there are a couple of ways to read this that tie his reaction to SotR. Perhaps Haymitch was sighing in response to this being yet another parallel between him and Katniss. Perhaps Haymitch had intended to distance himself from the three over the years, feeling guilty for his role in their fate, and fears rekindling his connection with them again. But the oversight here still stands out. Especially considering that Haymitch should have known how vital Beetee and Wiress would have to be in the plot to break out of the 75th arena. He was already going to work with them on this and knew that Katniss would have to ally with them regardless of who else she picked. 

In other words, of all the things that hadn’t been invented until this prequel, Beetee’s backstory is one of the most glaring examples for me. If things had been presented a little more subtly, I think it could have worked. I would love to know how Collins explains to herself (and would explain to the readers) why Ampert and family never came up in Catching Fire or Mockingjay, despite how incredibly important Ampert turned out to be for the early rebellion attempts. His unifying presence was a direct contrast to the notion of district versus district and laid vital bricks in the rebellion. Which brings me to:

Ampert

We all loved Ampert. He’s like SotR’s Rue. He fulfills the same emotional niche: a precious twelve-year-old who reminds our hero of their little sibling back home and inspires a protective instinct. He’s a character we are genuinely rooting for. Which makes his treatment in SotR a bitter one for me.

District 3 characters have a habit of Serving Their Purpose To The Plot and then getting discarded. Wiress alerts the cast to the structure of the 75th arena and then gets killed off. Ampert serves Haymitch the explosive materials and then gets killed off. The District 3 kid in Katniss’s arena boobytraps and guards the supplies for the Careers and then gets killed off. We only get to keep Beetee because his skills are vital to executing the countermoves against the Capitol. I’m shocked that he was allowed to survive to the end and that he wasn’t given some “heroic” death like Finnick. In every iteration, District 3 characters are absolutely essential to the heroes, but not essential enough to survive.

So what did Ampert do for us?

One: he provided an emotional impetus for Beetee to want to take out the arena.

Two: he provided an access point for Beetee to reach Haymitch to get him on board with the plan.

Three: he had the knowledge and capability to help construct the explosive that Haymitch would utilize in said plan.

What other vital thing did Ampert do? He was the key driving force behind the creation of the Newcomers alliance. And what did the narrative do with that?

Uhh, not much. At the last minute, Haymitch decides to bail on it, and we spend most of his Games away from the alliance members we just spent the training segment bonding with. 

The alliance itself is transgressive, since a key point of the Hunger Games is to pit district against district so they will not choose to ally against the Capitol. The Capitol downplayed the Newcomers in the recap of the 50th Games, and forever after Haymitch’s story is one of him going his own way and prioritizing his own survival. So Panem has lost the message of alliance, and the proper narrative of district versus district remains intact. But what did we, the readers, get?

What we should have gotten was a real alliance. What we got instead was Haymitch lone-wolfing it, as Katniss did, albeit for slightly different reasons. When Lou Lou, Ampert, and Maysilee show up (individually), Haymitch remains with them only until they get separated and killed off, but that’s not really the Newcomers alliance, that’s just Haymitch being a decent person to his district partners and that one kid he bonded with in training. Where’s the Newcomers alliance? Off screen.

So what was Ampert’s legacy in this book, then? 

Ampert served as an emotional catalyst for Beetee to get involved and help Haymitch destroy the arena. And we’re supposed to really care about his death, but his death is so predictable I could have read the scene with my eyes closed. Haymitch emerges, Ampert is gone. What could have happened? Cutesy cartoon mutts dragging him away and finishing him off Happy Tree Friends style? You guessed it!

TL;DR

My argument is this. I understand that Beetee's whole family backstory served the needs of the plot for this specific prequel, and I understand that it had not been invented yet at the time of the original series, and that is why it did not come up. But this oversight is too glaring of a retcon for me to overlook or handwave it away. It's too significant of a thread for it to not have been present in the original series. And that, to me, is a significant shame and really detracted from my enjoyment of this book.

On a more personal note, I get it. District 3 isn’t supposed to matter. District 12 is supposed to matter. District 3 has only been present to serve the needs of the heroes, the plot, whatever. And most people wouldn’t bat an eye at that, because it does what it needs to do. We need The Tech Characters, we need The Smart Characters, we need The Ones Who Figure Things Out. But we don’t need to keep them. We just need them to do their job and go. 

But it sucks, that’s all.

[ghoulspaw]

Obscuary my beloveds <3

[shepscapades]

Uhm hi Shep 👉👈

if I were to request more Xisuma, what would you sayyyy?

(P.S. saw you redraw one of the mini doodles for the last request - this time, can it be the cleo and X one?)

Well normally i would rush to find a little xisuma to share from part 3 (which is almost done btw >:3), but I remembered that little doodle of cleo hugging x and whipped this up because they are so special to me and I think xisuma should get 100000 comforting hugs

[mothoscope]

Been a while since I've drawn these dumbasses.

[beanghostprincess]

Do you think shuggy ever gets possessive over one another?

Definitely. Undoubtedly. And it goes both ways.

I believe the most obvious answer would be saying Shanks is the possessive one because, you know, have you seen the rizz this clown has to always attract people? Cross Guild??? So Shanks gets jealous easily but I don't think he actively shows it because he wants to keep things peaceful and he truly does not want Buggy to get angry at him for this. So it's small, subtle moves that let others know Shanks is possessive over Buggy but without making Buggy notice.

On the other hand, Buggy is way more explicit with that. Shanks is just too nice. It doesn't mean he flirts with everyone he meets but he just has a flirty personality and it does look like that when he's being polite, plus, for some reason every girl wants to fuck Shanks. That man looks disgusting and very gay to me, but whatever the female gaze wants, idk-- And Buggy is more the type to get angry at Shanks and yell at him about it and quickly drag him away from any flirtatious conversation, but Shanks kind of sort of likes it, ngl. ("Awww you want me only for yourself, Bugs?" / "Shut the fuck up")

But this doesn't only happen romantically and I doubt you meant it only in that way. I was saving my favorite thing for last.

I think they were possessive of each other since they were kids. You know. Always being together and clinging to each other constantly. Never being without the other. They of course argue but they always have this "he should be with me" sensation when the other is with someone else because it just doesn't feel right to be apart from him. They have also always been possessive in the way of like-- Not the "you're mine" sort of thing but "we belong together, that's how it always has been". On the battlefield too, btw, if you touch one of them you will probably end up dead because they're just that protective (Shanks does it in a more obvious way and Buggy could kill someone to protect Shanks but he would blame Shanks anyway and say he didn't do it because of him when he totally did).

There's just something about them now that screams how they want to go back to the way things used to be when they could live in their own bubble together, only the two of them. And there's this clear possessiveness because their love is only theirs and no one else's. And I believe them to be extremely protective in all stages of their relationship. When they were kids. When they were teenagers. Even when they were fighting. And even more, if they date again.

By the way, I just had the most adorable thought about lil kids Shuggy being this possessive. A little headcanon-- Roger always playing with them and showering them with love because of course he did, and he used to hold Buggy and go "He's mine!!! <33 My ray of sunshine!!" and Shanks instantly got so possessive and angry going "No!!! Mine!!" and Roger kept joking about it until Shanks cried and he had to let go of Buggy if he didn't want the kid to have a whole breakdown about it (Buggy didn't give a single fuck btw he liked to be with Rayleigh better).

[good-beans]

Yandere Milgram. What do you think? 🎤

Mmmmm… a prison full of society’s most unloved and forgotten people whose fates depends entirely on the love and support of others is the perfect recipe for some yandere disasters… I confess I haven’t seen much specific yandere media/tropes, but have some loose headcanons under the cut >:3 The wording skewed outside of milgram since the prisoners have more control there, but these could definitely happen within the prison just as easily.

Haruka: Spends all his time with the person he likes, doing anything for them and doing anything to impress them. Though these start off as positive shows of his love, they take a turn when he finds that their reaction to him becomes even stronger when he’s showing off his strength and control…

Yuno: Showers her object of affection in attention and gifts, knowing exactly what it is that makes them happy. When this warmth is returned genuinely, she gets intoxicated by it. She’s been seen to risk her own safety to really feel something, to get a thrill, so when she thinks she’s found someone who understands and feels the same as her, she doesn’t mind risking their safety as well.

Fuuta: He’s glad to find someone with the same interests as him, and the two spend hours doing their hobbies together. Those hours become days, and at some point he’s nonchalantly suggesting the person he likes go everywhere with him. He talks about the scumbags of society and how dangerous the world is, and before they know it, he’s convinced them to stay back at his place, where it’s safe, forever. He can be their hero, and watch over them always. 

Muu: She’s thrilled when she has someone she loves, spoiling them with everything she has. Sometimes jealousy/doubt creeps in, and she worries their love isn’t true (after all, she’s met way too many people who were fake to her and hurt her,) so she decides to have them prove it. At some point the tests she’s asking of them change from something they choose to do, to something she’s forcing them to endure.  

Shidou: So one option is that after what happened to his family, his situation would turn out similar to Fuuta’s: a well-meaning fear of what happened last time would result into a full possessive panic of keeping them at home where he can watch over them. I’m also thinking that if something did happen to them, his desperation/confidence in his own abilities would kick in early. He wouldn’t trust any other doctor with their care, and insist he can do the proper procedures himself, happy to have their life in his hands. 

Mahiru: Very similar to Muu, Mahiru’s feelings are pure when she starts spoiling her partner. She’s heard too many stories of cheating and falling out of love, and all the best romances involve major and risky tests of love – why not plan a few of her own in order to write the perfect love story?

Kazui: After a lifetime of denying himself of what he wants, someone reciprocating his feelings could completely break a damn of emotions in him. He throws himself into the relationship, loving and being loved, until that cat-like hunger gets the best of him. He starts taking and taking, keeping them home and in his arms because he can’t imagine ever going back to a life without this.

Amane: (I’m pretty sure yandere is a romantic thing, but if it can also be platonic:) Amane loves having someone her age that understands and accepts her wholly. Even if the other doesn’t share the same beliefs, they don’t judge Amane for them like the others do. She shows her love by saving their soul – she starts convincing them not to treat injuries, sometimes physically preventing them from doing so. If this person tries to tell adults, they always side with the diligent, pious, school-focused half of the pair, further convincing Amane that she knows what’s best for the person she cares about.

Mikoto: Finding someone that finally turns his attention away from job allows Mikoto to pour all that extra attention into them. The same obsession he’d usually have for his work now focuses on one person who makes him feel just as fulfilled and important. They’ve become the center of his world, and he wants to return the favor by becoming the center of theirs, whatever means necessary. He makes sure they spend all their time together, and even starts keeping tabs on them no matter where they are in the city. 

John: It’s like a miracle to find someone that makes him feel safe and relaxed. John revels in the feeling of having them around. Just hearing their voice, just seeing their face makes him incredibly calm. John’s always had a bit of a “exceedingly direct” approach to problem solving, so he decides it would be best to just keep them with him all the time, where he can see their face and hear their voice, no matter what it takes. 

Kotoko: Surprisingly, I think her situation would be similar to Haruka’s. She’s not used to getting attention/recognition for her vigilante work, so having someone shower her in that feels amazing. She ramps up her shows of strength, both with the criminals she’s tracking down and when training with/hanging out with the person she likes. Even when she takes things too far, there’s a little thrill they respect her and her strength

Es: (Same thing, keeping it platonic:) Es isn’t used to strong feelings of affection for another, they mention never giving much thought to it before – so when it hits them, it hits them hard. They become obsessed with knowing everything there is to know about the other, loving absolutely every piece of new information they discover. Prisoner or not, they’re thrilled to keep running Milgram’s machine on this person in order to know every last detail about them.

[kitkatsgalore]

now playing... ☆ track 03. pathetic love ☆ track 04. outsider ☆ track 05. why you hate... ☆ track 06. bleu

mini 와장창 track "visualizers," inspired by the ones yechan drew for the blue album! 🎶

part of #LUCYWEEK2025 | day 2 | prompt: all kinds of blue

[floorpancakes]

funny thought that just came to me do you think watanuki would start crying getting spooned for the first time because he's emotionally overwhelmed